“I'm not afraid of flying. Once you get on a plane, you hand your life over to the pilots and hope they know what the hell they're doing. If you reach your destination in one piece, you get your life back, and on you go - Russian Roulette with wings.” TrustPlanesPilotsDark HumorDark HumourPilotPlaneRussian RouletteFear Of FlyingNervous Flyer Author:Stewart Stafford
“Paparazzi Pepperoni by Stewart Stafford Gladiatrix in an algorithmic arena; Jane of all trades, influencer of none, Duckface pose in a selfie pout, A zillion zombies waiting online. Her fall from filtered grace was swift: A subscribed intimate pact by proxy, Fame, meat for a pixelated lupine mob, Her downfall contracted in a dopamine hit. Fire overnight, smouldering ruins by day, Her virtual world crumbled around her, Stepped off the ledge into digital oblivion, Her fallen camera will fit another’s hand. Posthumous branding in overdrive, Her agent commodified the loss, Only fans devoured the real her, A paywall phantom on cyber-loop. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” IdentityFameGreedIronyWarningDark HumorSocial CommentaryDigital AgeInfluencerMorality Tale Author:Stewart Stafford
“CheckFate by Stewart Stafford Now hear this about Fate! Its coils squeezing around you, Directing your every move, It is your second skin glue. Scream unilateral lockdown, As in Covid fever dream years, Fate is your silent partner, Lifer cellmate chained to all your fears. As you hide in a shack in the Andes, Fate's squatter gatecrashes to stay, Tracked by a big cat in the Pampas, Jaguar-spotted stalker in your DNA. Fate deals its stacked tarot cards, Catch-22's lotto winners - broke and few, A drill sergeant drones' whipped parade In lockstep as one of Fate's crew. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” DestinyFateAnxietyExistentialismHuman ConditionDark HumorFatalismContemporary PoetryDark PoetryLack Of Agency Author:Stewart Stafford
“Shrewd Shakespeare understood that the paradox of drama also ticks at the heart of life itself: we can't truly bear, understand or transcend tragedy without humour and we definitely appreciate levity more when unburdened from pitch darkness. Deepest drama often demands a sudden crash of laughter's lightning bolt. Surgically-wielded comic relief, used with acute awareness of audience and moment, doesn't merely lighten a heavy scene; it provides the critical human counterpoint, a vital exhale allowing the audience to bear the weight, and feel it all the more intensely when tension returns, effectively disproving the literally-minded misconception that to laugh at something is to disrespect it or not take it seriously. This profound effect isn't just theatrical technique; it taps into a timeless human impulse—gallows humour, whistling past the graveyard—a deep-seated capacity to find release and digest life's bitterest truths, even in the face of overwhelming gravity.” Human NatureLife PhilosophyDramaParadoxDark HumorShakespeareEmotional DepthGallows HumorComic ReliefComedy And Tragedy Author:Stewart Stafford
“April's Fool by Stewart Stafford The fool of April enters bowing, Ritual humiliation's shameful call, A harsh harlequin's wooden stocks, Butchering "wit" to wound and maul. A victimless crime full of victims, Spring showers weep a jester's cheek, Reputations pilloried in estocada— Merciful gods spared us a week. By noon, the branding is over, The faux superior blunder on. Jokers think they're oh-so-clever, Booed offstage to oblivion gone. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PainPowerSatireHumiliationAprilDark HumorJesterApril Fools DayApril FoolsShaming Author:Stewart Stafford
“Figurative Fun by Stewart Stafford Neigh, neigh, Hyperbole! Galloping into wild mares' play. I'd yell, "Egregious slander streaker!" But it skulks 'neath its nudist speaker. Understatedness hides in a selfie's rear; Verbosity hogging limelight sans fear; Caustic parody, satire, and critique, Peddling wares in skewed oblique. Gossip's lip, stained in a bloody hue; Rumour's half-baked harmonies slew; Utterances bejewelled speak of love, Absolutes sting as a duellist's glove. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” HumorHumourIronySatireRhymeDark HumorWordplayDark HumourFigurative LanguageExperimental Poetry Author:Stewart Stafford
“You can tell you're getting old when the heat blast from your birthday cake candles feels hotter than the surface of the sun.” AgeJokesOld AgeGetting OldDark HumorAgeingWitty QuotesDark HumourBirthday CakeBirthdays Author:Stewart Stafford
