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Dumb Poem Collection - # 13 through # 24

Updated on March 7, 2016

Born nutcase versus self-made nutcase

Continuing with the consolidation of my many dumb poems, here is the second collection of twelve dumb poems in the series.

Throughout my short, but very interesting life, I have been accused of being a born nutcase. That always brought great joy, particularly so when I recognized that those who so expressed themselves were people who lacked enough smarts to be able to see that I was a self-made nutcase. The self-made ones shine as though they have coated themselves with glitzy chrome, and you can see them coming when they are still a mile away. Born nutcases usually look like dried-up coconuts, empty of the good stuff and are cruddy-hairy on the outside.

One time someone told me that I was "outside of the box." Of course I was. Who would want to be inside of a box? Maybe a cracker would like that, but no one in their right mind would want to be thought of as a cracker? Now, a Redneck? Ahhh – that’s a different story altogether.

And, speaking of stories brings us to the real uses for words.

Words are supposed to unwrap thoughts and ideas in the minds of those who wield them and use them to paint pictures in their own heads and in the minds of those at whom they toss their words. If the tosser is having fun, then catchers are likely to also have fun. In comes crazy, zany, funny, and goofy, too – out go ordinary, commonsensical, melancholy, and dull. That’s how dumb poem writers do their stuff. They write a word, maybe two words and, whammo, things happen that even the writers never expected. It only takes a word or two to set the process in motion. Once the words start, they mostly move right along in some mysterious, but relentless, fashion.

Have fun reading these dumb poems. There will be more in the next collection.

The illustrations are all by my friend, Al Kaeppel. He’s a dumb poem writer who uses cartoons instead of words. Al Kaeppel invented hieroglyphics as a foreign aid project deal to help the ancient Egyptians. (For those who don’t know who the Egyptians were, they all lived in Egypt and built funny stone buildings that looked like triangles or like big lions with people heads. Their history included a lot of locusts, plus Moses. They also discovered the Nile River and fresh fiish.)

Don't Be Nosy

When next you rub an Eskimo's nose,
I suggest you look down at his toes.
If his big toe's over the next toe's top,
I suggest your rubbing noses stop.



Each year there comes a birthday.
Yours and mine are there.
Like as not your first one
was celebrated bare.

When folks are young all birthdays
seem to come too slowly
'cause that's the way time seems to move
while you're still roly-poly.

Then comes the year when you first vote -
a birthday really fine.
That's when you look around and say,
"This world is now all mine!"

Soon comes thirty - mighty fast -
and birthdays zip along.
The time between each seems to shrink
as though your calendar's wrong.

And, when you're old, as you'll soon be,
each birthday will be nice.
On those you'll sit and smile a lot
and hand out free advice.


The Jet Age

There once was a small speck of dust
that was caught in a jet engine's thrust.
As it flew by impellers
it yelled, "Howdy fellers -
you'll like me much better than rust!"


Paradise Lost

I asked if I could work in there
where three girls toiled.
They were so fair.
The boss told me I had misread
the room sign tacked above my head:
"Reproduction Room." Despair, despair...


The Librarian

"I run this place for public good,
but it makes me boil and seethe
to hear the noise the public makes!
Some even dare to breathe!"


Elery Johnson

Elery Johnson,
seven feet tall,
had a tough time
as he danced at the ball.
The ladies were pretty,
no doubt of that,
coming up to his chin
(whenever he sat... )

Too bad that Elery,
born in the forties,
had to go dancing
among all of those shorties.
Better for him
had he grown up quite small,
or, rather than dancing,
had learned basketball.


Amphibious Advice

Said Poppa Frog
to tadpole kin,
"Take this advice
and you will win."

"We frogs are happy
'cause we eat
that which bugs us.
Ain't we neat?"


A Pair in the Apple Tree

Now, there's a sight you'll maybe see -
a pair up in my apple tree.
How pairs got there, I don't know,
but there they are.
The branch bends low.
Must be 'cause the pickin's free.

The Power of Babble

You should never expound the words there are
in lawyer-talk before the bar:
joint tortfeasors, ad valorem,
bona fide, more' majorum,
and thousands more, none up to par.


The King of the Worms - I

The King of the Worms came out one day
to see what he could see.
He saw a cloud up in the sky
as soft as it could be.

"I'd like that cloud to line my bed,"
declared King Worm, excited,
"Tickle my toes and scratch my nose!
With that I'd be delighted."

"I'll climb a tree. then grab it all,
and drag it to my bed.
The problem is, my arms are short.
My body's long instead."

Then, as King Worm was thinking
about what he should do,
his cloud was blown ten miles away.
The sky turned solid blue.

"Too bad that soft and pretty cloud
didn't stay awhile,"
said King Worm, sadly. Then he sighed,
"Fast clouds are such a trial."

