First rate rhyme for middle class people.

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THE  TOILET  MONSTER

Sitting on the pot one day staring into space,

Thought i  saw  a peeping thing with a funny looking face

Shuddering slightly I looked down  between my feet,

And noticed a baby toilet monster, crouched behind the seat!

Frozen in fear i stared, knuckles all a grips

It stared  back nervously with trembling monster lips

Spider legs all a mess, covered in flies,

Saliva dripping teeth, two gigantic bug like eyes,

He seemed to be like me, staring into space,

A little bit lonely, a twitching furry face

I swung at him with a toilet brush and  fell flat on the toilet floor,

(Try to swing with a toilet brush with your pants about your toes)

“Please don’t flush me, or break my monster bones”

He whimperered in broken english..."Me totally alones"

Your mum dropped a hair drier in the flush he said in a voice sad and muted,

And my family in the septic tank was instantly electrocuted!

(I felt bad for the monster baby as I loved my parents true

If anything ever happened to them I might cry behind the toilet too.)

I hugged the baby monster,his eyes filled up with tears,

Ill take away your sadness and help you with your fears

I washed the baby monster,  scrubbedd his awful feet,

Used a wire brush on his eyeballs and his teeth.

I bathed him over, under with the strongest ever floor cleaner,

and he looked so much less meaner.

I kept him in a  dustbin,

By my little bed,

Fed the monster garbage,

And fondly scratched his head.

I take him to family gatherings

Nobody can tell

Everyone thinks hes an ugly relative,

As I dress him up real well

He small and ugly with his third eye in a patch,

Wearing nikes,  t shirt and cotton pants to match,

I spray him with deodrant, and comb his disgusting hair,

but everyone ignores my friend, no one seems to care.

He tried to join the community and threw a party or two,

But people didnt appreciate the creature from the loo.

He baked cakes and did a lot of social works,

But just because people are poor dont mean they arent jerks.

Hes not the life of the party, just a  monster with a heart,

(People didnt like him as  he didnt fit the part)

So the day came and I packed him a rubbish lunch as well,

Hugged him, sobbed  and made a fond farewell.

And he posed, heroic like an olympic diver on the toilet seat,

The last i saw my monster was his dissapearing scaly feet,

i looked in the swirling pot, he vanished in a flash,

My best friend had dissapeared with hardly a splash.

 

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Carnival Dustbin

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Once lived a large family of brown rats 5,000 years old at least,
Living crowded, tiny and occasionally hungry somewhere in the east.
They did lots of things, which to many seemed quite odd;
They put it down to culture and animal headed gods.

One brown rat hopped in a suitcase
Flew across the seas
Thought he’d have some better luck
Looking for cheese.

From the midst of various huddled masses
He rushed through the airport gates onto greener grasses
And found a carnival dustbin filled with food,
And an off white mouse and soon a brood.

72 types of popcorn, 94 cuts of meat,
18 types of cheeses and 23 types of beet,
All high fat, sweetened, fully cheesed,
The rat was rather pleased.

For mice time flies,
In a month he was double in size
And one night over a piece of candy mid lick,
The rat felt homesick.

Into the airport he crept and into a handbag he leapt,
 Close to the heart of a software engineer’s mother, the brown rat dreamt,

Of home and mother and other things true

Of food and smells and beauty too.

The plane flew over cities that lit up its wings with a gentle glow,
Over millions of rats running to and fro.
Mindless of the plane that hurtled above,
Just as the flyers were, of the earth below.

The wandered his home place
Looking for a familiar face.
And finally found the mice, still tiny in size
They said, "Who is this fat fellow…guys?"

The rat caught the next flight back across the seas,
back to the white mouse with assorted fleas,

Over millions of rats running to and fro.
Mindless of the plane that hurtled above,
Just as the flyers were of the earth below.

If you're ever at a carnival, ever at a fair
listen carefully at the dustbin, if you care
You might hear the strains of a sad old song
And find a brown mouse that doesn't belong,
Anywhere.