“Life's so much simpler when you're dead!” Life And DeathSimple LifeDark HumorDownsizingDeath WishThe DeadComplexity Of LifeSimple Life QuoteSimple Life QuotesDeath Is Life Author:Stewart Stafford
“Aubergine, Auberga, Life Goes On by Stewart Stafford The Devil is in the oxtails, A foetus lacking the superb, Granny Smith or Granny Shit, Modulation without the reverb. A penguin picked up gingerly, Unaware what had hit his ice, A Matterhorn tuxedo Cha-Cha, Casinoed fits from tumbling dice. O, to have knees of broccoli! Each eye a glittering ruby grape, A peacenik parsley neck surrender, Florid garnish to an eggplant nape. Forgive me if I go daydreaming, Your déjà vu’s recurring nightmare, An offer of hunger strike insomnia, A gun-to-the-head vigil with flair. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” SatireDark HumorParodyContemporary PoetryAbsurdismThe BeatlesBody HorrorBlack ComedySurreal PoetryOb La Di Author:Stewart Stafford
“Some Cutting Advice by Stewart Stafford Before you pick up your knife, To run your enemy through, Know the entry wound bleeds red, And the exit thrust bleeds blue. Not because they are of noble birth, But they are protected by a mighty hand, Not just of those moneyed and influential, But the mightiest hands in all the land. So stab with caution, I urge you, For the blade jabs back in your gut, Swallow the bile that fuels you so, Lest it be your throat you cut. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.” AdvicePlotWarningPersuasionCautionDark HumorAssassinationDark HumourStabJulius Caesar Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Bad Halloween: A Crazies Night Chronicle by Stewart Stafford I'm Rich—ambulance medic on Crazies Night, Demented chariot driver in the mediverse, Skeleton crew for swarms of ailing impostors, Our dashboard crucifix, buffeting every curse. Jittery, side-burned Jeff riding shotgun, I tease his grumbling about missing fun: "A toast with your Pumpkin Spice Latte! Breakfast on me when our shift is done." Behind us, a female living portrait groaned— Drunk or high, headfirst, she kissed the road. Mona Lisa frame unmounted for treatment, delirious spoilers dropped for The Da Vinci Code! Death's Reaper stood daring us in our path; graveyard shift, centre line, gleaming scythe. Brakes jammed, sirens blared, the prank waned— This gothic vigilante traffic cop waved us by! We dropped Patient Moaner at the hospital, Jeff smoked, and I ate canteen Colcannon, Our "bat signal" crackled, flashed in the cab: "Cosplay brawl at the Hotel Shannon." We drove off for more Boo-Boo Bus Bedlam to hit our Gotham's streets and tend the injured. Catherine wheel jack-o-lantern through windscreen; The Pumpkin Bomber’s cackle went unheard. Ears temporarily-deafened, thumbs up given; Faces, hands, arms burned—scarred medics. Flying glass cuts on our cheeks and necks: Carers now mummified patients: sideline critics. The first cracks of dawn chase shadows away; A Grand Grimoire yielding to Grey's Anatomy, Our carriage—the repair yard's hollow gourd, All-Saints sunrise feast to shed All Hallows' agony. On the Lord of Death's night, we didn't die: Weary defiance met coffee and pumpkin pie. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” HorrorHalloweenSurrealPop CultureDark HumorAmbulanceSamhainParamedicsFirst RespondersEmts Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Christmas Crasher or Merry Crisis & Happy New Fear (The Yule-Get-Yours Scapegoat) A Poem by Stewart Stafford A malevolent sprite in our living room, A mouldy Púca in the Christmas tree, Bauble-gleam eyes in festive branches, A sulphur stink while we watch TV. Swallowing a window candle flame; A fire-eater’s trick to no applause, Season’s sweets wolfed down— Even wrappers, devoured without pause. A fridge raid’s boozy-woozy walk, A true eggnog nuisance — every inch, Crash — a muffled, 'Timber! God rest ya!' So loud, we thought it was The Grinch! My parents demanded it come out: "A wrecked tree and hangover’s enough!" It pleaded against eviction in the cold, Squatter’s rights for lack of sterner stuff! Seated at the Xmas dinner table, Tossing scraps to our strange ‘pet’ below, Foghorn burp aria, a puked tinsel encore, Pine-needle toothpick snores in fake snow. