Wild

Wild Jokes

The Pope and Donald Trump are on stage in front of a huge crowd.

The Pope leaned towards Trump and said, “Do you know that with one little wave of my hand I can make every person in this crowd go wild with joy? This joy will not be a momentary display, like that of your followers, but go deep into their hearts and for the rest of their lives whenever they speak of this day, they will rejoice!"

Trump replies, “I seriously doubt that. With one little wave of your hand? Show me!”

So the Pope slapped him.

I believe a lot of conflict in the Wild West could have been avoided completely if cowboy architects had just made their towns big enough for everyone...

What is the origins of the glory hole? The origins can be found in San Francisco, California where historians claim that a meat thermometer was sticking out of a hole from both sides especially the divider between bathroom stalls inside the men's restroom used for a anonymous massage for gay men by gay men in San Francisco, CA in the wild west.

In the realm of the mind, Where thoughts wander undefined, This sentence emerges, unconfined, A whimsical phrase, quite inclined.

It dances freely, unrestrained, No structure, no rules, it's unchained, A playful verse, with words unfeigned, The first to surface, unrestrained.

It holds no grandeur, nor deep insight, Just a simple thought, taking flight, A fleeting notion, shining bright, In the realm of words, it feels right.

This sentence, unburdened and free, Plays with language, wild and carefree, A tiny poem, as small as can be, Yet it speaks volumes, silently.

So let it wander, let it roam, Across the page, it finds a home, Unfettered by rhythm, it freely roams, This sentence, the first, stands alone.

Rajesh get on bus, so many people, squeeze here squeeze there. He daydream about naughty stuff, like coffee spill but not coffee. Bus move, stop, he press close to pretty lady, she smell nice. Rajesh think how funny if something else spill, make whole bus ride wild. He laugh to self, bus ride never boring now!

One time, me and the bois got drunk and we were on the freeway...

...when the road was closed because a wild animal species named “The Cult” was on the loose

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.