Hanged or Hung

The finer points of grammar,
Cannot be too widely sung,
If your tense is incorrect,
You may find that you’ve been stung,
It’s easily thought something wrought,
Can perhaps in time be wrung,
Please be careful when you say,
You prefer men hanged or hung.

Auto fellatio

If you’ve the will and flexiblity,
Length and elasticity,
You might give autofellatio a try,
Though apart from curiosity,
And lack of spousal generosity,
I really fail to see the reason why,
The chance is very bad,
That you’ll be the best you’ve had,
You’re gonna have to face yourself and lie,
And even if things stay on track,
And you don’t screw up your back,
You’re quite likely to get shot in the eye.

The Burka Dance

Burkas in France,

Now don’t stand a chance,

And I’m not really sure where I stand,

I think quite liberally,

And I’d sure hate to see,

The flames of intolerance fanned,

Though it’s hard to refuse,

One’s own right to choose,

There’s one thing I don’t understand,

It’s not religion or race,

Burkas cover your face,

Could I wear one since I am a man?

To Paulo, with love: a limerick

(Yes, I know I said my next post would be a WOTD, but I need to give that a little more thought…)

This is dedicated to our dear friend Paulo Nunes, with respect, admiration and the greatest affection:

A spicy young fellow from Brazil,
Planned on working out daily until,
He became the crowned queen
Of the bodybuilding scene,
And the king of the weightlifting hill.

Ode to the Cow

Man vyi via Wikimedia Commons

ODE TO THE COW

Oh you magnificent beast,

Your skin embraces us from the Elements,

Your flesh brings nourishment to our bruised bodies.

Your milk strengthens our bones and quenches our thirst!

Your power pulls our plow… Across the fields that your manure nurtures…

Our bread is baked in the oven fueled by the same!

Oh you magnificent beast, even your death in a noble arena is not Forgot!

DUELLING GODOTS

Ken: is wondering what the heck is keeping Godot. I’ve been waiting for ages.

Steve: Well, it’s not like he’s at your Beckett and call.

Ken:
As many people know,
While waiting for Godot,
There’s a tendency for life to be frustrating,
The secret, oft implied,
Is one must be occupied,
For the silence then tends not to be so grating.

Steve:
To wait for Godot
is a farce, you must know,
a comedic display of our lot.
The only sure bet
to beat death is a wet
Pilsener: that and a shot.

Ken:
What was it he meant?
What was Beckett’s intent?
Was Godot death? Our ultimate fate?
We can muse through our rhyme,
And indeed pass the time,
At the tavern, with Pilsener, and wait.

Steve:
Beckett said Feckit when asked
the meaning of life, so that task
is assigned by default to mean ‘fate’.
Existentially speaking it’s crass
to expect us poor bastards to pass
all our time with a drink and a wait.

Ken:
With meaning it’s rife,
Some say death, I say life,
The distinction lay in the details,
Interpretations abound,
So you buy the next round,
While we wait to see which one prevails.

Steve:
When I’m laid in my family plot
(id est Death–not some casual slut),
I expect that I’ll offer a toast:
‘Bottoms up!’ I will cry
though I don’t mean to die
with rump placed well uppermost.

Ken:
Beckett posed questions essential,
Both serious and existential,
Though complex and rich,
Life can oft be a bitch,
With shitstorms that are most torrential,
Still we search and always are gleaning,
Trying to give life some sort of meaning,
We sometimes lose our bearings,
With all sorts of red herrings,
For it’s only we that can give life potential.

An Ode to Spring

You shine away my winter woes and thaw my frozen heart.
You warm my toes and gently force the flower buds apart.
You also bring the pollen breeze,
Which gets up my nose and makes me sneeze.
But, I’d rather have you here than not.
No spring would be an awful thought.
So, I’ll stockpile antihistamines,
And trade winter blues for springtime greens.

Ripping flesh…

Nine months ago I hadn’t eaten meat for twenty years,
Then something shifted deep inside I suddenly changed gears.
Perhaps back then, in fluffy times, being veg was well and good,
When saving earth was in theory something that you should,
But “should” is gone, it’s out the door, replaced by “shall” and “must”,
No more time to “have a dream”, it’s do or die or bust,
When theory shifts to pratice, keep your both feet on the ground,
Cuz only them that walks the walk will still be standing round,
Times are harder, meaner, with no button to “refresh”,
So me I’m changing stances, and gone back to ripping flesh.