Leftover pumpkins
Grab one off your neighbour's porch
Headless Horseman Time!!

dear americans
though your president's a twat
we love you long time

there once was a poem from me
to show how said limericks be
the pattern of rhyme
and their rhythmic time
is exactly as you can now see

Define limerick.
Other than being dirty.
Rhythm, rhyme, so on.

Give you sedatives
Dunk you in a vat of nog
Fuck your brains right out

That ain't a limerick
You better lay off the sauce
Poet, Stay Sober!!

Egg nog with rum sucks.
Drink half a gallon per day.
You must drink it straight.

Spend New Year's alone.
No one likes to fuck fatties.
Not even when drunk.

This bad haiku's a limerick.
When you read it you will be sick.
You'll vomit a bucket
of puke and shout "fuck it",
Cunt maggots and dog feces lick.

Santa brings presents
But why dont God and Jesus?
Cheap Motherfuckers

I've not drank egg nog,
disappointing heart surgeons,
for about four years.

Spiked Santa's egg nog
latte with Viagra pills.
Shopping mall scandal.

I rode a funt-cart.
It wouldn't go very fast.
It was at Wal-Mart.

Oh wait, no, I'm wrong.
It was one of those "Rascals".
The seat smelled funny.

Quantum particles
swerve inappropriately
whilst navigating.

Holiday photos
Mall Santa popped a boner
Mugshot portrait now

Oxen pull funt-cart
Through the wastelands of Haiku
Loaded full of Funt.

Bad Haiku website
symptomatic of our time:
pottymouth trash-talk

With that being said
With that being said...No more!!
With that being said

Ronald McDonald
He's got an orange schmeckle
Just like that Trump clown

Salami dildo
Delicatessen window
Dinner and a show

Since the last update
Forecast calls for more poems
Chance of urine floods

Tortoise Turdle Turd
Chomping lettuce. Daydreaming.
Popping a boner

Mailman Piggy Back!
Nude Ambush. Caught him off guard
No bath salts involved

We're staunch characters
S-T-A-U-N-C-H
And we tap dance, too

Class action lawsuit
Bad Roosters! Mosquitoes Fraud!
Yowling Cats will pay!!

human albumin
Slippery banana peels
I smell a lawsuit

Roosters attacked me.
Goddamn tortoise ate a turd.
Cats yelling for food.

Killed three mosquitoes.
The flies were too quick for me.
Pouring rain again.

Kids either fussing
or playing video games.
Waste away their lives.

Here I write haiku.
And that's oh so meaningful.
Why won't God kill me?!

McOyVeyDonald's.
Kosher Bacon Cheeseburgers.
Ronald's McMosheh.

When Christ was a lad
he got the happy meals.
Comes with free dreidel.

Reverberations
Wind passed on the veranda
Crouching low, cat-like

Yesterday....Today....
We didn't ask for this crap.
Maybe tomorrow...

Jesus, son of God
Never tasted McDonald's
He really missed out

all things considered
some folks think it is the end
so there's mark taylor

And end with a fart

Once upon a Figpucker

All stories will start

I hope that I know when I'm going to die so that I can post on Farcebook, I AM DARTH FIGPUCKER, to shame my whole family. That way they will hate me and not mourn me at all. Save them the trouble. Cremate me, flush my ashes down the nearest toilet. Save money that way.

I miss elections.
I used to shit on porches
of republicans.

Never shat in sinks.
I mean, why waste a good turd?
Each turd can be art!

Of course I'm joking.
My life: haiku, sudoku.
Sudoku, haiku.

No nipple biting.
the bee's knees and wasp's nipples.
Erogenous bugs.

I realized something.
Being immortal would suck.
I feel bad for God.

God or the Devil.
They will never know the end.
And its sweet release.

So much backed up shit
Procrastinating colon
I

Nivea fetish
A self proclaimed sink shitter
That guy has small feet

Please bite my nipples.
Go ahead and make them bleed.
It's better than milk.

When feeling useless,
and you have nothing to say,
blow it out your ass.

Or write a haiku.
The whole world will be amazed.
I am so awesome!

It's like the Cups song
Except you use cut off dicks
Miss 'em when they're gone

Spend our lives waiting
The suspense is killing me
I can hardly wait

Good Old Ceiling Cat
He's been watching you do that
And that's an eyeful

In the waiting room
That's where we do our waiting
We're in here waiting

Let me show you
My intergluteal cleft
Conversation piece

Boner compass
Lost in the town of Pleasure
Tiny hands. Raking.

Ass gas no jiggle
Always welcome for dinner
It's All You Can Eat

I hate statistics.
Even more than statistics,
I hate stats teachers.

I hypothesize
that your ass is hippo-sized.
Supersized your fries.

Neither one wore clothes.
They toed each other asses.
More so at dinner.