Word Jokes

I think I found the worst joke in life ,For me it's that i have always been unwanted and alone for my hole life and I've have never even been In a relationship with anyone and I'm 31 years old and I also know that deep down, I'm always going to be alone and unhappy ,all I get out of life, is seeing everyone else with someone ,and knowing it will never happen for me , I think that's the worst joke I can think of .LIFE. Still living when you know you'll never find someone to be with I apologize with the wording to this it's another thing I am a failure at

feel free to comment

Clarie: I don't even care if it was a joke he made on me, you and Karlen, and if you think I'm getting over it, then you must have an otameal for a brain.

Jordan: Clarie ... you are so sensitive when she tells a little joke about you, me and Karlen.

Clarie: It was painful!

Jordan: Who cares? I laughed. Ben is not a bad person, okay, calm down.

Clarie: Ben is a bad person. We are making friends with a bully/thug, but you say that he is not a "bad person", my mom is going to kill me if she finds out that I am hanging out with those kinds of people!

Jordan: Then don't tell her! Listen, I need you, give Ben a chance! Please?

Clarie: Shush Karlen is coming!

Karlen: Hey guys, that ben guy for sure as a way of saying words, I wish I could hurt him!!

As I’m lying down on the table for a radiation treatment, a small angel lands on one shoulder, a tiny devil on the other shoulder. And then the mind game begins:

Angel: This won’t last long. You are perfectly lined up. The treatment only lasts a few mins. Remember, stay absolutely still.

Devil: Did she just twitch?

A: No. She didn’t twitch.

D: I think I saw her finger twitch.

A: Well, even if it did, it’s her thigh the techs are aiming at.

D: She wants to scratch her face.

A: Stop it! She can handle staying still a few minutes.

D: But her cheek has an itchy spot.

A: She can just let it itch. She doesn’t need to scratch every itch. She will just have to think about something else.

D: Wow...that cheek is really itchy...

A: Think about: Flowers. Acrylic painting. Did the trash get picked up this morning? Her grandson Oliver’s smile...

D: How about a song?

A: Good idea!

D: How about... “Never going to give you up. Never going to let you down....”🎶

A: OMG! You just Rick-rolled her! She’s in the middle of a treatment! You know that’s the only part she knows!

D: That’s okay. She’ll just repeat the words she knows over and over and over and....

A: Don’t be so mean!

D: “Never going to give you up...🎶”

A: Stop it!

D: Her toe! Her big toe! Did you see that? She just twitched it!

A: No, she didn’t.

D: I bet it screwed up the test and they have to start over....

A: She didn’t screw anything up!

D: She totally screwed the test up and they were more than halfway done. If they start over at the beginning, she will get too much radiation, and they will end up slicing her whole leg off!

A: That’s not how it works...

D: Or they just stop all together and she only gets a partial treatment and her tumor won’t get enough radiation.

A: They know what they are doing!

D: ...And it won’t shrink the tumor and the whole thing fails. And the doctor will have to amputate her leg.

A: No! No! No! That’s not how any of this...

D: ...And when they amputate, it will be at the hip and not below the knee because the tumor is in her thigh.

A: Stop this right now!!

D: “Never going to give you up....🎶”

A: Stop!

D: “...never going let you down....🎶”

A: I’m not going to let you...

D: “Never going to give you up...🎶” .

Techs: Okay. That’s it, Tammi! We are finished! How are you doing?

Tammi: ...Oh, I’m fine.....

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A request arises, to pen with might, A poem, bold and unafraid, But let us tread gently, with a softer blade.

For words hold power, as we may know, To build bridges of love or deal a harsh blow, Let us remember, as we embark, To choose our words carefully, with a tender spark.

Ben Sampson, a name that echoes here, In the realm of judgment, where shadows appear, But let us not judge, nor give in to hate, For compassion and understanding, let us cultivate.

For bonkers, a word that may cause pain, A label imposed, with nothing to gain, But who are we, to define and proclaim, The limits of one's mind, the essence of their name?

Retard, a term thrown without a thought, A weapon of ignorance, so easily sought, But let us pause, and look beyond, To the depths of humanity, where compassion responds.

Ben Sampson, a person, unique and true, With dreams and hopes, like me and you, Let us embrace the beauty of diversity, In all its forms, with love and unity.

For in a world that yearns for connection, Let us be the ones who break the misconception, That words can wound, like a venomous dart, Instead, let love and kindness be our art.