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THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING KIND TO DISGUSTING CREATURES

               

During dinner I heard a scream that echoes in my head,

It was a little maggot in a grape I ate

"Fool!" he had cried, face all red,

And crawled out on my plate

You done me in" he cried,

And let out a little sob.

Maggot finger quivering,

He pointed at my gob,

It was then I felt a wiggle deep inside my throat,

Deep inside my guts the poor half worm he groped,

I gagged and choked and choked and choked

Stuck my finger in my mouth and poked and poked and poked.

Out popped the half worm and hit mother on the nose,

She wasn’t amused with a half worm on her clothes

The half maggot cut a sorry figure,

He looked like a moving rice grain, but just a little bigger,

Weakly the maggot muttered, “I don’t need a surgeon”,

(Our mouths were all agape)

"I need something else quite urgent,

Some quality celotape!”

Some tape later, a spot of iodine too,

The maggot ashen faced, was almost good as new,

I put him to bed in a matchbox, a tissue for a sheet

And even gave him a snack, a piece of rotten meat.

He woke up later feverish and began to softly bawl,

So I put him to sleep with a crumb of panadol,

I stayed awake by the worm he looked quite small and alone,

Patting his forehead with cotton buds soaked in eau de cologne.

 A few weeks later he walked about quite much,

 And a month or so after, he threw away the crutch,

I took the worm to school,

I’d hide him in my ear,

He was really good at math,

And helped me top that year

He told me all the answers,

I really did quite well,

How I knew my math so good

The teacher could not tell.

He’d crawl about my ear hole,

Sometimes he'd visit my nose

But most of all he lived inside my brains,

It really wasn’t THAT gross.

In time id take my friend in my ear to bed,

Eventually he made a home, right out of my head,

He’d stretch a piece of thread from eyelash to my nose,

And there he would hang to dry, his little, little clothes

He did the things I never thought I could,

If I wanted anything thing,

The little worm he would.

The moral of this story,

Is when you eat a grape,

Make sure you listen for a scream

And keep some celotape.

Be kind to all creatures, the future who can tell

One day they could be invaluable friends

And help your math as well.

Or if you bite the chap in half, you might eventually go insane

With a vengeful little worm slowly chewing up your brain.

 

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Santa Stew

Santa had an horrible accident and ended up a snack for tea,

He lowered himself down the wrong chimney,

HE dropped into a boiling vat of stew in his merry haste,

Poor Santa thought it was an unused fireplace.

"Oh my goodness!" Big mistake he reckoned,

Then disintegrated into bits of stew in a second.

That evening the Patel family kept going back for more,

Such delicious vegetable stew! (They had never eaten non veg before),

The potatoes were amazing, though it was very well stewed meat,

Except for white clumps of hair that got stuck between their teeth.

Thus was consumed poor jolly Santa Claus,

Thus was digested the last truly giving man there was.

Satisfied the Patels' went to bed, if they'd known they might have barfed,

In the frozen distance a surly reindeer laughed.

The reindeer had told Santa it was absolutely safe to go,

There was no fire, as they’d peeped and checked before.

Now why would the reindeer stew Santa to the bone?

They were tired of pulling sleds, and wanted apartments of their very own

So they looked around for someone who could break the labour laws,

And found Mr. Patel, to dispose of Santa Claus.

He made a deal with the reindeer and they had schemed it for ages

Post Santa stew he sent a proposal to the elves that he’d pay them half wages.

The elves wrote back that they thought he was cracked in the head,

So he took the business to Korea, India and China instead.

Whole factories that work overtime to make all kinds of toys,

For millions and millions of girls and boys,

The reindeer and Patel keeled over with laughter.

The elves couldn’t compete and retired soon after.

I wish this had a happy ending but that really is not the case

Listen to the last verse with minimal distaste.

Squeezing down a chimney is very bad for health,

Never trust a reindeer, He’s after all your wealth,

Buy toys only where the toy company pays their workers true,

Or you’re just making rich the creatures that turned Santa into stew.