Don't drink beer
Post all your roses are red poems
Right over here.

I remember one:

Rose's are red.
Violet's are blue.
Ethel's are green.

It's called "Old Age Pensioner's Knickers". (Doesn't work that well in print.)

https://www.youtube.com/v/mx3t7Xx5XjM
there's just two roses are red poems in this, what

I'm telling Edmund Spenser on you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Clockcrew is dead
Fuck you Fuck you

There once was a man from Nantucket
with a penis so long he could suck it.
He said with a grin,
as he wiped off his chin,
"if my ear were a whore, I would fuck it."

Quote from: PhantomCatClock on October 05, 2017, 09:59:38 PM
I'm telling Edmund Spenser on you

I thought you were telling Jonny Chucklehead

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I killed my family with a pitchfork
The blood on my hands spoke riddles to me
They told me of an age where the sky will darken
And the only sound that will be recognizable will be screams
Everything else will be a new sensation of horror never experience
And the pain that we will feel will be tantamount, nay, worse than death
Every human will pluck the eyes from the skull to prevent from witnessing it all
Because the inhumanity of it all will be tremendous and beyond traumatizing
With that foreboding message, the blood crawled up my arm into my nostrils
And I smelt the iron smell of my lineage as they all thanked me
Because in the end, though they died horribly
I spared them from what was to come

Quote from: Liam on October 07, 2017, 09:27:31 PM
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I killed my family with a pitchfork
The blood on my hands spoke riddles to me
They told me of an age where the sky will darken
And the only sound that will be recognizable will be screams
Everything else will be a new sensation of horror never experience
And the pain that we will feel will be tantamount, nay, worse than death
Every human will pluck the eyes from the skull to prevent from witnessing it all
Because the inhumanity of it all will be tremendous and beyond traumatizing
With that foreboding message, the blood crawled up my arm into my nostrils
And I smelt the iron smell of my lineage as they all thanked me
Because in the end, though they died horribly
I spared them from what was to come

Quote from: RenegadeClock on October 06, 2017, 12:22:48 PM
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Clockcrew is dead
Fuck you Fuck you

Roses are red
Son of a peach
RenegadeClock
Can go drink bleach.