Halloween is over
And all the spooks have won
We didn’t scare away the undead
And now are overrun
Whatever shall we do?
Are we all going to die?
The dead have risen
Every thing has gone arry
All because of you ladies
Dressing up all sexy
Sure, I like seeing cleavage
But it is in no way scary
Because of your unbridled beauty
We now all have to pay
I’m sorry you didn’t realize
Halloween is about scaring the spooks away
As the last of humanity
Hides in holes around the world
Eating on the candy
From our trick or treat spoils
We might think fondly
Upon your wig’s pretty curls
Or upon your sexy body
Which was practically unfurled
I truly hope you take comfort
As the ghosts roll unchecked across then land
That we all got a great view
Of your scantily clad rear end
You thought it was all about fantasy
So you dressed up as the sexy cop
The Eve of All Hallows has passed
And dead bodies rise instead of drop
But the worst part about it all
Besides all the dying, dread, and fear
Is that we won’t be able to see
What you dress up as next year....
--Dan
--Want more Poetry? Check out my Poetry Collection Page!
A Brainless Nod is a blog about love and life, passionately written using articles, poetry, and serial web fiction. We are Dan and Lisa, and we both enjoy writing immensely. We hope you enjoy this look at our passions, our life together, and our opinions. Posts are sporadic due to us entering college, but expect new stuff every now and then!
Amazon Deals
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Friday, November 1, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
(poem) - What is That Smell?
There’s nothing like a smell in the house
One that you just can’t find.
It smells like a giant dead mouse
Or a moose’s putrid behind.
It lingers in every room
No matter how many candles you burn
You try to spray perfume
But your nose does nothing but yearn
For a time when there is no smell
A room that does not make you gag
Damn this place smells like hell
Or a discarded wash rag
We’ve emptied the trash cans
And searched every cranny
We cannot find the deadman
Nor his putrid fanny
But we will keep up the search
For this affront to the nose
But allowing it to continue the stench
Would not be a good way to end the prose
It’s the quest
For the Holy Grail
And I can attest
We shall not fail
Because we are sick and tired
Of this awful reek
We don’t want to be mired
In the smell of something that died last week
Help us
Oh mighty lord
Deliver us
From this smell’s deadly sword
And bring to us
Gentle smells
Of beautiful rose buds
Or other flowers of bright pastels
But until you do
We have the Scentsy burning bright
And we will leave them all on
If we have to, all bloody night....
--Dan
--Want more Poetry? Check out my Poetry Collection Page!
One that you just can’t find.
It smells like a giant dead mouse
Or a moose’s putrid behind.
It lingers in every room
No matter how many candles you burn
You try to spray perfume
But your nose does nothing but yearn
For a time when there is no smell
A room that does not make you gag
Damn this place smells like hell
Or a discarded wash rag
We’ve emptied the trash cans
And searched every cranny
We cannot find the deadman
Nor his putrid fanny
But we will keep up the search
For this affront to the nose
But allowing it to continue the stench
Would not be a good way to end the prose
It’s the quest
For the Holy Grail
And I can attest
We shall not fail
Because we are sick and tired
Of this awful reek
We don’t want to be mired
In the smell of something that died last week
Help us
Oh mighty lord
Deliver us
From this smell’s deadly sword
And bring to us
Gentle smells
Of beautiful rose buds
Or other flowers of bright pastels
But until you do
We have the Scentsy burning bright
And we will leave them all on
If we have to, all bloody night....
--Dan
--Want more Poetry? Check out my Poetry Collection Page!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)