Zen and the art of nonesense

“Move closer to the wall, my son, and speak into the grille
Confession is the saviour of the soul
If there’s something on your conscience, if you’re feeling weak or ill
Confess… and ye shall once again be whole!
Ask the lord for his salvation, he is waiting for your call”
“I’m afraid I’ve sinned too greatly” said the voice behind the wall.
“Let’s see if I have got it straight - your wife… her name is Liza
She’s inclined to wear her dresses rather short
She was bending over looking for an ice cream in the freezer
When you, behind her, had this lustful thought
She had to lean way over, for she isn’t very tall…”
“And I wanted chocolate brickle” said the voice behind the wall.

“Now, I know you’re newly-married (since you made your vows before us)
But married people often act up thus
It sometimes spoils the pleasure if the sex is too decorous
So I see no reason why to make a fuss
Perhaps your wife objected… did she try to start a brawl?”
“No… I think she rather liked it” said the voice behind the wall.

“Then go, my son, I find no blame… your actions may be kinky
Tell Liza to be careful with her dress
Next time she looks for ice cream to wear something long and slinky
Then her husband will have nothing to confess
We will not throw you out of church… I find no sin at all…”
“Well they threw us out of Woolworths!” said the voice behind the wall.

A diplomat, promising or not, who turned out not to be a sexual anomaly would be an anomaly.

Absolutely agreed, my dear Mr. Rising Sun. You know…

There was an diplomat of Khartoum,
Who kept a pink sheep in his room.
Said he, “They recall
The ivy – clad wall
Where I first kissed my wife in the gloom.”

BTW, honorable ladies and gentlemen: how about some hi-tech poetry?

Ye masters of Packets! Ye poor silly loons!
Sell your boats and get Blanchard to make you balloons;
For our fair modern Witches, no longer aquatic,
Will never more cross but in boats Aerostatic!

How bout I share some of my poems I wrote for school, and don’t make me the only one to share, please someone else share.

One of my favorites I made:

[i]Firefight

Bullets here, bullets there,
Bullets are coming everywhere.
On this street I shoot with might,
Trying not to die in this firefight.
Death all around on this street,
Trying to stay on my feet.
I think am going to get shot in the head,
Saying to myself “Oh god, am I dead”.
Even though I fight for freedom,
I know am going to my god’s kingdom.
I say to myself “I fight for thee”,
But am actually thinking “let my soul be free”.
Wait, that sound, the steady rumbling,
Yes, thank you, reinforcements are coming.
I laugh with glee and smile with delight,
Thanking the lord that I lived through this firefight.
[/i]

I got two more where that came from, lol, sharing is fun.

“A pint of Plain is yer only man,” sez The Brother. (Apologies to Brían ÓNualláin/Flann O’Brien). JR.