MADLIBS

*Dear step cousin,
I am having a(n) anusy sparkle time at camp. The counselour is irritating and the food is porteguese. I met maggie and we became diafonous friends. Unfortunately, maggie is queasy and I up-chucked my kidney so we couldn`t go tainting like everybody else. I need more taint boobies and a sweat sharpener, so please dankly prostitute more when you sexed back.
Your greatX3 g-ma,
Jesus

*This is an madlib the gang (Kasey, Lacey, Alex, Jess) and I put together a while ago.

Dead Man 2

Dead Man 2

I am in love with a dead man
Who is controlled by my arch enemy.
I am in love with a drunk man.
Dear Rhondda, I am 73 and
I am in love with a younger man,
How old is too old to get pregnant?
My concern is that he didn’t believe
In god, and then for years he did, and
Now he doesn’t . We can’t afford anyone
Else yet!

THE DEATH OF LIZZIE ELLIS;
DESPONDENT BECAUSE HER
LOVE IS NOT REQUITED,
SHE SHOOTS HERSELF.

He is also a bit of a boy scout
And he won’t put out. I have been
Asked to pass on a message of
Love and apology. Ain’t no love
For a drunk man talking.
We are in love with a dead man who
Was a homophobe, and I might have loved
Him for a few moments, but I don’t now.
You can feel his body saying,
“People just love to get drunk
And drive around, don’t they?”

Help, I’m in love with a dead man!
What should I do? Love, Kofi.
He is in love with a white man, who
Is not willing to call me about anything.
He loved a drunk man, and, actually, I sort
Of loved that drunk man to. We both loved him!
The drunk man gave me commemorative spoons
For my collection, and his face was like my dad’s.
His skin was like the color of my father’s hands,’
And he had that long handlebar moustache.
He was in a trucking magazine, and he slept in
The back of the truck.

Dead Man 1

Dead Man 1

I am in love with a dead man who turned into a vampire
Named Bill. My name is cynical lady; fools profit from fools
Who profit. Creepy, I know, but.

I am in love with black men who are in love with
White women who are in love with black men. He
Is the love of my life, but I do not love him. My parents
Don’t understand anything about that.

I am in love with a horse, Milton, who is an
Actual horse, he just recovered from a bad ear.
Things have changed, and I now have a fancy haircut.

I am in love with toe rings as long as they are firmly attached.
I am in love with an Hispanic man, and I am not racist.
Hot or not, I am in love with blow jobs.

As many of you know, I am in love with ranch.
I use ranch on my chicken, pizza, and pretty dolls;
I appreciate your words. I am in love with Manga
And I am an interesting person.

I am in love with the dead man next door.
I am in love with a dead man. I have been in
Love with a black man, but there is nothing yet.

Apples

After Apple Fucking*

My long two-pointed penis sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't massage
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't fuck upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-fucking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my penis.
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My penis not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-fucking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the do-not-fuck heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.

*All right. Basically, I took the poem "After Apple Picking" by Robert Frost, and deleted a few sections and replaced several words with "penis" and "fuck." Super.

Stick IT

Stick it in and Shake it

Pray with me
in the bathtub and then
Lie on
me. What is
that weight?
When I’m in
Japan, I’m from
Alaska; When I’m
in Alaska,
I’m from Japan.
I’m surprised that you are
Happy to see me.
I’m also surprised
by ice.
Ow. It hurts
a lot.
Call Sholls. It is now 1920,
so my home
Has moved
And there are animals, who
You know,
Are closer to god. Look in
RB’s eyes. He is
Closer to god.
I’m so into food.
So into it.
Laroo,
Laroo,
Laroo.

Fuck.

Fuck my dreams.

The dog lies on the parachute.
The parachute is red and blue and
Folded into four puffy squares
And we understand this makes a bed.
When the working day is done,
I walk through my garage, and my
Neighbor is sitting there with a syringe.

We understand that the parachute-dog
Is dead. The Air Life helicopter appears
And suddenly I live in the forest that
Multiplies. The helicopter attaches a
Long cable to the small backpack
And he doesn’t even spin as they
Fly away.

I now live in a swap full of Dr. Pepper.
I now live in my own garage. The large
Poodle is there chasing an older me.
And snow is thick and sticky. What
Could
This possibly mean?

You have been walking along the street
And discover that we lied to you
But you found us anyway! Sit in this
Cubby above the crowd. I paid $20.
You’ve been eyeing my ear, I can tell.
We hang out in my garage forever.

Bean-dip

Hot Bean-dip Dildo

Did you really arrest that 4-year-old?
Oh, you. We have built a tiny model
of the election and their
Small plastic, curved hands say hello,
or goodbye. She is young
And unsure in a bright red dress
and all her features are rounded
Together. And they stand on her
hands. Chimala peers out of the
Water. Her small ears set back and
her small eyes just on the
Water’s surface. The way her face I
s made looks like a smile,
But that is only how it looks. Her reflection
is such that it appears another
Hippo is balancing on her ears. She is a gifted
designer and has created a
Beautiful floral tribute with orange and white and pink.

The woman in the suitcase is older, but small enough to fit.
She was
Not picked for her looks. A tiger runs
by her face to say there is no
More cholera anymore.
You can get it up.
The garbage collectors ride in
Horse drawn carriages and all the
horses wear hats. You cannot hide from
The Russian Patriarch, so, for three days,
you must wait in line with all the others to view
The body. He hates the church he loves the church.
We must make decisions. Let us confirm with
The blue day book so we may see a walking bear
Who tells me how to feel well.