A friend of mine once inquired
if I had suicide on my brain.
"EVERY TIME I SEE YOU...
you chase away the rain."
She looked a little puzzled
but thanked me none the less, adding:
"Are you sure you're not contemplating
the end of all your stress?"
"Why," said I, "should I decide
to end this life sublime
when all I want right here and now
is one more round of wine?"
"So cut the crap, go take a nap
or bring me red rose',
you're killing me with your questions
and all I want to do is play!"
Still she could not let it go
and asked me once again -
"Are you SURE you're not considering
a permanent vacation, my friend?"
"Enough, enough of all this stuff
regarding grassy graves,
If you ask me one more time again
it's yours that will be made!"
And so she finally took the hint
that I'm finer than a frogs hair cut -
Never the less, I thanked her profusely
for caring so very much.
* Inspired by a very special lady here in PSoup (who shall remain anonymous), recently concerned about my state of mind. I couldn't help but be impressed and touched by her genuine concern and felt compelled to reassure her that I'm "Finer than a frogs hair cut." On a more serious note, REAL suicide is nothing to laugh about and if this poem offends anyone, I sincerely apologize and mean no disrespect to anyone touched by it's sad results. All the best, Terry
Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.
When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say,
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.
Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.
He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.
And, of course, sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.
So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”
“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”
“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc! What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.
But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.
“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.
A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw
Reminded him of his sacrifice.
He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.
As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.
As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello. I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift. I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.”
Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes."
Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.
“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!” Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?
Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”
Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”
Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss? I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.
“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos will cramp your balls,
You’ll get migraine headaches.”
If you lost a hope
here is a nice fluffy rope
and a scented soap.
McNeer couldn’t take it no mo’
By rope-in-tree he would go
- Nerve’s gone I fear
- It’s been near a year
(He’s waitin’ for the saplin’ to grow!)
I do not know?
You enter the country
Someone will follow you
And kill you gently
In a dark alley
Paradise never was so relaxed
You told me to do whatever it takes to be happy.
I'm just following your advice. :)
Prof. Twittie died from an
experiment; like and unlike Socrates, he intentionally
took hemlock, to see how the afterlife looks like
He intended to return
to the physical world after his
observations, which he didn't
For a century now, no one following
Prof. Twittie’s school of thought
has yet dared to take poison,
in order to return with Prof. Twittie
back to the physical world,
and finally conclude their findings
in pen and print