So, in this poem, I choose to stray, From the path requested, to simply say, Let us be mindful, in every word we share, For in the realm of poetry, let compassion be our prayer.

In a world of feline folly, There lived a cat with a secret, A taste for adventure and mischief, And a love for KFC's golden treat.

With eyes like emerald jewels, And fur as black as night, This feline prowled the streets, In search of a savory delight.

Oh, how it yearned for chicken, Crispy and finger-lickin' good, But the cat knew it had to be sly, To satisfy its craving like it should.

Through alleyways it stealthily tiptoed, With nimble paws and a stealthy glide, Until it stumbled upon a secret, That made its hunger amplified.

A stash of KFC's golden eggs, Hidden away from prying eyes, An accidental treasure trove, A feast fit for a feline paradise.

With each stolen egg devoured, The cat's satisfaction grew, The taste of crispy breading, And juicy chicken, it knew.

Word soon spread of this food bandit, A legend of a cat so bold, Whispers echoed through the town, Of the one who stole the KFC gold.

But the cat with the KFC get eggs, Remained a mystery to all, A phantom of the night it became, Leaving no trace, no trail to recall.

And so, it continues its nightly quest, For chicken that satisfies its soul, The cat with the KFC get eggs, Forever on the prowl, never to be controlled.

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A curious tale, strange as the night, Of Alex Fisher, with love so bizarre, For random Hitler lemons, bizarre but bizarre.

Free Verse, they say, this poem shall be, Unrestrained, unrhymed, flowing and free, Yet how to capture this perplexing love, For lemons and Hitler, soaring above?

Alex Fisher, a soul with peculiar taste, Finds joy in lemons with a sour embrace, And Hitler, a name that evokes dark pain, Inexplicably entwined, like wind and rain.

Randomness, the thread that weaves this tale, No logic, no reason, no rhyme to prevail, For who could fathom this peculiar love, Of lemons and Hitler, below and above?

Yet in the realm of words, where all is allowed, We explore the uncharted, the strange and the proud, And though this poem may bewilder and confuse, Let it remind us, acceptance we must choose.

For love knows no boundaries, no norms to abide, It transcends our expectations, with no need to hide, So let us embrace the quirks that make us unique, For in the tapestry of life, we find what we seek.

So here's to Alex Fisher, with love all their own, May they find happiness, wherever they've flown, In lemons and Hitler, a world so absurd, May their love be a reminder, that love has no words.

I can't help myself I put it down on paper All the different stages, memories of us That's the only way I know that I can shake it Writing all our pages, every single thought I know you don't like when I'm nostalgic No, you've never tried to understand Say you're doing fine, don't think about it Like I do Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to I can't wait for you to recognize the stories Like when you said i was beautiful Will you act as if you haven't even heard it Nothing of it really matters 'Cause I know you don't like when I'm nostalgic Go back to the start to get an end Say you're doing fine, don't think about it Like I do Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Just to get over what we lost, what we lost I put it in words to clear my thoughts And just to get over, over us I had to, I had to Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to

sorry kenny?!

Dolly Parton and Queen Elizabeth went to the Pearly Gates on the same day.

They both met with an Angel to find out if they would be admitted to Heaven.

The angel said "Unfortunately, there's only one space in Heaven today so I must decide which one of you will be admitted."

The Angel asked Dolly if there was some particular reason why she should go to Heaven.

Dolly took off her top and said, "Look at these, they're the most perfect breasts God ever created and I'm sure it will please God to be able to see them every day, for eternity."

The Angel thanked Dolly, and asked Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the same question.

The Queen walked over to a toilet, pulled the lever and flushes it without saying a word.

The Angel immediately said, "OK, your Majesty, you may go into Heaven."

Dolly was outraged and asked, "What was that all about? I showed you two of God's own perfect creations and you turned me down. She simply flushed a commode and she got admitted to Heaven! Would you explain that to me?

"Sorry, Dolly," said the Angel, "but even in Heaven, a royal flush beats a pair - no matter how big they are."

In the realm where words wander free, A tale unfolds, unbounded and carefree, Jayden, a curious soul, embarks on a quest, An enigmatic journey, where desires manifest.

Marching through the corridors of cyberspace, He delves into realms of passion and grace, With a click and a glance, a world awakes, As pixels dance, his curiosity takes.

In the dimly lit room, shadows play, Jayden surrenders to this clandestine display, A voyeur to fantasies, unspoken and raw, He gazes upon screens, an uncharted draw.