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” Dark HumorScroogeIrish FolkloreGothic PoetryA Christmas CarolMonty PythonChristmas PoetryHorror PoemThe GrinchHoliday Humor Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Penultimate Hotel by Stewart Stafford Enter sluggishly into the lobby, A banquet is in progress in the restaurant, They’re regurgitating reality from within, And then eating their young. An apocalyptic porter has radioactive cubes in the lift, Housekeeping will have ten thousand years of light, But the sheets in the rooms, Will all turn to cream cheese. The cooks in the kitchen are breaking bones and rules, Creating a cake that stretches to infinity, Babel babble with protesting eggs, All baked in a hellfire oven. The concierge gives out tips, And tells guests they are awful and to leave, While simultaneously tattooing diabolical potion recipes, Inside a willing bellhop’s eyelids. © 2021, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” HotelGothicDark HumorSurrealismWhimsicalDark HumourBritish HumourBlack ComedyBritish HumorFawlty Towers Author:Stewart Stafford
“I read a report that said 88% of adults trust their doctors - well, 100% of dead people don't!” Dark HumorTrust QuotesDead PeopleMedical ProfessionDoctors And PatientsMedical EthicsGallows HumorGallows Humour Author:Stewart Stafford
“Bloodline by Stewart Stafford Stuart Richards, 5,001st in line to the British throne, A distant cousin of the king but hitherto unknown, He dreamt of the crown and his fair queen's hand, But there was no baiting the hook unless he had a plan. He chose to eliminate the competition, stood before him, Through a dark celebration, they'd never know what hit them, He sent out invitations to the 5, 000 heirs, Promising vast feasting, with music and fanfare He built a fake house front with a door and a sign, That said: "Welcome to the party. Now, kindly form a line." Behind the door, there awaited a cliff face and a fall, A master of deception, his warm smile greeted them all. He stood at the front door with a charming bow, And, welcoming each guest, he said: "In you go now!" He watched them disappear as they stepped through the door, Counting steps to ascension, lemmings queued up for more. Backslapping himself, inner cackling at his scheme, Imagining himself as king - glory rained down, it seemed, But his Machiavellian plotting had a monstrous flaw, One thing he'd forgotten that greedy eyes never saw. The king was still alive, and he was not amused, He got wind of this plot and responded unconfused, He sent his guards to arrest him for sedition in a fury, They swept him off his feet, planting him before a jury. Put on trial for treason - the verdict was most guilty, Execution set, he had the neck to beg for mercy, But the king was not budging and barked: "Off with his head!" An Axeman's reverse coronation, he joined the fallen dead. Halting 2,986th in line to the British throne, A distant cousin of the king, headless spirit flown, In jealous craving, dispossessed as ruler of the land, Crowned pride came before a fallen plan. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.” PowerAmbitionSatireRoyaltySuccessionDark HumorDark HumourFunny PoemFunny PoetryUsurper Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Zombie Firetruck by Stewart Stafford Sirens moan, grave duty's flash of red, A mortuary whiff of something dead, Hoses trained with brains they suck, Your friendly neighbourhood zombie firetruck! All that remained of the human fire team, From the zombie pandemic of 2017, Still in their uniforms, their only treasures, Apocalyptic times call for end-time measures. When they reached the fire, people did scoff, They lurched, staggered, body parts fell off, As they wandered around, fire hoses forlorn, These knightly living dead faced a blazing dawn. The chief, hat off to his skeleton crew, In a voice once alive, now croaky like flu: 'To the hydrant, my ghouls, let's save Gothik Town, Or they'll call Ghostbusters, we'll be the clowns!' A glowering inferno, a cremation scene, Zombie firefighters, brave and light green. Through smoke and ash, they gravely stand, Composed decomposition with skeletal hand. Axeman Bony Ed led their clattering charge, Into the smoke, his cadavers did barge, The townsfolk looked on in dead of night, And disbelief, tiredness and mild fright. There soon followed medic Cemetery Phil, Decaying Murphy, Old Salty, and Dead Drill, Slab Stevens, Madly Hyde and Molly Voodoo, Determined to shake their initial hoodoo. A