Best Crapper Poems
I'm near cuckoo
This Monday blue
A day not eas'ly recommended
for making sense
I'm way too tense
And hung-over to comprehend it
My mind's on the bend
my imaginary friends
are threatening to abandon en masse
I was perfectly sane
till they pissed in my brain
negotiations are at an impasse
It pains me to mention
the bone of contention
menacing our peaceful existence
my voices of own creation
went above their station
with mutinous and unfair persistence
Old Mother Hubbard
had sneaked to the cupboard
to steal skeleton bones for her yapper
the skeletons in-wait
welcomed their bait
with little resistance managed to trap her
As to why she'd no clue
their demands were few
and until met they'd keep her as hostage
twixt two skeletons squeezed
the hag was well-pleased
only in dreams she was ever in bondage
The skeletons vacated
on their long-awaited
crusade for their rights to be equal
a sudden scurry in my head
when the voices I have bred
became hushed, which was rather unusual
The spokes-skeleton
passed a colorless wind
voiced their single demand: to remain
"We were made to vanish
to a dark cupboard banished
we demand henceforth to share your domain."
A resounding "No!
You'll stay down below
we're totaling 20, including the yapper
there's hardly space
the din to embrace
and an hour-long queue to the crapper."
"Then the beldam Hubbard
will remain in the cupboard
lore would have it, bare to the bone
the cupboard, that is
not the hag, whose Maltese
diced up raw will be fed to the crone.
We implore you most
kindly engage our host
in negotiations and if necessary plead
we want into his brain
and share your domain
or prepare for a skeleton stampede."
PART 2 TO FOLLOW. THIS MIGHT TAKE A WHILE, AS I'M LOCKED IN HOSTILE NEGOTIATIONS
Your rhyme reads like a rap they say,
a rap I say,
a rap they say,
perhaps but rap is rhyme you see,
it's rhyme really,
it's rhyme you see,
this poem is not lyrical,
no not at all,
not lyrical,
'cus songs use words repeatedly,
repeat you see,
repeatedly.
We'll use that as the chorus,
it's easy and thoughtless,
lets build a rhyme fortress
with verse summersaultus,
not a word but I don't care,
eating apples grapes and pears,
seeking angles of praise from flair,
story starts now take a chair.
Out in public with clothes removed,
I've had this dream but now it's true,
a dude that's nude and on the move,
without a pube all in plain view,
swing it like a helicopter,
round and round 'til someone stops ya,
grab some weed and party poppers,
run down streets to dart from coppers,
drinking aftershock that shocks ya,
always after the shot has docked ya,
stick your head between some knockers,
wake up thick lipped at the doctors.
(Chorus)
Write it like a conversation,
it might give it a new dimension,
in that last verse you forced the rhyme,
of course that's fine in this rap rhyme,
'cus rap is rhyme it's rhyme they rap,
that is a fact a fact is that,
by it's nature rap is rhyme,
if it reads like a rap then it reads like a rhyme,
does that mean always rhyme is rap,
of course it isn't it's less than that,
now that sounds mean,
what do you mean,
rap rhymes are rhymes and rap,
rhymes just rhyme they're not rap,
well what's this verse then is it rap?
No my friend this verse is crap,
I hope they remember this is a conversation,
they're not reading you lost their attention.
(Chorus)
A third verse now this is long winded,
it's forced and pointless poets cringing,
get back to the story,
now you were knocked out,
yes and I remember nowt,
then what the hell's this rhyme about,
it's like a selfie with lips that pout,
no one cares except the poser,
that means no one notes the nose hair,
wrap this up it's going nowhere,
rap it up like you're a rapper,
this poem keeps on getting crapper,
no one's read as far as here,
in this worse rhyme you've wrote all year,
at least it flows like hip hop songs,
it flows with flow its flow is strong,
to flow like this use words not long,
here's the chorus lets sing along.
(Chorus)
it reads like a hip hop
POTD 17/10/2018
Savez vous planter les choux
A la mode de chez nous?
