Go-it-alone limericks

[dinzdale]

Try a limerick by yourself.
No cheating, no copying from books.
Make one up.......GO!



There was a young llama called Pete
Who had extraordinary feet
His front legs were tall
But his back legs were small
Which barely gave room for his meat.

[yaledo]

As a resident of Limerick city, here's one about the place I live.

A Limerick-man said to his lover:
I have fallen in love with another.
Said she: That's okay,
I've been meaning to say
I've been sleeping around with your brother

[ambo]

weeeeeee!!!
this one i wrote for a guy i was going with a loooooong time ago:

There once was a man from Macon
Who was thin as a slice of bacon
His friends expressed doubt
That if he didn't watch out
For a toothpick he might be mistaken

and here's another i wrote that same summer:

There was an old man from Lincoln
Who was plagued by a terrible blinkin'
Said the doc with a grin
It's a shame and a sin
But your nasty old underwear's shrinkin'

[yaledo]

A young lady who called herself Ambo
had a weakness for Stallone as Rambo
'Til she met him by chance
at an evening of dance
And he tripped when he tried to fandango

[yaledo]

A well-fed young sailor named Dinzdale
Could with only a half-knot of wind sail
He explained: "its an art",
But he slipped out a fart
and he flew till he landed in Kinsale

[ambo]

Having sprouted a hideous pimple
The remedy wasn't so simple
If I popped it too soon
With a knife or a spoon
It could yield a cavernous dimple

[ambo]

Strolling one day through the deli
I spied a small jar of quince jelly
I scooped it up quick
It might just be the trick
To quiet the growls in my belly

[dinzdale]

There was a young man from Gotham
Who took out his bollocks to wash 'em
His mother said "Jack,
if you dont put 'em back
I'll stamp on the bastards and squash 'em"

[zenbabe]

There once was an old man named Buzz
Who's hair was just a slight fuzz
He bought medcin at the store
So his hair would grow more
And now there's more hair than there was!

*said in best english accent*

[dinzdale]

A nudist from old New York City
Thought their body was ever so pretty
But time and long years
Had left 2 Spaniel's ears
Where once she had plump wobbly titties.

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a fellow named Dinz
who was deeply enamoured of sins.
When he met with the Mayor
he had no underwear,
that obstreperous fellow named Dinz!

[dinzdale]

There was a young rascal called Rob
Who took off his clothes at his job
His co-workers laughed
and said he was daft
and pointed and laughed at his knob.

[nycwriters]

There once was a fellow named Dinz
who thought was sort of a prince
the girls all knew better
and wore turtleneck sweaters
And prevented him from committing sins

[rapscalious rob]

My kittie has very large paws
and loves to trap mice in its jaws.
When I said, “purr, purr,”
it said “growl, grrr!”
and licked the remains in its maws.

[zenbabe]

limerick me this fvckers (http://www.zefrank.com/bulletin/showthread.php?s=&postid=71881#post71881)

[zefrank]

my little hamster ate a penny.
and I lost a penny.
my pockets have holes.
my shoes have soles.
but my hamster is dead and I don't have a penny.

[zenbabe]

but you have soles!

[nycwriters]

.

[zenbabe]

GRAPES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rapscalious rob]

uh-huh-huh-duh-ha-duh-duh-ba
um, what? doodle dumbidy blah
Ner, nuf, niggle, ned
La la la la dead
Doo diffity dungle fud claw

I really and truly like wine
from grapes it is made for to dine
I drink every day
I wish I could say
Oh, well, my spaghetti is fine.

[zenbabe]

there once was an old man named Buzz
who's hair was just a light fuzz
he bought medecine at the store
so his hair would grow more
and now there is more hair than there was

[rapscalious rob]

There’s a dude here who’s called Mr. Moel,
and he’s fond of the strange and the droll.
Though he stands four-foot two
and his hair is bright blue,
we’ve assumed that he isn’t a troll.
;)

[ambo]

even though ze's limerick was sad
he's still quite an edible lad
one cent short he may be
makes no difference to me
i'm imagining him tp suit clad


:p

[rapscalious rob]

If poor zeze’s hamster is dead
then perhaps his dear kitty is fed:
she’d eat tail and all
spit a one-cent hairball,
then curl up and nap in zeze’s bed.

[dinzdale]

Originally posted by zenbabe
limerick me this fvckers

1. "Limerick me this fvckers" said Zen
2. as she tried to be tough once again
3. But the man of the hour
4. Blessed with mighty power
5. Made this with one stroke of his pen.

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a girlie in Guam
who never would be a good mom.
When she played with her dolls
she would throw them at walls…
well, at least she will be a good dom!
:eek:

[funkytuba]

We listen to much NPR
At home and while driving our car
But triennial pledging
Makes us start to hedging
Displaying what cheapskates we are

[zenbabe]

Originally posted by dinzdale
1. "Limerick me this fvckers" said Zen
2. as she tried to be tough once again
3. But the man of the hour
4. Blessed with mighty power
5. Made this with one stroke of his pen.

1. Yeah he looks pretty good in a suit
2. Local whores think he is really quite cute
3. When you get over his charm
4. And realize that there is no harm
5. You can laugh at all that is moot

:rolleyes: :p

[rapscalious rob]

My equipment acts up once again,
making me feel distinctly un-zen.
The computer says “bloops”
and the printer says “whoops;”
I will try to stay sane if I ken.

[funkytuba]

I can't stay at work anymore
Morale has gone through the floor
The bosses don't like me
It seems rather likely
They'll surely soon show me the door


(don't worry, it's not a real editorial comment about my current situation)

[rapscalious rob]

That’s good… we like your company.

in jest…
Funkytuba’s on the edge.
You’ll find him standing on the ledge,
but please, don’t disturb him;
you just might un-nerb him-
losing that job drove the last wedge.

I think that I have never seen
a bowl of halibut ice crean.
I guess I’m just lucky,
it sure would be yucky
I much prefer vanilla bean.

[rapscalious rob]

If up were down and right were left,
then I would be somewhat more deft;
and the world would be better
(or else made of chedder)
and you would lose that extra heft.

[zenbabe]

There once was a girl with a gun
Who decided to go have some fun
She shot off some rounds
Until the alarm sounds
And now she is rich on the run.

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a girl with some rum
who outdrank us, every last bum.
She drank us all under,
and stole all our thunder,
I think her name was zenbabe… um…

[Audreyvgs]

There once was a girl on this thread
who fooled us and called herself Ned
faux sexuality
wasn't reality
down a false twisted path we were led

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a women called Fate,
who was cruel and consumed with pure hate.
She punched in my face
when she came to my place,
she was ten times worse than my worst date.

[BusyRich]

There once was a girl named LaToya
Who fancied becoming a lawyer
But her face had been tweaked
'til she looked like a freak
So instead she just gets paranoia

[ambo]

A needle and thread I'll be needing
And a thimble so I won't be bleeding
I'd much rather sew
Than sow seeds, you know
'Cause I just can't stand all of that weeding

[rapscalious rob]

nycwriters is gone
from the dark to the light of the dawn.
Well, I bid her farewell
and remember her tell
her great stories, from hinder to yon

In pallid twin orbs of azure
she had manners which strangely allure.
But I know life brings change
and forever is strange
so drink up to the best you can pour!

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a caveman named Og.
His companion was simply called Thog.
When they saw, by the Niger,
a Sabre-toothed Tiger
they opted to go for a jog.

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a man, Mr. Bass,
who took pleasure in munching on glass.
When I asked him of it,
he said “sharpens my wit,”
that most curious man, Mr. Bass.

There once was a tuba quite funky
who was quite a clever zemonkey.
When his tuba he tooted,
the rest of us hooted,
that tooting old tuba called funky.

There’s also a pirate named Frieda
who by night’s a badass rough rida
but by day, she’s a geek,
and in hearing her speak,
well, it’s kinda like Jeckle and Hyda.

[rapscalious rob]

When I copied zefrank on my date,
well, I guess that I sealed my fate:
When I smeared that pancake
on my face? Was not jake-
Perhaps waffles will find me a mate…

[RevEf]

I think that I will today
Destroy all the things I survey
But then if I don't
I guess that I won't
C'est la vie, as the French c'est.

[Dark Chocolate]

There once was a fuzzy catbelly
who loved to sashay to the deli.
The owners all loved her,
and that’s why they shoved her
some salmon and liver, quite smelly.

What’s smelly to some’s good to others,
and catbelly had many lovers:
a tortoiseshell once,
and a siamese dunce,
but she would always get her druthers.

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a sleuthster named Ruth,
who was clever and ever so couth.
Her shoes were so gummy
that, up walls quite crummy,
she walked like a Gecko, forsooth!

[rapscalious rob]

zefrank’s birthday’s coming up soon
and mine, too, in the same phase of moon
It’s a strange month, indeed,
for the brain and the weed,
to be pushing the same timely spoon.

[rapscalious rob]

this is more what I had in mind. Yeah, another bacon dink joke.

My member, if I’m not mistaken,
Is quite prone to stir when it's shaken
and it sure likes some nook,
but when I have to cook
in the nude, I will never cook bacon

[funkytuba]

rapscalious rob it is said
has far too much rhyme in his head
to clear it he shares
on this board all his wares
till exhausted he climbs in his bed

[rapscalious rob]

Ah, yes: bed! What a wonderful thought!
Sometimes I’m there; more often I’m not,
but somnambulist jaunts
through a ze-scape of haunts
makes up for all the ze’s I ain’t got.

