Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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These Limericks were written by many different PS poets who are all remaining anonymous. If you would like to add one of your own and remain anonymous send it to my soup mail. Enjoy! Roses are red, but you broke the treaty Changed your name, but your eyes are still beady One, two buckle your shoe Choo, choo, we know it’s you. Stupid is as stupid does, Lil sweetie! Roses are red: everyone knows that - DUH! You're such a Grinch, Humbug and BAH! There'll be no gifts for you Past your house Santa flew Deck your halls with a 'Fa La La La La Roses are red and violets are blue It's just garbage that all the trolls spew Can't be classed as insane Because they lack a brain And you get more joy looking at poo. Roses are red, and the troll is askew Poets, don't allow him to bully you. He carries a doll Dressed up like Ru Paul I think it's time to tame the shrew in you Roses are red, you’re not made of glue Thinking nothing will stick on to you Dishing out bologna You are quite a phony Seems you have nothing better to do. Roses are red, but not all violets are blue Chicken Little is crying again, boo hoo hoo You gotta stop the whine America is fine To your pessimistic thinking I say 'Pooh Pooh!' Roses are red, just like the sore kangaroo I stuck pins in his eyes, and other places, too His self-loathing is blind Here’s a spike I designed Go jab yourself where the sun don’t shine, Cuckoo! Roses are red, you're gonna need stitches You're gonna strike out when I throw pitches You are a child, indeed Smoking voodoo weed But you’re still my little sugar britches Roses are red, put your nasty to bed Try to say something important instead Away with your bluster, You sure have no luster I think there's nothing inside of your head. Roses are red, everyone knows you're just a thug Mark's a mighty bulldog and you're a little pug Go on, take your best shot You can't hit diddly squat He'll squash you like a bug. Chug a lug. Chug a lug Roses are red, your slurs are fill of spite You take ignorance to a brand new height It's clear you have no sense In fact, you are quite dense "Ya can't fix stupid," a quote from Ron White Violets are blue and roses are red Trolls on soup are not right in the head They play childish games By changing their names And maybe it's because they're brain dead Roses are red, but it's the old lady who rants Maybe her stinky bum was bitten by red ants She likes to act so sweet But can't take the heat She's even snarkier when she craps in her pants Your red roses died, your violets have too Your breath smells like skunk, your words are doo-doo Your poetry smells Your ego just swells Go lay by your dish, your time here is through Roses are red, but get off the ballfield I will not command my bulldog to yield His chain has broken loose Gonna cook your goose Your real name in the soup has been revealed Roses are red and violets are blue Too many trolled by a dumb kangaroo It is such a shame He's got an assumed name But sadly, that’s what crass trolls do Roses are red, you called Mark Jabba the Hutt But your mixed pedigree makes you a mutt Better run away Be warned if you stay The bulldog will bite you on your big butt Roses are red, but soon they will wither When cursed by someone saying, 'come hither' He can go fly a kite Black magic just ain't right Like a snake in the soup, he will slither Roses are red to us, but not to the Aussie Who thinks he's pugnacious by acting all bossy But he's just a joke A sorrowful bloke Thinks he's a roo that can beat the PS Posse You act like a tough guy, thinking you're slick Like your pal, the one who was a bootlick Your bruises will be blue When we come after you You returned as the same old dipstick Roses are red in my lush garden bed The sun shines on them and you're old bald head Your insults don't hurt us So why make such a fuss? Is it possible to be nice instead? Roses are red. Most trees are green. Each gender can now be both king and queen. Many things can confuse. You can both win and lose. And many obvious signs can't be seen! Roses are red, the victim, when in truth, You are dishing insult one-hundred proof Lying about your identity, Is a dishonest obscenity And, besides, it is utterly uncouth! When you act like victims it makes me laugh In truth, you've committed a social gaffe When in a game of chess The real bigots confess To being jerks, while taking a polygraph It's a folly if you believe that we are mad from the lies and insults of a dame and a cad When you act like terrors It's a Comedy of Errors Such belligerence from you... it's terribly sad You've slandered poets, and that's hypocritical because we don't agree on views, political But your ideas are wrong America is strong Leeches, your toxic fangs are parasitical

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