limericks

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

This thin peasant farmer from France
used to juggle six balls in a dance
his mad backflip and twist,
rapidfire flicking wrists
put the merchants and wives into trance.

When queried for just as to why
he thus twisted and tossed toward the sky,
the old farmer did grin
as he scratched bearded chin,
giving thin whimsy spin in reply...

"Its a fact that I've never been paid,
for my odd sodding farmer's charade,
there's no gold rolled to me
but the truth, do you see,
is that sometimes, this trick gets me laid."

[StarPixy]

There once was a man from Karass,
Who's balls were made out of brass.
On stormy weather,
They both clanged together
And sparks flew out of his ass!!


(Ever hear that one before? Heehee!)

[Crescent]

At the fringe in Saskatoon-Town
With glee I did sit down
To watch Circle Shows
This wonderful prose
Continued 'till a torch came down

The audience all gasped with fear
And wondered if he'd had too many beer
Some thought it was funny
Some gave him more money
But the real situation was clear

This performer was cut and bruised
By the juggled torch that fluked
Yet continued the show
And I'll have you know
It turned out to be very good

(yeah, yeah, I know those words don't rhyme, but my brain hurts)

[Daniel Craig]

Hey, thanks a lot for that, Crescent.

[img]wink.gif[/img]

Makes me laugh- I have pictures of it right after, then on day 2, etc. etc. etc...

Good times. Just a little scar.

[Crescent]

Just an assumption but I'm guessing you had a heavier hat that day [img]wink.gif[/img]

I know I had spent almost all my money, and I had planned on just coming and telling you 'good show' or whatever, but then the little 'incident' happened and I couldn't help but throw in some cash [img]biggrin.gif[/img]

Hmmm....anyway.....

[Crescent]

oops...accidentally posted this twice

[ 10-04-2002: Message edited by: Crescent ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

No one asked me, but let me say this,
about that, friend, and that would be this,
if you're giving a speech
and attempting to reach
those assembled, you're likely to miss

your mark clean if you tell them they're great
and important to you and your fate
but then blow them to hell
as you answer your cell
leaving them to scratch asses and wait.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

With his anger and voice screaming, hoarse,
Our young man who performed on the wharfs,
His veins throbbing, face red
Butterfly on his head,
With his penis, the size of a dwarf's,

Pounded nightly on chrome-posted stage
As the years added up to an age,
The old dick slowly died,
And his sphincter complied,
Leaving him a behavioral cage,

Of a needed new circle of friends,
Because when our boy goes to the men's,
With a gripe and a bitch,
He's just going to switch,
For a brand new best buddy, Depends.

[Butterfly Man]

A creatively challenged juggler named Trix
Was found dead at his church in the sticks
Some things that he wrote
Were found lodged in his throat
He OD’d from his caustic limericks

From the body they found just one clue
A huge diaper they had to undo
That was wrapped ‘round his face
Apparently put there in place
And fastened with tissue and glue

Friends thought he died from heartbreak
From a tryst with a Swedish cupcake
Their travels in S.E. Asia
Like the brooms in Fantasia
Left him swept aside in her wake

But the truth of the matter be told
He died from the diaper blindfold
Which had glue made from poo
And residue from a loo
‘Cause vengeance is best served when cold

[Brian R Wilson]

Foolishly I jump into the ring,
perhaps a referee between to blow throwing bards
who jab, punch, and kick rhyming phrases
at each others egos.
Hoping a word might stick,
deflating the others mindset.

Surely we didn't need to know about diapers;
but I wonder, what brought these fighters into the ring?

"Why can't we all just get along?!"

[Butterfly Man]

Badda bing, badda bong, badda bang
Said the old, silver backed orang-outang
Stick to orbiting cows, if you please
And don’t anal-yze this, that or these
I’ve the ugliest asshole this side of Na Trang

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A decent enough poem, I'll grant
Its not often enough on this rant
That I see such a trick
From somesuch shmuck, or prick
and I did note the Fantasia slant.

But the poem lacks a certain appeal.
Really feels like I've just had a meal
Of raw oysters gone old
Eaten quickly and bold,
And I must straight away quickly wheel

To the toilet awaiting nearby
Where I grunt and I groan like a guy,
And compose on the seat
My response, so complete,
Unzip nigh and let fly my reply

There's a feeling of thanks for the fact
That my sphincter is still so intact:
There's no dignity blown
As I sit on the throne
'Cause at least I don't crap in a sack.


*

[ 12-14-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Butterfly Man]

Read your post and was struck by the fact
That you’re wasting your time with your act
You’ve got tricks like a fag
And your jokes make me gag
Small wonder just flies you attract

If not for that one wheeled bike
And the things that others did write
You'd have no act at all and work in a mall
Selling corn dogs to bikers and dykes

So eat oysters and say what you may
Though others might think you are gay
If you groan on the throne
Bitch, whimper and moan
And write poetry on a bidet

Please excuse me if I sound too cruel
But I just ate a bowl of clear gruel
Someone threw in cayenne
I fell off my bedpan
And I'm lying in a pool of my stool

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Your comments arrived here just now,
And I'm dumbstruck and wondering how
You presume to assess,
My ass you can caresse,
Who asked you, you crapping old sow?

If I'm wasting my time on my act
As you claim, with your typical tact,
What does that say of you
With your chrome uni, too
And a costume that dates so far back?

What you say sounds like our evening crickets
Chirping madly behind the fence pickets.
It would resonate more
Than a turd on the floor,
If your sorry old name could sell tickets.

Please excuse me, I just have to say,
My emotions are getting away
If I'm being too cold
To a man weak and old,
It is only because yesterday

My six mates left my home around noon
Wearing g strings and humming some tune
From an old Streisand show,
And my neighbor, I know
Is convinced I'm as gay as a loon.


*

[ 12-14-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Butterfly Man]

So you say I'm as dated as dirt
And that most of your friends wear a skirt
But I'm far from defeat
And not nearly effete
For your ass to make my knob squirt

Like your neighbor, I fear I mistrust
My old uni, covered with dust
Though I've no fear of breeding
I do fear the bleeding
If I do come, it's likely to rust

As to how many tickets I'd sell
I'm sure that I'd rather not dwell
But my wit spouting shit
You'll have to admit
Has raised some hell decibel

So while I'm not young, dry or spry
I gleaned me some corpus delecti
Though I leave turds on the floor
And fuck Zsa Zsa Gabor
I'm still one banzai butterfly