(French nursery rhyme)
You should eat your cabbage up my son
It's really quite delicious
May I forego the pleasure Ma
To me it is pernicious
But it must be good for you my dear
With vitamins A,B and C
I would eat it if I could mama
But it stinks like the Sargasso Sea
It's filled with anti-oxidants
Should give energy like a comet
Well that may be but quite frankly my dear
It makes me want to vomit
Won't you give them another try my love
And see the way it feels
I might have a go had they not
The redolent scent of performing seals
Should I work so hard to plant and crop
When you must reject my choring
Must you take it all so personally
It can be rather boring
How might I get through to you my son
I could e-mail, or text or whatsapp
A Morse code in cabbage and Brussels sprouts
Would still smell like a wrestler's ****strap
The government should pass a law
That cabbage shall make us all dapper
They can send me a personal copy
I will use it in the crapper
The schools must know that cabbage is good
They should teach it in all their classes
The schools can take their cabbages
And stick them up their curriculum
The pope ought to issue an edict
'Brassica salubritas est'
Enough! already! I will give it a try
If you’ll just get it off your chest
Aimez vous manger les choux?
Je crois bien que vous etes fous
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poetic Lyrics By Thomas Lam Hsi
THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUE GOD...THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY...WHO ALONE CAN
SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
LORD JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF IS FULLY GOD AND MAN...AND HE ALONE...
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!
Sentient and pre-escient...a mo-men-tary...'lef hint,
AND A BOMB...OF AN ALL...TIME-GUY!
Pure 'n simple...pic-ture per-fect...SHINY GRIN,
'N a...toss 'TA WIN...OF AN ALL...TIME-HIGH!
'Niny yards away...FANS SWING AWAY...OH-IT-AIN'T 'MAH DAY!
'Yella tiny ring...DOESN'T HOLDA THING...shiny X-mas wrapper...'DOWNA
STINKY CRAPPER!
SO BOMBS AWAY...a pitter patter drill...two 'lefs...A-NOTHER SPILL...
TO AN ALL...TIME-THRILL!
SO MAKE MY DAY...MAKE MY DAY!
CUT-IT-ANY-WAY...THAT'S ALOTA...HAY!
When the lights go out...an there's no tears...or shouts.
I HAD MY DAY...NO MATTER WHAT...THEY SAY!
SO BOMBS AWAY...I'LL NEVER PLAY!
BUT...IF YOU'LL PAY...I'LL PLAY!
THE HAY...BETTER BE...MY WAY!
Pure 'n simple...pic-ture...per-fect...SHINY GRIN,
'N a toss 'TA WIN...OF AN ALL...TIME-GUY!
HE LUSTS...FOR 'N ALL...TIME-HIGH!
SO MAKE MY DAY...MAKE MY DAY!
CUT-IT-ANY-WAY...THAT'S ALOTA...HAY!
SO MAKE MY DAY...MAKE MY DAY!
CUT-IT-ANY-WAY...THAT'S ALOTA...HAY!
I am very good at Snapper,
Other people are crapper.
holy diluted cold water
did you see that there
its, little grandma mini
streaking, in her Sunday's best
tighty-whitie underwear
come on now
lets catch her quick
before, she completely lose it
or she strips right out of her
JCpenney sundaies brand new underwear
oh! my, someone get grandpa
well! I think he's still in the Crapper
grandpa, just sitting on the can
hold-en a beer in one hand
and a fly swatter in thee other
say-en she come home
when she good, and ready
or she gets mighty hungry
so we grab a sheet
off the old washing line
and dash left to the right
right to the left right down
the old dirt street
lucky for me and cousin Jeb
her old knee injury slowed her down
made her stop
and take a breath
we all most had her
but dam if she isn't
faster than catfish
trying to jump off the line
she moved so fast
it looked like she was
doing movements
in movie time
like some kind of ninja
but after 20 minutes
me and cousin jeb
just sat down in the grass
and grandma just laugh
and the moral of the story is
if grandma goes a streaking
wait 20 minutes before
you go a seek-en
and happy de va ju
to you too...