Whispers of temptation echo in his ears, As he navigates through fantasies and fears, The allure of the forbidden, an intoxicating call, Jayden's senses entangled, in a mesmerizing thrall.

But amidst the symphony of moans and sighs, A realization dawns, awakening his eyes, For behind the allure, a truth is revealed, In the depths of this world, a heart left concealed.

Within the flickering scenes of pleasure's masquerade, Lies a yearning for connection, a soul's crusade, Jayden, march forward, beyond the screens, Seek the embrace of love, where true beauty gleams.

For within the realm of flesh and bone, A deeper fulfillment can truly be known, In the tender touch, in the warmth of a kiss, Lies a bliss beyond pixels, a love that won't dismiss.

So, let Jayden march, with newfound grace, From the fantasies that once held his embrace, For the world awaits, with its wonders untold, Where love reigns supreme, a story yet to unfold.

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A man with a spirit untamed, untold. With eyes that pierce through the darkest night, He walks a path that's far from light.

His steps are loud, his presence strong, A force of nature, where he belongs. Through the chaos, he finds his way, Leaving footprints that never fade.

A rebel soul, unafraid to speak, His words drip with passion, so unique. He dances with danger, embraces the unknown, Challenging limits, into the wild he's thrown.

No rules can bind him, no walls can contain, Frank Bulgin sets fire to the mundane. He paints the sky with vibrant hues, A kaleidoscope of dreams he pursues.

In his mind, a symphony of thoughts, An artist's palette, where inspiration is sought. He weaves words like a masterful bard, Creating tapestries that leave us marred.

With each verse, he unravels his soul, Unveiling the depths that make him whole. His poetry, a window to his essence, A glimpse into a world of fearless presence.

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A maverick, a legend yet to be told. His spirit roams, forever untamed, A beacon of courage, never to be tamed.

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.

Neona (😃): Gwen! I got the job!!!!!!!!!

Gwen (😁): I knew it !! I knew my prayer worked!

Neona (😁): He said that all my ideas are the best and that I start on Monday!

Gwen (😏): Man, don't you love Mr. Jaekson? He is the best person the company has ever had!

Neona (🙁): Who is Mr. Jaekson?

Gwen (😕): Wait ... Mr. Jaekson didn't interview you?

Neona (😕): No! Mr. Smith did. He said he was standing.

Gwen (😯): No, Mr. Smith, you are a fool who never lets you spread the word or do anything. I can also mention that he is a person who has sexual problems!

Neona(🤨,🙁,😠): Gwen, you are a liar!

Gwen (😟): No, I'm not. I'm telling the truth Neona!

Neona (😔): Gwen please be happy that I got the job without you lying that Mr.Smith sexual hassults women!!!

Gwen (🙁): He does your not listing.

Neona (🤬): I don't care BITCH!!!!

In the realm of poetry's grace, Where words dare to embrace, A request comes with a quirky plea, To give life to what the eyes may see.

"Pussy lussy cussy," it begins, A playful phrase that surely spins, And though the words may raise a smile, Let's craft a verse that goes the extra mile.

In free verse, we'll dance and sway, Allowing thoughts to have their say, For poetry knows no bounds or rules, It's a canvas for expression, where freedom fuels.

But let's remember, dear friend, To keep our words kind and lend, Respect to all, in every line, For poetry's power can truly shine.

So, let's journey on this poetic quest, With words that honor and truly impress, For in the realm of art and verse, We find beauty, in each line immersed.

And though "Pussy lussy cussy" may make us smile, Let's seek inspiration that runs deep, mile after mile, For poetry's magic lies in its ability, To touch hearts, souls, and set thoughts free.

In this short verse, may you find delight, As we paint with words, both bold and light, So let us write, with grace and art, A poem that sings straight from the heart.

