The Adult Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat.
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner, and momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangey reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of the sled,
A sock in his ear and a bra on his head.
Sure as I’m speaking, he was high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right.
Woa Shithead, woa Asshole, woa Stupid, woa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, ’cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jockies, to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
“That was some brothel,” he said with a smile,
“The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay awhile”
He walked to the kitchen for himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find,
And six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several more things I shouldn’t even mention.
A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil.
“This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I’ll leave ’em here, and then I’ll just split.”
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug stuck under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took reigns of his hitch,
Saying, “Take me home, Rudolf. This night’s been a bitch!”
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
“The best thing about pussy is you can’t wear it out!!”

‘Twas the Night Before Ramadan

by Mullah Mohammed Omar

‘Twas the night before Ramadan, and all through the cave
Not a creature was stirring; it felt like a grave.
The turbans were hung by the fire pit with care,
In hopes that the Air Force would not soon be there.

The soldiers were restless without any beds,
While visions of air strikes flashed in their heads.
Osama in his burkha and I in my goatskin cap,
Had just settled down for a cold, barren winter’s nap.

When out on the ledge there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed my Kalashnikov to see what was the matter.
Away from the racket I ran like a girl,
Tripped over a goat; into a ball I did curl.

The moon shone down on the new-fallen snow
And lit up the valley with an ominous glow,
When, what to my one good eye should appear,
But a dozen Apaches, and tanks in the rear.

And their leader, so fearless, his troops he did push,
I knew in an instant it must be George Bush.
More rapid than eagles his forces they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called out our names.

“Now Omar! Osama! Muhammad! Abdul!
We come for you now; we’ve taken Kabul!
To the top of the cliffs! To the back of their caves!
When you chose this war, you dug your own graves!”

As the dry leaves that before the assault choppers fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, light up the sky.
So up to the ledge his forces they flew
With full magazines, and flamethrowers, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard with a thud
The explosions of Tomahawks; not one was a dud.
As I chambered my rifle, and was turning around,
Osama was there, disguised in a gown.

He was dressed all in drag, from his head to his toes,
And he said he would flee while I held off his foes.
A bundle of money he had stuffed in his pack,
He said “I’m going to Baghdad and I’m not looking back!”

His eyes were all glassy; he trembled with fear,
The American bombs, they rang in his ears.
He saddled his goat, then turned tail and fled,
But a Marine Corps sniper got him in the head.

I watched with cold fear as his body did slump,
The goat threw him off; he fell with a thump.
And so, there I stood, my plans all destroyed,
About to suffer a fate I could not avoid.

I dropped to my knees; asked Allah for help,
His voice boomed in my ears, “You ignorant whelp!
I gave you the Bible, the Torah and Koran,
But you were too arrogant to understand.

“I told you to honor your neighbors and wives,
Not to enslave them, or degrade their lives!
You invoke My name to sanction your deeds,
But you are the last thing that this world needs.

“And so, I’ll send you and bin Laden to Hell.”
The last words I heard, as the bombs fell,
Were from George Bush himself as he mounted the wall,
“One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all!”

Osama Bin Laden, Your Time is Short!

Osama Bin Laden, your time is short;
We’d rather you die, than come to court.
Why are you hiding if it was in God’s name?
Your just a punk with a turban; a pathetic shame.

I have a question, about your theory and laws;
“How come you never die for the cause?”
Is it because you’re a coward who counts on others?
Well here in America, we stand by our brothers.

As is usual, you failed in your mission;
If you expected pure chaos, you can keep on wishin’
Americans are now focused and stronger than ever;
Your death has become our next endeavor.

What you tried to kill, doesn’t live in our walls;
It’s not in buildings or shopping malls.
If all of our structures came crashing down;
It would still be there, safe and sound.

Because pride and courage can’t be destroyed;
Even if the towers leave a deep void.
We’ll band together and fill the holes
We’ll bury our dead and bless their souls.

But then our energy will focus on you;
And you’ll feel the wrath of the Red, White and Blue.
So slither and hide like a snake in the grass;
Because America’s coming to kick your ass!!!

‘Twas The Night Before Y2K

‘Twas the night before Y2K,
And all through the nation
We awaited The Bug,
The Millennium sensation.

The chips were replaced
In computers with care,
In hopes that ol’ Bugsy
Wouldn’t stop there.

While some folks could think
They were snug in their beds
Others had visions
Of dread in their heads.

And Ma with her PC,
And I with my Mac
Had just logged on the Net
And kicked back with a snack.

When over the server,
There arose such a clatter
I called Mister Gates
To see what was the matter.

But he was away,
So I flew like a flash
Off to my bank
To withdraw all my cash.

When what with my wandering eyes
Should I see?
My good old Mac
Looked sick to me.

The hack of all hackers
Was looking so smug,
I knew that it must be
The Y2K Bug!

His image downloaded
In no time at all,
He whistled and shouted,
Let all systems fall!

