Limericks from Hell

[Lightning Rod]

So, doreen has been writing formal poetry
she's a much better poet than I
she can write a sonnet perfectly
and strings of haiku
and rictometer (which I call rectalmeter) and tanka
I'm not much into formulaic poetry
I think the ideas should drive
and not the form
I don't usually waste my time
trying to cram my ideas into a cookie cutter

But there is one exception
I love limericks

I went bananas
at Litkicks on St. Patty's Day last year
and wrote these in about an hour.

Limerick Therapy

I went to limericks anonymous
because my behavior wasn't autonomous
I took a shower
with my higher power
and now limericks and I are synonymous

There once was a lady from Litkicks
Who wrote all her poems in black lipstick
Her tats and her piercings
And her brave ambrose biercings
Her fabulous intricate inktricks

There once was a poet named jota
Who wrote more poems than his quota
He just rolls his eyes
At the Pulitzer Prize
And drives off in his Toyota

There once was a swabby named knip
He was a sailor that shot from the hip
He just never planned
To get seasick on land
So now he just stays on the ship

There was a guy named Billectric
A Master of smooth dialectic
He tells you the stories
Both gentle and gory
No cynic but maybe a skeptic

Once a young man from Decatur
Put his member through a grater
When asked what he’d done
He just said, “Son,
That’s why my name’s Foolish Paeter

there once was a young Scot named Bennie
you can tell by my fingers so skinny
that I'm a professional poet
how would you know it?
I haven't yet taken a penny.

women who suffer from menopause
are like cats that forget how to draw their claws
I don't mean to slander
the goose or the gander
but do men go through womenopause?

There once was a Buddhist from Punk
Who was so full of venom and spunk
A drunk and stoned liar
From the Island of Ire
In the morning he’ll smell like a skunk

Feral is virtual thunder
Comes from the land of down under
A natural child
Domestic to wild
His thoughts are all scattered asunder

There once was a panta named rhei
She walked in the forest one day
She juggled and ran
And deepened her tan
She blessed the ground where she lay

There once was a lass named doreen’
Although visable couldn’t be seen
It couldn’t be queerer
She passed though the mirror
Observed but never obscene

There once was a Dave name of Dov
And everytime push came to shove
The internet it’s
Just giving him fits
Remember no love without glove

There was a young man named Bush
Who conquered the Afghani Kush
Then he jumped on Iraq
And caught him some flack
Then was thrown out on his tush

There once was girl name of 'Cracker
She became an internet hacker
She told E-Bay to get
a poet laureate
And now they're her corporate backers

[bennie]

there was a weathered ol' flutesman called Clay
who blew out his notes every day
the notes that he played
were all tangled and frayed
like the hair on his head turning grey

a poett from texas named LR
with a poetikul talant so stellar
wrote words maid ov gold
32 carat, trooth be told
but even he knows he's no spellar


-----edit-----
the scots poet with the delicate hands?
they ferociously tug at his glands.
he spends all day in bed
pulling it off at the head
if he's not careful he'll rip it to strands

[perezoso]

A flautist who lived in DC
liked his gals and verses greasy--
before playing his pipe
he always did wipe
the slime from his ancient PC


A poet is never a Scot,
or a gook, a wop, or a twat--
those hicks who spew words
as if they were turds
will in hades happily rot....


heh heh I like that one.

[Lightning Rod]

there once was a young perezoso
who acted at times like a bozo
then he was nice
when eating his rice
and drinking medicinal ouzo