It has been a long, long time since PDR flexed his poetry muscles. Here’s some poems, you crotchbrains:

I’ll kick it off with some haiku. To warm us up.

An old man in France
went to a zookeeper’s house.
They talked about cows.

Your eyes are on fire!
Dear god! Someone do something!
How did this happen?

Argax the Mighty!
He’s mighty and named Argax.
That is his whole deal.

And now some other poems:

The Leaves Will Soon Be Turning

The leaves will soon be turning
into vampires.
If you don’t protect yourself
you will expire.
Vampire leaves
hang from trees
like bats on the roof of a cave.
Beware at night
when they take flight
and try to send you to the grave.
The leaves will soon be turning
into vampires.
The only way to stop it is
forest fires.

Tom’s Day

Tom sat in a chair.
He was perfectly happy there.
Top was not standing
Nor sleeping at all.
He was just seated,
The chair preventing a fall.
Tom sat in his chair
and was perfectly happy there.

This Poem Is Going In Your Face

The words that make this poem
will invade your personal space,
by barging into your eyes
and being in your face.
There’s nothing you can do,
It’s much too late to stop it.
All of these syllables
are now in your eye sockets.
There’s no point in resistance.
You’ll find help in no place.
The invasion is now over.
This poem went in your face.