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Doc he cried
Help me for I can’t help but slip and slide
My hands drip,
my feet slip

I leave stains on all I touch,
it smells too! It’s just too much,
It really is quite obscene
And the other kids are kinda mean.

Is there nothing that can be done?
Can’t this curse be undone?
This moisture is surely aberrant
I’ve tried soaps, washes and deodorant

Botox, glycopyrrolate and Iontophoresis,
But I can’t shake this diaphoresis
Hmm the doc thought and pondered
Googled, cogitated and wondered.

This is a case most severe,
I’ve consulted far and near.
The only solution to ease your plight
is to take ‘em off! Alright?

With Hands and feet no more
Stumps where they were before,
no more will you slip or stain
though grasping might be a pain…

holding, pointing and standing too
but hey! No more sweating for you!
The boy didn’t think much of this remedy,
having gotten used to his extremities.

But the boy was tired and weary
of his sweaty curse. Will it hurt? His only query.
It shouldn’t, well, urr maybe, only slight
Cried the doctor as he swung with all his might

Hands went left, feet went right!
Out of mind, out of sight.
The boy landed with a bump
and sat there, admiring his stumps

No more puddle where he stood
no fetid odour – this was good!
But, though sweaty and smelly no more,
he had no way of getting off the floor…

Moisture Boy


This is not my post as such, but rather a amusing collection of haiku from my esteemed colleagues, inspired and by PTR. I may have contributed a haiku or two.
I thought it a shame if a home not found for it.

If you can’t say it
In seventeen syllables
It’s not worth saying

Some might call that
Incredibly elitist
If not ridiculous

I still don’t know why
Everything is in haiku
But I’m entertained

Son is cranky cos
Her PhD thesis was
Much much much longer

i sure am tempted
to ruin this fancy thread
but haiku is fun!!!

I really struggle
To communicate like this
And I have to stop myself from cramming too much into the last line

Ha ha ha ha ha
Oh ho ho ho ho ho ho
Hee hee hee hee hoo

Peter, it’s cheating
To use one syllable words
For the whole damn thing

If writing haikus,
makes you fail all your exams,
don’t complain to me.

Can’t promise I won’t
Recite poetry out loud
During the exam

MCQ is not
ideal to display prowess
at haiku po-ums

Good point, Jason … but …
We should use this skill somewhere.
How about OSCE?

I concur for i
think breaking bad news in a
haiku form is best

orchid, singapore botanic gardens

Emo Boy
Why so sad, O emo boy?
Why aren’t you glad and full of joy?
For the sea is clear, the sun is bright
Pretty girls abound, for your viewing delight!

‘My life sucks don’t you see?
Whats the point to life, to me?
She ignores me every day,
My parents allow me no say.
No one understands me, the hurt I feel
Deep down in my soul, the pain’s quite real.
I can’t be bothered explaining to you
You’re just like everyone else I knew
False, fake and phoney
No honesty at all, just baloney.
Leave me be, alone forever
I dont need you, not now, nor ever

Headphones on, he turned from me
Lost in his thoughts he faced the sea
As the waves rolled in, I let him be
Sad sorry little emo boy.


Poor pale child, sickly and slight
Really quite a sad, frightening sight.
But he was not always like this;
Once a bundle of robust joy and bliss
With rosy red cheeks and a fat chubby tummy
Who adored his devoted, caring mummy

But as the months wore on,
More things just seemed to go wrong.
Pneumonia, lead and arsenic too
Asphyxia, anemia and Spanish flu
His poor mother stoically pushed on
Caring for her poor sickly son.

But wait, something became apparent
As one thing healed, yet another ailment
More dastardly than the last.
His mother still steadfast
But oddly glowing with pride,
As she hovered by his bedside

Things got weird, and decidedly extreme
As they found faecal matter in his bloodstream.
They got suspicious, (its hard to poo into veins)
And they found the mother to blame
She stuttered and spluttered, denying all knowledge
Of the poop filled syringe, in her purse.

