Hercule Whatsisface Investigates: A Nonsense Alphabet

“Cet homme’s succumb’d to chocolat du mal,”
states Christie sleuth Hercule PoiRoaldDahl.
“That poor sod’s lost far more than just his hair,”
notes private eye Hercule PoiRobespierre.

“A Tory ball lopped off his left big toe,”
declares Ur-snoop Hercule PoiRochambeau.
“This lad’s been stabbed – by Bloom, the Irish mohel,”
claims CDI Hercule PoiRoddyDoyle.

“Both Mom and fetus: wasted…with a spade,”
states Christie sleuth Hercule PoiRoevWade.
“The misfired pistol turned his features black,”
notes private eye Hercule PoiRoffignac.

“It’s ‘animation craze turned deadly habit,’”
declares Ur-snoop Hercule PoiRogerRabbit.
“The windmill snagged his locks. They proved too snarly,”
claims CDI Hercule PoiRohanMarley.

“The murder weapon? This: His Grace’s lance,”
states Christie sleuth Hercule PoiRoideFrance.
“Murio d’un exceso d’inactivo,”
notes private eye Hercule PoiRojoVivo.

“She drown’d, caught in a freak torrential soaker,”
declares the famous snoop Hercule PoiRoker.
“Just like TV: he’s killed by blowgunn’d drones,”
claims CDI Hercule PoiRolinJones.

“’Twas by a kiss he died; that much we know,”
states Christie sleuth Hercule PoiRomeo.
“Can politics prove deadly? Ask Gahagan,”
Notes private eye Hercule PoiRonaldReagan.

“Look: bite marks from a rabid kangaroo,”
Declares Ur-snoop Hercule PoiRooandPooh.
“A full ten rounds? The poor mug couldn’t cope,”
Claims CDI Hercule PoiRopeaDope.

“They shot butyric acid in his knees,”
states Christie sleuth Hercule PoiRoquefortCheese.
“She died from being quizzed (she tried her best),”
notes private eye Hercule PoiRorschachTest.

“This bloodied cross secured her execution,”
declares Ur-snoop Hercule PoiRosicrucian.
“Flesh? Torn to shreds! His corpse bears not a stitch,”
claims CDI Hercule PoiRottweilBitch.

“Some Chinese dim sum dealt the final blow,”
states Christie sleuth Hercule PoiRoujiamo.
“These books build character. That book destroys,”
notes private eye Hercule PoiRoverBoys.

“Alas! She never made it ‘cross the moat,”
declares the snoop Hercule PoiRowYerBoat.
“She perished while auditioning the part,”
caims CDI Hercule PoiRoxieHart. 

“In this, our gray-scale world, she could not live,”
states Christie sleuth Hercule PoiRoyGBiv.
“He died of cancer. Death you just can’t cheat,”
sums up Hercule PoiRozzelle (call him ‘Pete’).

"Ali rebuffs, then snuffs, thick thieves, then stuffs their thievings up his sleeves..." Gazillionaires and How They Stay that Way: A Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

Ali rebuffs then snuffs thick thieves, then stuffs their thievings up his sleeves.
Born-to-wealth Montgomery Burns “forgets” to file his tax returns.
Cry Cross and Clampett (Noah, Jed), “Don’t broadcast ‘bout our ‘bundant bread.”
Dantes, Dives, Drumpf, De Vil: but four who love the Treas’ry Bill.
Everyone knows J. R. Ewing. Name the stock swaps J. R.’s doing!
Foolish Osgood Fielding’s loot impels him towards forbidden fruit.
Gatsby, Grand, Goldfinger, Gekko: not a one picks up the checko.
Henderson and Thurston How’ll: each man’s thrown in the temp’rance tow’l.
It’s Iron Man (read ‘Tony Stark’). What funds his fights? The German mark.
“Jingling of the guinea” bolsters Janoth’s job. (Then guns leave holsters.)
Keeping Rosebud’s not enough for Kane: “Can’t I keep all my stuff?”
Lex Luthor, Linus Larrabee: to live de luxe, their lucre's key.
Montpelliers, Miduses, McDucks: their gelt’s on Google (search ).
Nickels, dimes and quarters be the life’s blood of Ralph Nickleby.
Only Chatsworth Osborn fils some fils* keeps in his fund de Suisse.
     * A denomination of the UAE.
Potter, Pontifex and Pike (like Pennybags) all lucre like.
Quatermain and Q both know: it’s always all about the dough.
Richie’s one beaucoup baksheesher. (Nouveau riche grow nouveau “reesher.”)
Sternwood (general), Sinbad (tar): how unlike us the tres riche are!
Trimalchio and Beresford Tipton: Lads! Such scads of scrip you drip in!
Undershaft casts ingots -- tons! His modus o.? “I first cast guns.”
Van Gleasons I and II were tight. And Reggie III? He’s tight alright.
Wonka, Wayne and Warbucks draw, for gobs of groats, on Gresham’s Law.
Xerxes and Professor X make tons of funds by forging checks.
Yue’s counterfeiting shuck: a brand new take on “make a buck.”
Zaleski hoards his princely stash, yet won’t stake me from petty cash.

"There's no longer the up- or the downside. No more Giv'at Shmuel or Riyadh..." Just People: They're Good or They're Bad

There's no longer the up- or the downside.
No more Giv'at Shmuel or Riyadh. 
No more A; no more Z. No sir, take it from me:
there's just people; they're good or they're bad.

There's no more Amy Goodman or Fox.
No more whole enchilada or tad.
No more epic sublime or lascivious rhyme.
There's just people: they're good or they're bad.

What of Worlds...? No more First; no more Second.
(And the Third World's been thoroughly had.)
As regards yin or yang, there just "ain't no such thang."
There's just people: they're good or they're bad.

No more earth, water, fire or air.
Red or blue? Nope! (And, truly, no plaid.)
No more senior or teen. (Nor there's nothing between.)
There's just people: they're good or they're bad.

There's no longer the male or the female. 
No more unseasoned frosh or post-grad.
There's no more right to life, and the choices aren't rife.
There's just people: they're good or they're bad.

There's no longer the black or the white,
and this state of affairs...? Ironclad.
No more famine or wealth. No more illness or health.
There's just people: they're good or they're bad.

There's no longer the I or the Thou.
There's no more avant-garde, no more trad.
Nope, the way things are now (few know why, fewer how),
there's just people: they're good or they're bad.