Replying to a comment on:

Constipation (Free verse) by colbaby

Where for art thou mine Stench? Mine deceased rat nestles yet in my receptacle Nought is the push from my package So large I feel I’ve been impaled I’m starting to walk like a duck For I am carrying a load so large And it will not budge Fully laden I resign myself to retire for the evening anyway And dutifully inform my wife of my predicament And suggest to her, her probable misfortune I lay my body down upon my bed and relax Alas, the stubborn snake has vanished Ventured upwards into the magical labyrinth Have fun dear serpent I hope you’re good at reversing Don’t forget there’s only one way out of here Till next we meet, my friend, and may it be soon I could really do with a good purge But until then I shall remain a reservoir of sewerage A fleshy thermos flask for a steaming hot lunch A noxious incubator of a Havana Cigar longing to be puffed I am a pregnant missile ready for attack With such words of encouragement I entice my guest In every way possible to perform its duty And depart the premises via the port hole Leaving me pleasantly refreshed and invigorated And feeling like your regular everyday human being yet again

colbaby 20-Sep-06/7:46 AM
Ranger, here way down south in the backwashes of civilisation I was brought up on Faulty Towers, The Goon Show, Pot Black and The Carry On Crew. Not to mention Dave Allen. Therein lies my piece, English Humour. Where would I be without it? England is still my mother the-joke's-on-us country. Even though I'm seventh generation antipodean ignoramis, let me entertain you anyway. I'm sure the royal family would be amused. I know I am, along with several million others of my countrymen.




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001