Oh for some Zzzz

I slept in our bed sound asleep
Under the covers i felt a hand creep
    It was my American dove
    Who had given me a shove
For my snoring had left her counting sheep 

Look at me, no honestly - Look At Me

There once was a person I knew
Whose ego just grew and grew
   It came to the stage
   That I just turned to the next page
Goodbye, your just so full of poo

Jealousy Jade

There's nothing worse than hogging the scene
It's even sadder that they have to be mean
     To be seen and not heard
     Is the truest of words
It's even worse when they turn a dull green

I'm Gonna Write On, Write On

Oh darn I have lost again
It's all starting to become such a pain
    All my beautiful writes
    Turned out to be *****
Maybe tomorrow may not be in vain   

Who Turns the Lights out

There once was an Internet site
That kept going out like a light
         One minute it was there
       All the Soupers did stare
C'mon admin, this just ain't right

It's Norm, Down on the Farm

There once was a parachutist called Norm
Who parachuted into an alligator farm
     He said with a hell of a shout
      "Blimey! it's time to bail out"
Before I'm the calm before their storm 


Wham Bam no Slam

Would I be able to write in Slam
To attempt it I would just totally clam
    For me it's rhyme
    It does me just fine
If I tried, it would end up in a sham 

Capital Hill Bills

Hey! you dudes on Capital Hill
Do you pay for your own bills
   Or is it us poor guys
   Who pay for your buys
With taxes taken at will

Lewis the Parrot

I know of a parrot called Lewis
Whose impressions went right just through us
      With his amazing charm
      Like a burglar alarm
When he did, he'd always confuse us



There once was a poetry called SLAM
Driven to the depths and damned
    Is it akin to converse
    This SLAM, or is it Verse
Frankly my dear, "I don't give a damn"

I know I Possibly Wrote It

There once was a memory man
Who remembered all that he can
So he wrote in a book                     
Which was gone when he looked        
Now he's doubting his memory span  

Mm, in the Morning

There's a blonde poetess out there
At her picture I delightedly stare
     Admiring her curves and shapes
     Oh man I do wish I drape
In the morning we awaken all bare

Bifocal Ogle

I wish I had bionic eyes
Or binoculars so I could espy
     My blond in the shower
     Viewing her passionate flower
With long arms I'd gladly dry

Manhattan Soup

Years ago when the kids were young
A plan of action in my mind began

They ran around playing children's games
Peace of mine was never the same

When the boys dressed up they looked real cute
Fighting baddies they were in hot pursuit

Many months I put up with this
The noise, the screaming, tearing at my bliss

Then came the day all hell broke loose
No more their father could be a woose

Leonardo, Michelangelo were the first to be shelled
Raphael and Donatello were next to be felled

Once simmered with herbs and beautiful leek hoops
Teenage Ninjas, turned into Turtle Soup

Many hours of quietness in tranquillity followed
Whilst bowls of Manhattan Soup were delightfully swallowed 

I'm Keyless, Chuck

"Hey kids! have you seen the keys for the door
 I'm sure I put them down there before
     I'm thinking this place is haunted
     Or is your mother being taunted
 Own up, or your backsides are gonna be sore"