Haec die? Heck! We pray for the sad Almos’quito!
He’s pissed. His bliss? Dissed. Missed? His finishing touch.
On a pilgrimage to the Madonna at Quito,
planned fait accomplis remained faits incompleato.
He threw in the speedo at Tampa-St. Pete. O,
like loaves multiply his resolve (not enough, Lord)!
Like fishes jumpstart his “volish” (a lot rough, Lord)!
Then dish some tough love to his butt -- in the buff, Lord!
Plus, purge his inertia (too much)!
Amen.
The Bendaire-Dune Gnat
My fair br’ers: share my prayers for the
Bendaire-Dunne Gnat.
Omigod! Is there nada she’s not
done? Or feigned?
Or smoked (chained)? Or been charged with? Or
discharged her gun at?
Or eaten? Or beaten? Or had too much fun at?
No QE2 missed? No gymkhana not won at?Or eaten? Or beaten? Or had too much fun at?
God fulminates, “Pray thou be not one!”
Amen.
The Cootie Crass
De
grace coup? Nope: that's Tuesday’s trope.
For Cootie Crass today we pray.His failures? Man! So misanthropic,
tales of Coot bloom, arch-Aesopic.
Castigations agitpropic, fired at Rome, from St. Pete’s dome,
get mired near Nome (so far from home!)
yet still ring trop in Saint-Tropez.
Amen.
Hark! Mark my remark! Darn that dark
Deevey Ant,
duly dubbed, due to “deevyus” behavior.Though one strains to imagine a ruder, one can’t.
Deevie’s mood? Ever cruder. Deeve’s snood? All aslant.
Do defend us from Deeve, crass corrupt Corybant,
we beseech thee, please, Dear Lord and Savior.
Amen.
The 18 1/2-Year Locust
The Eighteen and One-half Year Locust is
late.
O
mon dieus: grant us
clues what to do with her.First, she’ll schedule, for five o’clock, one tete-a-tete.
Then she’ll idle and dawdle and “procrastinet.”
On arrival at (fi-i-i-i-nally!) quarter past et
this teen vows to atone, perhaps lob God a bone.
(Lately, even St. Jude doesn’t screw with her.)
Amen.
The Flea Lunch
“Do thy math,” Matthew cautioneth.
“T'ain't no such thing.”
But his word goes misheard by Flea Lunch.
Hear Flea tease: “Master Flea’s got this world on a string” --
one he thought that he ought to have served a la king.
(And all this without his ever tithing a thing.)
May our Lord not disown him nor fire-‘n’-brimstone him.
But, how’s ‘bout a nice H’waiian punch!
Amen.
The Gather-Snow Moth
Hell’s Bells! Kneel! Bells’ knells peal
for the Gather-Snow Moth,
ever frettin' ‘bout gettin' connected.Though Gath’s bros to wed chose, still Gath’s loath to betrawth (sic),
as – sowing wild o’s like some gross Visigothic –
Gath stutters when mutt'rin,' “m-m-mother-in lawth.”
Mister Makewater-Wine: give (for God’s sake!) some sign.
Is Gaths’ orientation “thuthpected”?
Amen.
Please, Lord, heed as we plead for the
harried Hair Weevil,
so frantic to cover his losses that, abandoning strategies bent on retrieval,
he’s purchased “procedures” he’s come to believe’ll
provide denoument – or at least a reprieve. We’ll
pray Thou'll let Hair (though 'tis sinful to stare)
catch a glimpse of himself in his powder-room “mairr'r”
and behold all the bald alopecia there,
the more humbly to bear his great crosses.
Amen.
The Iraqnid
The Iraqnids we pray for begin with an
‘I’
and say grace to an alien deity.Them you’ll meet in the street in Tikrit, where it’s dry.
All you’ll see of jew’lled females is, maybe, an eye –
eyes, or even mere eyelids on orthodox ‘raqnids,
whose gossoons and grandkids grow up into traphids,
yet must, much like us, wish to be, to shout “Hi!”
May no christian convert 'em, nor Wal-Mart T-shirt 'em!
Just grant 'em their soupcon of gaity.
Amen.
The Jail Louse
Praise Jesu! We prays You grant peace to the Jail Louse,
cat’s paw in the injustice
system.He, nabbed in a raid on some Ft. Lauderdale house,
ends exiled, unsmiled on by Juvenal’s Bail House.
No telling how many more juveniles they’ll house.
(As feared, it’s appeared no one's missed ‘em.)
Amen.
