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Thursday, April 5, 2018

Adrian's Arsenal (A Nonsense Rhyme)

  
Zany stick 
figyurs (sic
sketched by Zane.
You but scroll 
to butt whole 
worlds of pain.


Chum: beware 
l’homme de guerre 
avec sword!
His next move 
may well prove 
untoward.


Let’s assume 
gents with boom-
erangs might
take their best 
shots from nests 
out of sight.

Even kings 
heaving sling-
shotted stone…
may assail. 
(David’s tale 
is well known.)

Do avoid 
you the ‘droid 
with the wand!
Run! Go now
(None know how 
to respond.)

Note twin schmos 
totin’ bows. 
(Where’s his br’er?)
Skip their bar-
rows: tipped ar-
rows. Take care!


Fear this guy: 
near his thigh 
rests a knife.
Who’s not bet-
tin’ he’ll threat-
en your life?

Ought the per-
son caught cur-
sin’ wield axes?
Not at all! 
Swat that gall 
‘fore it waxes.


Queerest luck: 
here’s a schmuck 
with a crossbow.
‘Nuf’s enuf! 
None need suf-
fer such loss. Go!

Shit! This staff 
splits the chaff 
from the wheat.
Clue the gent: 
“You! Git bent!” 
[Hit ‘Delete’!]

When a bloke’s 
yen’s to poke 
with his spear
your left side, 
what’s left? Hide! 
Disappear!

Chimes next cad, 
“I’m Rex Badd! 
Fear my pata!”
Joke’s on him: 
folks him limn 
vir non grata.”

Ought the lad 
thought “not bad” 
with his whips…
get to snag 
a lit fag 
‘tween your lips?

Men may writhe 
when with scythe 
you attack ‘em.
Moral’s clear: 
more foil fear 
when they pack ‘em.

E-e-e-eek! A bomb,” 
squeaks the Mom 
of this fellow.
(“Show no fear!”’s 
what the dear 
gal should bellow.)

Ev’ry boychik 
who toyes (sic
with hammer…
must be tarred. 
(Trust you’ll pard-
on my grammar.)

Might who wields 
light new shields 
run some risk…
of a scrap 
with a chap 
with a disc?

Sound th’alarm! 
Bounder’s armed 
with a stick.
Answer? Charm: 
lance his kar-
ma with schtick.

Tykes with nothin’ – 
like Goths in 
old Edda --…
combat blind – 
though that kind 
should know betta.

“One's soul’s dead,” 
one droll said, 
“empty-handed.
Sans one’s gun, 
man’s undone: 
‘no-man’s land’ed!”

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