so there i was on my jack
knackered as a bloke can be
hankering to nip on down
to the boulevard to fetch me
brolly from the boot o’ me
auto
and blimey i nearly took
a brad in me trousers on the
sight of the buzzed feeding lad
digging through the rubbish bin
for things to post to the interwebs this yank is a right foul git i tell you
and his site a load of daff

A Haiku: Fifty-Eight Letters
And Seventeen Syllables
And Ten Pointless Words

Title: At The Discotheque I saw you last night
at the discotheque.
From you looks I could tell
You were a discoczech.
So I laced up my platform boots
and took a discotrek
across the multicolored dancefloor. You said you used to live
In discoUtrecht.
Started feelin’ lots of love,
gave you a discopeck
on your cheek and on your disconeck.
We danced all night to some
discoBeck. We went to my place, and under the stars
made love on my parents’ discodeck
for an hour or two and then watched
discoShrek. Crashed in my bed, slept till nine.
Woke up not feelin’ too fine.
Tequila sunrise, this must be a sign.
I’m such a discowreck…

i go forwards
i go back
here and there
never far
even further
been and seen
and never saw
to go back
and go forwards
i will spin
these wheels
and swing
these legs
and throw
my arms
up and out
around
back down
over
us

They dwelt among th’Internets,
WTF, LOL, and Eww,
tagg’d memes no one forgets
nor could if they wanted to. I rejoice to see an epic fail,
a cat behind a keyboard playing,
that Cornell Business School email,
Hitler finding MJ’s death dismaying. They live well-lov’d, and few could know
If e’er they’ll cease to be;
But now they’re here and viral, and Oh!
What joy they bring to me!

A breast enhanced singer
New photos (upskirt)
Charlie bit my finger
And it hurt

http://jongleursrespite.blogspot.com

I write only depressing shit:  When I look in the mirror,
You are there.
When I sleep,
You are there.
I try to take off my skin
But you will not disappear.
I do not invite you,
But always you come.
I ask you to leave,
But you stay.
I have tried to be forceful,
I have tried to be kind.
In the end I have realized,
I will not win.
I sat down today and wrote you a letter:
Oh loneliness,
Thou art a true friend,
Ever there when I am down…
Never to leave my side,
No matter how hard I try to push you away….

William Wordsworth would not be proud
That Buzzfeed hath defiled his cloud
With pictures and videos which muster
Abundant cute and wtf luster
Poetry is valued by its content
And as a self aware poem I do not consent
To being reduced to my creator’s whim
Of singing the internets a sleazy hymn
Good day old chap or Obama’s elf
When this is done I will shoot myself
*Bang*

There once was a site called buzzfeed
I’d visit when really high on weed
I take a big toke
And laugh at a joke
While munching on sunflower seed

The little dog
The little frothing dog
The little frothing dog sat
The little frothing dog sat uneasily
Drooling
Drooling profusely
Drooling very profusely
Drooling very profusely while I ate my chips.

Poetry is gay Poetry is gay,
I mean really,
Who even writes poetry in this modern day? It’s not quite as gay,
As being in a man, balls deep,
But about the same gay,
Of a urinal peek.
So I won’t rhyme,
For your fruity battle.
I won’t wax poetic,
Like just another of the gay cattle.
I won’t put on my favorite silk shirt
I won’t wear my skinny jeans
I won’t have perfect hair,
As I go out with some queens.
I won’t join your rabble,
and simply say, “What the heck”
Mostly, you understand,
Because I fear Glenn Beck.

Haikus rule your face
Just because you can write them
Doesn’t mean you’re rad

“Oh, Buzzfeed” American Apparel has got nipple slips for days,
And Dakota Fanning is over that awkward phase.
Remember when Christina Aguilara was cool?
You know its fun to watch Ms. Prejean look a fool
The Clemson rowing team flaunted their moose knuckles,
And that skydive prank made me release some chuckles.
I don’t really care for mayo OR whip,
But did you see that sweet-ass wheel barrel flip?
Usually Buzzfeed’s got the goods to keep ‘em entertained,
But sometimes I see something that leaves me pained.
Such as a poor sweet seal getting shot in the face,
I could try to defend you, but this is not the case.
I’m still upset that you posted such an event,
I hope you’ve all considered how to repent.
But I came back, cuz you’ve got what I need,
There’s no one quite like you, my F’ed up Buzzfeed.

ON HOW EATING TOO MUCH CHOCOLATE IS IN THESE GENES Tramp was the stooge, Tramp was the patsy,
sorry victim of her reputation.
We believed what we were told, we
joined in the bitch’s vilification Each Christmas, after all, we saw her
snaffling the edible tree decorations -
(maybe the sight was sewn all along,
as alternative to this aberration) The trap was laid, the game afoot
when Easter morning brought its reward.
“Go out with your aunt this afternoon”
that plotting villain reassured us full of trust (what can a child e’er
do but trust in maternal concern),
on a day ripe with anticipation
for the oval treats of our return. But hark! the tale, such a tale, unfolds
“This wretched mutt, rapacious hound,
dear boy, has guzzled what was yours”
O Weasel Words! Black lies abound! And so it was, and so it remained
until years, nay, even decades later
the meagrest creeping tardy guilt
finally fell on the perpetrator when Tramp, poor Tramp, the slandered pet
no longer had bark nor larcenous bite,
that wicked woman, so-called parent
deigned then to put the story aright. And so, poor Tramp, impulsive mongrel,
a thousand pardons from you I beg
that I ever doubted it was my mother
who stole and ate my Easter egg.