WARNING: If you are inclined toward delight, please pass this entry by!
In high school and into college (oh dear… and into 30s and 40s and 50s, I suppose) I nurtured and maintained a sick streak of humor. Two poems are seared in my mind.
I wrote this first limerick in College Math – a high school course I took so I wouldn’t have to work hard (not a trait I’m looking to pass on).
The little bird started to cry “Oh Momma, why can’t I fly? “You can my love,” And she gave him a shove The bird fell and splattered like pie.
This second one I also wrote in College Math. Again, apologies:
See the bugs crawl up your spine. Ha!Ha!Ha! They’re not mine. Look at them, aren’t they neat Feel them gnawing on your feet See them flitting through the air Watch them lite upon your hair If you care for your own life Go quickly now and fetch a knife Cut off your hair, cut off your spine Cut off your feet on which they dine
In college I wrote the song ‘Mousehead Soup’ – Leave it, Manda. Leave it.