TheUnsquishedGoomba

Chasing cheeky fly with rolled-up magazine.

Mother Nature speaks But many do not have time To listen to her

I've never been allowed to forget was how gullible I was as a kid, but there was one thing that took the cake - or should that be cheesecake? Let me explain; being told the moon is made out of cheese was nothing new, of course. But my father had an unusual way of explaining the phases of the moon to me. The waning of the moon was caused by a large swarm of space mice gradually eating it until it had gone. When the mice were too full to move, a space cat came along and scared the cheese out of them. Thus, the waxing of the moon was caused by the space cat reforming it. Once the moon was full, the space cat disappeared, allowing the space mic

Standing When there are seats. Row upon row of them. Perhaps it's just a minor thing, But I get annoyed by it all the same. Bus drivers tend to ignore it, Rather than telling them They shouldn't be Standing.

Hunting. Their aim to sink Enemy merchant ships, And thus deprive them of supplies, Hindering their means to keep on fighting. Hoping that the allied forces are greatly aided by Their efforts at Hunting. Success! Torpedoes strike, Tearing enormous holes In two helpless merchant ship hulls, Their crews spilling out into their lifeboats, Hoping that they will be picked up. The sub's crew briefly cheer, Celebrating Success. Diving, Plunging down deep, Trying to evade death. Death at the hands of vengeful crews; Of escort vessels dashing back and forth Dropping dozens of depth charges. But no success; their foe Escaped them by Diving.

You've been playing for hours But it seems more like days, All because you got caught up In the latest gaming craze. Nothing matters any more Than getting that new high score Even though you're feeling sore, You've never moved from the floor. But... What's this? Not in the hall of fame? Well now! Ain't that a crying shame! Know what? Go play another game! Else all you're gonna do is... RAGEQUIT! You just can't take it! RAGEQUIT! That you won't make it! RAGEQUIT! Don't try to fake it! Go take the easy way out.

There once was a man from Nantucket, Who once put a curse on a bucket, So that any townsfolk Who kicked it would croak, Then he'd point and laugh and say "suck it".

My heart's just not in it, I suppose. Poetry that is; I just can't get it right. I think I'll stick to writing prose. I can write a novel about brave heroes, But write a poem!? Get outta sight! My heart's just not in it, I suppose. Words may come to me while I doze, But upon waking up, they soon take flight. I think I'll stick to writing prose. Write a lovely sonnet about a rose? Or wax lyrical about a starlit night? My heart's just not in it, I suppose. It's certainly a struggle; I'm sure it shows. Whatever I do, it gives me no delight. I think I'll stick to writing prose. That's it! These attempts are coming to a close. I'm really not

On the day he ditched in the sea, He rued yet another written-off kite, During that turning point in history. There was one good thing; he had his dinghy. He thought about what had led to his plight, On the day he ditched in the sea. Like all pilots he was tired and weary, Taking off day-after-day with his flight. During that turning point in history. All too soon, they met the enemy, Outnumbered, they still had to fight, On the day he ditched into the sea. In the end, the outcome was plain to see, Riddled with holes, his plane was quite a sight, During that turning point in history. At least one German had no reason to be merry; He had

Muse wanted. Last one quit unexpectedly.