[rapscalious rob]

There once was a fellow called dinzdale
who wrote brilliant limericks without fail
but then the old bogey
rolled over, quite logey
covered the dog’s bullox with his tail.

[sparticle]

My husband considers me boring,
And that's why he's laying there snoring.
I'm writing a verse;
But it could have been worse --
I could have resorted to waking him up.

[sparticle]

A man who was desp'rate for money
On a bet smeared his dingus with honey.
He pulled down his pants
and rolled in some ants
But he made not a nickel. Too funny!

[dinzdale]

I dated a young acrobat
Who was supple and lithe like a cat
She'd bend up her spine
Like a half sixty-nine
and lay there and lick her own twat

[Spicy Jack]

charming:rolleyes:

[dinzdale]

*ahem*

A young novice nun said to me
"Have you thought of your soul Mr D?"
I replied with a smile
And in quite short a while
She was shouting "Oh God!" with such glee

[Spicy Jack]

*groan* :rolleyes:

[ambo]

i think those that swagger and brag
should be tied up and shot in a bag
then we'd all get some sleep
without need to count sheep
and life wouldn't be such a drag

you can tell i'm kidding, right ?

[funkytuba]

Now Dinz is away and we're sad...
..mostly but some say they're glad
and now Dinz' mom
decided to glom
on to us. Seems faking's a fad.

[funkytuba]

Bumpity bumpity bump
this thread needs a bump on its rump
so I'll do the honors
before we're all goners
and dinz humps a plump lumpy chump

[dinzdale]

It's amazing how much monkeys play
When your back's turned or if you're away
There's so much they've writ
And to sift through the shit
Will take up most of your whole day

[Coffee]

To find out who is to blame
Our sheme is really quite plain:
Find the one who is not
currently in their spot,
and they fall victim to our game.

The missing ones are made the jokers
that fate is surer than poker.
On the ze boards
are punsters in hoards
waiting to flog absent blokers

[zenbabe]

Bongos lit up, so did dope
And there on Ninth Street were found mopes
Beclumped in a throng
With bongos, not bong -
Devices which help idlers cope.

[joppa.gal]

Elvis left the scene
in a white stretch limosine
dribbling grape jelly
on his jiggly belly
While the radio blared Abba's "Disco Queen".

[Marcus Bales]

The Joaniad
Presumption

1. The banquets of civilizations
Are set by the creditor nations
Competing to race
Their plans into place
For material maximizations.

2. Each does unto others as you
And I fear all governments do:
Their actions confound
Their foes, and astound
Their enemies -- and their friends, too.

3. And we who seek justice would slice
Their heads off and fling them like dice
Across the Great Game,
Leaving nothing the same,
Though dying, they ask us our price.

4. Our price! As if justice for money
Were a serious option! It's funny:
They spew out their waste
Like corruption could taste
As sweet on our palates as honey.

5. But wait! I am somehow confused --
I can't start before I've amused
My muse with some praises
In elegant phrases
Like those that the dead white guys used.

6. O Muse of my heart, cara mia!
It's always a pleasure to see ya;
You're young and you're pretty,
And skinny and witty . . .
Now give me a timeless idea.

7. Two planning consultants named Joan
And The Patrick adventure by phone
Through email and fax
And cannot relax
As their g-sector business has grown?

8. That's it? Is this some kind of joke?
It's not bad enough that I'm broke?
You want me to sing
On so mundane a thing?
Are you trying to give me a stroke?

9. So that's how you're going to play?
It's The Patrick and Joan or I stay
As poorly inspired
As someone who's hired
My last muse: dull day after day?

10. I just hope you know what you're doing …
But . . . Hey! Who'd be better at viewing
High comedy than
The people who plan
The meetings where screwers plan screwing?

11. Wow, this could be it! My big break!
A notion at last I can make
An epic out of --
With war, hope, and love
Whose stanzas roll, rattle, and shake . . .

12. Huh? What do you mean don't get carried
Away by the vision that ferried
Great Virgil to Hell
And then back as well . . .
I can't go because I am . . . married?

13. Oh, gods of the ancients, your feats
Of malice and lies squeeze out bleats
Of "Hey, that's not fair!"
And "Why don't you care?"
From all whom your injustice meets.

14. I guess I'll appeal to some new ones:
Gods more sympathetic -- the true ones
Of mocking and laughter
And beg that I'm after
A blessing for Joan like Don Juan's.

15. The beginning's where Byron began,
But Byron's the sort of a man
Who, striking a pose,
Could, thumb to his nose,
Subvert the traditional plan.

16. Nor am I a Browningesque guy:
My grasp isn't something that I
Would like to exceed --
I don't see the need
To give such high drama a try.

17. And I'm not a Yeatsian, either,
For sex doesn't spur me, and neither
Do fairies or dancers:
From mystical answers
I'm taking a permanent breather.

18. And Wordsworth, oh give me a break!
There's not much of him I can take:
And Carroll and Stephen
Are just about even
In mocking that boring old fake.

19. And as for the writings of Shelley:
I shook like a quivering jelly:
That Frankenstein's scary!
And didn't she marry
Some poet domesticus belli?

20. And, frankly, I don't have a hope
Of showing that I've got the scope
For bearing a grudge
To set up as judge
Of the world as did Dryden or Pope.

21. Nor have I a system, like Dante --
Nor even a jug of Chianti
To give me a vision,
Of sour derision
Like Eliot's chanting of "Shantih".

22. I'd rather read Housman than Hardy
Though Hardy and Hopkins could party
On bitterer bile
Than beer by a mile --
And to beer I prefer my Bacardi.

23. Ah, give me Bacardi and ice
Some sweet Rose's Lime Juice is nice . . .
Let's go on a bender
And burn out a blender
In homage to serious vice.

24. But wait -- this is not about me;
It's Joan and The Patrick that we
Are following, not
Some poet who got
His start writing limericks for free.

25. So first, here's a stanza or two
On Joan and The Patrick for you;
And then we will drink
'Til neither can think
Of anything better to do.

[madasacutsnake]

I enjoyed the limerick opus
It made all the others look hopeless
I'd write more verses
But witches' curses!
My talent is less than copious

[Marcus Bales]

Canto I

1. Joan's offices north of Dupont
Are all that a planner could want:
Convenient and bright
And well within sight
Of the places the powerful haunt.

2. But nice as they are, she's not there --
A glance at her schedule shows where
The Patrick and she
Must certainly be:
A couple miles up in the air.

3. We'll focus on Joan in her seat
By The Patrick. Our heroine's beat;
They were trying to do
Some work as they flew
At thirty-some-odd thousand feet.

4. They'd flown out of DC last night
To Indianapolis -- right
Before they were fired
And then not re-hired.
They'd left town before it was light.

5. I'm starting in medias res
As the ancients began; so you face
The usual task
Of having to ask:
"What waves and what rocks and what place?

6. "And who are these people, and why
Are they winging their ways through the sky;
Whether rainy or sunny
That flying costs money
What happened, did somebody die?"

7. Stop talking and maybe you'll see
That you'll learn when you listen to me
How The Patrick and Joan,
With a kvetch and a moan,
Had agreed to the flight for a fee.

8. They'd stayed up discussing all night
Their Indianapolan plight --
They hadn't expected
To be so rejected
By the client who'd paid for their flight.

9. It came inauspiciously soon:
They often had danced to his tune --
Each May they were fired,
Each June then re-hired --
Until this particular June.

10. At first they'd mistaken his glee;
They didn't know what it could be
That gave him such joy
'Til he told them his boy
Had gotten his college degree.

11. And then they'd remembered -- the lad
Was scheduled to work for his dad
As Planning VP
When he got that degree --
But it shocked them to hear that he had.

12. They'd thought they'd had nothing to fear:
The kid had failed, year after year,
To get out of bed
And study, instead
Of conducting his carnal career.

13. It's not that they don't understand --
Nepotic old men are like sand --
But never, they thought,
Would Junior get caught
A degree, not a breast, in his hand.

14. They hopped the next jet out of town
But flew with their spirits cast down
They called him the worst
Kinds of names as they cursed:
"That adjective adjective noun!"

15. And that's why they took the next jet:
The kid hadn't fallen down yet.
They figured he'd fall
And they hoped dad would call
But they thought it a dubious bet.

16. But not the next jet going back;
They stuck to their pre-scheduled track:
With the shock they had had
It wasn't too bad
That they hadn't had time to unpack.

17. They sat there, Martinis in hands,
Relaxed, as if no more demands
Could ever be rude
Enough to intrude
On their flight 'til the bump as it lands.

18. From Indianapolis Joan
And The Patrick, their spirits like stone,
Flew northward together
Through cold rainy weather
Where snow fell and sun rarely shone.

19. They sat there, and sipped at their drinks,
Competing to do the best Sphinx,
A plight the more sad
When you know each is mad
To hear what the other one thinks.

20. They'd left 'til the last minute one
Of the projects they'd barely begun --
The home office staff
Doesn't think it's a laugh
That the bosses think crises are fun.

21. But "fun" is a difficult notion:
Like the change from the sea to the ocean,
The smaller the stake
The more it will make
The matter seem ripe for emotion.

