Best Funnydark Poems
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Across the earth they cast a net
In which a worldly soup is met
The good the bad the in-between
The dark the light and greyish sheen
All jumbled in a mighty throng
The clever right, the woeful wrong
It is the same, or so I’m told
Just like the fisher nets of old
They trawled the oceans deep dark floor
And netted creatures by the score
Some fat and plump, a rich reward
Some dank and foul, tossed overboard
And so, be sure that when you stray
Along that road... the net’s highway
To use your brain and use it right
And cast the rubbish out of sight
Check all your facts, don’t use one source
Before your genius you enforce
For though the net’s a magic tool
You wouldn’t want to look a fool.
A Place in the Country
By Elton Camp
I finally got tired of living on a tiny lot in the city
With the woods and open land, to stay was a pity
So I bought a cabin located on 100 acres of land
Abutting a national forest where to build was a ban
It was a pleasure to be of bothersome neighbors free
So I could walk around outside and nobody to see
All went as I expected for a time after I moved in
Then one dark and stormy night the trouble did begin
In the woods behind my cabin I heard a scary yell
I went outside and was revolted by a horrible smell
A dark and shadowy form crashed through the trees
I frowned with annoyance at distractions such as these
The next morning I went out searching for any track
Because of the muddy ground there wasn’t any lack
Standing behind thick bushes, the intruder I did see
Huge, hairy and gruesome, Bigfoot looked back at me
I awoke early this evening,
Just as I had planned.
I wanted to see a sunset.
I wanted....to feel.
As I sit and contemplate
the blisters upon my hand,
I realize the truth.
That bloody hurt!
What was I thinking?
What was I wanting?
What did I expect?
Why did I even seek the sun?
Am I wanting true death?
I don't think so.
Have I outlived my usefullness?
Perish the thought.
I must chalk it up to my love of beauty.
My love of all things mystery to me.
I know my tailor sews my clothes,
but how he comes up with the designs,
is a mystery.
I know my cat is hidding mice
within my lair. I can smell them, hear them.
This is a mystery as to why she does so.
My latest cloak is mystery itself.
So dark an indigo, as to be night.
The lining so dark a red, as to be blood.
With pockets of every shape and size
sewn within. Each pocket lined with
butter soft leather.
There are even places to obscure the presence of a knife.
I have decided it will be my new Mourning cloak.
Worn when dining. Perhaps a small souvenir tucked here and there within those lovely
pockets.
No! That I will never do. There are rules and etiquette to be followed.
Ah, the moon shines now upon my desk.
The clock is ticking. My night time
fun ends quickly.
A last stroke of the quill. A last kiss upon a mangy, rat smelling head of crystal
and I am off.
~Lord Kellington