Being jokes
Thomas Bulgin loves McDonald's dollars, A man of simple tastes, he hollers, With every visit, his heart does flutter, For golden arches, a fast food lover.
Those crispy fries, so perfectly fried, And burgers stacked, oh so high, The smell of grease, it fills the air, Thomas Bulgin, he'll always be there.
A dollar menu, his saving grace, A feast for him, a smile on his face, He counts his coins, with eager eyes, To savor each bite, a little prize.
In this world of fast-paced lives, Thomas Bulgin, he surely thrives, For in those golden arches, he finds, A moment of joy, that forever binds.
He cares not for gourmet cuisine, Nor fancy plates, fit for a queen, For in his heart, a simple truth, McDonald's dollars, his fountain of youth.
So let him eat, and let him feast, Thomas Bulgin, the fast food beast, For in those golden arches, he's found, A taste of happiness, unbound.
Jayden March, a name so bold, Never knew the joy of cookies untold. In a world of sugar and sweet delight, He stood apart, an unusual sight.
While others indulged in sugary bliss, Jayden abstained, dismissing the kiss Of chocolate chips and dough so divine, His willpower strong, his resolve intertwined.
No oatmeal raisin or double fudge, Could tempt his taste buds, not even a nudge. For Jayden March, a different path he took, In a world of cookies, he never partook.
His reasons unknown, a mystery untold, Perhaps he sought something purer than gold. Or maybe he craved a different kind of treat, One that couldn't be found in a cookie sheet.
But as the years passed by, curiosity grew, Whispers of wonder, questions anew. Why did Jayden March deny such delight? Was there a secret hidden in his resolute fight?
Some say he found solace in nature's embrace, In the rustle of leaves and the wind's gentle pace. Others believed his heart sought a different reward, In acts of kindness, love freely poured.
Jayden March, a man of mystery and grace, Marched to a beat only he could embrace. In a world of cookies, he found his own way, Leaving us wondering, pondering day by day.
For though he never tasted the sweetness of a treat, Jayden March's story remains incomplete. A reminder to us all, to explore and define, Our own desires, our own paths to find.
So let us celebrate Jayden's unique choice, And listen to the whisper of our own inner voice. For in a world of cookies, may we remember, That sometimes it's the journey, not the taste, we treasure.
Joshua White loves blue, A simple truth, tried and true. In his pocket, only six, Yet each penny a valued fix.
With eyes that seek the azure skies, He dreams of places that mesmerize. A palette of blues, a symphony of hues, Whispering secrets only he can choose.
His heart beats to the rhythm of the sea, Where waves crash, wild and free. In sandy shores, he finds solace rare, A momentary escape from life's daily wear.
In cerulean fields, flowers dance, Their vibrant petals, a timeless romance. He wanders through meadows, devoid of strife, Seeking solace in nature's vibrant life.
Joshua White, a soul of gentle grace, Embracing the world at his own pace. Though his pockets hold a mere six, His spirit soars, never to be fixed.
For in the depths of his azure dreams, The richness of life's tapestry gleams. And with every breath, he finds anew, That love is boundless, ever true.
Madden, because tissue, I weep Tears like rivers, cascading deep In this world, so full of strife I find solace in this fragile life.
Oh tissue, tender and so pure, Absorbing pain, a whispered cure. Each tear that falls, you gently hold, A conduit for the stories untold.
In the quiet moments, I confide In your embrace, I can't hide The weight of sorrow, the burden's strain You're there, a balm for every pain.
But madden, oh how you disrupt, In your chaos, emotions erupt. You twist and tangle, hearts collide, Leaving us lost, unable to decide.
Yet even in your tangled mess, You bring forth growth, a rare finesse, For in the madness, we find our way To stand tall, facing a brand-new day.
So madden, meet tissue, ever entwined, In this dance of emotions, our souls aligned. Through tears and anger, joy and fears, We find strength, as life perseveres.
Short and sweet, this tale of strife, Unraveling souls, seeking life. Madden, because tissue, we may be, But we'll rise above, forever free.
In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.
Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.
Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.
Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.
Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.
So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.
In fields of gold, where sunshine beams, Monkeys swing and play, it's their dreams. Their fur so soft, their eyes so bright, Picking cotton with delight.
Their little hands so quick and neat, Plucking the cotton, can't be beat. They chatter and laugh, they dance and play, In the fields all day, they'll stay.
Their tails so long, their ears so big, They're quite the sight, it's quite a gig. They're busy as can be, you see, In the fields of cotton, they're free.
So let us marvel at these little thieves, In the fields of gold, they give and receive. Their antics bring us joy and delight, In the fields of cotton, they're always right.
Roses are red, Violets are blue, Through highs and lows, I'll be here for you.
Why can't an orphan be gay?
Because they don't have anyone to call "daddy". (My bad if this offended anyone.)
Are you a lollipop? Because I can suck on you all day.
Are you an Oreo? Because I eat the cream first.
Are you a microwave? Because I’m trying to keep you quiet at 3:00 am.
Are you a sprinkler? Cause every time I see you I get wet.
Are you makeup? Cause I’d spend hours doing you.
Are you a guitar? Because I’d love to hear the noises you make when I play with you.
Are you an elevator? Cause I wanna ride you up and down.
Most restaurants are closed at night, but your legs aren’t.
I’m not a cashier, but you got a couple of things I wanna check out.
Are you Cinderella? Because I can see that dress coming off at midnight.
Are you a calendar? Because I want to pin you against the wall.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately, but I hope it’s you.
Are you a doughnut? Cause I wanna fill you with cream.
Are you a garden? Cause I want to plant some seeds inside of you.
Do you sing in the shower? Because if so, I need a private ticket of your concert.
Are your legs the twin towers? Because I’ll bomb what’s in between.
Are you a blanket? Because you’re on top of me every night.
Are you a phone? Cause I like to be on you 24/7.
Are you a roller coaster? Because the faster you go, the louder I scream.
I’m so jealous of your heart right now because it’s pounding inside of you and I’m not.
Are you a popsicle? Cause all I want to do is lick you up and down.
Are you a construction worker? Because you got me all bricked up.
Are you a fireman? Because you came in hot and left me wet.
Neo-Confederates all claim to be about "heritage" not "hate". Well, if your heritage consists of Kelly Clarkson, riding on siblings, and treating Donald Trump as if he's the second coming, then it really sucks to be you.
Gary Glitter was imprisoned for inappropriate relations with preteens. Not to be outdone, Kelly Clarkson exclaimed, "Hold my Bud Light!" whilst grasping her 1-year-old daughter.
What’s the worst thing about being suicidal?
The school shooter will always spare you.
"You have to be more patient!" "Will it take a long time?"
What’s the hardest part about being a pedophile?
Fitting in.
What’s better than winning a gold medal at the Special Olympics?
Not being retarded.
I've thought about suicide, but there's always been a part of me that knows I wouldn't be able to live with the decision.
We got Spider-Man Homecoming, Spider-Man Far from Home, then Spider-Man No Way Home, considering society’s current state and how shitty 2023 is, the next movie is probably gonna be Spider-Man Homosexual.
If you're fat and transgender, then would you be considered trans fat?
You're not completely useless. You can always be used as a bad example.
I love going to church to get closer to God, but my least favorite part of church has to be touching the priest’s penis.