A Specious Species

The names they give
to plants that grow
seem strange to me,
but, yet, I know
such names as rose,
and daffodil,
azalea, daisy,
and others, still,
one eludes me
beyond hope!
(What in hell's
a heliotrope?)



Hail to the Chaff

To confuse you is not our intent.
It's your minds, not our words, that are bent
In bureaucratese
we can say what we please.
Tough luck. We're your sole government.



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    • GusTheRedneck profile imageAUTHOR

      Gustave Kilthau 

      8 years ago from USA

      Howdy Patrick (Paddyboy) - Those nutcases are tough things on which to chew. What's inside of them is the good stuff, right?

      Gus :-)))

    • PADDYBOY60 profile image


      8 years ago from Centreville Michigan

      From one nutcase to another, howdy Gus. I liked the librarian too. Cool and funny poems!

    • GusTheRedneck profile imageAUTHOR

      Gustave Kilthau 

      9 years ago from USA

      Ahh, David - You and I are getting way too old for this stuff...

      No, her name was really Mrs. Enos. Funny thing was that I never did hear back from her after sending along that book (I wonder why not). In researching Limerick and the State of Maine, I would never suppose that anyone in those places could ever bear (bare?) the name, "Eros." For example:

      This guy was a stranger, driving through. He was lost on his way to Porter. He saw an old fellow sitting on the porch, so he stopped to inquire, "is this the road to Porter?" The sitter replied, "Nope."

      And, just so that you might know... my wife refuses to read anything I write or to listen to anything I might have the temerity to say. [ ;-) ]

      Gus :-)))

    • Russell-D profile image


      9 years ago from Southern Ca.

      Has your wife read you? Does she know you call her words "nags"? Or, is she really a nag? Definitions, definitions, definitions are like locations, locations, locations. Important to me, a born New Hampshirite, though my lying birth certificate says New York City. Lo! I know New Englanders, you sure she wasn't Mrs. Eros; cold winter nights foster many warm bundling habits. Etc. Etc. Etc. David

    • GusTheRedneck profile imageAUTHOR

      Gustave Kilthau 

      9 years ago from USA

      David - Well then, maybe it is "neotrite?" I never did study writing - particularly not poem writing, doggerel writing, cat scratching, or the like. That one named "C-Sickness" was really-truly the first of them, and it was enough fun to make me want to do more.

      A time back, before hitting a lick at the wisdom of 70 and better, I read a piece in the Houston Comical, er, Chronicle, that spoke of the old cloth-making town of Limerick, Maine, wherein once lived a guy who spouted limericks every time someone poked him. He died, and the Limerickans fussed that they had not had a new limerick rolled onto them ever since. I took "mercy" on them and sent them a little book of limericks that I had made just for them. They burned the book. Then, I think, they burned Limerick. Who could blame them? Poor limerickless Limerickans.

      Even so, I remember yet today that the selectman-in-chief there had a cat called Samantha that, in deference to the Maine way of talking, I called "pantha." Mrs. Enos ran a little general store (and it was to her that I sent the book). I saved a few of the limericks for inclusion in my growing dumb poem collection, but the complaints I got from my few readers mounted to the point where they might make an interesting work of literature of themselves. Some of the words used will need redacting. Oh my! That just now gave me a funny thought for a redacted-word dumb poem. Oh my!

      A lot of my vocabulary has been garnered from jotting down the copious naggings of my wife. Some of those words and extended phrases I have difficulty spelling properly, but I am certain that she will correct me when the time comes.

      Gus ;-)

    • Russell-D profile image


      9 years ago from Southern Ca.

      You are definately a Doggeral kind of poet. It's a style that leads to great humor and you do it well What do you mean that you are a neophyte? That's certainly is not right, I have read what you write. You definitely are not a neophyte. And Me? Trite! Oh, so trite. David Russell

    • GusTheRedneck profile imageAUTHOR

      Gustave Kilthau 

      9 years ago from USA

      Good Doctor bj - Your choice of that Librarian dumb poem is right in line with its history on the Internet. It is the second-most read of the lot. If you go onto the search engines, it may be of interest to take a look at the term, "dumb poem." As an experiment, I gave them all the same "first name" as dumb poem, and they have scored generally #1 and #2 for a couple of years. As to my friend, Al Kaeppel, he is really a fine artist (oils, charcoal, and the lot). He was most recently 102 years of age. His mind is that of a teenager! I used to think that Al was super-sharp and had a sense of humor second to none - until I met his wife, Mildred. Oh, Lordy!

      Gus :-)))

    • drbj profile image

      drbj and sherry 

      9 years ago from south Florida

      Very funny poems, Gus. My fave is The Librarian. Short and sweet and funny! Thank friend Al, too, for the clever illustrations.


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