If any question why we died,
Tell them, because our fathers lied.
A DEAD STATESMAN(via The Poetry Foundation)
I could not dig: I dared not rob:
Therefore I lied to please the mob.
Now all my lies are proved untrue
And I must face the men I slew.
What tale shall serve me here among
Mine angry and defrauded young?
Clever poetry made from arranging the spines of books:
My wife and I watch way too much Gordon Ramsey (“Kitchen Nightmares” that is, not that awful “Hell’s Kitchen” POS). Hence, Gordon Ramsey haiku:
We are in the shit
What the fuck are we doing?
Chef, find your bollocks
Cut the crap, you are
Not qualified to run baths
Who is in charge here?