Thursday, March 3, 2016

Shall I Compare Thee to a Cone of Fries?

Shall I compare thee to a cone of fries?
Thou art less salty and less full of grease.
Partake of them, however, and your thighs—
as well our love—will gradually increase.

Sometimes too hot we're given them to hold;
we chew with open mouths and tilt our head
and beg for water—beg for water cold
but wouldn't dream to spit them out instead.

But thy eternal hotness doth not cool,
though fries may come and go with passing years,
and though they thrill me'nough to make me drool
their succor is but brief: it disappears.

You're better than all taters I have known.
Just kidding. Get your own damn paper cone.

Saturday, April 18, 2015

A Fauxhawk Via Magnetic Attraction; Delicious With Chips

"I'm having a really bad hair day,"
said famous old physicist Faraday.
"I'd lathered with benzene—
or so I'd thought—then seen
instead, I had used salsa verde."

Saturday, December 27, 2014

That Dude Is a Wiseass

I'm in search of the perfect flambé
I've scoured París to Bombay
"It's now called Mumbai,"
Interrupted some guy
Continuing, "How bout Pompeii?"

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Give Them What They Want

A masochist whom I called Max
Loved pain, loved restraints, and loved racks
He begged me for paraffin
So I took care of him
Doling out plenty of [whacks/wax]

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

A Western; probably a true story, too

There once was a young man named Jeremy
Who went to a brothel in Laramie
Six buff cowboys led
Him inside as he said,
"I thought this would be far more harem-y..."

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Leaving Bub with a stub, after drub.

Chef Bub's chicken pub was a hub
And the shrub-living scrubs he'd not snub
But he flubbed the jerk rub,
Raised hubbub from a cub
Who then clubbed him for sub-tasty grub

Saturday, November 27, 2010

A birthday limerick for my little cat

Shall you, cunning African serval
Be able to summon the nerve? Will
you soon say you've killed a feast?
Yes! It's a wildebeest!
So tasty with au jus and chervil. 

Monday, November 1, 2010

Yeah, but she cracked the Enigma. With attitude.

Locutus took on Maggie Estep
In a dissing war with this, his best step:
"Word," piped up the fly Borg
"Yo mama's so cyborg
She flunked out of her Turing Test prep."

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Whatever you quaff'll be not quite enoughful to clean your mouth free of that waffle

I'm cooking a troughful of waffle
They're awfully full of felafel
And German kartoffel
And organ meat offal
So rancid it should be unlawful

with thanks and apologies to Jan Hanseth

Friday, September 24, 2010

Word of the day

There once was a mayor named Eunice
Who favored a grand multimunic-
To form a small nation
By merging Chicago and Tunis.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Breaking the mold, or vice versa?

Me, howling: "Dead love, tell who killed you!"
Her: "If I remember it, will do!
But I fear I am going to
Fast disappoint you:
I'm sure I died chugging that milldew."

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Science is whatever we want it to be

The chemist was licking his chops.  He
thought he'd made a vaccine for the dropsy.  
But brewed from salamis,
No cure could it promise;
It only ensured an autopsy.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

And it's a sociology dissertation, too!

A postgrad need not be a TA
In order to cover her fee — A
worthwhile fiscal answer
Is work as a dancer!
No, not the nice kind who can plié.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Sometimes it takes a few tries.

A haunted thirteen year-old Aussie
Was exorcized under a cross.  He
went pale as Norwegians
Then belched, "We are Legions!
You can't spell 'possessed' without 'posse!'"

Sunday, September 12, 2010

He gave me a Leary look.

"No, officer, I'm not imbibin'"
I swore when he asked where have I been
"I booze less than yearly —
This flask here is merely
A liter of pure psilocybin."

Friday, September 3, 2010

I'm sorry in advance for this filthy piece of fanfic. But not sorry enough not to post it.

Up mountains whose clarity fog thwarts
Hermione snuck out of Hogwarts
Excited above would
Be miss Luna Lovegood
Dressed only in heels of Fluevog's sorts

What I think about whilst doing my "real" job

Come sleep, my kitten, here upon my lap
Your purring softly rattles like warm rain
I'll rub your belly while I grade this crap
Your love's the last resort that keeps me sane

My students fail at every nuance taught
Their sentences lack vital parts of speech
And so, sweet kitten, stay here in this spot
I'll daydream of what you'd be like to teach

You'd raise your little paw (to bat at thread)
You'd ask good questions — "When is lunch today?"
I'll pat you gently on your fuzzy head
In grasping tough ideas (or rather, prey)

I'd trade my students just to serve my cat
If only they'd give tenure out for that

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Carefully avoiding the word "cupid" does not pay the bills.

I'm a clever, yet poor fellow who, pid-
dly, earns less than old chums with their group id
My poet's heart says, "Your
cold money's no measure,"
But dammit, they're rich and yet stupid

Thursday, August 26, 2010

An Awful, Ahistorical Account

Born Benjamin, bright Boston's bulky boy
Commandingly came courting countries' change
Did destiny decline? Did death destroy?
Ethereal, eschewed 'e Earth's exchange

For further — fifty fathoms — Franklin flew
Gargantuan, gouged George (God's glorified)
He hurdled Heaven's high hullaballoo
'is independence it inspired inside

Jejune, Judge John Jay jeerèd joyfully
Kept kinship kindled, killed King's knowing knights
Less lethal letters lashed lads' loyalty
More minions marched, made Massachusetts' might

(Need narrative net nuance? Nail named's node:
Of oozing offal, or odiferous ode?)

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Must be the fumes.

We lounge in the steel mining pits erg-
onomincally while we eat grits.  Erg-
otism is common: we
've mold in our hominy!
That's how corn grows around Pittsburgh.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

On ice.

Wayne Gretzky, who's nicknamed "The Greatest"
Had nary a clue I'm a sadist
So with dark schadenfreude
I laughed, and destroyed a
Rare Stanley Cup won by that skatist

Poedo or poedo not; there is no poetry.

Bad poems? It's true that I write 'em
So christ'ning a blog to highlight 'em
Where rhymes were the cruelest
Was on my to-do list
But now I can check off that item