Mr. Foot, Oh Mr. Foot,
Why art thou named, Mr. Foot?
You're a giant Monkey, how so true,
But why have you painted me blue?
I've found that many monkey don't like peas,
And you Mr. Foot, are covered in fleas.
But whilst still covered in fleas, you still like peas.
What a wierdo monkey.
I've found how you swing,
Very tantalizing,
In fact I'd have to say,
I'd hug you any day.
Ryhming is so dumb,
It hurts my brain (or bum),
So I'm going to stop,
Before you shoot me.
Oh Mr. Foot Mr. Foot
Why are you covered in soot?
That was a line,
With a Rhyme,
Oh God I Can't Stop!
This poem has turned into a giant flop!
It doesn't ever want to end,
It's causing my mind to twist and bend!
Poem oh poem, release your grasp.
I'd rather be bitten on the butt by an asp.
I'm ridden with pain and strife,
I'm just gonna end my life.
*bang*
All by me, unless otherwise...
SPECIFIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wow, what the hell is that?
I really don't know what that could be?
Where did it come from?
Who's is it?
Oh...wait, I know what that is
(i'm perplexed)
What the hell is that?
Hey you, come here.
What is that?
I don't know what the hell that is!
Is it yours?
No?
Why don't I know what that is?
Wait..wait..
Oh I know what that is.
........
What the hell was that!?
Where is my cheese?
What not?
Hark! Is that a toad I hear?
Enormous in size,
Covered in slime.
Wait! Toads arnt covered in slime!
Where has all my time gone.
Before it was 6:00, and now it is 8:00.
Has the toad cast a magic spell?
Or had I just fallen in a well!
Toad O Toad, where for art thou toad?
SHIT MY HAIR IS ON FIRE.
Why must you fly?
Why O why?
To your little home, made of ass honey.
You've spent too much time,
Jabbing your butt into little flowers,
To notice the corn growing out of your toe.
Do bees have toes?
That I don't know.
Why don't you go.
And ask him yourself, lazy.
Mr. Bee and Mrs. Bee,
Have found a home high in that tree.
It isnt free.
I make them pay rent, it's 315 a month.
Including waste disposal.
Sounds like a deal if you ask me.
Corn
One day I strode,
through a field high so high,
I noticed to my left,
A faint whispering.
"I am the corn!" it cried.
"I am he, who makes all your beef,
Without me, you wouldnt survive,
So be a jolly good sport, and get me a paper, my friends in it today, he's a singing corn, he usually charges 9.95 for his C.D. plus tax, and if you tell him I sent you, he'll give you a discount."
"Why must you mock me so corn" said I,
You know I have no feet with which to fly,
It's hard enough being what I am, (a poser)
Don't make me come in there!
So I leapt at the corn, and he screamed a shrill scream "EEEEE",
He uprooted his roots, and took off down the field,
He runned and runned till he could runned no more,
And I was just behind him.
I grabbed him by his ears (hee hee how clever.)
And shook and shook and shook.
He kicked me in the face,
And told me I was fat.
I wept.
Last Tuesday the sun was bright,
It was high up in the sky,
I began to stare at it,
When it brightened...
Brighter,
Brighter,
Brighter,
and Brighter,
Until.....
Wait? Where am I?
I looked around,
What I saw, I'll never forget.
Butt people, huge butt people,
With eyes on their cheeks,
I was scared, as well as you would be too,
I mean, GIANT BUTT PEOPLE.
I got up, and ran, i ran really far,
But in the Butt people's ship, one can only,
OH MY GOD!
I ran even further, until I found a window.
I broke the window and lept out,
Ready to face whatever is outside,
It's GOT to be better,
Then a giant butt alien person.
I lept into space,
Felt something queer,
Poof, I imploded.
God my poem sucks.