Archive for the ‘Poems – Humorous’ Category


by David Lefkowitz

Sept. 2018: Colorado Limericks of the Damned

Jan. 2016: Lech Mipo

Jan. 2013: Rabbi Lacey

Jan. 1991: JoAnne Worley, Bea Arthur, and Me

POETRY INDEX: https://wp.me/pzvIo-ts


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by David Lefkowitz

An old diabetic from Akron
Dragged himself to the store on a snack run
While buying his breadsticks
He spied two well-fed chicks
And said, “You look sweeter than sacc’run!”

At a Japanese restaurant in Alamosa
A girl with anorexia nervosa
Was swallowing oodles
Of pukeable noodles
But choked to death on a gyoza

While traveling through Antonito
I met a strange fella named Vito
His extra-large foreskin
Kept adding on more skin
And looked like a giant burrito

A handsome young man from Arriba
Was hung like a baby amoeba
Despite his small cock
The girls would still flock:
He told them he was Justin Bieba

A virginal child in Arvada
Woke up one fine day with stigmata
She bled from her fists
Her tits and her wrists;
She looked like a squashed enchilada

A wizened old floozy from Aspen
Whose voice is all throaty and raspin’
Blames African guys
And their massive size
For leaving her gaggin’ and gaspin’

A creepy eccentric named Walt
Once murdered a waitress in Ault
He sautéed her brains
And all her remains
In garlic, cilantro, and salt

A troubled young Jewess named Norah
Attended a shul in Aurora
She tied up the Rabbi
The Cantor and Gabbai
And sodomized them with a torah

An unlucky farmgirl from Avon
Was humming her favorite song, “Rave On”
She fell in a pit
Of animal shit
And that’s what the town built her grave on

There was a young man from Basalt
Who kept jars of pee in a vault
And when he’d feel tender
He’d whip out a blender
And drink all his piss in a malt

A gifted soul singer from Bayfield
Was beaten to death in a hayfield
His gasping and groans
His hollers and moans
Made me think of a young Curtis Mayfield

A brutal young rapist from Bedrock
Tried putting a girl in a headlock
She broke from his grip
And bit off the tip
He lived, but he now has a deadcock

A fat politician from Bennett
Was fucking his labrador when it
Jumped up with a shriek
And bit off his cheek
And made him the talk of the Senate

There’s a casket in a graveyard in Berthoud
And I asked two young men to unearth it
For inside that chest
Lay the girl I loved best
Wasn’t easy to fuck her, but worth it.

A bawdy old bitch from Bethune
Would rise from her mattress at noon
“My husband,” she’d grin,
“is ugly as sin.
Thank goodness, he’s hung like a coon.”

A husky young man from Bonanza
Has muscles just like Tony Danza
But half of his face
Is being replaced
`Cause he’s got malignant skin canza

There was a young lady from Boone
Who kept Cheerios in her poon
When she wasn’t fucking
She’d spend her time plucking
The cereal out with a spoon

A very stern father from Boulder
Was teaching his daughter and told her
If you pick your nose
I’ll cut off your toes
And sever your arm at the shoulder.

One thing I would never have reckoned is
How weird is that geezer in Breckenridge
He keeps his wife’s hair
In an old Frigidaire
And keeps both her legs in a second fridge

A pedophile vicar from Brighton
Found altar boys very excitin’
It felt so intense
When they’d swing their incense
The rim of his asshole would tighten

A tender young lady from Brush
Would turn all the young men to mush
They’d start in one hole
But then lose control
And slide halfway into her tush

For raping a girl and her sista
A pedophile from Buena Vista
Was thrown into Rikers
With big, hairy bikers
And now he takes dicks up his keesta

The orchestra in Castle Rock
Plays naked, but please, do not mock
The drummer is cute
And the guy on the flute
Can play first xylophone with his cock

Don’t pity that pervy millennial
Who’s now doing time in Centennial
`Cause he stuck his noodle
Into his pet poodle
And sodomized his cocker spenniel

A frustrated fellow from Center
Whose girlfriend would not let him enter
One day with a grin
Just bashed her face in
And laughed at her just to torment `er

A hooker from Colorado Springs
Was paid to do acrobatic things
But she was so rough
The men screamed, “Enough!”
And most of them left her in slings

A curious girl from Cortez
Suspected she might be a lez
She slept with one whore
Then twenty-five more
And now she’s got chronic herpez

One morning a fellow from Craig
Found scabies all over his leg
He spent all day long
Inspecting his dong
And checking his foreskin for smeg

How proper, how tender, how cute
Was that damsel from old Crested Butte
Who knew that beneath
Her gold hair and white teeth
Lay the heart of a sick prostitutte?

