All posts in category POEM
Posted by John Mills on November 2, 2013
Be sure to read the poem at the end!
When the snow’s up to your butt
Posted by John Mills on December 13, 2012
I pulled into the crowded parking lot at the local shopping center and rolled down the car windows to make sure my Labrador Retriever Pup had fresh air.
She was stretched full-out on the back seat and I wanted to impress upon her that she must remain there. I walked to the curb backward, pointing my finger at the car and saying emphatically, “Now you stay. Do you hear me?”
The driver of a nearby car, a pretty blonde young lady, gave me a strange look and said,
“Why don’t you just put it in ‘Park’?”
Posted by John Mills on November 14, 2011
The feel of it is in the air
It’s hard for me to avoid
The shoppers bumping into me
As I pay my bill I’m annoy
The Christmas pressure is around the world
I wonder why they can’t see
That they have joyous families
While mine is far from me
This cannot be a happy time
With the homeless in the cold
The shoppers pass on by them
with their story yet untold
I try to see the cause behind
This occasion into which we are thrown
But it’s drowned out by the commercial side
which is more likely to be known
Your friends buy you presents
which you know you can’t return
Christmas dinner just for yourself
The Turkey pie is burned
All alone I am with no one here
I have nothing but empty time
While families knock at your doors
The bailiff knocks at mine
There are lots of lonely people
Trying to pay there dues
So spare a thought for one of them
Who suffers with Christmas Blues
Posted by John Mills on December 4, 1999
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat,
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook,
It was the time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and poor momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I’m speaking, he was as high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh,cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the ole lamp post; the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof, we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied their bladder.
I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked liked like a bum and smelled like a whore.
“That was some brothel,” he said with a smile,
“The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay here awhile.
He walked to the kitchen; himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The ole boy was hung nearly down to his knees.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find,
And a six pack of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extention,
And several other things that I shouldn’t even mention.
A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.
“This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Clause will just shit,
So I’ll leave ’em here, and then I’ll just split.”
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt-plug tucked under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took the reins of his hitch,
Saying,”Take me home Rudolph, this night’s been a bitch!”
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
“The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!”
Posted by John Mills on December 18, 1998