mother and baby backed by burning drapes, Team Macabre charged up the fire escape, Saving both and getting everyone out, Drank Brainer Ade as they leaked like a spout. Somehow, undead teamwork saved the day, No lives were lost as the water sprayed, Doused the flames, cool flatlined heroes, Much zombie kudos, no longer scary zeroes. The crowd cheered, did they ever doubt it? High fives lost hands but new ones sprouted, Frankenstein proud in their flapping flesh, Sure to get medals at the HalloweenFest. With a final groan and a clatter of bones, The zombie firetruck headed back home. Rotten yet proud, in their reanimated way, The risen would fight fires another day. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” ZombieDark HumorZombiesDark HumourBlack ComedyFunny PoemFunny PoetryZombie Apocalypse HumorFire TruckHorror Parody Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Almighty Jar by Stewart Stafford Protestors in the street chanted: "Crackpot!" Mocking supreme leader The Almighty Jar, Rattling it into swift and oleaginous action, It flipped its lid and sought vengeance. The jar ordered its troops to open fire, On the defiant yet unarmed crowd, But the army flatly refused to obey, Until the jar started oozing sneakily. Too late came a decree that military personnel, Smear Deindividuation serum on themselves, Freedom fighters stormed the jar's shelf palace, Smashing it and replacing it with an urn. © 2021, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” Science FictionSatireDictatorshipDystopianTotalitarianismDark HumorSocial CommentaryAbsurdismPolitical SatireOrwellian Author:Stewart Stafford
“If I wake up in the morning and see a bedroom ceiling, I say: "Another day? Let's go!" If I woke up and saw a wooden coffin or urn lid, I'd probably say: "Oh...back to bed.” Death And DyingDark HumorGood MorningSleeping InWaking Up In The MorningCoffinGood Morning QuotesGallows HumorFacetiousGallows Humour Author:Stewart Stafford
“Venom by Stewart Stafford Thou art the Great Pudenda; The usurper king of Puck's Fair, Miasma ague, a goat's smear, From a reeking jakes' baited bear! Thou dost hurl thy feeble barbs, Witted pits 'gainst an impregnable bard, With dagger'd quill to etch thy epitaph, Far-outliving thy quarrel's shard. Toad-spawn at the gates of Hades; Cast out from its cursed ground, For the dunghill art thou fit, With its foul beetles all around. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” SatireDark HumorDisdainInsultsDark HumourDark PoetryInsults And SlanderShakespearean InsultVerbal SparringInvective Poetry Author:Stewart Stafford
“Life doesn't end, you just run out of road.” DeathDeath QuotesDark HumorJourney Of LifeDark HumourEnd Of The RoadEnd Of Life MusingsJourney S EndLife EndsRun Out Of Road Author:Stewart Stafford
“Near misses are where you're nearly killed, near missus are where you're nearly married - some would argue they're the same thing.” MarriageDark HumorDark HumourMarriage JokesBlack HumourCold FeetNear MissesBroken EngagementBrush With DeathTying The Knot Author:Stewart Stafford
“Pet Haunts by Stewart Stafford Ghosts pinned my cat to the wall, So I reached out to pick him up, In the strangest flip to our world, They then turned him into a pup! Spectres floated my pet downstairs, Confused as he hovered on a step, Species-fluid doppelgänger mirage, Without moans or chains to schlepp. Dare we dig into this canine tale, Let me lick myself clean and think, Corporeal companions, some not, We all link up as one past the brink. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryGhostsDogsCatsDark HumorCats HumorSurreal PoetryDogs HumourCats Vs DogsTransition Spirituality Author:Stewart Stafford
“Stuck In One's Craw by Stewart Stafford Nobody's beeswax,' still, you nosily ask: 'Is it the last supper to eat that fast?' Try blackened potato skin's bitter taste, A heritage of hunger's grim, gaunt waste. From Celtic mist, this heir apparent, My grandparent's grandparent(s), Survived Ireland's holocaust famine, As a local catch, not New World salmon. Crop blight drove their starving plea, With lots cast bleak to die or flee Genetic appetite fed the strongest, Those who eat fastest live longest. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” Social JusticeTraumaDark HumorCultural IdentityElegyIrish HistoryIrish LiteraturePotato FamineHistorical PoetryIrish Famine Author:Stewart Stafford