(a tribute to Jeff Foxworthy)
Form:
For months I've been away from the Soup
And I just learned about all the scoop
Contest on crap and farts
From smelly body parts
Toilet humor all 'bout making poop
Wife got mad when I forgot to flush
She yelled at me then gave me a brush
She told me that unless
I clean up my own mess
I'd have to poo outside in the slush
Do not insult me with your yapper
I know I've never seemed quite dapper
My turds never smell sweet
They stink more than my feet
When I take a mid-morning crapper
Shiny and white, it’s always awake.
It’s even got a seat for both of your cakes.
Calming and cool it holds such beauty.
It’s mans best friend when you’re feeling a bit tooty
It’s a cradle for your face if you’ve drank too much gin.
Just wipe off the seat before it touches your chin.
It’s also been known as quite the turd trapper.
This throne was invented by John C. Crapper.
To sit on this throne, you won’t need a crown.
Just jiggle the handle if it doesn’t flush down.
There is paper on a roll to help ease the pain.
An apple a day will help with the strain.
You can sit or stand if you need to tinkle
But do be responsible, in case you should sprinkle.
If you make a mess just wipe off the seat.
Your family will smile and think that you’re sweet.
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poetic Lyrics By Thomas Lam Hsi
THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUE GOD...THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY...WHO ALONE CAN
SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
LORD JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF IS FULLY GOD AND MAN...AND HE ALONE...
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!
Sentient and pre-escient...a mo-men-tary...'lef hint,
AND A BOMB...OF AN ALL...TIME-GUY!
Pure 'n simple...pic-ture per-fect...SHINY GRIN,
'N a...toss 'TA WIN...OF AN ALL...TIME-HIGH!
'Niny yards away...FANS SWING AWAY...OH-IT-AIN'T 'MAH DAY!
'Yella tiny ring...DOESN'T HOLDA THING...shiny X-mas wrapper...'DOWNA
STINKY CRAPPER!
SO BOMBS AWAY...a pitter patter drill...two 'lefs...A-NOTHER SPILL...
TO AN ALL...TIME-THRILL!
SO MAKE MY DAY...MAKE MY DAY!
CUT-IT-ANY-WAY...THAT'S ALOTA...HAY!
When the lights go out...an there's no tears...or shouts.
I HAD MY DAY...NO MATTER WHAT...THEY SAY!
SO BOMBS AWAY...I'LL NEVER PLAY!
BUT...IF YOU'LL PAY...I'LL PLAY!
THE HAY...BETTER BE...MY WAY!
Pure 'n simple...pic-ture...per-fect...SHINY GRIN,
'N a toss 'TA WIN...OF AN ALL...TIME-GUY!
HE LUSTS...FOR 'N ALL...TIME-HIGH!
SO MAKE MY DAY...MAKE MY DAY!
CUT-IT-ANY-WAY...THAT'S ALOTA...HAY!
SO MAKE MY DAY...MAKE MY DAY!
CUT-IT-ANY-WAY...THAT'S ALOTA...HAY!
Itsy Bitsy spider went up the wall of shower.
Itsy Bitsy spider, grabbed with piece of paper.
Itsy Bitsy spider was placed in toilet water.
Itsy Bitsy spider, wished he was in hamper.
Itsy Bitsy spider was now stuck in the crapper.
Itsy Bitsy spider went down in swirling water.
To take a shower, with an Itsy Bitsy spider,
Was not going to happen, upon any hour,
Without any cower, she finished her shower.
PLASTIC BAG: THE SAGA CONTINUES
Yes, they laughed at him, full of hot air, but he died trying.
It’s easy to forget that - it seems -
Plastic bags too have ambitions, careers, dreams.
He was ready and waiting for a slight opening . . . anything.
Saw Dick Whittington with his bag full of potential;
Inspired by Mary Poppins’ magic bag so special ;
Noted the bank paper-money in reinforced bags commercial;
Those doctors’ bags for the sick – so beneficial.
Door ajar one day, wind of change lifted his spirit -
He took his chance: he challenged the system :
Could be more than a plastic wrapper menacing the ecosystem.
