What if we made the Rio Grande river BIGGER, LONGER and fill it with ALLIGATORS?

Julius Caesar’s head was cut off

and fed to the barbarians waiting

outside the walls of Rome.

Salvador Dali wore one orange

sock and a white one on days

he went to eat breakfast in cafes.

On days he stared at the wall,

he did not wear socks.

Yukio Mishima sheathed his knives

in wall of whale oil, claiming such

creatures were the only ones that

understood the art of sacrifice.

The last thing John Lennon saw

before he was gunned down was

the brick wall of his apartment house.

Sitting Bull had fourteen wives

he lined up against the cliff walls.

He would close his eyes and walk

blindly to them with an erection,

promising he would take the first

one his erection touched.

Crazy Horse watched silently

from the cliff walls above.

J. D. Salinger scribbled on his bedroom

walls as a boy, promising his mother

to whitewash the figures the first

time he was caught.

Joan of Arc climbed over the walls

and fell on top of a castle guard,

the commotion bringing soldiers

who swore the wall opened and

she escaped by stepping through.

Nikita Khrushchev stared at the wall

of nuclear buttons and knew

it was a green one they told him to push,

but the triggers were every color except green.

Hernán Cortés’ men met a wall

of arrows, then turned and ran.

Montezuma’s men met a wall of armor,

wept, then stoned their chief off the wall

for helping the conquistadores.

Carl Jung opened his eyes to find himself

sleeping against a wall of flowers,

the beautiful smell giving him the answer

he had been looking for.

Charlie Chaplin ordered his crew to remove

the hidden mirror from the wall, footage

of his latest lover overflowing

onto the studio floor.

Sor Juana de la Cruz hid her new poem

in a hole in the wall, but when a fellow nun

went to retrieve it after Sor Juana’s death,

it was gone.

The Dalai Lama stopped in the snow

and bowed his head to pray before the wall

of dead monks killed by the Chinese.

Virginia Woolf’s last memory before drowning

was the wall of family portraits, the photographs

of her father and brothers so radiant in the river fog.

Billy the Kid simply dug a hole in the adobe wall

of the jail with his bare hands and walked away.

Janis Joplin was found dead of an overdose

in her Los Angeles hotel, her face facing the wall.

Federico García Lorca did not face any walls

when he was shot under the trees.

No one knows how Tu Fu encased himself

in a wall of bamboo, staying inside the tube

for ten years, never saying a word, his feet

becoming the roots of bamboo within

the first few months of his silence.

Al Capone stared at the walls of his cell

in Alcatraz and added the bank figures again,

trying to get them right.

Babe Ruth heard a thud against the wall

of his hotel suite, the baseball rolling down

the hallways as a signal his tryst with the team

owner’s wife about to be revealed.

William Shakespeare stared at the empty walls

of the theatre, stood there without saying

a word, and stared at the empty walls of the theatre.

Geronimo extended his arms over the walls

of rock, the approaching sound of the cavalry

troops echoing down the canyon, the pictograph

Geronimo carved high on the wall, years ago,

lifting him to safety.

Two days before Salvador Allende was assassinated,

Pablo Neruda, dying of cancer, woke at Isla Negra

to find the walls of the room where he lay

were covered in hundreds of clinging starfish

Roses are red

True love is rare

Booty booty booty booty

Rockin everywhere

Roses are red

Grass is Greener

Girl come on over

And pull on my weiner

Rose are red,

Watches are gold,

Get on your knees,

And do as you’re told.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

A 69 would class

As dinner for two

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Does this rag smell

Like chloroform to you?

Roses are red.

Violets are blue

Poems are hard

And I am too.

Roses are red

So are your lips

Please sit on my face

And wiggle your hips

Roses are red,

Here’s something new,

Violets are violet,

Not fucking blue.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I’m using my hand

But thinking of you

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Pornhub is down

Your Facebook will do

Roses are read,

Lemons are sour,

Open your legs,

And give me an hour.

I like your style

I like your class

but most of all i like your ass

POEM # 2

Im a cool girl, in a cool town

it takes a real mother er to put me down

POEM # 3

Kissing is a habit

ing is a game

Guys get all the pleasure

Girls get all the pain

The guy says i love you

You believe its true

But when your tummy starts to swell,

He says 'to hell with you'

10 minutes of pleasure

9 months in pain

3 days in hospital

A baby without a name

The baby is a

The mother is a ######

This never wouldn't have happened

If the rubber wouldn't have torn

POEM # 4

Guys are like roses,

Watch out for the pricks.

POEM # 5

Smoke a smoke

Not a butt

a virgin

Not a slut.

POEM # 6

Sex is bad

Sex is a sin

Sins are forgiven

So stick it in.

POEM # 7

Holy mother, full of grace

Bless my boyfriend's gorgeous face

Bless his hair that tends to curl

Keep him safe from all the girls

Bless his arms that are so strong

Keep his hands where they belong

Bless his dick, the one i sucked

Bless the bed, in which we

And if my Mom happened to walk in

Bless the I'd be in.

POEM # 8

Sex is when a guys communication

enters a girls information

to increase the population

for a younger generation

do you get the information...

or do you need a demonstration

POEM # 9

Men are like public toilets

They are either engaged or full of !

POEM # 10

If guys had they periods

They would compare the size of their tampons!

POEM # 11

Mental anxiety,

Mental breakdowns,

Menstrual cramps,

Menopause...

Did you ever notice how all our problems begin with MEN!

POEM # 12

Roses are red,

Violets are corny,

When I think of you

Ohh baby I get horny,

Eat me,

Beat me,

Bite me,

Blow me,

Suck me,

me,

Very slowly,

if you kiss me,

dont be sassy,

Use your tongue and make it nasty!!!!

Poem #13

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue...

I'm In Love But Not With You...

When We Broke Up You Thought I Cried

But All It Was...

Was Another Guy,

You Told Your Friends That I Was A Trick,

I Told Mine That You Had A Weak Dick...

I Said I Loved You

And You Thought It Was True,

But Guess What Baby?!

You Got Played Too!!

Poem #14

Guys are like parking spots...

the good ones are always taken...

and the ones that are available,

are either handicapped or too far away!! Darny

There once was a child in Spain.

Who loved to play in the rain.

One day he tripped.

And broke his hip.

Now he is in serious pain

I'm a fool blown Marxist

Which fool is blowing you?

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

God made me pretty.

What happened to you!

I am a dog.

And you are a flower.

I lift my leg up.

And give you a shower!