Hail President Whack a Mole
He does it with TREMENDOUS soul
Whack there National Security Admin Mr Flynn
Lying is one TREMENDOUS sin
Whack a bulls eye on FBI Comey
With all that loyalty baloney
Whack the ole Press Secretary Spicer
Chip Chop like a speed dicer
Whack the Chief of Staff Reince
Little rat leakier to Pence
Whack the little new Chief of Staff
Scaramucci kind of riff raff
I am one of the great presidents of all time
Wac a mole Making America shine
Categories:
dicer, bullying, political,
Form: Political Verse
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Oh, I thank you, my friend but I don't think I should...
No, I never would dine here again, if I could!
And the truth is, I tried but the outcome was grim,
for you see, what came out was much worse than went in!
But you know, all the dishes you've named DO sound good,
so perhaps if you came in to MY neighborhood,
we could come by a fryer and try some new stuff
like delicious doo bryer and fenberry fluff!
And when we feel full and no more food will fit,
then we'll each pull up seats and together we'll sit
'til the stars on our bellies are smaller in size,
then we'll get in our cars and we'll holler goodbyes
but until that day comes (and it's coming, for sure!)
I will show you your chair and I'll call you "kind sir"
and you'll know then and there the next time that we meet,
we will sit as a pair and we'll both get to eat!
Now, I hope you don't think that I don't like my job!
Yes, its noisy, it stinks and each night there's a mob,
there are zakes in the dicer and qwetts in the flue
but the place is much nicer now that I've met you!
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Categories:
dicer, friendship, funny,
Form: Rhyme
Surrounded my millions of others,
and yet, still so alone.
Preachers call them my sister and brothers.
But, for me what have they done?
Other than judge and pick?
Steal my self respect,
with their thieving eyes.
My eyelids stick,
To what my soul would reflect.
As my heart rots, swarmed by flies.
I'll turn invisible, gouging my "soul windows",
Going deaf from words of the wiser.
Splitting the spine of myself and the world.
Hiding from your shunning vulture selves.
As my second half suddenly widows.
And my thoughts go through the dicer.
My hopes once straight, go curled.
I laugh as Satan eats Santa's elves.
How can you expect me to be sympathetic,
When you follow suit of the hatred.
Crying yourselves to sleep for reasons,
Reasons of which I'm empathetic.
as you put your moments to bed.
Thoughts polluting though the seasons.
I'll disappear. Be alone.
Be happy, in solitude.
Removed from the social backbone.
in solid state.
And live ...
In peace.
Categories:
dicer, fear, imagination, life, me,
Form: Rhyme