A pregnant young woman from Cripple Creek
Was attacked by a crow with a triple beak
He pecked at her chest
And gnawed at her breast
Till one of her tits sprang a nipple leak

A kind-hearted whore from Dacono
Would spend all her Fridays pro bono
She’d not charge a nickel
To slap, tease, and tickle
Though fucking her ass was a no-no

How bittersweet `tis to remember
The girl that I dated in Denver
We met in the spring
And had quite a fling
Too bad she was dead by December

In the Kiowa County of Eads
Lives a man who adores anal beads
The more he inserts
The harder it hurts
And he bleeds and he bleeds and he bleeds

A tender young schoolboy from Eaton
Was raped and then horribly beaten
His bruises are healing
Except that he’s dealing
With blood that he can’t stop excretin’

Said Jane to her Mackintosh, “Siri,
Tell me, what are the men like in Erie?”
Said Siri, “They’re gross,
Obese and morose
And the backs of their Hanes are all smeary.”

There was a young woman from Estes
Who wouldn’t let men touch her brestes
If they’d even try
She’d look in their eye
And kick `em real hard in the testes

A crazy musician from Evans
Was singing a song to the heavens
He started off tender
But then grabbed his Fender
And cranked all his amps to elevens

There was a young girl from Fort Lupton
Who looked like a twin of Kate Upton
Though she was a virgin
The men kept on urgin’
`Cause that bitch was up for corruptin’

There is a young girl in Fort Morgan
Nice bod, but a face like a gorgon
So what I advise
is aim for her thighs
`Cause you got no eyes in your organ

A chubby young lady in Frisco
Would dance every night at the disco
I kidnapped that ho
And rolled her in dough
I’m frying her slowly in Crisco

A tremulous virgin named Blanche
was kidnapped from old Highlands Ranch
No, she was not raped
In fact, she escaped
by massively shitting her panch

An evil white slaver named Holden
Once kidnapped a woman from Golden
He mailed her out quickly
But she was so sickly
She died in the box she was sold in

A pedophile priest from Grand Junction
Would prey on the youth sans compunction
Though it was a sin
He could not get it in
For he had erectile dysfunction

There is a young woman in Holly
Who’s deeply addicted to Molly
If you have a stash
She’ll give you her cash
And suck on your dick like a lolly

A black college student from Hooper
Was stopped on the road by a trooper
Who treated him rough
And put him in cuffs
and jammed a baton in his pooper

They arrested a fellow from Hotchkiss
`cause there was a girl he would watch piss
He thought he was flirting
that time she was squirting
and he pulled her down for a crotch kiss

The wonderful thing about Hoyt is
It’s just as perverse as Detroit is
There’s threesomes, and four
And orgies galore
The place is a cauldron of coitis

If you’re looking for somewhere fun to go
Then why not vacation in Hugo?
There’s golf and martinis
And girls in bikinis
And clubs where they won’t let a Jew go

How gaily the heart in me sings
For Ida of Idaho Springs
So gentle and pure
So sweet and demure;
I make her do terrible things.

A plucky young lady named Keeley
Would give up her cherry quite freely
But men that she chose
All quivered and froze
`cause her pussy smelled worse than East Greeley

A serial killer from Kersey
Whose victims begged vainly for mersey
Said, “Yes, you will suffer,
but it could be rougher;
at least you don’t live in New Jersey.”

A clever young lady from Kim
Would go every day to the gym
And then for an hour
She’d stand in the shower
To get the stink out of her quim

There was a young hooker from Lakewood
Who wasn’t so cute but could fake good
Why, every last wimp
no matter how limp
would watch her performance and make wood

Three fine violinists from Littleton
Were having a bit too much fiddle fun
To help with these chores
they hired three whores
And viciously gang-raped the middle one

A plucky coal miner from Loveland
Became quite the pervert above land
He’d stuff lumps of coal
Into his asshole
And jerk himself off with his glove hand

There was a cute girl from Manassa
So smart that she got into Vasser
She needn’t do work
`Cause she knows how to jerk
And there isn’t a prof who won’t pass `er

A weightlifting wonder from Marble
Put 600 pounds on his barbell
When hoisting that mass
He ruptured his ass
He’s fine, but the cleanup was hor’ble.

A randy old hooker from Mead
Was very proficient indeed
For she could devour
Twelve clients an hour
And swallow a gallon of seed

A cancer researcher from Meeker
Is also the town’s best-known streaker
He keeps his vaccines
At home in his jeans
But guess where he carries his beaker?

