Roses Are Red Collab-26
These Limericks were written by many different PS poets who are all remaining anonymous. If you would like to add one of your own and remain anonymous send it to my soup mail. Enjoy!
Roses are red, but you broke the treaty
Changed your name, but your eyes are still beady
One, two buckle your shoe
Choo, choo, we know it’s you.
Stupid is as stupid does, Lil sweetie!
Roses are red: everyone knows that - DUH!
You're such a Grinch, Humbug and BAH!
There'll be no gifts for you
Past your house Santa flew
Deck your halls with a 'Fa La La La La
Roses are red and violets are blue
It's just garbage that all the trolls spew
Can't be classed as insane
Because they lack a brain
And you get more joy looking at poo.
Roses are red, and the troll is askew
Poets, don't allow him to bully you.
He carries a doll
Dressed up like Ru Paul
I think it's time to tame the shrew in you
Roses are red, you’re not made of glue
Thinking nothing will stick on to you
Dishing out bologna
You are quite a phony
Seems you have nothing better to do.
Roses are red, but not all violets are blue
Chicken Little is crying again, boo hoo hoo
You gotta stop the whine
America is fine
To your pessimistic thinking I say 'Pooh Pooh!'
Roses are red, just like the sore kangaroo
I stuck pins in his eyes, and other places, too
His self-loathing is blind
Here’s a spike I designed
Go jab yourself where the sun don’t shine, Cuckoo!
Roses are red, you're gonna need stitches
You're gonna strike out when I throw pitches
You are a child, indeed
Smoking voodoo weed
But you’re still my little sugar britches
Roses are red, put your nasty to bed
Try to say something important instead
Away with your bluster,
You sure have no luster
I think there's nothing inside of your head.
Roses are red, everyone knows you're just a thug
Mark's a mighty bulldog and you're a little pug
Go on, take your best shot
You can't hit diddly squat
He'll squash you like a bug. Chug a lug. Chug a lug
Roses are red, your slurs are fill of spite
You take ignorance to a brand new height
It's clear you have no sense
In fact, you are quite dense
"Ya can't fix stupid," a quote from Ron White
Violets are blue and roses are red
Trolls on soup are not right in the head
They play childish games
By changing their names
And maybe it's because they're brain dead
Roses are red, but it's the old lady who rants
Maybe her stinky bum was bitten by red ants
She likes to act so sweet
But can't take the heat
She's even snarkier when she craps in her pants
Your red roses died, your violets have too
Your breath smells like skunk, your words are doo-doo
Your poetry smells
Your ego just swells
Go lay by your dish, your time here is through
Roses are red, but get off the ballfield
I will not command my bulldog to yield
His chain has broken loose
Gonna cook your goose
Your real name in the soup has been revealed
Roses are red and violets are blue
Too many trolled by a dumb kangaroo
It is such a shame
He's got an assumed name
But sadly, that’s what crass trolls do
Roses are red, you called Mark Jabba the Hutt
But your mixed pedigree makes you a mutt
Better run away
Be warned if you stay
The bulldog will bite you on your big butt
Roses are red, but soon they will wither
When cursed by someone saying, 'come hither'
He can go fly a kite
Black magic just ain't right
Like a snake in the soup, he will slither
Roses are red to us, but not to the Aussie
Who thinks he's pugnacious by acting all bossy
But he's just a joke
A sorrowful bloke
Thinks he's a roo that can beat the PS Posse
You act like a tough guy, thinking you're slick
Like your pal, the one who was a bootlick
Your bruises will be blue
When we come after you
You returned as the same old dipstick
Roses are red in my lush garden bed
The sun shines on them and you're old bald head
Your insults don't hurt us
So why make such a fuss?
Is it possible to be nice instead?
Roses are red. Most trees are green.
Each gender can now be both king and queen.
Many things can confuse.
You can both win and lose.
And many obvious signs can't be seen!
Roses are red, the victim, when in truth,
You are dishing insult one-hundred proof
Lying about your identity,
Is a dishonest obscenity
And, besides, it is utterly uncouth!
When you act like victims it makes me laugh
In truth, you've committed a social gaffe
When in a game of chess
The real bigots confess
To being jerks, while taking a polygraph
It's a folly if you believe that we are mad
from the lies and insults of a dame and a cad
When you act like terrors
It's a Comedy of Errors
Such belligerence from you... it's terribly sad
You've slandered poets, and that's hypocritical
because we don't agree on views, political
But your ideas are wrong
America is strong
Leeches, your toxic fangs are parasitical
Copyright © Mark Koplin | Year Posted 2021
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