Munchausens by proxy

Don’t kill your kids….

based on a true story 

Turducken of doom

In 1793 was a pale sickly boy born,
Evil, Mean, said to be of the devil’s spawn
He shied from light, possessed strange powers
Loathed people, animals and flowers.
while other children stomped on ants
He chose sticks and baseball bats
Pounding dogs, rabbits and cats.

His parents fretted and prayed
As he grew meaner, each and every day
His appetite was inhuman, never satisfied
He’ll grow out of it, the doctors cried
So they waited and waited
And waited some more
But that happy day never arrived

As he turned six, things turned sour
Not content to bash and pound, he wanted more.
His eyes flashed with rage and power
And in a fit, his victims he devoured.
First it was small, hamsters, marmots and mice of course
Then mooses, dogs, cats and horses.

He enjoyed it so very much
But soon stopped to ponder; think and such
How dreadfully inefficient eating things one by one
When I could eat it all in one giant gulp
And have it all done
So in a stroke of inspiration
He created a new and unholy creation,
The magnificent turducken roast
Made from chicken in a duck in a turkey host.

But soon the day came when it just wasn’t enough
He need more. More meat and, and Stuff!
First he started small; pigeon, gerbil and dodo
Then came camels, goats and a hippo.
Into his ghastly mouth he crammed this meaty beast
But the attempt to devour this horrid feast
Had an effect quite unexpected
As his belly became swollen and horribly distended
similar to overcooked sausage, or wurst
His tortured belly swelled , jiggled and burst.

Stump Boy


First she screamed,
then she pooped, we-ed and farted
(It had been 9 hours since labour started)
She strained and pushed,
And pooped some more,
Then out he shot, past the doc
And onto the floor


They quickly scooped him up
Wiped off the slime,
And noticed, for the very first time
A nice round head, chubby little body,
Hideously loveable as babies can be
Adorable eyes and button nose
But no arms or legs could be seen.
Just some little bumps
Where they ought to have been.
They looked under the bed, the sheets and the bin
But the legs and arms they couldn’t find,
They even checked mom
to see if they’d been left behind


“Whats wrong?”

The doctor stammered, the doctor quivered
And shakily replied
I’m terribly sorry my dear lady,
But you’ve just given birth
To a thalidomide baby.
I may have been hasty
I could have been wrong,
I should have give you panadol all along
But the perks were great, the drug fantastic
Who would have known that it was teratogenic?


A decision was quietly reached
A prayer, a swift journey up to heaven
They wrapped poor stump boy up
Kissed him once
And tossed him into the dump.



Sorry its a bit late…

Hirsute Girl

Fair of skin, beautiful green eyes
With delicate features, quiet and wise
Lustrous hair, dark as night
Out of a fairy tale, our own snow white.
Ruby red lips, eager to smile
Pleasant demeanour, gentle and mild.

But this is a tale of woe and melancholy
And as such, cannot end happily

She woke up one morning to a horrific sight
For in the mirror, a beard had grown, and sideburns overnight!
She gagged and puked,
Retched and screamed
For now she could see
She was hairy as can be
from the crown of her head; to the soles of her feet.

Her mother fainted, her father swore,
Their daughter sweet and cute no more
The doctor thought, and thought and thunk
‘I’m sorry, I’m totally sunk
I hate to ask and insinuate
But is perhaps the dad some hairy primate?
Mabye an ape, a monkey or gibbon?
Macaque, chimp or simian?
This time father fainted and mother swore
I was weak, lonely and my actions I deplore
It was one day at the zoo, I meant only to admire
But I’m sorry my dear, an ape was your sire

Before father recovered, a plan was hatched,
And their hairy daughter quickly dispatched
With a hug and quick adieu
Her mum sent her packing
To join daddy at the zoo.


ps. I am not mad