Oh how all the bachelors would shun
That portly old lady from Nunn
She’d sit on their laps
And take mighty craps
That weighed a proverbial ton

A giddy young pervert from Ouray
Loved watching gay porn on his Blu-ray
He’d sit on his thumb
And when actors would cum
He’d wiggle it `round and shout, “Hooray!”

A militant Negro from Parker
Said, “Man, I sure wish I was darker!”
That son of a bitch
Turned darker than pitch
With the help of a black magic marker

An elegant lady from Peetz
Can do quite remarkable feats
Like strike a long match
On the lips of her snatch
And shoot gasoline from her teats

A half-blinded hooker from Rye
Let customers cum in her eye
And though it sounds funny
To make extra money
She’d go into sperm banks and cry

I knew a young lady named Ida
Who worked on a farm in Salida
When she was done mowing
She’d give me some blowing
And let me go halfway insida

A plucky young lady from Severance
Inspires a great deal of reverence
If you have a dick
That’s enormous and thick
She’ll take it all in and she’ll never wince

A succulent lady from Silt
Was physically perfectly built
For even the strongest
The widest and longest
Could stick it in up to the hilt

I once knew a girl in Superior
whose outlook could not have been drearier
I hooked her on meth
and now she’s near death
But damned if she isn’t much cheerier

There is a young lady in Swink
Whose pussy is perfectly pink
But if you get closer
You best hold your nose, sir,
`cause, boy, does it give off a stink

A lesbian lady from Timnath
Was bicycling home on a dim path
Another young dyke
Came by on a bike
So they gave each other a quim bath

A corpulent tranny from Trinidad
Was desperate to look like a skinny lad
She pushed all her fat
Through the folds of her twat
And gathered it up in a minipad

A cheerful young psycho named Dale
Dismembered a woman in Vail
He stifled a grin
As he tore off her skin
And stuffed all her guts in a pail

I met a young lady from Victor
As pretty, she was, as a picter
And though she was cute
Her dad was a brute
Who spat on her twat when he licter

A sexy young lady from Vona
Would give all the fellas a bona
For 25 bucks
She’d ride the old fucks
And let them bust in her vajona

A troubled young woman from Ward
was so unbelievably bored
when she birthed her daughter
she drowned her in water
and ate the umbilical cord

A girl that I knew in Woodland Park
Had a swim at the zoo after dark
So free and bucolic,
Her dolphin-filled frolic!
That is, till she met Mr. Shark

A born-again Christian from Wray
Would wake up each morning and pray,
“Lord, thanks for my life,
My children and wife.”
“Oh bullshit,” said God, “You’re gay!”

A naughty old woman from Yampa
Kept vaginal lube in her hamper
She had to confess
Her clothes were a mess
But she sure fucked the hell outta grampa

A crazy zookeeper from Yuma
Had sex with a three-year-old puma
When he was asked why
He started to cry
And blamed it all on his brain tuma

There was a young woman from the statutory town of Log Lake Village
She died.


©2018 David Lefkowitz

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POEM: Rabbi Lacey


©2013 David Lefkowitz

The sun was bright and brilliant on that Rosh Hashanah day
And all the Jews in Hicksville came to synagogue to pray
They sat upon the benches with their machzors in their laps
The women talked, the children laughed, the babies took their naps

They wished each other health and joy and better months ahead
They talked of recent surgeries and who they knew was dead
But then, a hush did fill the room and quelled the cheery banter
For stepping to the bimah came the Rabbi and the cantor

“Good Yontif!”, said the man of cloth, “We’re glad that you are here
To celebrate this day that marks a brand-new Jewish year.
We hope that God will listen as we send our prayers to heaven.
Now open up your prayer books; we’re on page one-thirty-seven.”

The cantor started chanting, and the Rabbi set the pace
Their chemistry was awesome, and it showed on every face.
For everyone agreed it was the best they’d done so far
The crowd could hardly wait until the time of the shofar

They knew that Rabbi Lacey was a master of the horn
Oh, how he’d fill the air with stellar trumpeting that morn!
In all the tri-state area nobody could compete
With Rabbi Lacey’s thrilling tone, the magic of his bleat

And Jews from other synagogues would come from miles around
To hear the Rabbi blow his horn and make a holy sound.
He wowed them in Passaic, and he rocked in Oyster Bay
It only stood to reason he’d make history that day

And so the service moved ahead, and not a soul was tired
The Torah portion wasn’t long; the sermon was inspired
The Cantor sang a lovely hymn with trills and ululations
The Treasurer stepped up and made his usual fifteen-minute pitch for donations

But then the Mourner’s Kaddish came, and everybody knew
They’d hear Reb Lacey give that horn the best he ever blew
He marched across the carpet, and he gave the crowd a nod
He took the shofar in his hands and waved the tip to God