22. So "fun" isn't quite the mot juste;
Though The Patrick and Joan get a boost
When all goes as planned
The price they command
Is for fixing what planning produced.

23. Their friend, Richard Green, had resigned
A bad, stressful job, and combined
Resigning with moving
To Boulder, thus proving
Self-torture the most refined kind.

24. The Katz Brothers, Jacob and Joshua
(And Richard, I must comment: "Gosh you are
A fiend with no shame
To unrhymably name
Your kittens to show us how posh you are.

25. If you want in the poem, then wake up
To the fact that a hard rhyme can shake up
Light versists like me
Who simply can't see
Any way to rhyme Joshua or Jacob. )

26. The Katz Brothers (back to my thought)
Are verklempt, not to say they're distraught:
The city of Boulder
They've heard is much colder
And mice aren't as easily caught.

27. While Richard was soothing his pets
His friends sorted assets from debts
The whole then was blown
On The Patrick and Joan
For a party he never forgets.

28. "Richard Green, Richard Green, Richard Green. "
Each murmurs, while squirming between
A hard place and rock
As they sharply don't talk --
A silence that's nearly obscene.

29. They sip while they stare each at each -
"The print deadline's nearly in reach…
My god! It's today!"
Mumbled Patrick, "Oy vey!"
And Joan moaned: "This party's a beach!"

30. "The beach!" said The Patrick, "That's it!
His freedom . . . the beach . . . it's a fit!
And what better way
Could we think of to say
We're glad that he finally quit?"

31. "It can't be the beach," muttered Joan.
"Ed Able was just on the phone --
He's offered his place
And he's bought a whole case
Of the '64 Dom Perignon. "

32. "Well, how 'bout a beach party theme?"
The Patrick's eyes lit with a gleam:
"We can still catch the mood --
Semi-drunk, semi-nude --
And invite the beach volleyball team!"

33. The fine points were quickly worked out
With little to argue about;
They worked as a team
So well it would seem
They never had had any doubt.

34. They emailed the concept they'd planned:
The staff ordered truckloads of sand;
The volleyball boys
Agreed to make noise
And keep things from getting too bland.

35. Success made them buddies again:
They drank, laughed, and joked until when
They noticed the dark
And heard a remark
That it ought to be light around ten.

[Marcus Bales]

36. They heard it right over Toledo,
And Joan felt a touch of libido;
She plugged in her phone
To her modem and Joan
Soon gondola-ed cyberspace Lido.

37. Why the Lido? you ask, if you do.
Don't ask me, I haven't a clue;
It's a long way to go
For an oar and a row --
And the boat is capsizable, too.

38. I remember the last time I went
To the cyberspace Lido, the rent
For the boat and the oar
Was substantially more
If the boat had a privacy tent.

39. That tent makes a top-heavy boat,
An item the guides never note.
You can tip in a flash,
And a cyberspace crash
Requires a cyberspace float.

40. A float I of course didn't own,
Though I don't know the same about Joan;
For all I can say
She can scuba away
Through the drone of the telephone tone.

41. She glides into chat-rooms and glows
As if she were nude in her clothes
But though she walks naughty
Her laptop's what's baudy
And its circuits are all that she blows.

42. All circuits, according to Joan
Divide into three types she's known;
The Yeatsian three
Are circuits that she
Is blowing, will blow, or has blown.

43. But before I go on to the rest
Are you certain it wouldn't be best
To leave it like this
With a wink and a kiss
And our heroine not yet undressed?

44. It may seem it's easy enough
To rhyme all this narrative stuff
While keeping it wry --
But I'm sweating while I
Am pounding this stone into fluff.

45. My head hurts, my fingers are sore
I simply can't rhyme any more
I'm covered with sweat
And you haven't laughed yet
And my god! it's a quarter to four!

46. Okay, very well, I'll go on --
Though wit, fun, and humor are gone:
I'll struggle along
And murmur my song
In your ear as we wait for the dawn.

47. So there they were, stuck on a flight
Over tedious stretches of white
With Toledo below
And Joan in the glow
Of her laptop's lascivious light.

48. Why Toledo? I really can't say.
No, really! The court-ordered stay
On revelatory
Reports of the story
Was very specific. No way!

49. I can only say general things:
Like Toledo has winters and springs,
But not who's ignoring
The city while soaring
Above it on jet-propelled wings.

50. Or like it's not famous for blues --
Unless it's a crayon you choose.
Joan's family support . . .
But no, no! The court
Has ordered I cannot say whose.

51. No, nothing can make me go back
When I've given my word -- not the rack
Nor the devil in hell
Could induce me to tell
That the crayons are packaged in black.

52. Why black? You now ask in dismay.
You're terribly nosy today.
And though you harangue
Me all night, that they're Prang
You will never induce me to say.

53. With crayons by Prang, unexpressed
Emotions are colored with zest:
One colors commissions
That look more like Titians
Than Titian could do at his best.

54. All right, so it's going too far
To say that these Prang crayons are
Or could be as good
As oils, though I would
If I had one more rhyme word for "star".

55. Don't mention the tradename "Crayola",
They stink worse than old Gorgonzola.
They're washed-out and waxy:
Like calling out "Taxi!"
In Venice instead of "Gondola!"

56. Ah, Venice! We're back to our tale
In bright, vivid colors, not pale
Or dilute imitations;
We hope celebrations
Of color will always prevail.

57. But that way lies danger and doubt;
I don't want you thinking about
Who imitates who on
What plane, or Don Juan
Will whisper and drown out my shout.

58. So, anyway, Joan's getting wet,
And watching Antonio sweat
On the cyberspace Lido
While over Toledo
The rest of them fidget and fret.

59. And who is Antonio? Who
Indeed? is my echo to you.
He's handsome and tan,
And a muscular man
From all of that poling they do.

60. By "they" I mean "those gondoliers",
Of course, though I do have my fears
You thought I meant Joan
In that tent all alone
Except for your worldly-wise sneers.

61. Aha! So that IS what you thought.
I knew that I liked your looks . . . not!
I see your surprise
In that shift of your eyes
Which tries to deny that you're caught.

62. These verses do not need your kind,
So lost in the gutter your mind
Thinks only of sex
When something convex
And something concave are combined.

63. I don't think that we'll get along,
So beat it! Er . . . don't take that wrong.
At least if you must
Take it wrong, take your lust
As you go -- it's corrupting my song.

[Large Marge]

Marcus clearly has time on his hands
Must be winter for those in east lands
Could it be that the glass
Has him bored off his ass
And that limericks are as numerous as sand

[Marcus Bales]

What's gendered has long been in flux
But now we have come to the crux
Is it going too far
To own a gay car
Or drive around lesbian trucks*?


*Before she changed it, LargeMarge's self-chosen slogan was "Lesbian Truck Driver"

[Large Marge]

:D .

[Large Marge]

My Grandma made totties with rum

[Large Marge]

My Grandma made totties with rum
and my Grandpa - who was just a bum -

[Hyakujo's Fox]

hey marge, I don't know if it's known
but this thread's where you go-it-alone
you can post line by line
(I suppose that is fine)
but there seems little point to postpone

[Large Marge]

Thanks, Fox, for that kind bit of news
On some level I knew that, but choose
to wait for the others
cuz their words are the mothers
of limerickers who've paid their dues

[I lidbotLl l]

hearing the pitter patter
of passive reversable laughter
chitter chatter bitter plate off platter
in place that you sit at
served by self with marcing hat
;)

i'm no rapper yet i talk for free
my pen's ink drips and is not the walk
i've been shot breathless in culture to grow
with words stories, x marks the spot
stop the fuss played, holding a live grenade,

stressed? have some lemonade.
chilling with judge judy, we dont care much for t.v.
maybe i'm moody, moving rights to remain silent.
non violent, disolving devolving riddle
rattle scrabbaling babble anger off the hangers

it could mean danger,
i'd say keep it to yourself
sort of like book
burning,
sitting on the shelf.

Just in case, maybe you already knew
just helping a culture, celebrate, or chew?
Cause with hate you'll surley find relating
hats just as mad sad accelerating pant sh***ng..
"Thats not a growth!" finger pointing's gross.

[Marcus Bales]

64. Now where were we? Oh. In the air. . .
We've covered Toledo, and where
Our heroine goes
To disregard woes
And valiantly fight off despair.

65. They land and the engines reverse
With a whoosh and the stewardess, terse,
Says "Remain in your seats,"
Which the captain repeats
As somebody mutters a curse.

66. The passengers pay no attention:
They're here to attend a convention --
So any instruction
Is just an eruction
Ignored as unworthy of mention.

67. The passengers crowd in the aisles --
And gone is all pretense of smiles --
As they surge to compete
Through the last fifty feet
Of their journey of five hundred miles.

68. When they got off the plane, out of reach
Of Indianapolis, each
Of our pair heaved a sigh --
Then they noticed the sky:
Minneapolis isn't the beach.

69. When they finally got off of the plane
It was dawn, and they thought they might gain
By getting back on
And leaving that dawn
To the cold Minneapolis rain.

70. It was dawn (and I say it again
Because when I note it was ten
In the morning you'll see
Why they wanted to flee --
And the question was not "If?" but "When?")

71. It was dawn as I've said twice before
And it shook each one down to their core
That their getting away
From the one awful stay
Had led them to one that was more.

72. Did I mention they both flew first class
And that each had a VIP pass?
The job has its perks
For the planner who works
All the angles and has enough brass.

