Posted in prompts

The Pickled Juggler


I threw a sword into the air, a chainsaw and a sickle

But then the sun got in my eyes and I was in a pickle

I tried to step away from harm and let them hit the ground

The chainsaw cut off my left ear, the sickle bonked my crown

Deciding where to stand when juggling death is an easy task

Just have the sun in back of you, or it will kick your ass

Posted in prompts


I tried to placate the crotchety old dude

He was boorish, obnoxious, bumptious, and rude

I tried to conciliate with reason and plea

But I can’t mollify when I’m dealing with me