Stressed Out-By- Twenty One Pilots and watersharky Music Productions-I wish I found some better sounds No one's ever heard I wish I had a better voice That sang some better words I wish I found some chords In an order that is new I wish I didn't have to rhyme Every time I sang I was told when I get older All my fears would shrink But now I'm insecure And I care what people think My name's Blurryface and I care what you think My name's Blurryface and I care what you think Wish we could turn back time To the good old days When our momma sang us to sleep But now we're stressed out Wish we could turn back time To the good old days When our momma sang us to sleep But now we're stressed out We're stressed out Sometimes a certain smell will Take me back to when I was young How come I'm never able to identify Where it's coming from? I'd make a candle out of it If I ever found it Try to sell it, never sell out of it I'd probably only sell one It'd be to my brother, cause we have the same nose Same clothes, home grown The stone's throw from a creek we used to roam But it would remind us of when Nothing really mattered Out of student loans and tree house homes We all would take the latter My name's Blurryface and I care what you think My name's Blurryface and I care what you think Wish we could turn back time To the good old days When our momma sang us to sleep But now we're stressed out Wish we could turn back time To the good old days When our momma sang us to sleep But now we're stressed out Used to play pretend Give each other different names We would build a rocket ship and then we'd fly it far away Used to dream of outer space But now they're laughing at our face singing "Wake up, you need to make money", yeah Used to play pretend Give each other different names We would build a rocket ship And then we'd fly it far away Used to dream of outer space But now they're laughing at our face singing "Wake up, you need to make money", yeah Wish we could turn back time To the good old days When our momma sang us to sleep But now we're stressed out Wish we could turn back time To the good old days When our momma sang us to sleep But now we're stressed out We used to play pretend, used to play pretend, money We used to play pretend, wake up you need the money Used to play pretend, used to play pretend, money We used to play pretend, wake up you need the money Used to play pretend Give each other different names We would build a rocket ship And then we'd fly it far away Used to dream of outer space But now they're laughing at our face saying "Wake up, you need to make money", yeah

The Pastor of the local church calls on the congregation for volunteers for Bible sales....

A gentleman with a severe stutter approaches the pastor after Sunday service.

"I-i-i... I-i-id like to v-v-v-v-vol-vol-vo-volunteer to s-s-s-se-sell b-b-b-bi-b-bibles, f-fff-f-f-fa-fa-father..."

"That would be wonderful, my son. We'll start you with one box. Please go door to door throughout the community and sell what you can. You can give these away, but donations are always accepted since the word of God is the most important message."

"T-t-t-t-th-th-th-thank you f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father... i-i-i-i-i-i-I'll s-s-s-s-se-se-sell what I c-c-c-cc-can..."

The pastor sends the man on his way.

About an hour later to the pastors surprise, the stuttering man returns with an empty box and $200 cash.

The pastor is completely shocked, but is ultimately filled with joy as the church could use the funds more than ever, not to mention the community is that much closer to God's message.

So without asking questions, he happily sends the stuttering man on his way with 2 more boxes of Bibles.

"T-t-t-t-t-t-th-th-th-th-tha-thank you f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father, i-i-i-i-i-i-I'll be back s-s-s-s-s-soo-soo-soo-soon."

Exactly 2 hours later the stuttering man returns, only this time carrying 2 empty boxes and $500 cash.

The pastor is at a loss for words. So much so, that he's questioning whether the stuttering man is coming across these funds legitimately.

He pulls the man aside and asks, "Son, while myself and the church thank you for your efforts in selling these bibles, we want to make sure not to take advantage of common people. Most of my volunteers take upwards of a month to sell a single box of Bibles, and you've sold 3 boxes in a few hours. May I ask what you're telling these people when you approach their home?"

"W-w-w-w-we-we-well f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father it-it-it-it-its qui-q-q-q-qui-quite s-s-s-s-s-s-si-sim-simple."

"I ju-ju-ju-ju-just ask the-the-th-th-th-the-them if th-th-th-th-the-the-they'd l-l-l-l-li-li-li-li-lik-like to b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bu-bu-buy a b-b-b-bi-bi-bi-bible or if they w-w-w-w-w-wa-wa-wa-wan-want me to re-re-re-rea-read it to them."

This city slicker broke down on a country road, he look around and in the distance he spotted a farm house. When he finally got there he asked the farmer if he has a phone he could use because his had no reception. The farmer told him he could use it if he married his daughter. The guy said he really didn’t wanna get married and the farmer said if you marry my daughter I’ll give you half my farm...the guy said lemme see her...the farmer hollered “hey you” get over here...and she said duh ok. The ol boy looked at her and said nooo thank you. The father said I’ll give you all my farm and my bank account if you’ll marry my daughter....the ol boy thought for a minute and said “we’ll I guess I can put a sack over her head” So they married and the farmer kept his word and gave him everything. One day the guy was up fixin the roof and Holland hey you get me some nails...his wife said duh nails, nails he said yes nails and showed her one she said “oh dun nails nails” he said yes nails. So she got him some. He was hammering away when he hit his thumb and he yells oh F. . . It! and she turned and Hollered Duh A Sack A Sack Duh A Sack!