I dedicate the following poems to all the people who think I am morbid, depressed, misaligned, transfixed by (the inevitability of) death, hopelessly negative and violent. I am not.
The “Happy Poem” is dedicated to my friend “Dan” (not real name. He knows who he is) and the “Faye Wray” poem is dedicated to everyone else in the world because we all think we are alone, we were all conceived in a vacuum, and exist through some fluke of biology. This is especially true of all the anti-porn folks out there (you know who you are too!) who refuse to believe their conception was not aided by Playboy, Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang and bootleg copies of Popeye’s and Olive Oyl’s ribald adventures (or some other imaginative sexual aid).
By the way…“In the cartoons, she (Olive Oyl) helps take care of a baby named Swee'Pea; it is not made clear if Swee'Pea is Olive Oyl's own son or an adopted foundling. In the comics, Swee'Pea is a foundling under Popeye's care. Later sources (mostly in the cartoon series) say that Swee'Pea is Olive Oyl's cousin or nephew that she has to take care of from time to time. “* Yeah! Right! We all know that Popeye is poppin’ a lot more than cans of spinach!
*Wikipedia Reference
A happy poem.
Indoor plumbing
Fuel efficient cars
A virus free computer
Life on Mars
A friend who sends me
Humorous e-mails
A youth spent exploring
Numerous females
A good night’s sleep
A good day’s work
A nap, a snack, a jack
(When it’s flat)
Good whiskey good food
Good shows on the tube
Time for bed
And you’re both
In the mood
A warm bed and
All the equipment is humming
Morning after coffee
And indoor plumbing.
2 comments:
Good poem. I like the happy ones :D
Thanks, Cool Katz!. Seems like "Happy" is the way to go. Everybody seemed to like "Happy".
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