Best Black Humour Poems
We have said farewell to David
How we wish he had been there
To see how much we loved the s*d
And how we did our hair
He would have loved the eulogy
In which he got a mention
For David always loved to be
The centre of attention
He would have liked the humour
Had a hanky for the tears
Been astounded at the love he had
To show for all his years
He would have wept to see us weeping
Would have made a funny joke
Not one much for nonsense
A ‘geezer’ sort of bloke
A man who worked with chemistry
Who painted and played chess
Who liked music and black humour
And admired a pretty dress
Two different lives, three families
So many made the trip
From different worlds, from far away
His blood, his fellowship
He would have loved the readings
Would have looked well to this day
And nodded at Corinthians
In a wise and knowing way
He would have said “Look after Margaret”
And run after Michelle
Then winked at Dick and hugged his son
And others he knew well
I thought I saw him in the corner
Saw him sitting in a chair
Serenity personified
For just a moment there
He really loved ‘Jerusalem’
We sang that b*gg*r loud
My God, we scrubbed up bl**dy well
And made the b*gg*r proud
by Gail
The Laughing Matter
We laughed and laughed it was raining heavy we didn`t see we were
off road and flew, still laughing- over
a precipice and landed in an opening in the forest
where rabbit congregates, we had laughed so much we had to go
out of the car and pee
Then it snowed big white flakes the stuff and rabbit appeared in
all white inquisitive as they are when stuck a neck in we rolled up
The window fried rabbits every day.
The dog got sick of the same food and wanted to go home
we didn`t have that instinct but followed behind as luck would have it
was only five minutes away a farmer with his tractor took the car to
the mechanic and we laughed and laughed making funny noises
of the stuffed owl on the wall….the house took fire and people in white
took us to a care home where we were giving anti-laugh medicine,
funny hats and it was New Year Eve.
What had caused this hilarity was because Hillary Clinton had lost
the election and Trump a millionaire was going to bring work to those on
the dole, of course, this will not happen and my car is not insured for
the Shoah that will engulf us
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.
Waltzing on bracken and shingle,
Dirt scuffed and spun in the air,
As the blood and the dust devils mingle,
Drying, infused with despair.
The crackling twigs in the campfires
Spat out the legends of old;
The wind blew the ash of those campfires
Until all those ashes grew cold.
Whispered in tongues of black humour,
Polemics of demons and dread,
And freedom became but a rumour,
Butchered dreams in a dead man’s head.
There‘ll be black humour today,
Gentle ribbing, banter and jokes,
Stripping away of egos, repartee
Among our mixed group of folks.
Bruising conversations maybe,
But in a non malicious way.
No place for the thin skinned
That’s just not how we play.
It’s the way it’s done from
First moment of greeting
It’s our irregularly held
Veteran’s Breakfast meeting.
Just a couple of hours
Of banter forces style
Carrying each back
For just a little while
To much younger times
From a very different past
When each passing day
Could have been the last
Some of us are damaged
But none of us are broken
Some carry hurt in their eyes
From experience unspoken.
Some have seen combat
Still carry mental scars
From frontline service in
The country’s various wars
Some fought with a rifle
One fought with a pen
Each gave part of their life
As an active serviceman
The Padre’s not a Veteran
But we’ve known him years
He’s earned out respect as he’s
listened to our hopes and fears
A range of ages gathered
For a morale boosting talk,
We’ve all worn the uniform
We’ve all walked the walk
There are common experiences
That each of us have had,
We’ve been there for each other
In the good times and the bad.
It’s a meeting of brothers
And we all know what to expect,
Ruthless character assassination
But with affection and respect.
We’ll all be looking forward to,
Though not knowing when,
We’ll receive our invitation
To meet up and yarn again.
We’ll shake hands goodbye
Making the occasion complete
Feeling emotional benefit from
Our irregular breakfast meet.
.
Black Humour
The day tragedy struck, a misfortune that also held in
It´s grasp a tendency to giggle, a black sort of humour
when laughter threatens to replace sorrow.
My little cabin is built on a slope therefore every room
has a different level, two steps up three steps down and
so on. I used take in dogs for owners who didn’t want
them in a kennel but leave them in cosy a family setting.
One day I got a blind dog, but after a couple of days it
quickly learned where the steps were. Two weeks later
the lady called she was picking up her bundle of joy, and
the dog barked into the phone; smile and happiness.
When the dog heard the car stop it was in the kitchen
it raced into the hall forgetting the steps- three of them-
it fell awkwardly broke its neck and died.
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.
Laughed at a cartoon dog killing cartoon rabbit. Smothering it.
Called it "morbid humour".
Dark.
Deep.
A hole without visible bottom that you smile at, knowing if you just set one foot forward, you'd be swallowed.
Knowing,
Death has been insatiable lately.
Has humanity in a bear's embrace we shall all face, and most of us will live,
but some of us will fall to the tune of the jingling in an unjust few's purses.
Of the projected profits left behind by workless corpses.
Has gripped the vulnerable by the throat and cast them aside, on a pile of miserable, ended lives stacking further and further upwards,
but never reaching the soles of our oppressors' shoes to sully them.
Our wheezing is money. Our commodity has expired.
Our money is percentages rising and falling, multiplying the lot and dividing the few.
For tis the law of the land: Its lords are fruitless, fruit trees we water till they have drunk themselves dead, and us thirsty.
An old joke, all that. But I am of bad humour. Of sad humour.
And if we don't cast the first stone at those who sin against us,
We may as well have lost.
Our bodies in bags, our lives in pieces,
Our living kin at borrowed hearths, without us.
We will have decency and compassion,
in these times, so recently ashen.
Our cinders will rain down,
like viral spawn,
like germs.
We, the
many:
listen
to
our
terms.
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.
Nine years he served his country
Then nursed in Mental Health
None of his professions being
Much good for his wealth.
Physical ill health
Brought work to an end
Very little hope that
His condition would ever mend.
I watched him cry today
Face covered in tears,
Drawn expression of anxiety
As he tried to explain his fears.
Fit for work they’d said
In the job centre up town,
Gave him a job advisor
And cut his payments down.
Degenerative spinal disorder
So at times he can scarcely walk,
You can hear the pain in his voice
Every time he starts to talk.
Nowadays there’s more often
The silence of despair,
He’s losing all hope
Starting not to care.
Once again the food parcels
Hoping for more success
As we repeat the facts for
Yet another appeals process.
We don’t always win
But we never stop trying"
Driven on by the sight
Of a grown man crying.
I watched him cry today,
Listened while he spoke
Shared the black humour
Of a typical squaddie joke.
Arranged to see him next week
Putting faith in my hope
I don’t arrive to find him
Hanging from a rope.
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.
emotions searching wayout
hibernation compels the stage next for deep rooted revelations
black holes gave company
when walls around were black
laterally came tinge to smile......
escape velocity taking black humour with froth of expressO
adjacent to beaming astral mates
& ready for....
yet to twinkle & much to rain.