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Best Everything But The Kitchen Sink Poems | Poetry

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The kitchen sink

(Only the first line of this poem is true.)

I've written poems about everything but the kitchen sink.
I write so much that it hurts when I think.
I'd write some more but my pen is out of ink.
I'm the only man in my town who wears a mink.
Don't mess with me, I don't take sass.
If you tell anybody about my mink, I'll kick your ___.


Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2008


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Johnny B part 3 of 4

I sold my shack, My cadillac, the rug off of my floor, I stole from ma and pa and I shot up all that dough, My woman cried and dam near died when I stole her mink, but I stay in my role, and I stole, and I sold everything but the kitchen sink. Down I fell to the detp of hell, I have put myself on the cross. My habits got tall, my money got small, but the deadest blow of all was when this ho took Ill on short noticed and could no longer gin. her head was dead, her *** was red and the lips on her *** was cold. I , figure what the hell, since this ho ain't well I'll get me a wife-in-law. there this redhead ho with the whorehouse itch over in Satan stable. I call her big Mabel and I'll do my best while you convalesce getting back on your feet again. like hell, she cried, I'll see you dead before I see you go.  May that black coach of sorrow pick your *** up tomorrow if you walk beyond that door. Now, I ruined my health and a bid of wealth so that you could have your bed, but now you have went Dopehead and shot up all that bread. Now , you're talking this stable ? but you see, I'm wise to the lines you pimps drop on the frail and that game you try to play, and if this  don't cease like mother I'll call the police and have them carry your *** away. well I kept on fixing my stuff because I'm aiming to split, this is what I said, trick you ain't no lady and you know the game, they call it cop and blow. you done had your run and now you're done, I'm Goin to find me another ho. Now, would I look silly with an broke down filly on an track to fast, beside, a trick ain't nothing without a good man wits. and you're thoroughbred days are past. No, I'll put you in charge of my whorehouse at large and give you some girls to rule, but, trick you sound like hell talking about putting my *** in jail you must be a Gotdam fool. trick, step aside, let me slide hurry up and get off my back. I'm gonna find me another young lady who can run that fast track.


Copyright © Ronald Campbell | Year Posted 2018