"All ador'd my angora..." Incomplete Abecedarial Paean to Plaid (A through L)

All ador'd my angora,
nor'd none dare ignore a
chemise made of Aertex I had.
Then I glimps'd Alan Ladd
on my iPad: Egad!
Was the shirt Al was girt with a plaid...?

Burlap broadcloth's unique,
and who'd not love batik,
nor'd a Battenberg lace be too bad.
But along bounded Brad:
weren't those jodhpurs he had?
And their braces and belts? All were plaid!

Cashmere, camel's hair, chintz,
cloth of gold (if mere hints).
Cloth which starts with C? Chiliads! Scads!
(Note: the PM of Chad 
(K. P. Deubet's the lad)
rules in compets and boubous -- all plaids!)

Damask, double-knits, duck,
with some denim (what luck!)
thusly dress'd, I'd resemble De Sade.
Then I thought of me Dad,
deadbeat dryad gone mad.
(Dad died dancing in dirndls of plaid.)

Each electronic textile,
in plain-, stripe- or check-style,
which to moi ensemble I'd add
called for stringent proscription
of cotton (Egyptian).
Egad! No more plaid? 'Tis too sad.

For sale: five five-Farad
capacitors. Where had
I found them to wear? In an ad.
Who'd foment such a fad?
Flavor Flav, who's a cad?
Nope! That fellow, by far, prefers plaid.

Give me gingham, then Gore-Tex.
A gauze pinafore next.
Then gabardine gowns of your dad's.
He'd the gonads to don 'em --
with quatrefoils on 'em.
Still, I'd be most glad to get plaids. 

Hand me hair shirts in herringbone,
hopsacks (to which I'm prone).
Harris Tweed widow's weeds? Rad!
(Did I spy, on your helipad,
once ev'ry hebdomad,
CONELRAD op'rants in plaid?)

I've loved fine Irish linen
and cotton that's Indi'n.
My feelings for these? Ironclad!
Till a book -- 'twas an Iliad
bought in Islamabad --
introduced Islamic plaid.

Jeremiads (my own)
flow in triads: I moan,
"Jerseys, jutes, Jacquard suits? Those I've had."
Now jihadists enlist
in Jamdani. I'm pissed:
they join up, jup'd and jodhpur'd, in plaid.

Kanye's kid brother styled --
to look kooky and wild --
all my kaftans and kurtas. Good lad!
But, like most city slickers,
he bypassed my knickers,
my kilts and my kicks. None are plaid!

Linsey-woolsey? A trace.
Leather briefs I embrace.
I've more linens than Vlad Lenin had,
who, in lush lingerie
done in lambs-wool lame,
long held sway. (Why's his loincloth not plaid?)

"Why's there something, then, rather than nothing...?" Suite (of) Nothings: An ABC About Aught

Why's there something, then, rather than nothing?
Are there answers heard, sounded by priests,
by philosophers or by the science guys?
Is it time timely inquiry ceased?

Hold your horse! Take a gander at Google!
Type in "N...O...T...H...I...N...G"!
Then add, one at a time, ev'ry alphabet letter,
It's nothing but nothings you'll see.

There's "nothing At (all)." There's "nothing But (net)."
There's "nothing Compares (2 U)" -- lest you forget.
"Nothing Doing," (warns Duke, "till you hear it from me").
There's Metallica's "nothing Else (matters)" -- in E. 

"Nothing Fancy" -- that's free. "Nothing Gold (stays)" -- that's Frost.
"Nothing's Holding (me back)" -- that's a ringtone, as well.
"It's (a show about) nothing," insists George Costanza.
There's "Nothing (Janne Teller's tome)": how'd that book sell?

There's "nothing Kumpares" -- once again, that's Sinead.
There's "nothing Lasts (longer than...)" -- add your own pun.
Whazzup? "Nothing Much." "Nothing Matters (as such)."
And there's "nothing New (under the sun)."

There's "(she's got) nothing On (but the radio)."
There's the film "Nothing Personal," too.
Ebert notes, "(There is) nothing Quite (like it)." Thumbs up!
"Nothing runs (like a Deere)," either...nu?

"Nothing Suits (like a suit)" sings young Neil Patrick Harris.
"(We've) nothing To (fear)," Franklin feigns.
And can mere verse reveal whether "nothing's Unreal"?
"Nothing Ventured"? Then, what be the gains?

There's "(comes easily) nothing Worth (having)."
There's "(the) nothing (for) Xmas (you're getting)."
There's "(the) nothing You (tell but the truth)" in a courtroom.
There's "Nothing: Zac (Brown's band)," I'm betting.

Nothings all. But exist they instead of the somethings?
And who shall put that to a test?
And yet, why is there something, not nothing?
Is that something we all should have guessed?

"Though an 'even''s seen in 'seven'..." What Are the Odds? An Anomoly of Numbers

Though an 'even''s seen in 'seven,' oddly, 7 isn't even.
That an 'even''s in 'eleven's odd: 11, too, ain't even.
An "An 'even''s seen in 'seven' although 7 isn't even"
seems, routinely, a fifteener. (Even so, 15 ain't even.)
An "An 'even''s in 'eleven' though 11 isn't even"
seems a byzantine fifteener. Still, 15 remains uneven.
(Note: these lines through which we plod
though, 'even's notwithstanding, odd,
we see wind down -- for which, thank God! --
and roundly boo'd as oddly flawed.)