73. And brass Joan has got in amounts
You'd measure per pound not per ounce.
But creating the deals
For her clients she feels
Is all she's obliged to announce.

74. Her meetings are fruitful and fun;
Though everyone gets a lot done
She gives a good show
As you already know
If you've been in attendance at one.

75. She used to explain every billing,
But lately she's less and less willing
To try to account
For every amount
And still leave her whole life fulfilling.

76. The fee she now charges is flat --
For results, not for where she is at --
Whether car, bus, or jet
Has happened to get
Her to where she is trusted like that.

77. As Joan is the first to admit
For details she gives not a shit
But meeting and greeting
And seating and eating
Are things she does not mind a bit.

78. For details The Patrick's the man
He details as no one else can.
It's whispered, by awed
Young associates, God
Talked to Patrick before He began.

79. It's a rumor The Patrick denies
More hotly perhaps than is wise --
He just makes it worse
When he gives them his terse
Reply: "They are lies. Lies. All lies. "

80. The Patrick reviles the ellipse --
He's straight to the point, and he quips:
That whenever a guy
Is mouthing a lie
You can tell: 'cause he's moving his lips.

81. The Patrick's and Joan's clients, then,
Are split to their liking, so when
A woman's the client
The Patrick's a giant
While Joan is real handy with men.

82. Don't tell me you think that's a pun!
Oh, thanks. . . and now look what you've done:
You've driven away
Some others who'd stay
If you'd only relax and have fun.

[Marcus Bales]

83. But since you insist I go on
I'll rhyme till my rhymer is gone
And then you'll be sorry
When Joan's on safari
And I'm pale and wan in the john.

84. Or perhaps I will be wan and pale
My fevered lips burning for ale
Sweet ale from the hands
Of that traveler of lands
Who thinks her computer is male.

85. I see now that I have digressed --
Perhaps it is all for the best.
I'm just not the type
For that lingering tripe
So -- maybe I'd better get dressed.

86. I left them awaiting their bags
Behind a marooned pair of hags
Whose luggage had gone
From Dulles to Bonn
And who thought they were homeless in rags.

87. But rags made of silk, mink and ermine
As nearly as I can determine.
So The Patrick and Joan,
Unlimbering their phone,
Fixed it up for the hags with a German.

88. Some German named Kohler, or Kohl --
A Hermann or Helmut or Poul --
Why ask me these questions?
Do I give suggestions
When you are off spilling your soul?

89. OK, so I do, what's the harm?
Don't give yourself such an alarm.
I'm starting to doubt,
From as loud as you shout,
You possess all your advertised charm.

90. That's better. Now where was I at?
Oh, the hags and old Helmut the Fat.
Well, they fixed it with Bonn
When Joan made it on
To the network to network and chat.

91. It's not like there's some sort of lack
Of things she should do more on track --
She's a networking junkie
With a cyberspace monkey
She cannot get off of her back.

92. So if Joan just admires the fretwork
A guitarist displays she will network
Like crazy, like mad
Till she hears he has had
A couple good offers to get work.

93. Or suppose she's been told with a sob
Some unfortunate Susan or Bob
Is having some troubles?
She smiles and she bubbles
And gets Bob or Susan a job.

94. In fact she can network so well
That Lucifer rang when he fell.
A phone call, a schmooze,
A bottle of booze . . .
And Lucifer reigned over hell.

95. So they say, though it couldn't be so --
But you know how a story will grow
To a myth in a blink
But hey! Let me think . . .
It could have been Kissinger, though.

96. It could have been Kissinger, too . . .
But let's give the devil his due:
He knew who to phone
When he woke up alone
With a Ford that was battered when new.

[Marcus Bales]

97. But now that they're down on the ground
And a taxi has finally found
The place that they're staying
Joan wants to start playing
But first puts her "stuff" all around.

98. An ancient stuffed animal, "Bear",
Sits up on the pillow: that's where
In bright light or gloom
He sees the whole room
With his single-eyed unblinking stare.

99. She checks out the phone: voice and data;
And orders room service for later
And as she unpacks
Her shirts and her slacks
She hopes that she'll get a cute waiter.

100. In the closets she hangs up her clothes;
In pull-outs she puts these and those --
She neatly arranges
Then thinks and then changes
The order of drawers that she chose.

101. It's very important, I think,
To make and maintain every link
In hotels to home
Or else when in Rome
You'll find yourself starting to drink.

102. She puts the free soap and shampoo
Away in a bottom drawer, too --
She can't understand
How they fit in one's hand --
Too small; I agree: and too few.

103. She looks in the fridge and she counts
The many amazing amounts
Of chocolates and liquors;
Her interest first flickers
Then dies as she counts cost per ounce.

104. Joan missed her computer a lot;
On the plane the connection she got
Was broken and fleeting,
Like London's bad heating,
Intermittent more often than not.

105. She checked her account for her mail
And a message announcing a sale
On flights to Pacific
Resorts seemed terrific
Since folks all around were so pale.

106. Joan yearns for romances in Bali --
Like a foreign romance isn't folly --
As if a wham bam
And a quick "Thank you ma'am"
Out in Bali were jolly, by golly.

107. Of course that's no more like romance
Than to see Jerry Lewis in France
Makes him funny: location
Has little relation
To what may repel or entrance.

108. Besides, that vacation is rare
Which leaves you with money to spare;
You're left with a tan
But never the man
And appalling apparel to wear.

109. What your average vacationer gets
Aside from the credit card debts
From those firm little asses
And sloppy drunk passes
Is sharp morning-after regrets.

110. Though most of the people you meet
Seem charming, naive, tanned, or sweet,
They're clever you know
At getting your dough
By romancing you off of your feet.

111. "But what kind of man would it be
Who wanted my money, not me?"
Joan asked it with feeling
And glanced at the ceiling
Then searched in her bag for her key.

112. Oh, didn't I mention we're back
On the cold Minneapolis track?
Oh, it's your impression
I'm good at digression?
Why thank you -- I've picked up the knack.

113. But say, we've left Joan in the hall
Reflecting on men in St. Paul
And all over the world
With her little hand curled
On her key while she leans on the wall.

114. She opened her door, stepped inside
Undressing right down to her hide,
Then turned on the shower
And tried for an hour . . .
But how would I know what she tried?

115. I do know how long they all ran,
That whirlpool, computer, and fan . . .
And shortly thereafter
She bubbled with laughter
And that's when the party began.

[Marcus Bales]

Canto II

1. She walked down the stairs and the stars
Were as dim and embarrassed as Mars:
Male heads turned like rotors
And sexual motors
Ignited like Formula cars.

2. You could smell the testosterone burn
As each, one by one, took his turn
To attract the attractive
By displaying his active,
And long, strong, firm social concern.

3. Oh, what did you think I would blurt?
Some word all encrusted with dirt?
Something common and crude
Something ribald and rude
Well, I may not go on, I'm so hurt.

4. But since you're so sorry I will;
I dislike disappointing you - still,
Why can't you rely
On the way I do sly
Innuendo to give you a thrill?

5. But back to the bar and to Joan:
We don't want to leave her alone
Or she's gone in a zoom
Back up to her room
With the modem plugged into the phone.

6. To Joan each one seemed a beginner.
Whether married or single, each sinner
Had begged for her madly;
She only laughed sadly,
And said she was just after dinner.

7. After dinner! The lights seem to flicker!
After dinner! The thought was a liquor!
(Which was what, it is true,
Each was longing to do --
As they wished after dinner came quicker. )

8. After dinner! A beading of sweat
At hairlines reveals they'd regret
Neither dinner nor cost,
But the time they'd have lost
Since the dinner had not started yet.

9. After dinner! Their eyes took on gleams
As if they were living their dreams
You could hear in their sighs
And see in their eyes
The imagined postprandial screams.

10. After dinner! Those magical words
Had them strutting and preening like birds --
And as brainlessly too
Since only a few
Could do seconds, and none of them thirds.

11. She seemed to like one guy's advance
She agreed when he asked her to dance
But after a pas
As faux as she saw
With his credit card, he had no chance.

12. Another too tall, one too fat,
One drunk, and another who's pat
On her back wandered down
In spite of her frown
To rest on the place where she sat.

[Marcus Bales]

13. The Patrick had fish of his own
To fry quite apart from those Joan
Was keeping in play
With a wink, smile and sway
And illusion of later alone.

14. A St. Paul-Minneapolan, Mike,
Was one who had chosen to strike
At her lure last time Joan
Was there fishing alone
And he'd done something she didn't like.

15. The Patrick had casually heard
(Though overheard's nearer the word)
That Joan was unhappy
With Mike and the chappie
Deserved to be shaken and stirred.

16. Now The Patrick's a calm type of guy
He doesn't have blood in his eye
He isn't the sort
Whose temper is short --
But if someone hurts Joan then they die.

17. Well, "die" is perhaps a bit strong --
Hyperbole's part of my song --
Though after a talk
With The Patrick they grok
In some detail how much they were wrong.

18. I won't say The Patrick is bland
If I do you will misunderstand:
For if Joan has been hurt
There'll be blood in the dirt
And revenge unimpeachably planned.

19. For example, a cellist named Bellow
Hurt her badly, and later the fellow
Was located, tied,
An orifice wide,
And its cavity filled with his cello.

