Happy Tirthday 2 Bim!
HAPPY TIRTHDAY 2 BIM
In the photo you're mighty slim.
For the upcoming election
R U done with witness protection?
HAPPY TIRTHDAY BIM!
Happy day of your birth!
What planet was it, was it Earth?
I see that your chin
Is receding again.
Happy day of your birth!
How many candles will you
Have on your cake, more than 2?
You weren't born in leap year,
And the hair in your ear,
Tells me how many candles have you!
If this letter was simply a song,
Would our family be singing along?
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Playing Guitar With David
Will I play guitar with David,
While he plays his lute and harp?
Will my harmonica sweetly answer,
Like dueling banjos played with heart?
How can I glorify my awesome God
In songs and reverent psalms,
The same way that little David did
And have creation now join along?
After Gods own heart little David was
As he killed a bear and lion.
By exercising his kingsized faith
Goliath ended up slain, and dying.
So may I play guitar with David?
Shall we praise God in harmony?
Will you all dropp by and join us,
In the choir for all eternity?
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Just Plain Queer!
Our images are reflected in reverse
in the mirror. Suppose our words
were too!
My name is Trebor Ragde Snrub.
No name could ere be queerer.
Naw, It’s really Robert Edgar Burns,
For I was looking in yon mirror!
If you think I speak with a forked tongue,
You’re wrong for goodness sake.
I’m not a leaping lizard.
And my tongue is just a rake.
I listened out front
With my ear to the door.
I heard not a voice,
Then I awoke with a snore!
While also sleep walking
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Abortions Are Immoral
(An Acrostic Form Of Poetry)
Another word for murder
Bringing vicious acts to babies in wombs.
Of women and doctors in sterile clinics,
Relating to acts by irresponsible people
To bring fresh lives to a sudden doom.
It sickens me to know such people,
Of immoral and unrighteous ways,
Never thinking first of the little children,
Since it was them who opened their legs.
A perverted mindset struck our nation.
Religion told 'Stay out of law! '
Everyone who believes in this practice -
Is brainwashed with such total gall.
Millions have vanished over the decades.
Maybe some brilliant minds have been erased.
Of obstacles to this mass murder,
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Solitary Man
Sometimes I feel like a solitary man.
Under the night sky writing what I can.
No one else is moving or driving cars.
The world belongs to me under the stars.
While pondering in my solitude
Without a thought or plan,
Thoughts jump into the mind
Of this solitary man.
I don't know where they come from.
They are just my own surprise.
Sometimes I'd swear that they have come
Through a different set of eyes.
In prison I know that solitary
Can drive a person mad.
But in those I once sent there,
For the solitude they seem glad.
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Blaming The Snake
Adam said it was the fault of Eve.
Eve blamed that serpent snake.
The snake tried blaming everyone else
No leg to stand on, he was a fake.
“Put some clothes on now my son.”
Nudist Adam said “Huh, no fun! ”
Eve came along wearing a grass skirt,
Made of fig leaves, clay and dirt.
Plucked from the garden to now pull weeds,
Forever kept away to work sweaty hard deeds.
Pain and suffering to be the way of life,
But worst of all was the curse to die!
Had that woman not tempted her man,
Adam might have stayed in Eden then.
Surely God would have created a new wife,
And Adam could have lived a very peaceful life.
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Kill The Doctor And His Nurse
(A True Story Series)
I had a prisoner for medical screening
Before transporting him to jail.
He was shackled to a gurney
And was handcuffed to it as well.
A man who was high on PCP
Came rushing into the E.R. screaming
“I’m killing this doctor and his nurse, ”
The 45 trigger started squeezing.
The E.R. itself was crowded
Patients shouting as they saw the gun.
No escape for those still standing,
No room for a soul to run.
I flew over one metal gurney,
Put an arm bar lock around his neck.
I ruined my back for the rest of my life
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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The Market!
I remember taking you shopping,
Which is something I don’t like to do.
But the memory is a pleasant one
Because I was there with you.
I watched you as you filled your cart,
While following from behind.
The graceful way you moved about,
Is branded into my mind.
You fondled some bananas,
That nearly drove me wild.
I wished I was that piece of fruit,
That thought still brings a smile.
You turned toward me bending very low
To reach something that I do not know.
My eyes were pulled like a magnet then,
Looking down your blouse, till you stood again.
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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April Tunes
(To the tune of: April Showers)
Though April showers may come your way,
I will not plagiarize any more today.
So if you're looking for familiar,
Just open your mouth and say,
I will not steal from others, till May!
(To the tune: 3 Blind Mice)
April is nice. April is nice.
I had to say it twice. I had to say it twice.
If you sing along please please do it right.
Don't sing out of tune any day or night.
If you do I will punch out your light.
April is nice. Now I've said it thrice.
(To The Tune: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)
Tinkle Tinkle Simpson's Bart,
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Happy Times Reunion!
Our shells may drop, and crash on the floor.
The breath from lungs will be seen no more!
Absent from the body, what’s that mean to me?
Well, I’ve gone to see my Lord in Eternity!
A funeral merely soothes some one living’s mind,
For everyone has fears that they cannot bind.
They cannot bring themselves to seek truth and see,
The fear that they are covering is their mortality!
Someday I’ll meet my Maker and my bags are packed.
When I do get to Heaven I’m not coming back.
There will be a sweet reunion once I’m finally home,
I do not fear what lies ahead and I’m ready now to go!
The Happy Time Reunion lasts a thousand years.
It will seem like it just started when the end is near.
But there’ll be a new reunion just around the bend.
For you will have a party when you join me there my friend.
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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