Category: Humor

A Knight’s Tale

    A Knight’s Tale

A long, long time ago.

Or, so I’ve been told.

In days of old.

When knights were bold.

There lived a serf named ‘Pantsedalot.’

I’ll tell you how that name he got.

It was because he was pantsed a lot.

Sometimes he would pants himself.

As he ran around trying to help.

Down his pants would fall.

Then he would begin to bawl.

One day at a jousting match.

The serf was serving the days catch.

Fresh fish cooked just right.

Served to nobles as they watched the fight.

Someone ‘pantsed’ him as he went by.

As he fell the fish did fly.

Right into the kings lap.

There it landed with a smack.

The king was madder than hell.

He looked over from where it fell.

There was the serf tangled in his pants.

The king flew into one of his rants.

“Grab that serf and bring him here!!”

The serf turned white & trembled with fear.

“For doing such a graceful thing

I will make you a knight” said the king.

He raised his sword and touched the surf’s shoulders.

He said “I name thee ‘Sir Pantsedalot’,  The Bolder.”

Everyone roared with laughter and mirth.

The poor serf felt lower than dirt.

Now that he was a knight he was expected to fight.

He didn’t even know how to fly a kite.

He felt for sure his days were numbered.

About the results of this everyone wondered.

The serf was given armor , a shield, and a sword.

The king said ‘Great will be your reward.”

“Should you defeat ‘the Black knight’ today.

To you, I will give my daughter away.”

The serf secretly had a crush on her for years.

Everyone watching was giving him cheers.

Everyone watched as the battle started.

The Black Knight was acting half hearted.

They circled each other for awhile.

The serf made a couple of swings with no style.

The Black Knight just laughed at him.

He said “It is time for this charade to end.”

He took a mighty swing at the ‘new’ knight.

The serf jumped back with all his might.

The Black knight charged forward fast.

Then he tripped on the serf’s fallen armored ass.

the serf’s armor pants had slipped to the ground.

This saving his life as he looked around.

He jumped up and put his sword on the neck

of The Black Knight, who froze, his crotch wet.

“Surrender or die” yelled the serf.

The Black knight surrendered all to the serf.

The king was shocked and his daughter was happy.

The marriage took place and the people were happy.

So goes the story of ‘Sir Pantsedalot.’

The bravest knight who ever fought.

—————————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

Charlie’s Chick

      Charlie’s Chick

He hit me with his best punch.

Causing me to toss up my lunch.

Just because I whistled at his girl.

The way she smiled gave me a thrill.

I guess it all was worth the pain.

Even though that may sound lame.

I think I have a chance with his girl.

Why? Because she gives me a thrill.

But, it’s going to take some time.

A whole lot of precious time.

it’s going to take patience child.

I can’t go about this like I was wild.

To do it, to do it, to do it right.

I don’t want to have another fight.

A hello here. A note passed there.

Winking at her almost anywhere.

Always being around to help out.

Especially if her boyfriend’s not about.

In the end she’ll be more than a friend.

I can’t say the same about him.

If you want it with all your hart

you have to never give up your part.

The part of someone who admires her.

Someone who more than desires her.

Cherish is a word I use to describe.

All the feelings I have for her inside.

Nothing is worse than the curse.

The curse of loving Charlie’s girl.

The girl who gives me a thrill.

Charlie’s chick. That’s got to be good!!——R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

The IRS Blues

 

      The IRS Blues

I got the blues.

Those government taxes blues.

Those back stabbing, wage nabbing blues.

You can never win, but you can lose, blues.

Dig deep into your pockets & cough it up.

Drop your donations into the IRS cup.

Uncle Sam needs a new pair of shoes.

I got the big time tax paying blues.

 

There is little left for the little guy.

The irony of it is kind of wry.

The American Dream is gonna die.

If you don’t pay you’re gonna fry.

Where’s the answer to this mess.

There is no answer would be my guess,.

You can only pay more, never less.

The whole system sucks, I confess.

 

If I never paid a dime

then I would have the time

to live the good life.

I would have the money for

all the things I have wished for

without the IRS strife.

 

I have been on the soapbox.

I have checked my vote box.

I have yelled and screamed.

I have really caused a scene.

Yet, I MUST pay before I play.

That is your tax laws today.

There has got to be a better way.

There is nothing else I have to say.———R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

Punk Skunk Left A Stink

      Punk Skunk Left A Stink

Bucky the beaver was a good old guy.

He worked hard. Gave it his best try.

He thought it was what he should do.

Till he met Punk Skunk passing through.

Punk asked him what he was doing?

Bucky said “Building a dam”, while he was chewing.

Punk said “That’s Core of Engineers job”

“Who is that?” said Bucky, looking odd.

“Government workers” Punk said.

“We build dams till we are dead”

“Punk said “That makes no sense.”

“Government will build it. You collect rent.”

“That sounds great.” said Bucky.

“I guess meeting you was lucky.”

“How do I set it up?” Bucky said.

“It is easy.” Punk quickly said.

Punk laid it all out for Bucky.

Soon Bucky was feeling lucky.

He was collecting welfare & food stamps.

Core of Engineers were building ramps.

They were going to build a huge dam.

Bucky was living high off Uncle Sam.

Then came audits, taxes, and fines.

Before long Bucky was doing time.

Bucky thought he should have known.

Punk Skunk’s smell should have shown

him something stunk in the woodpile.

Now he will be jailed for quite awhile.——-R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

 

Poem Material

 

      Poem Material

I haven’t written a poem in awhile now.

Got to come up with a new poem somehow.

Lots of thoughts running through my head.

Nothing that’s good that I’ve heard or read.

I need to grab something out of the blue.

I can’t think of what else I can do.

I can’t even think of something that is creepy.

All that’s happening is that I’m getting sleepy.

 

All  was dark, then ‘It’ was the darkness.

On a starless night ‘It’ came. ‘It’ was heartless.

I knew beyond a doubt that ‘It’ was ‘The Other.’

I knew for sure that ‘It’ was not my brother.

I am also glad ‘It’ was not my mother.

All my life I’ve never seen a ‘demon’, riding on the wind.

‘It’ seemed to laugh then said I could never win.

‘It’ promised me my life if I would worship ‘him’.

 

A awoke with a start. I had fallen asleep.

‘What was that?’ A nightmare, I didn’t want to repeat.

‘Just great.’ ‘I try to write a poem & I pass out.’

‘Then have a nightmare.’ ‘What’s this about?’

‘My imagination is going wild.’

‘Why couldn’t I dream of heaven?’, I smiled.

‘Being able to write poems could be a curse.’

‘But, then again, it’s all in the verse’.

————————————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2014)