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I Love Me

I took myself out on a date
and said I’m looking grand,
and when I got my courage up
I asked to hold my hand.

I took me to a restaurant
and then a movie show.
I put my arm around me
in the most secluded row.

I whispered sweetly in my ear
of happiness and bliss,
and then I almost slapped me
when I tried to steal a kiss.

Then afterwards I walked me home
and since I’m so polite
I thanked me for a perfect date
and wished myself goodnight.

There’s just one little problem
and it kind of hurts my pride.
Myself would not invite me in
so now I’m locked outside!

– Kenn Nesbitt

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That Explains It

I went to the doctor. He x-rayed my head.
He stared for a moment and here’s what he said.
“It looks like you’ve got a banana in there,
an apple, an orange, a peach, and a pear.
I also see something that looks like a shoe,
a plate of spaghetti, some fake doggy doo,
an airplane, an arrow, a barrel, a chair,
a salmon, a camera, some old underwear,
a penny, a pickle, a pencil, a pen,
a hairy canary, a hammer, a hen,
a whistle, a thistle, a missile, a duck,
an icicle, bicycle, tricycle, truck.
With all of the junk that you have in your head
it’s kind of amazing you got out of bed.
The good news, at least, is you shouldn’t feel pain.
From what I can see here you don’t have a brain.”

– Kenn Nesbitt

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Please Don’t Read This Poem

Please don’t read this poem.
It’s only meant for me.
That’s it. Just move along now.
There’s nothing here to see.

Besides, I’m sure you’d rather
just go outside and play.
So put the poem down now
and slowly back away.

Hey, why are you still reading?
That isn’t very nice.
I’ve asked you once politely.
Don’t make me ask you twice.

I’m telling you, it’s private.
Do not read one more line.
Hey! That’s one more. Now stop it.
This isn’t yours; it’s mine.

You’re not allowed to read this.
You really have to stop.
If you don’t quit this instant,
I swear I’ll call a cop.

He’ll drag you off in handcuffs.
He’ll lock you up in jail,
and leave you there forever
until you’re old and frail.

Your friends will all forget you.
You won’t be even missed.
Your family, too, will likely
forget that you exist.

And all because you read this
instead of having fun.
It’s too late now, amigo;
the poem’s nearly done.

There’s only one solution.
Here’s what you’ll have to do:
Tell all your friends and family
they shouldn’t read it too.

– Kenn Nesbitt

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All My Great Excuses

I started on my homework
but my pen ran out of ink.
My hamster ate my homework.
My computer’s on the blink.
 
I accidentally dropped it
in the soup my mom was cooking.
My brother flushed it down the toilet
when I wasn’t looking.
 
My mother ran my homework
through the washer and the dryer.
An airplane crashed into our house.
My homework caught on fire.
 
Tornadoes blew my notes away.
Volcanoes struck our town.
My notes were taken hostage
by an evil killer clown.
 
Some aliens abducted me.
I had a shark attack.
A pirate swiped my homework
and refused to give it back.
 
I worked on these excuses
so darned long my teacher said,
“I think you’ll find it’s easier
to do the work instead.”
 
– Kenn Nesbitt