20. When he'd heard what this Mikey had done
The Patrick's new plan had begun
And the scheme he designed
Had smoothly combined
His senses of vengeance and fun.

21. The Patrick was tracking this Mike
Whom he'd overheard Joan didn't like
By credit card stubs
Through bistros and clubs
While waiting the moment to strike.

22. Now one of the problems I've found
In molding these stanzas around
The Patrick and Joan
Is this issue of tone
And the way that some phrases may sound.

23. Oh, take that word "strike" for example,
It seems I'm intending to trample
The Patrick's good name
Or meaning to claim
He's not a good moral example.

24. But nothing is further from true!
The Patrick is somebody who
Does not trip the blind
And is frequently kind
To the rich, irrespective of hue.

25. But enough of The Patrick for now
I can't even clearly say how
We got off the track --
We've got to get back
To Joan who is still after chow.

[Marcus Bales]

26. The light through the windows was dim
When a jogger went by, and his slim
Silhouette in the light
Made Joan think she might
Want his loin to lie down with her limb.

27. This jogger, skin, muscle, and bone
Had predictable impact on Joan
She forgot how the screen
On her laptop went green
When she left it turned on all alone.

28. The jogger went by on the street
Communing to some inner beat
A small hungry moan
Escaped out of Joan
As her eyes followed after the treat.

29. His calf muscles bunch as he trots
Though his thigh muscles bunch in Joan's thoughts
While watching his calves
She is one of the haves
Then he's gone. She re-joins the have-nots.

30. She seemed to abruptly awaken
And notice the step she had taken . . .
But none of the guys
Had been watching her eyes
So none of them saw she'd been shaken.

31. She threw back her head and she laughed.
They twitched as if each had been gaffed --
If they'd liked her before
When she'd come through the door
They were stunned at the sight of her aft.

32. For aft was the sight they now saw
As she left each one yearning in awe.
They were trimmed with desire
Like meat for a fire
That begged to be well done, not raw.

33. They watched her, unbreathing, until
She'd left after paying her bill;
As if back from death
Each sucked in his breath
With a hiss like meat hitting the grill.

[Marcus Bales]

34. This whole time The Patrick's been gone
Fulfilling the mission he's on.
He caught up with Mike
At a place called "The Spike"
And trailed him home well before dawn.

35. But Mike lived at home with his mom
And his blind younger brother named Tom
For The Patrick to find
That the brother was blind
Was like trying to write on a ROM.

36. For The Patrick the plan was in tatters
When one thing goes wrong the rest scatters
He's spent and verklempt
And nothing can tempt
Him to think about happier matters.

37. So The Patrick went back to his room
And sat there in silence and gloom
And stared at the wall
Hoping Joan wouldn't call
But she did, with a cheery "Guess whom?"

38. "Guess who?" he replied right away.
"No, YOU guess!" He heard his boss say.
He pushed at the vein
Where it seemed like the pain
Had centered, and said "Joan. Okay?"

39. She laughed with maniacal glee
"No, Patrick," she giggled, "It's me!"
He said "I said 'Joan'. "
She laughed in the phone
"You SAID 'Joan O'Kay', not Joan E. "

40. "You're drunk," said The Patrick, "again. "
"I'm not, but I ought to have been.
Those boys in the bar,
Or whatever they are
Are certainly nothing like men. "

41. The Patrick massaged at his eyes
There were times when he simply loathed guys
They act like such scum
Whenever they come
Close to touching a Joan-shaped surprise.

42. The Patrick massaged at his nose
And felt all his sinuses close
His expression was grim
As Joan giggled at him
While his ire and blood pressure rose.

43. Then suddenly Joan stopped and cursed.
"This message I've got is the worst!
A bus in the morning?
Tomorrow? No warning?
And how will we get reimbursed?

44. "Pat, why does this happen to us?
Some tour guide is raising a fuss --
Now where in God's Heaven
By Friday at seven
Are we going to find her a bus?"

45. The Patrick was suddenly calm
Their plight to The Patrick was balm
For the wounds of his spirit;
He was happy to hear it
And caressed at the phone with his palm.

46. She'd called when she'd needed a plan!
And The Patrick is hardly the man
To say 'no' to Joan
Especially by phone
When she's asked him to do what he can.

47. To be planning was just what he needed
For his sorrows to be superseded;
He'd forget the blind tike
And the evil that Mike
Had done -- or that Joan said that he did.

48. He felt all his sinuses drain
Like somebody'd pulled on the chain:
With a glug and a swallow,
Lightheaded and hollow,
The Patrick was freed from the pain.

49. His energy flooded right back
As if there had not been a lack.
His voice changed from weary
To vibrant and cheery
As he thought of a plan of attack.

[Marcus Bales]

50. "I'm on it," he said, and Joan sighed.
She knew there was little he tried
That didn't get done
When once he'd begun
And done high and handsome and wide.

51. The Patrick was lost in his thought
As his boss lady promptly forgot
The problem completely,
Hung up on him sweetly,
And left him alone with the knot.

52. He closely examined the rope
Of the problem -- and nearly lost hope.
Then he opened his bag
And fooled with a tag
And brought out their stock-pile of soap.

53. They called it their "Soap" not trite "Oil"
And they used it to frustrate and foil
The clients and fates
A good planner hates
For all of the plans that they spoil.

54. They referred to it also as "It",
And as "Milk from the Queen" ,and as "Spit
From the mouth of the cook";
And sometimes as "Gook",
But never as "Gravel" or "Grit".

55. For a while they were calling it "Fleece"
And I tried to persuade them to cease
Since it sounded so funny.
They changed it to "Honey",
And later replaced it with "Grease".

56. From "Grease" on to "Soap" is a stride
But not, you'll agree, one too wide;
And "Soap" you'll admit
Is as cryptic as "It"
While "Grease" is much harder to hide.

57. He took out as much of their ration
Of soap as he needed to fashion
A fix for their fix
And we'll leave as he picks
A conveyance to carry the cash in.

[Marcus Bales]

58. Our Joan had a bash to attend --
A cyberspace do for a friend;
The virtual host
Had started his toast . . .
Well, I'll quote from beginning to end:

59. "We're not here to drink, hoot, and holler --
We're here for that subtle enthraller
From Akron that we
Know as PRLG --
And the rest of the world knows as Paula.

60. "Her cyberspace friends planned a gala,
But tight as they are with a dollar,
The shrimp and the Brie
Are virtual -- gee!
And so's the Champagne and Marsala.

61. "But here, have a glass, though it's smaller
Than the white of a minister's collar,
And the line to get more
Has wound out the door --
The bartender's name must be Allah.

62. "I couldn't get high on that swallow
So I'm straight as a desperate scholar
As test-time appears
And confirms all his fears
That his small learning's echo is hollow.

63. "I can't take it out on our Paula --
I hope my complaint won't appall her --
But this kind of bash
Needs a liberal dash
Of Bacchus, not sober Apollo!

64. "For those who like cold, there's Valhalla;
For those who like heat, Guatemala --
But for warmth and for cool
In one package the rule
Is: 'Check out our birthday girl, Paula!'"

65. Then Joan, it appears, went to bed
And slept the deep sleep of the dead
I'd have said "of the just"
Or "a boss who has trust"
But the rhyme word demanded an "-ed".

66. So we're back to The Patrick I guess
Great Heaven, it's really a mess
To follow these two
Whatever they do
And whatever they think, more or less.

67. He was down through the lobby and out
Before I could finally rout
Myself from my bed
To see where he led
In this early-bird worming about.

68. I hate early mornings, don't you
When you can't tell your glove from your shoe
Or your shoe from your glove
If you're rhyming with "love"
In an effort more lyric than new.

69. And everyone's always so surly
When out late and woken up early
It can't be that loud
Urban avian crowd
That makes early surly now, surely?

70. I fumbled my shoes on my feet
And followed him down to the street
We got in our cars
To go to the bars
Where the usual libertines meet.

71. Since VIPs mostly are married
These usual suspects are varied
In price and in skill
But your best planners will
Know places where such gems are quarried

72. The planners, hotels, and resorts
Encourage the healthier sports
But have to admit
That, fit or unfit,
It seems that a world takes all sorts.

73. My dad disagreed -- it is not
So much that it takes them, he thought,
As humanity's habits
Such as breeding like rabbits
Means all are the sorts that we've got.

[Marcus Bales]

74. But it's one of the rules of the trade
That VIPs always get laid
In the ways of their choices --
At least those with voices
In whether the planner gets paid.

75. The rules for a planner are few
And though I can't claim they are new
This seems a good time
To set them in rhyme
To reflect on how many are true.

76. One: "No plan is foolproof. " is ever
Repeated by planners. You'll never
Predict how a fool
Will break any rule --
For fools are inhumanly clever.

77. The Second is: "Everyone knows
A planner whose meeting plan flows
Like yours does, but better. "
And they think they can get her
For half of your price . . . so it goes.

78. No treaty stands long if its treaters
Are hacking it down as it teeters
And totters to grief;
But its life's not as brief
As a meeting plan meeting its meeters.

79. All meeters imagine "vacation";
The meetings are mere aggravation --
So a planner's an odd
Sort of mix of a god
And an HIV-positive Haitian.

80. The first no one wants to offend
The second all fear like a friend
They've known all their lives
Or, like husbands and wives:
Relations too knotted to end.