Chance favors the prepared: his ambition was transparent.
The others were cautious, rappers singing of life in the crapper.
His life was limited to apple-wrap : made him sick
Listening to other wrappers’ mundane earth-bound music -
Most despondent of all is an apple-wrapper rapper.
On his death-bed he did not regret his attempt:
Ok - it ended in a downdraft and muddle,
Sinking in the dog crap puddle;
But I’d do it again he cried, if someone should tempt.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTE
This is the second in a series of supermarket-plastic-bag-wrapper poems
dedicated to a particular apple-wrapper which escaped in the high winds
of St. Petersburg, Russia. The first in the series was ILLUSIONS OF GRANDEUR.
These laxatives don't work that I've been taking.
As I sit on the crapper, the inside of my butt is aching.
I've been eating these laxatives for weeks and I still can't do number two.
I can't take a dump no matter how hard I try and I don't know what else to do.
I just learned something and I am so embarrassed.
These laxatives are suppositories that are supposed to go up my ass.
Heebiejeebie Hocus-Pocus
Don't forget your incantations
Gods wait with inoculations
Only for you and your relations
Have faith my friend, in creation
Above all else know your station
It depends on where you're from
Allah, Buddha, Genghis Khan
Which ever one takes your fancy
Mono, pantheistic religious candy
Your God created Beetles apparently
(But mostly Beetles ...actually)
So prepare yourself for the rapture
Avoid being caught on the crapper
Change underwear before you die
Never know when ya need to fly
Hocus-pocus kneel and pray
Wait your turn for judgement day
Form:
Vidtec and US Games were made for the Atari VCS.
Some of them were great while others were a mess.
US Games and Vidtec were a division of Quaker Oats.
But the creators found it extremely difficult to stay afloat.
Their best games were Space Jockey, Commando Raid, and M.A.D. too.
But US Games went out of business just one year after beginning in 1982.
They made several good games; not including Word Zapper.
People should've taken that game and thrown it in the crapper.
Another of their crappy games was Sneak 'N Peek.
The fireman on Towering Inferno looked like he was taking a leak.
When they hit the shelves, they didn't start disappearing.
But the $5.50 price tag at Revco made them endearing.
None of their fourteen games became a hit.
Some liked them while others didn't give a Sh**.
(THIS POEM IS ABOUT GAMES THAT WERE MADE FOR THE ATARI 2600/VCS.)
AL ::::: WHAT A PAL ??
I will assume you know AL, to many he's a pal
A fake friend to the end, to the grave he will send
::::::::::
Your liver and heart and brain, everything
You relationships, job prospects, lost respects
:::::::::!
Love turns to hate, decency turns to derelict
Kisses lessen, distance replaces caresses
::::::::!!
Love turns to hate, no one could anticipate
AL would enter as a friend, fun and relaxing
When he's around, life less taxing
:::::::!!!
All your troubles drown with the AL effect
So sad and down till AL came around
::::::!!!!
Soon you need AL around more and more
He fills up the cracks and loosens the tacks of life
:::::!!!!!
You'll laugh till you pee, then fall on your knees
Then punch a perfect stranger, not ALs' fault your in danger
::::!!!!!!
Your speech is now slurred, speaking with nasty words
That Al is something else, he'll even drive you to your house
:::!!!!!!!
He must not have driven very much, we just hit a mailbox
OOPS, just puked on the seat, can't feel my feet
::!!!!!!!!
Where do I live AL ?? He can't remember either
More and more AL fills up your life
Much to dismay of the kids and wife
:!!!!!!!!!
BUT !!! BEWARE !!! AL does NOT care about you
HE'S A FIEND, NOT A FRIEND !!
!!!!!!!!!!
He's not satisfied until your life, and all his BFFs
Is blurred and slurred, boiled and soiled
!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fake and fractured, submerged in the crapper
Al promised to make all your problems go away
Now every damn day is worse than yesterday
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
More troubles than before, and more
AL NEEDS TO DIE AND DROWN !!!
Only then will my life turn around
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AL IS NOT YOUR PAL