The time had come for him to blow the first of three big toots
He took a hefty breath that shook his molars to their roots
And then with exhalation grand, he blew a mighty gust
But nothing came from that shofar besides a puff of dust

A gasp went up among the crowd, “He’s faking!” someone said.
Then once again, the Rabbi held the ram’s horn to his head.
The Cantor said, “Be careful!” but the Rebbe waved him off
He wet his lips and swerved his hips and gave a little cough

He leaned against a pillar, and he clenched his belly tight
He popped a vessel in his eye and blew with all his might
But not a sound was heard except a sickly little squeak
And all at once the congregants were too aghast to speak

The Rabbi staggered forward with a wild look in his eye
“I’ll blow that goddamn shofar, or so help me God, I’ll die!”
He clutched that ram’s horn in his hands like Casey at the Bat
He tightened up his abdomen and pushed his belly flat.

His body shook so strongly that it rattled every shelf
“Don’t do it, Moish!” the Cantor cried, “You’re gonna poop yourself!”
“Too late,” the Rabbi whispered back, “though it may mean my death.
I’m blowing!” screamed Reb Lacey as he took one massive breath . . .

Oh somewhere in America the air is bright and clear
Where people order coffee and get bagels with a shmear
And when it comes to shofars, well, most Rabbis, they just do it.
But there is no sound from Hicksville; Rabbi Lacey, oy, he blew it.




I don’t recall whether this parody of Ernest Thayer’s Casey at the Bat was written to be performed by Rabbi Sol Solomon on my radio show, Dave’s Gone By, or as part of a sequel (of sorts) to Rabbi Sol’s stage show, Shalom Dammit!. I just know I love it every time I read it (the eye vessel line gets me every time) and hope it gets to be performed somewhere soon.

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©1991 David Lefkowitz

 I had a dream of sexual bliss
Love never made me feel like this
I was staring at the kitchen floor
When I heard a knock at the unlocked door.

“It’s open!” I shouted.
“Come in, please.”
And there stood Bea Arthur
In a purple chemise.

“May I use your phone?” the golden girl purred.
“No problem,” I said, but I don’t think she heard.
When the phone call was finished,
She yanked the receiver
Then lay on the sofa and showed me her beaver.

“Miss Arthur!” I gasped, “but you’re so famous!”
“Shut up!” she replied. “And finger my anus.”
Just then, the window flew up with a crash,
And into my room stepped another hot gash.
Her skin so pale, her hair so curly,
There she was, in the flesh, “Laugh-In’s” Jo Anne Worley.

Oh, what perfect ecstasy.
Jo Anne Worley, Bea Arthur and me.

Jo Anne stripped off her yellow thong
And snapped a rubber on my dong
And sprang up and said, “Get ready!
I learned this from Estelle Getty.”

She jammed her head between my thighs
Until I grew to massive size.
Jo Anne Worley took her place
With both cheeks resting on my face.

We really put on quite a show
Jo Anne Worley, Bea Arthur y yo.

No woman on earth, from Capetown to Cairo
Could match the snap of Jo Anne’s gyro.
We filled the bathroom with spice and champagne
While Bea Arthur climaxed again and again.
Jo Anne Worley screamed as she tore her brassiere
I only wish Ruth Buzzi were here!

I humped and I pumped till the ladies were sore
But Bea and Jo Anne just cried out for more.
Bea made me grovel and squeal like a pig
Jo Anne bit my neck, so I came in her wig.

We tried French ticklers, we tried Ben-Wa
Jo Anne Worley, Bea Arthur et moi.

Finally, our tryst came to a close
They packed in their boobs,
I tucked in my hose
We rolled up the carpet
`cause it was all sticky
Then Bea and Jo Anne both gave me a hickey.

Bea put the telephone back on the hook
And ran out the door with nary a look
“Hot damn!’ said Jo Anne. “My box is still tight.”
And quick as a flash, she vanished from sight.

I smiled, lay back and tried to recall
The highlights of this spectacular ball
When suddenly, my thighs were covered with cream
And that’s how I awoke from my dream.
Forever, I’ll cherish my fantasy
Jo Anne Worley, Bea Arthur and me.



Every once in awhile, I try to write something so vile, so unspeakably disgusting—just to see if I can (or see if I can top myself in excruciation). Examples of this include such gleefully rancid tunes as, “The Most Offensive Song Ever Written” and “My Doggy’s Christmas Gift.” Admittedly, now being in a post-Farrelly, post-MacFarlane, post-Schumer world (as opposed to being in merely a post-Bruce, post-Python one), shocking people with comedy is almost a hopeless proposition. And yet, like Sisyphus, I push on…


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