81. The "god" part can get something done
They recognize that, but still, none
Of the meeters who can
Let planner or plan
Keep experienced meeters from fun.

82. And that's where I thought Patrick went
Which explains why I woke with a dent
In the back of my head,
Clothes stained where I'd bled
Through each rip, hole, tear, slit, slash, and rent.

[Audreyvgs]

Holy Shit BALES i exclaim
your talent is not to be tamed!
I read and in awe
am amazed, what I saw
my opinion of you's not the samed!

[dinzdale]

A little known fact about Spock
was the shape of his Vulcanized cock.
It wasnt so long
this odd-looking schlong
but the bell-end the size of a wok.

[Marcus Bales]

That's odd -- but still odder was Kirk's --
But then that is one of the perks
Of being in charge:
You don't have to be large
If you talk. In a series of. Jerks.

[dinzdale]

A little known fact about Spock
was the shape of his Vulcanized cock.
It wasnt so long
this odd-looking schlong
but the bell-end the size of a wok.

That's odd -- but still odder was Kirk's --
But then that is one of the perks
Of being in charge:
You don't have to be large
If you talk. In a series of. Jerks.

McCoy the Enterprise doc
was renown for the size of his cock.
But to hide his erection
from alien attention,
he'd cover his bone with a sock.

[dinzdale]

Sulu's the helmsman onboard
his weiner is shaped like a sword.
But the way that he mates
at warp factor eight
leaves even the Klingon chicks bored.

[Marcus Bales]

It's Chekhov for whom girls stand straighter
Or wriggle to get him to date her;
He speeds up and slows
And shows that he knows
Why he's known as the ship's Navigator.

[dinzdale]

Engineer Scott made it grow
and then tied it up in a bow.
Uhura flipped out
and her zeal made him shout
"I cannae hold it Cap'n, she'll blow"

[Marcus Bales]

Those red-shirt security guys
Had manly physiques, but their size
And form and duration
Is pure speculation
From their deaths with those screams, grunts, and cries,

[funkytuba]

Another choice tidbit you'll find:
Spock often enjoys a strong bind
He'll say "Please don't stop!"
when you then swing the crop
cause "Pain is a thing of the mind"

[dinzdale]

Uhura's a girl with some front
.....nonononononono........

*whew*

close call that one....

[Marcus Bales]

Kirk calls Uhura -- can't raise her;
Spock, Vulcan cold-eyed appraiser,
Says "There's life in the stones."
"He's dead, Jim," says Bones
"Dibs on his wallet and phaser!"

[Marcus Bales]

Uhura's a girl with some front;
Her manner of speaking is blunt --
She doesn't like jerks,
Such as Chekhovs or Kirks,
Who enjoy not the prize but the hunt.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

Amok Time: Spock wants it, and now
The Vulcan just didn't know how
He tried once with Uhura
But she left in a furor
After Spock merely cocked an eyebrow

[dinzdale]

"The force field is pure anti-matter"
said Spock "So we cant make it shatter"
"If we dont get right through it"
said Kirk, and he knew it,
"Star Fleet will think I'm a brown hatter"

[Marcus Bales]

Said the Randian with the antennae
"Social contracts? I've never seen any --
The needs of the one
Are for food, filth, and fun
Not to sacrifice all for the many."

[dddrum]

Mister Jones was found, rolled, in an alley
With tribbles he'd sought to get pally
He had plenty of money
But, though it seems funny
Cyrano'd no quatrotriticale

[Marcus Bales]

Half black on the left, and half white
He hated all blacks-on-the-right
Who hated right back
The leftward half black
And they needed each other to fight.

[Marcus Bales]

They were starving purveyors of art
Who'd sold their possessions, apart
From two -- now there's doubt
Do they put up the spout
The Horace before the Descartes?

[dddrum]

At the lost and found counter, a maid
With the proprietor plyed her trade
Unpaid for her crime
She returned in due time
To report that she had been mislaid

[Marcus Bales]

But the lost and found owner, named Fred,
When told what the maiden had said
Replied "I'm dismayed --
Her behavior displayed
In the moment means I was misled!"

[Marcus Bales]

There once was a limerick so lewd
Even dddrum said it was rude --
I don't quote it much
Because it has such
Inevitabilitude.

[glasshouse]

This boy that I met makes me randy
His lips look like sweet cotton candy
I'd so like to kiss
But I fear that he'll diss
Psychic powers would sure come in handy!

[Marcus Bales]

Young love is so often the pits;
Each proud so that neither admits
The depths of their feeling;
They go about reeling
Til one of them shows him her wits.

[glasshouse]

hee hee. I like your poetry.

[Marcus Bales]

I gaze in the sprays of your rays,
And braise in the blaze of your praise,
But daily grow thinner
Without any dinner
When my pay's that I graze on a phrase.

[glasshouse]

Said a poet, "I can't live on words,
And starvation is so for the birds.
I may turn a phrase,
But on that I can't graze.
Must I join all the nine to five herds?"

[glasshouse]

Breakups are truly the pits
Especially the older one gets (ok I know that is cheat rhyming)
All that time spent
There was love then it went
And now your heart's smashed into bits

[Marcus Bales]

And now your heart's smashed into bits,
since breakups are truly the pits
one spends too much time
on rhythm and rhyme
especially the older one gets.

[glasshouse]

The singer had as her goal
To make music for soothing the soul
From sadness and loss
All that makes us cross
That we may make diamonds from coal

[Marcus Bales]

Poets write poems in meter --
And syllables, accents, or feet’re
Required in rhythm,
And rhymes sometimes with ‘em --
While free verse is made by a cheater.

[glasshouse]

A cheating poet once thought
That following rules was for naught
She rhymed without reason
From season to season
And wrote outside all she'd been taught

[dddrum]

Odd canopies seeking kohlrabi
Can Oprah glaucoma hot hobby
Or can opener snuff
Mailmen juggling stuff
The real question is why this don't rhyme

:confused:

[Marcus Bales]

Okay, in honor of Dddrum, here's one with all the dirty words edited out:

There once was a blankety blank
Who blah blah and bobbity bank
And then with a blah
Over blankety ah
Continued blank blankety fvck.

[Marcus Bales]

The Joaniad, Continued.
Canto II, stanzas 82 - 92

82.And that's where I thought Patrick went
Which explains why I woke with a dent
In the back of my head,
Clothes stained where I'd bled
Through each rip, hole, tear, slit, slash, and rent.

83.I thought he had gone to the bar
Where the usual libertines are
But he took a quick right,
Disappeared at the light,
And two fellows climbed into my car.

84.It looked real suspicious to me
But the older and stiller one, he
Smiled sweetly and said
That the light wasn't red
While the spooky one giggled with glee.

85.They started right off into Kant
I said what I thought they must want
To hear in their auricles:
Affirmed categoricals,
But their questions were taunt after taunt.

86.They made me abandon my car;
They said it was better by far
For my brain and my muscle
To get out and hustle
With them as they walked bar to bar.

87.They drank such prodigious amounts
I started and lost several counts.
I talked about Mill
And the Nietzschean Will
But by then they were ready to pounce.

88.I called on Spinoza and James
And played Wittgensteinian games,
But they translated Greek
Until I was weak
And out of philosopher's names.

89.I collapsed, I think, shortly thereafter
As the spooky one stifled his laughter;
The stiller one sat
Like a stone on a mat
And I couldn't tell which one was dafter.

90.They'd whipped me from Plato to Sartre
My arguments all fell apart
On the points of their sallies
From empirical alleys
Which seemed so ideal at the start.

91.I remember before I passed out
They'd raised dialectical doubt
With respect to their name
Which it seems is the same
As an ice cream you've all heard about.

92.I revived just a little past four
To a half-drunken offer to pour
Another libation
In sad celebration
Of -- me, lying there on the floor.

[dddrum]

Kudos to one Marcus Bales
For his weighty and limericized tales
That act I can't follow
My rhymes would sound hollow
So I'll just sit here and suck snails

[soundofsilence]

The limerick is a tricky art form
My efforts are rather lukewarm
My rhythm is bumpy
And what makes me grumpy
Is that my syllables just won't conform

[Marcus Bales]

Joaniad, Canto II, stanzas 92-99

92.I revived just a little past four
To a half-drunken offer to pour
Another libation
In sad celebration
Of -- me, lying there on the floor.

93.Like two philosophical Vikings
They drank to their dislikes and likings
I heard they were glad
I'd held out as I had
Against their Hegelian psychings.

94.The two boys banged open the bung
To eulogize yet one more young
Intellectual tough
Not chary enough
Of the Breyers he'd fallen among.

95.They drink and then afterwards sing
How the yet unenlightened still cling
To their shadowed opinions
Like darkness's minions
In the brilliance the Breyer boys bring.

96.They sing and their singing is sad
For the hard time their foe may have had:
But it isn't their fault
That the sea tastes of salt
Or that others' opinions are bad.

97.They sing of the salt in the sea
In a difficult, sad, minor key
More and more out of tune
'Til finally the moon
Went down and they'd killed the Chablis.

98.They sing they're Chablisless and I,
For one, was the happiest guy
Who'd ever heard drunks'
Heads hit tables with clunks
Or wishes next morning to die.

99.Next morning they won't die, of course --
Though it's sure each will think that the source
Of the taste in his mouth
Is the same as the south
Of a north-bound and flatulent horse.