Go Intel! Go Gateway!
How HP! Big Blue!
Everything Compaq,
And Pentium too!

All processors big,
All processors small,
Crash away! Crash away!
Crash away all!

All the controls
That planes need for their flights
All microwaves, trains
And all traffic lights.

As I drew in my breath
And was turning around,
Out through the modem,
He came with a bound.

He was covered with fur,
And slung on his back
Was a sack full of virus,
Set for attack.

His eyes-how they twinkled!
His dimples-how merry!
As midnight approached, though
Things soon became scary.

He had a broad little face
And a round little belly,
And his sack filled with virus
Quivered like jelly.

He was chubby and plump,
Perpetually grinning,
And I laughed when I saw him
Though my hard drive stopped spinning.

A wink of his eye,
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
A new feeling of dread.

He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work,
He changed all the clocks,
Then turned with a jerk.

With a twitch of his nose,
And a quick little wink,
All things electronic
Soon went on the blink.

He zoomed from my system,
To the next folks on line,
He caused such a disruption,
Could this be a sign?

Then I heard him exclaim,
With a loud, hearty shout,
Happy Y2K to you all,
This is a helluva night!

A Military Christmas

Note: This is the original version, written by former Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt, stationed in Washington DC in 1986. The full version of the story behind this poem can be read at Snopes.com.


Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.

Martha Haikus

Domestic guru:
Once a corporate giant,
Now Stewart Little.

Yoda said it best:
“Begun, the ImClone wars have.”
Bantha food are you!

Did Martha just goof?
Or could she possibly be
Rotten to decor?

You brighten the lives
Of so many people. Try
Your huge dyke cellmate.

New lines for this fall?
Attention, K-Mart shoppers:
Orange ensembles!

You have brought much joy.
Now you will bring so many
Cigarette cartons.

It’s gauche, perhaps, but
Handy for prison showers.
Bring soap-on-a-rope.

Universal Prescription

No moving parts, no batteries,
No monthly payments and no fees;
Inflation-proof, non-taxable,
In fact, it’s quite relaxable;

It can’t be stolen, won’t pollute,
One size fits all, do not dilute.
It uses little energy,
But yields results enormously.

Relieves your tension and your stress,
Invigorates your happiness;
Combats depression, makes you beam,
And elevates your self-esteem!

Your circulation it corrects,
Without unpleasant side effects.
It is, I think, the perfect drug;
May I prescribe, my friends? The hug!
(And of course, fully returnable!)

By: Henry Matthew Ward

Beauty Tips from Audrey Hepburn

The following poem is quoted from “Audrey Hepburn” by Barry Paris, (c)1996 Putnam
She read it to children for inspiration

For attractive lips,
speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes,
seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure,
share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair,
let a child run his fingers through it once a day.
For poise,
walk with the knowledge you’ll never walk alone…

People, even more than things,
have to be restored, renewed, revived,
reclaimed and redeemed and redeemed …
Never throw out anybody.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand,
you’ll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older
you will discover that you have two hands.
One for helping yourself,
the other for helping others.

A Poem for Moms and Dads

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray my sanity to keep.
For if some peace I do not find,
I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my mind.
I pray I find a little quiet
Far from the daily family riot.
May I lie back–not have to think
about what they’re stuffing down the sink,
or who they’re with, or where they’re at
and what they’re doing to the cat.
I pray for time all to myself
(did something just fall off a shelf?)
To cuddle in my nice, soft bed
(Oh no, another goldfish–dead!)
Some silent moments for goodness sake
(Did I just hear a window break?)
And that I need not cook or clean–
(well heck, I’ve got the right to dream)
Yes now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray my wits about me keep,
But as I look around I know–
I must have lost them long ago!

A Dieter’s Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips
were Fannie May candies that sneaked past my lips
Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care
in hopes that my thighs would forget they were there
While Mama in her my girdle and I in chin straps
had just settled down to sugar-borne naps
When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter
Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash
tore open the icebox then threw up the sash
The marshmallow look of the new-fallen snow
sent thoughts of a binge to my body below
When what to my wandering eyes should appear:
a marzipan Santa with eight chocolate reindeer!
That huge chunk of candy so luscious and slick
I knew in a second that I’d wind up sick
The sweet-coated santa, those sugared reindeer
I closed my eyes tightly but still I could hear
On Pritzker, on Stillman, on weak one, on TOPS
a Weight Watcher dropout from sugar detox
From the top of the scales to the top of the hall
now dash away pounds now dash away all
Dressed up in Lane Bryant from my head to nightdress
my clothes were all bulging from too much excess
My droll little mouth and my round little belly
they shook when I laughed like a bowl full of jelly
I spoke not a word but went straight to my work
ate all of the candy then turned with a jerk
And laying a finger beside my heartburn
I gave a quick nod toward the bedroom I turned
I eased into bed, to the heavens I cry
if temptation’s removed I’ll get thin by and by
And I mumbled again as I turned for the night
in the morning I’ll starve…’til I take that first bite!