“Knowhere by Stewart Stafford Poleaxed by vampiric tapping— rattling timeline of a loop lapping— Hypochondriac paranoid toothache, tasting everything I see and break. Showed my tongue to an undertaker; licked his face — proved I’m no faker. A measured, grim diagnosis followed, matter from a cardiac pump hollowed. Draped loosely in a tea towel shroud, resurrected—naked, loud, and proud— Rocket to the pub for a post-wake baptism, a ploughman’s lunch with relish schism. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryExistentialismSatireDark HumorSurrealismContemporary PoetryAbsurdismGothic PoetryHorror PoetryBritish Humor Author:Stewart Stafford
“Richard Burton by Stewart Stafford Jester’s coxcomb to a fool’s translator? A brothel-creeper in a neon-puked alley, A bean-counter totalling rice grains; Surreptitious, scrumptious attic grub. Stand back, witness me Manspread! Lease me your lobes while I Mansplain! Overcome, I expire in an orchestra pit From the fumes of acute "Toxic Masculinity." Hear my epitaph: "Women aren't funny... so put on the Earl Grey, love!" Coup de grâce! Many have said where I should stick my opinion, But I leave the worst to the collective imagination. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryIronySatireSexismPersonaDark HumorSocial CommentaryToxic MasculinityMansplainingManspreading Author:Stewart Stafford
“Son of Jaws: Final Flush by Stewart Stafford The toilet monster is dead, He’d been looking flushed, A plunger sucked its face off, I don’t miss it, I’m not pushed. The innocent never had a clue, Sat on the porcelain throne seat, They'd kissed their backsides goodbye, Derrières on rows of razor teeth. A call of nature, but none returned, After closing the bathroom locks, Shoes and knickers found later, Twisted around frantic socks. The awful beast left the building, No critiques of the notorious dead, But words can't describe the relief, When I sit down now to use the head. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PoetryParentingDark HumorParodyJawsChildhood FearsToilet HumorHorror ComedyPotty TrainingDomestic Horror Author:Stewart Stafford
“Whenever I read the term 'belief system', somewhere between my eyes and my brain, it becomes 'coping mechanism.” PhilosophyReligionWitTheologyInterpretationDark HumorBelief SystemCoping MechanismLight HeartedRandomness Of Life Author:Stewart Stafford
“Quietus Interruptus by Stewart Stafford I've just seen a live mugshot, A home intruder demands I know, Crack out knuckle-dusters or mace, Miscreant justice cold and slow. Should I invite him in to breakfast? Serve rich Eggs à la Pepper Spray! Thump him with my coffee mug, To end this castle siege for the day. An amateur matador from this bull fled, I see frosted breath in a neighbour’s garden, Shirked his curtain call in a magenta dawn, Not even a disingenuous “I beg your pardon!” © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” CrimeDark HumorSelf DefenseSurrealismTrue StoryPsychological ThrillerRobberyBurglaryHome InvasionNoir Poetry Author:Stewart Stafford
“In Absentia by Stewart Stafford Marbled mirror's stubbled face, Hollow grimace back at me, Each line a verdict crease, From a rigged jury decree. Denial's chant, the siren's call, Dared me to climb meeker backs, Those perps and their victims, The fading dust upon the tracks. Deep scars from a traitor's blade, Like from some coroner's skit, Staggering down memory lane, Déjà vu choking on a peach pit. Then karma's trapdoor gives, The past is not a partner sparred, Hubris's caw now a trembling chick, Wet rope creaks in hangman's yard. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PainTimeJusticeDarkSorrowMemoryBetrayalIsolationDark HumorIrony Of Life Author:Stewart Stafford
“The Larktown Savannah by Stewart Stafford Pierce the smog-shrouded end of town, A wheezing, mirthless, blushing clown, On the river, logs and sticks past me flew, Ingredients of a swirling, brownish stew. In the bait shop, the condemned crawl, A carvery pub lunch next door for all, The old cinema’s lights are long-dimmed, A long grass lion’s zebra crossing skimmed. Seagulls bomb the blustery bridge; To the water, as to sunset, the midge; An Elvis impersonator’s sparse crowd tell— Rhinestone saviour in Wharf Street’s hotel. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” Dark HumorSurrealismSlice Of LifeModern PoetryIrish LiteratureA Day In The LifeElvis ImpersonatorIndustrial DecayPenny LaneSeaside Town Author:Stewart Stafford