[Marcus Bales]

Joaniad, Canto II, Stanzas 100-110

100.Next morning I stumbled around
In the kitchen, then heard a small sound --
A dog, huge and black,
Had come in the back:
It was two hundred pounds if a pound.

101.I froze; I was caught in his stare
He stood there, and there was a there
In the place where he stood
Even Gertrude Stein would
Have admitted to no matter where.

102.I gradually noticed a chain
At his throat and my terrified brain
Had me squatted, hand out,
Like I hadn't a doubt
And babbling something inane.

103.The dog sniffed my hand. A small child
Appeared as if leashed. She made wild
Jerks and pulls on the leather
But I couldn't tell whether
The dog even knew she was riled.

104.Another dog entered behind
Not quite the same size, to my mind,
But still plenty large
Enough that his barge
In the door made the child hard to find.

105.First "Baron!" then "Bugger!" she shouted
And I, just as you would've, doubted
I'd heard her words right
Though charmed that she might
Have named a dog "Bugger". She pouted.

106.A young boy appeared in the door.
"Don't, Meredith, shout any more,
Since Charlie and Chris
Have been talking to this ..."
His glance judged me "...fellow since four."

107."But William ..." He held up his hand
As if she should then understand --
And strangely enough
She neither got tough
Nor cried at his air of command.

108."This's Baron 'n' Bugger," she said
To me as she patted one head
Then patted the other
While William, her brother,
Consulted his wrist-watch instead.

109."Bugger?" I asked, lost in awe,
"That's wonderful!" William said "Nah!"
With such splendid contempt
That it left him exempt
From manners as if from a flaw.

110."Not Bugger, it's Bogart!" A laugh
Of disdaining glee hit like a gaff --
I'd endured laughs like this
From both Charlie and Chris
But William's just six and a half!

[Marcus Bales]

The Joaniad, Canto II, stanzas 111 - 120

111.Distracted again, William toys
With his watch; but his snickering poise
Reminds me it's tough
To be wary enough
Of one's words to the Breyer-clan boys.

112.And that's why I don't really know
How The Patrick dispensed of the dough;
How he got the bus there
With his usual care
Washed, vacuumed, and ready to go.

113.I don't know what Joan told her clients
But you know those corporate giants:
If the paperwork's right
They'll say day is night
Or an H-bomb's a household appliance.

114.In any case Joan wore a smile
That looked like she'd worn it a while
'Til The Patrick arrived
And she saw they'd survived
Another wild crisis with style.

115.Joan never does ask how he does it --
She doesn't ask questions because it
Would seem just as rude
Though perhaps not as crude
As asking your partner: "How was it?"

116."How was it?" the insecure moan
As if that might somehow atone
For this or that lack
While you hastily pack
And wish they would leave you alone

117."How was it?" or "How does it feel?"
Reporters and lovers may squeal,
Like Dantean phrases
Or Sapphoesque praises
Are coined at their instant appeal.

118."How was it?" or else "What's the matter?"
They ask in the hope you will flatter
Their egos for free
Particularly
If they're older or balder or fatter.

119."How was it?" they ask but you know
That they're asking it only for show
While you’re thinking how few
More warm fuzzies that you
Must provide 'til at last they will go.

120."How was it?" the words are a whine
I've deplored since before I was nine
Well, actually, maybe
Since I was a baby!
(But how was this canto of mine?)

[ambo]

With stitches so neat and precise
She sews tiny waistcoats for mice
So at formal affairs
Held under the stairs
The waiters look ever so nice

[vgarber]

I once was quite sad
My husband was manipulative and bad
I took some meds and zoned out
that made things better without a doubt
Now I'm free of that oppression
I went off my med without regression
Screw it- this is getting no where

[dddrum]

There once was a man of few words
Hm hmm hmm hm hmm hmm hmm herds
Bum bumby buh bee
Dum dumdy dee dee
Hum hmm hmm hum hmm hmm hm... turds.

[dinzdale]

there once was an Assyrian monk
who slept on the top of his bunk
he was dreaming of Venus
sucking his penis
and woke up covered in spunk


old but inspired by something else on here... :)

[dddrum]

I went on a tear at the Globe
And incited a government probe
Said proprietor Pete,
"You can stand on your seat,
But there's simply no call to disrobe!"

:eek:

[Marcus Bales]

Attention's the thing that I hunt
So I took off my clothes for a stunt
And shook tits and tuchas
But caused no more ruckus
Than one guy's shout "Hey! Down in front!"

Naked I stood on my chair
Exposing my parts to the air
So I stood on the arms
And shimmied my charms
But nobody there seemed to care.

[dddrum]

A wrinkly old man I admired
Said, "Laddie, I'm feeling quite tired,
"Would you finish my limerick,
"You foolish young limpwick?
"Right quick, or I'll have your ass fired."

[trisherina]

A woman up north who grew old
In the ice that enveloped her, cold
And so ruthlessly white
Was not really so bright;
They told her she bought what they sold.

[Marcus Bales]

A woman down south aged as well;
Said that Southern but transplanted belle:
"If I lived at the nexus
Of Hellfire and Texas
I'd rent out Texas and live in Hell."

[ambo]

Sit here as I whimper and shake
Perhaps you can soften my ache
I'd do it for you
If you were as blue
So please, I've had all I can take

[dinzdale]

There was a young vicar from Ghent
Who's knob was incredibly bent
When he tried to jerk it
He just could work it
So instead of coming, he went

[Marcus Bales]

A honeymoon couple in Rome
Surprised the Italians. In Nome
The Inuit, shocked,
Saw a cruise ship that rocked
Through all the Aleutians, then home.

[Marcus Bales]

I went to the Viscount's for tea;
It was just as I feared it would be:
Although we were masked
I'm constantly asked
If the big one or small one was me.

[LeahDear]

It was such a long day at work
So I decided to skive off and shirk
When the boss came in
He asked where I'd been
And when I told him he went beserk

[Marcus Bales]

She'd forgotten the name of a young
And too-eager lover who flung
His heart in her flame --
So it's not just his name
That was right on the tip of her tongue.

[Marcus Bales]

I think that we'll hear from Zarqawi:
He'll tell in a video how he
Is not really dead
But is living instead
On the beach with a cool drink in Maui.

[Marcus Bales]

The slow drifting spread of debris
Told all of the story, so we,
With nothing to say
Just left her to lay
In the arms, in the arms of the sea.

[trisherina]

Stand up straight at the start of the end
Just as if there's a soul to defend
But dissemble and smile
And just bide a wee while
Til it's time to say, Goodbye, my friend.

[Marcus Bales]

A poet walked in for a brew
“For some beers I’ll recite you a few.”
We bought – a mistake,
For we found it would take
A lot more to shut him up, too.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

On an island in far Polynesia
Lives a maiden called Aphrodisia
And a skirt made from grass
Barely covers her arse
Which she shakes all day long just to tease ya

[Marcus Bales]

They'd pawned all their textbooks, apart
From two, each one close to one’s heart.
But that money’s gone,
So now do they pawn
The Horace before the Descartes?

[Ze Frank]

My wife one cooked me a romantic dinner
I told her it was great, a surefire winner
Then I got up from the table to leave
Straight to the bathroom to heave
The food not fit for a saint, but more suited for a sinner

[Marcus Bales]

My wife one cooked me a romantic dinner
I told her it was great, a surefire winner
Then I got up from the table to leave
Straight to the bathroom to heave
The food not fit for a saint, but more suited for a sinner

http://www.zefrank.com/bulletin/showthread.php?t=863

First, Wife one? Out of how many?

Second, the meter you've elected here is iambic, not dactylic.

Third, you have one too many beats in each line, except the last, where you have four too many beats -- 7 beats in what is supposed to be a 3 beat line.

Fourth, the sense of the thing is awry -- what does "saint" and "sinner" have to do with the romance of, or the quality of, the dinner? It's clear that you just ran out of ideas at the end of the poem and stretched for a rhyme.

This is not Ze Frank, this is some imposter. Boo. Hiss.

Marcus

[trisherina]

A poet found stretching for scan
Is somehow made less of a man
Whether fast bullets fly
Or wife one makes a pie
It's no way to make me a fan.

[Ze Frank]

http://www.zefrank.com/bulletin/showthread.php?t=863

First, Wife one? Out of how many?

Second, the meter you've elected here is iambic, not dactylic.

Third, you have one too many beats in each line, except the last, where you have four too many beats -- 7 beats in what is supposed to be a 3 beat line.

Fourth, the sense of the thing is awry -- what does "saint" and "sinner" have to do with the romance of, or the quality of, the dinner? It's clear that you just ran out of ideas at the end of the poem and stretched for a rhyme.

This is not Ze Frank, this is some imposter. Boo. Hiss.

Marcus


Just testing. I wanted to make sure you were all paying attention. ;)

[Marcus Bales]

There are frauds in the country and city,
Both singly and met in committee;
They can sometimes pretend
To be serious, friend,
But they cannot pretend to be witty.

A pal said this might not be true --
That he knew of somebody who
Pretends to be funny
And makes lots of money
By shouting fake jokes at a shrew.

So I turned on the kitchen TV:
It was worse than I thought it would be.
Those joke-toids from Regis
Were truly egregious
And my family thought it was me!

[Marcus Bales]

"There aren't enough Euros or dollars,"
The soprano who hates Germans hollers,
"To get me to sing
That "Ode to Joy" thing,
Nor that "Lied von der Erde" of Mahler's!"

