I'm Eric Cartman

I'm Eric Cartman and I'm an evil little bitch.

My mom is poor, she certainly isn't rich.

She posed nude in a magazine because she's a Crack Whore.

She couldn't afford to buy me an IPad and that made me sore.


After I lied on DR. Phil, Apple was about to give a Human CentiPad.

But they got an order to disassemble it and that really made me mad.

I started cursing God and he struck me with lightning.

I won't ever mess with him again, he's too frightening.


Many people hate my guts because I'm a racist punk.

When I offended a girl classmate, my ship was sunk.

She beat me up because she's a tough little Lass.

I tried to fight back but she kicked my sorry ass.


I certainly don't have a heart of gold, I'm a terrible lad.

People wonder how a nine year old boy can be so bad.

If you do something bad, I'll rat you out because I'm also a snitch.

I will not change my ways, I'll continue to be an evil little bitch.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is based on the South Park cartoon.

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Fantasy Island

I went to Fantasy Island but my fantasy didn't come true.

I beat up Mister Roarke and I also tried to beat up Tattoo.

When Roarke refused to give me a refund, I went berserk.

I stomped him but when I tried to whip Tattoo, it didn't work.

He kicked my ass just like Mini-Me whooped Austin Powers.

I'm ashamed to say that that little person made me cower.

I have some valuable advice that I want to give to you.

If you go to Fantasy Island, don't try to fight Tattoo.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is a parody of the TV show.

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No Soup For You!

People loved my soup but they hated me.

Everybody referred to me as the Soup Nazi.

I was strict with people and they feared me because I'm scary.

I scream my head off, that's why I've never been able to marry.

Everybody knew something that was certainly true.

When people pissed me off, I yelled "No soup for you!"

I refused to sell soup to a woman for kissing her boyfriend while standing in line.

My rules were going to be obeyed, I don't care that enforcing them was unkind.

I refused to sell soup to a bald man because he wanted free bread.

When a woman found my recipes in my armoire, I wanted to be dead.

Just because I treated her like dirt, she published them and put me out of business.

I had to close my restaurant and return to Argentina, my life truly is a mess.

I demanded discipline, breaking my rules was what I didn't allow.

I will one day return to America and slaughter Elaine like a cow!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was inspired by a Seinfeld episode.

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T.V Dinner

Perverse & Bazaar
   I Dream of Genie, but in reality, I'm the Lone Ranger.
Luckily, I was Saved By The Bell.
   Who's The Boss of this Empty Nest?
I'd take a Star Trek to  THOSE  Green Acres, 
   but I'd probably get Lost somewhere  between
Sesame Street and Melrose Place.
   Maybe I should cast a Dragnet.....
I'd probably wind up with a snare 
   full of Desperate Housewives and Golden Girls.
There is no Law and order in THIS Love Connection!
   Instead, I'm Thirty- Something and 
My Wheel of Fortune is in Jeopardy!
   Its Mission Impossible when you're 
The Young and the Restless.......
   Till one day you wake up in a Full House, 
Married With Children,
   and you decide to have A Current Affair......
which was a mistake because Mob Wives
   only like Trading Spouses 
If The Price is Right.

So finally you find yourself stuck, 
   Moonlighting at the General Hospital, 
with a 10,000 Dollar Pyramid a week cocaine habit
   (because Whose Line Is It Anyways)
Just to be Keeping Up With The Kardashians.......
   realizing that the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
are the illusion only seen by the Survivor 
   of the Real World.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

tv show names made into a poem. Dig it

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The Jeremy Kyle Generation

Wondeful, the Jeremy Kyle


that fantastic little telle programme

half 9, weekday mornings that

gives us a vision into a beautiful

culture that we have.


Brown tooth, black tooth, no

teeth, greasy skin, nose ringed

teenagers with five kids with

7 different dads

it doesn't take a rocket scientist

to work out whats going

on here.


We don't know whos lying

or telling the truth

or whos on crack or who pays

for the bus with a oyster card.

This is a great show isn't it people

i watch everyday, proud of these


and proud of Jeremy for showing

the rest of the country how

great these people are.


How amazing it is

how great that we have

these people in our lives

keep up the good work


because your doing

one heck of a great job

here with your little

show that you have.

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Coy and Vance

We're Coy and Vance and we replaced Bo and Luke.

When people watched us on TV, it made them puke.

Many people changed the channel when our show was on.

The once high ratings of the show were gone.

We were basically clones of Luke and Bo.

People cheered when we left the show.

We were good at fighting crime and getting out of jams.

But many people didn't care, they didn't give a damn.

People hated us and I think that was pretty low.

I'll kick your ass if you didn't watch us on the show.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was inspired by The Dukes of Hazzard TV show.

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We're the Duke boys

We're Bo and Luke Duke and we fight crime.

When criminals tangle with us, they do hard time.

Uncle Jesse gets his fat carcass stuck every time he gets in the General Lee.

When we tell him that he's getting too fat, he puts us over his knee.


It's really embarrassing when grown men get spanked.

Our asses are still stinging because of Jesse's hand and he sure doesn't get thanked.

We have to run from Enos, Rosco and Cletus.

Most people shoot at us when they meet us.


We're good ol' country boys, we do nothing unlawful.

But the fuzz keeps chasing us anyway, isn't that awful?

Whenever Luke and I get arrested, Uncle Jesse has to use the mortage payment for bail.

Maybe we're not such good crime fighters because we can't even send Boss Hogg to jail.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was inspired by The Dukes of Hazzard TV show.

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I'm Rosco P. Coltrane

I'm the sheriff and my name is Rosco P. Coltrane.

People in Hazzard know that the P is for pea-brain.

I work for Commissioner Jefferson Davis Hogg.

He hates the Dukes and he also hates my dog.

I usually get a cut of the take from my fat brother-in-law.

I love his evil schemes and I love to pinch his flabby jaws.

Everybody knows that I'm a bumbling sheriff, I'm sure not a genius.

I can't catch the Duke Boys and neither can my dipstick deputy Enos.

After wrecking all of those patrol cars, I was pretty damn lucky to survive.

But my character came to an end anyway when the Dukes of Hazzard was cancelled in 1985.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was inspired by the Dukes of Hazzard TV show.

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Let us synthesize a placebo,
to make us lose ourselves
inside this bleeding catacomb.

Let us become lost, confused,
so we may rebuild ourselves
from the rubble of our ruin.

High pitch foghorns to flood our minds.

Quietness of the mind is a protest
in its own silence.
the television, confused vision, movie star, and liquor bar.
Hobbies busy societies
so the leaders may bleed ears,
deafened by the cell phone,
defended by an overtone.

Passiveness is the new dress.
Slogans to stop all pens
from writing
about stopping…………stop.

-Ryan K. Fuller

Author's Notes/Comments: 

No comment

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