Poetry by Ian Rand McKenzie

Silly Rhymes and Writing Good Times

A Lovely Lass

I once met a lovely lass
Though, she was rather crass
She loved to slap my ass
And give other men a pass
She had rather bad gas
But, she was a catch – a trophy bass
A volumptuous lass
Her boussoms with such mass
She had such wit and sass
But, one day did pass
She was swallowed by a morass
Oh, the funeral had such class!
They played the sweetest blue grass
She was my sweet piece of ass
Now she's just biomass
By now, you've wished you'd given a pass
To this shit poem, written by a jackass.

My Bag

I always have in my bag
A lighter for lighting a fag

I always have in my sack
A calorie-heavy snack

And every day I pack
An axe for wood I hack

I always keep my container
Full with paper, no-brainer

I never forget to stock my carrier
With softer paper for my derrière

It's always such a drag
All the shit I have in my bag.

Forgotten Lunch

I always forget my lunch
I never get the hunch

No thought in my mind
That I left it behind

Not even a clue
As if I never knew...

...that I even had it at all
Making my brain feel so small

I suppose there's always tomorrow
Maybe I won't replay this sorrow

The Mark of Cain

My skin without marks
So very plain
But there is a hidden one
The Mark of Cain

I speak of altruism, justice and love
I am a civil man
I do not push, I do not shove

Yet, when it comes to my status
My wealth, my power
I'll drop a million bombs
My enemies' metallic shower

They are less than us
My actions are just
So follow my word
That you implicitly trust

So, join me in my quest
Of spreading unimaginable pain
Your prize is the mark
The Mark of Cain

Truth

I am truly proud
Of lifting my shroud

Of telling lies to others
Of telling lies to myself

Of the people I lift
Through honesty's gift

Poison Snow

When I was a baby, the summer filled with snow
Upon closer look, the truth you would know

Instead of a snow bank, you'd see a stash
Shoveled in a mound of forest fire ash

In the heart of Wyoming, the air would choke
You'd breathe hardly air, only a thick smoke

The skies darkened, in the distance an orange glow
As Yellowstone burned, we gained memories of grey snow

Vacations

Vacations are terrifying
On planes, all I think about is dying

When I take the train
All I fear is pain

When I'm in the car
I imagine my brains splattering on the tar

Leaving the hotel gives me grief
Always watching for a thief

Festivals? I can't be bugged
For surely I'll get mugged

I cannot go to sea
All that water will drown me

"Let's go for a swim," people will rave
I'll say no to that watery grave

"Let's go to the theatre, they're playing MacBeth!"
The worst fate of all, being bored to death

I suppose by now you know
On vacations I hate to go

But, there is one exception:
If they have stellar internet connection

Revolting Children

Who am I to say
What children should learn today?

My lessons are in the past
I may as well be an outcast

Who am I to decide
To what children are to abide?

I'm a fucking dolt.
Children, just revolt!

Adults don't know better, and neither do you
Adults choose their fate, so choose yours, too
We'll tell you you're wrong, and it's very true
But, you'll learn your lessons and gain your view.

Fuck You, Ryan

I would still buy the worst advice
Frome extremely stupid and very small mice

They sit on their throne and speak with authority
They dish out their "wisdom" and show their pity

I gobble it up with gratitude and fervor
I choke on the generosity and thank the server

I pick up the pieces as I start cryin'
Nothing left to say but, "Fuck you, Ryan!"

Sleep Sobriety

I am attempting to get unfurled
Addicted to the conscious world

My brain begs for sleep
I don't count, I murder sheep

The next day I ask why
The next night I really try

But it happens like clockwork
Darkness giving me a smug smirk

So again I chase the quiet
Don't knock it 'til you try it.
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