[Marcus Bales]

English is certainly fraught
With oddness; for instance, we've got
The dactyl's example:
Iambicly ample,
While iambic pentameter's not.

[Audreyvgs]

I put Bales and Zo-chi on ignore
their egos were starting to bore
me to tears and with that
in two seconds flat
These threads are no longer a chore!

It must look really bad if you wouldnt
hit ignore but i know that most couldnt
flip the switch on these two
but its sweet if you do
free speech dictates that probly you shoudn't

I can cause i've had my fill
of poo throwing here on this hill
comes my five thousanth post
and its not more or most
im amazed that im posting here still

Some others have taken a powder
cause others have shouted out louder
than they could or they wanted
but i'm here undaunted
but sometimes i feel like a doubter

That others can leave it just be
cause nothing is stronger than we
who decide to be nice
and take the advice
of who started the thread, he or she

So if i seem cold or banal
just look up you ear's long canal
if you have a brain
you won't cause me pain
you'll be less of an ass, more a pal

this forum is non-invitational
and values are pure situational
true artist does not
treat artist as snot
by ignoring you i'm confrontational

by being here you have agreed
to fulfill in yourself some odd need
converse, one another
but i'm not your mother
to nurture or listen or feed

Your goal is in some denomination
some reach out for like communication
if thats what it is,
then stick to your biz
an fvck all with dumb complication

so practice what you've got in store
Ill look when i see there is more
to your soul and your heart
then i'll give a fart
bout the artist that lives at your core.

[Marcus Bales]

Canto III

1."Alright!" I can hear you complain
"Get on with it! Don't be a pain!"
And who could refuse
When given such cues
As "Alright" to compose a refrain?

2.When it's written as one single word
"Alright" makes "all right" seem absurd
As if as they grew
Too together the two
Too together engendered a third.

3.Like "The Kids Are Alright" by The Who,
That guitar-screaming, lead-tenor crew
Who, on vinyl and stage,
Were a 70's rage --
And accomplished grammarians, too.

4.The grammatical battles we wage
Are often a cultural gauge:
Those who say "It's all right,"
Are probably white
And approaching retirement age.

5.Alright! Alright! I'll pursue
The plot, but I thought that you knew
All epics require
An elegant lyre --
And a musical instrument, too.

6.And speaking of which, at the meal,
As the main speaker started, a squeal
Through the wireless mike
Like an audible spike
Made for startled looks down at the veal.

7.The "Wireless Microphone Law"
Says, "Whatever most sticks in the craw
Of meeting attenders
The frequency renders
More clearly the more it is raw."

8.This wasn't just raw, it was rock
So loud it was heard for a block;
And Joan still attests
That a couple of guests
Were hastily treated for shock.

9.When the "Oath of Rehearsals" is vowed,
Musicians all swear they'll play loud
In the room just adjacent
To whatever nascent
Rapport you've achieved with your crowd.

10.The point of it is, after all,
To flout those one cannot appall:
I have to believe
Even Adam and Eve
Got a rise out of God with their Fall.

11.And I'll bet that their music was vile,
Just seething with sibilant style,
And that Heaven preferred
The encouraging word
And a music that made angels smile.

12.But Joan and The Patrick are wise
To the ways of musicians, and rise
At the wireless squeal,
Ignoring their veal
And their speaker's incredulous eyes.

13.They know if they get through the door
And turn off the power before
The band even starts
They'll save a few hearts
And maybe the contract, what's more.

14.But the kid on the drumkit kicks in
Just as Joan and The Patrick begin
Their race for the doors
While the bassist explores
The subsonic realms of the din.

15.They struggled and pushed at the door
Against the continuing roar
Of drumkit and bass
Like a gale in your face
On the lee of a boulder-strewn shore.

16.The door opened wide with a boom
And music flash-flooded the room;
In the midst of their strain
They swore they'd complain
If they only could figure to whom.

17.They're thrown back and forth in the noise
Like a toy in the grip of two boys
Who fight in the sand
Keeping one grubby hand
On the other one's favorite toys.

18.They struggled to force the doors closed
As the dueling guitar heroes hosed
The rooms with their streams
Of interpretive screams
While the lead singer strutted and posed.

19.They heard what was coming, and fought
With desperate strength as they sought
To count out the beat
To the break of complete
Tranquillity right on the dot.

20.They forced the doors closed with a bang
In that hush right before the kid sang.
As he started his shout
They were looking about
For the plug as their ears hummed and rang.

21.Joan reached in her bag with a curse
As the volume of music got worse;
She pulled out some cotton
She'd reached in and gotten
From a bottle of pills in her purse.

22.She gestured which wall she'd be hugging,
The left one, of course, while unplugging
Each wire in sight;
The Patrick went right,
And signaled agreement by shrugging.

23.On hands and knees close to the ground
They fought their ways slowly around
Though slowed to a crawl
And pressed to the wall
By the buffeting billows of sound.

24.She felt the rug snag at her hose
And said something angry in prose
As the run at her knee
Started up ... but then we
Needn't follow as far as it goes.

[zenbabe]

I am not really sure what to say

[Marcus Bales]

25."As far as it goes ..." What a thought!
I'm really not doing that hot:
It's now Canto Three
And she's snagging her knee ...
Is this all the further I've got?

26.In five thousand words you might think
I'd be further along than the brink
Of a run in a stocking;
It's more than just shocking:
It's reason for starting to drink.

27.A drink! One would taste good right now
Perhaps it'll lead me to how
To follow that run
From where it's begun
In a lyric the law will allow.

28.A drink! Ah! But then, again, no.
I tried that an hour ago;
Perhaps just the mix?
But no, that won't fix
A story already too slow.

29.A drink in the glass is worth two
In the bottle, I'd say, wouldn't you?
But having the bottle
I've found that a lot'll
Do better than having a few.

30.At least it does better for me,
Though, drunk as I might like to be,
A reader might think
That too much to drink
Is not the ideal point d'appui.

31.To hell with the readers, I say,
If any are thinking that way.
They've got to be drunk
To ever have sunk
To reading this much of my lay.

[Zatoichi]

I am not really sure what to say
I haven't the means now to pay

[Audreyvgs]

I am not really sure what to say
sure you do, you're here to play
you write the whole thing
in this go it alone ring
if you dont know, i ask ¿por que?

[Audreyvgs]

I made my dog a dog bed
outta burlap and then tc said
thats too rough for a dog
he wont sleep like a log
i laugh cause he'd sleep on a sled!



he'd sleep on a hard bed of nails
with prickers all stuck in his tail
i feed him enough
he's sleepy and tough
enough tough to sleep thru a gale

[Marcus Bales]

32.A lay! Maybe that's what I need!
Er ... maybe right after I've peed.
But wait! On that tack
We'd soon be right back
To where runs in Joan's stockings might lead.

33.Okay, I'll get on with my chronicle
Of Joan's and The Patrick's harmonical
Endeavor to cut
Off the power to what
Their clients think anti-euphonical.

34.She pulled out a plug and then winced
As the only thing pulling evinced
Was a hip thrust and smirk
As the smug skinny jerk
Of a lead singer Daltryed and Princed.

35.The Patrick stood up in a trance
And Joan could perceive at a glance
It wouldn't be long
'Til he broke into song
Or started the air-guitar dance.

36.She winced once again and went pale --
She noticed she'd broken a nail
And it's worse than she fears --
But she swallows her tears,
Determined that she will not fail.

37.She flings the dead wire aside
And gathers the shreds of her pride --
The Patrick’s in trouble!
She crawls on the double,
Concern for The Patrick her guide.

38.His fingers have started to twitch;
His hip gives a hesitant hitch;
She tackls his knees
As nice as you please
And his arm hit the wall by the switch.

39.He still has the presence of mind
To flick the switch down and thus blind
The gods of guitar
To where they both are
As they pull all the cords they can find.

[Audreyvgs]

*bump* to post lata

[zenbabe]

*bump* to post lata
after I play with Google Beta

[Audreyvgs]

*bump* to post lata
after I play with Google Beta
after message board posting
and a blog that im hosting
my post that is here will be greata

[dddrum]

Ka-whippety furlongs o' glue
Purport to abort mush adieu
Go flap in the shatter
Cirrhosis? No matter
So gather some doggies who do


:confused:

[Marcus Bales]

Esmerelda arrived where a bunch
Of her gypsies had barbecued lunch
At the table d'hote
She asked "Where's my goat --
Quasimodo, do you have a hunch?"

[Coffee]

"Cum" they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
"Turn your face this way, that way your bum"
"Slap that tight booty"
said to the buff cutie...
Then he smiled at me, me and my drum.

[Marcus Bales]

The birthday boy waved, "Hey, I'm Tim!"
It's a good thing the moonlight was dim
Or the pizza girl might
Have been shocked at the sight
He waved there like some other limb.

[Marcus Bales]

Evolution

Whenever I think of a critter
If I don't get the jitters, one jitter
Will shake me, at least,
At the thought of a beast
Whose eyes fix upon me and glitter.

I hope you don't think I am bitter
But when I am all of a twitter
I cannot explain
Why a big folded brain
Is thought to be fit, much less fitter.

I’d rather have muscles and claws
And teeth set in slavering jaws
And horns like a rhino's
When eerie albinos
Reticulate, not Darwin’s laws.