Rhymed Humor

Dalliance; Tradition
Home | Ol Lady, Nix, Squeezen | OF FICELITY AND LOVE | THE DREAMER | THE HOURGLASS | Dalliance; Tradition | On cigarettes | Bland Blairs

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Oh my!  Your not my wife, but that feels good.


   Well, Barb doesnt know. . . . Pleausres why we live.


Oh!  It okay, just another dalliance, we could . . .


   This will get us higher, its short-term love we give


My sexual urge too strong for vows to keep, We should.


   Fidelity is bondage; Barbs old-fashion ways Ill forgive.


Oh god! This herb . . . . I feel better, but can barely think--


   The same I'd do without the drinks.



"Your breast look bigger when youre lying prone."


    Pent-up anger, much less when I roam.


Hustle her to bed; I need this so.


    Then home to wife and kids I'll go.






I, my father, and my fathers father did not choose.


Sure life is nothing much to loose,


The priest has told us there is heaven paradise,


For those who make the sacrifice.


Besides our God he loves us so,


It will only happen to our foe.


Couldn't Shame the land from which we sprung,


So here we lie the dead and young.




              L A T E      A L O N E


The near dawn, iced, trash-strun subway concourse,


And I puddle the splintered-board wall with drunken force.


Blottoed from endless vacuous broken dreams,


I softly ask, "Oh where is love and self-esteem?"


Steel grinds steel of approaching train screams:


The human incubus has laid my beams,


Conductors just another passenger,


Profit purpose guidance puts US all in danger;


What is beyond mending ought be beyond anger,


Politics of life, blind manager;


Beneficence is just another dream;


The author of harsh natures scheme


Is not he who penned "The Sermon on the Mount."


There are no cosmic tears to count


Each city that has tumbled down,


Or how by man, Innocence is daily drowned.


So Mac, take a seat and rub your pleasure,


For there lies that by which you humans use to measure.


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