Now They’re in Trouble

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ISIS smash art, Islamic State, Islamists kill Christians in Syria, Jihadists in ISIS, limerick, poem, poetry

Sure, kill all the Christians, but wait –
Those statues you can’t desecrate!
Smash flesh blood and bone
But don’t you dare harm stone;
No dead ancient art annihilate.

the-un-more-concerned-about-statues-than-human-beings

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Je suis terrifié

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Je suis Charlie, limerick, poem, poetry

Cartoonists, stop being so shy.
It’s such a great job, so apply.
At Charlie Hebdo
You’ll rake in the dough.
(But spend it, for soon you will die)

charlie-hebdo-riches-fail-draw-cartoonists

Heart Starter

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Gay Mardi Gras, limerick, poem, poetry

We’re off to the Mardi Gras later.
Just me and my Ma and my Pater.
Yep, Mammy and Pappy
Think gay just means happy.
(I’m taking a defibrillator)

3 Angry Replies to “Sizable Lies”

Tags

limerick, poem, poetry

A fat heterosexual man is known as a “Big Handsome Man”, in counterpart to a “ Big Beautiful Woman”. Like gay men, BHMs have sexualized their difference and receive validation of this identity from BBWs or from straight women known as “Female Fat Admirers” – extract from Wikipedia.

BHM

I’m a man and I’m handsome and big.
For your satire I don’t give a fig.
If your limericks don’t cease
(Claiming we are obese)
I will snap off your arm like a twig.

BBW

How dare you insinuate that!
That we beautiful women are fat.
To your dastardly fate
I would lend all my weight.
(As an elephant squashes a rat)

FFA

Of your loathsome low limericks I tire,
For fat people I deeply admire.
The fatter the better;
To conclude my letter –
Go sink in a stinking quagmire!

Sizable Lies

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Fat Acceptance Movement, limerick, People of Size, poem, poetry

Those enormous, obese gals and guys
With big bellies and thunderous thighs,
That we used to call fat;
Now you mustn’t say that.
They are now known as: “People of Size.”

I’m not fat – I’m a person of size.
I’m constructed of burgers and fries.
And I eat what I like;
You can go take a hike,
But first pass me that pack of pork pies.

Topsy-turvy

Tags

limerick, poem, poetry, social engineering

We’ve come up with a brilliant idea:
It’s a world where the straight will be queer,
And the gay will be straight,
The inadequate great,
And the weak rule the stronger by fear.

The Farkleberry Tree

Tags

Australian bush poetry, australian formal poetry, Farkleberry tree, poem, poetry, Sparkleberry tree, Vaccinium arboreum

One Summer’s day, his love and he,
Beneath the Farkleberry tree,
Gazed through the leaves unto the sky,
And swore their love would never die.
But then a cloud obscured the blue;
The rain poured down and soaked them through.
The lightning flashed and thunder rolled
And both now shivered with the cold.
Then came a fierce and mighty crack –
A fiery bolt shot from the black
And threatening sky; it struck the tree
Before the couple home could flee.
Now there beneath a blackened stump,
A mound of earth, a mournful hump
Is marked to show the lovers’ bed.
(They buried them, for they were dead).
The moral of this fateful tale?
Should you be caught out in gale;
If high above the dark clouds form
And herald an approaching storm,
And with your love you wish to cower
Beneath a green and leafy bower,
Most people with some sense agree:
Don’t choose a Farkleberry tree.

Imagine

Tags

australian formal poetry, Formal poetry, poem, poetry

Imagine there’s just silence;
No tune to hum or sing.
Imagine all the violence,
The crescent moon would bring.

It isn’t hard, it’s here now.
It’s waiting down the street.
It’s time to watch, and fear now,
The steady march of feet.

Smoke on the Desert

Tags

ISIS, limerick, poem, poetry

The Arab Spring turned into Summer
And all hell broke loose – what a bummer.
Now drums, they are burning;
The West should be learning,
They’ll soon be combusting the drummer.

Overstepping the Line

Tags

australian formal poetry, Australian traditional poetry, ISIS, poem, poetry

Beheading was merely annoying,
But now they are burning our drums.
It’s OK some humans destroying,
But instrument killers are bums.

So please won’t you nuke ‘em Obama;
These turbaned, unmusical loons.
Go blast ‘em to Hell – it is Karma;
They’re messing about with our tunes.