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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