I am trusting in heaven's sense of humor and tolerance for word play, with this poem I wrote a few years back. Happy St. Paddy's Day in advance to all. Sky quill photo art by Jobias.
St. Anus
There was a saint not widely known
But pious nonetheless
Where thru frustrations we would ask
To save us from distress
Upon our knees we send our pleas
In hopes that help is near
When life becomes a bummer
To heaven we adhere
They say this saint has heard it all
I'm sure he's bored to tears
Because we never change our act
Or get it into gear
No holy crime, but to save time
This saint made a form letter
We read by intutiton
In hopes that all gets better
It's generic and applies
To every episode
It starts out...Dearest Sinner
I see you've made a LOAD
You've only got youself to blame
And here you ask for strength
Now's the time to make a change
You've yanked things to their length
Look within my wild child
With clarity and trust
Use your better judgment
And don't call St. Anus
You are too clevre Anita,;-) it's always a pleasure to see what yo come up with!
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on March 13, 2008
HAHAHA, Yet I'm bored to tears every year, that from a wee isle of
3000000, how is it that 3 billion claim to be irish, lol..And why want to be? 80% of them left the isle cos they hated it....
Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)
Reviewed on March 13, 2008
Very cute pen indeed..LOL..stay safe and well...HUgssss
Yeah, the area around the anus of many an individual's history - and I include my own in this - is strewn with the results of flimsy judgements wiped off the arse of bad choices. We then chuck them irresponsibly onto the lap of some hapless saint to clean up after him. Hmm, and somebody else gets the blame: 'Shit!' said the king. So we all shat because the king's word was law. Kind of lets us off the hook doesn't it?
Think I'll skip the porridge this morning in the light of this poem's 'moving' theme.
Growing Up My Uncle Used To Have A Can Of Spray In A Room Down The Hall By The Throne Room
& On This Can Was A Bull Takin a Hefty Squat on A Throne While Reading A Paper.....The Title of The Can was called "No More Bull-$hit" lol
Not for those of us who are feeling a little retentive confessionally at the moment! Time we all 'fessed up and re-laxed a bit. Thanks for making us all a little less po-faced tonight, Anita... Hope I'm not speakin out of... where the sun don't shine... :)) Unique as always, me deario xx
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part V
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part V is humorous adult literature featuring adult content and language. The work satirizes and spoofs thirteen classic tales from U.S. and British literature, a
Deputy Dave Jenkins sets out to find the murderer of the local high school principal, aided by a voice from the grave that is sometimes helpful and sometimes misleading.
"Murder isn't usually this funny."
Amazon reviewer
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Sheila
3000000, how is it that 3 billion claim to be irish, lol..And why want to be? 80% of them left the isle cos they hated it....
I see you've made a LOAD
Wow, and I thought I knew all the saints. I better start getting in touch with this one. I've made lots of Loads.
Think I'll skip the porridge this morning in the light of this poem's 'moving' theme.
Regards
Dai
hugs
Fee
Ron
As I Laugh My Arse Off....
Growing Up My Uncle Used To Have A Can Of Spray In A Room Down The Hall By The Throne Room
& On This Can Was A Bull Takin a Hefty Squat on A Throne While Reading A Paper.....The Title of The Can was called "No More Bull-$hit" lol
Whahahahahahahaha....I think I smell something...lol!!
Love Tinka