The Katydidn't
Forgive Ms Katydidn’t, Lord, her errors
of omission.
Kate failed to splice that bungee cord,forgot to cry, “Man overboard!”
It’s not Kate’s deeds that have us floored
but Kate’s “deed nots” that prove untoward.
Kate just won’t do. Our prayer? “Je-e-e-su-u-u-u:
a little supervision...?”
Amen.
The Luke Worm
Let’s us pray for the Luke Worm who,
though not a kook worm,
lacks fire to aspire. Nope: she’ll juke with no duke worm.No gas! Zip pizazz! She can’t pass as no glow-worm.
Touch’-feely? Not really: She’s just a “so-so” worm.
Her sins? Insufficient to dub her a “hellnik.”
Still, Lu’s not earned heaven; she’s “non-non-parell” (sic).
Not scoundrel nor saint, not tom-boyscout or bimbo.
If’t please you, Lord Jeezu: are we smelling Limbo?
Amen.
The Mite Knott
For the Mite Knott we'd light not our taper in vain.
Make Mite make, for Crissake, up her
mind! (...up her mind!)Mite might offer, “I’ll drive,” then end taking the train.
Decants warm Mountain Dew when she’d promised champagne.
Yes, Mite’s in! No, Mike’s out! (Damn! Mike gives me a pain.)
Lord who ope’s myopes’ eyes, please materialize
and insist this nit shit or go blind. (Up her mind!)
Amen.
The Nayfly
Our flock, it would seem from our Nazarene’s dream,
may conceal in its bosom some Nayflies.Say’th the Lord, “Thou shalt transmogrify all No-Wayflies
till they’ve metamorphosed en masse into Yea!flies
(at least What-the-Hey!flies – not unlike Okayflies):
Oy!Vay!flies I shall not redeem.
“There’s no room in Da’s house for no Aucontraire Louse.
‘Nyet!’ to No!No!Nann Gnats. Veto Guido Mosquito!
Yea! Let come not to me even one Nottoo Bee,
nor no Rebuttalflies, nor no Drones de Deceito.
And on this very night, sure’s I’m semi-Semite,
all you guys will turn into Betrayflies.”
(Seems He’s had it to here with those Nayflies.)
Amen.
The O'Mye-Aiken Bacterium
Rue the day O’Mye-Aiken Bacterium joined
with our wee coterie of the godly.Aiken’s lachrymals, nigh to hysterium,
outstrip sighs sobbed to sounds of psalterium.
Like Niobe: all tears. Pray this Bac disappears.
She behaves, if not badly, most oddly.
Amen.
The Psychada
Ora pro nobis et sic the Psychada,The Psychada
Her lunacies label her mad as a hatter.
This clone of Pope Joan's proved a posh promenader,
nor no word of caution's been said to dissuade her.
(Our deacon suspects she’s a Martian invader --
this based on the ways her protub'rances swayed.) Ur-
eccentric, bizarre; stalks a singular star.
(Still God’s mildly amused by her fatuous chatter.)
Amen.
‘Twould appear there lurk Queerwigs
among our assembly.
But (not that there’s anything wrong
with that)their flamboyant behavior makes tons of us trembly
like spotting Martina in jodhpurs at Wembly.
When gals go all macho and guys get all femmebly,
dear Lord, must we just go along with that?
Amen.
The Rashopper
The Rashopper
“O Rashopper, O Rashopper, O ye of
paltry patience.
Are thy headlong nosedives in the dark
just our hallucinatience?”So speaks Paul in VII, iii as he admonishes Galatience:
“Ceaseth playing with thy Zippos lest thou suffer conflagratience!”
Ye who bargain blindly, know from nothing, play with jagged tools:
be ye jokers, jinxed to join thy jailmates’ partnerships of fools?
Yea, we’ll pray for thou. But if thou thou career refuse to check,
may angels poke out both thine eyes and break thy nasty little neck!
Amen.
The Skippda Beetle
The Skippda Beetle
O thou sorry Skippda Beetle: heed our
heartfelt orison:
We bless’d detest your quest to quest
(at best) the lesser answer.Though such shortcuts prove short-sighted
(are your mash notes still ghost-writed?)
yet you fail to see these errors of omission as a cancer.
Thus, today we pray; meet us halfway!
Attend and weigh without delay
(like, right away) the – come what may –
advantage of the thorough way
and please, we pray (though hell’s to pay),
don’t say, “Nay, nay: I can’t, sir.”
If not, accept anathema, thou beastly necromancer!
(Nor no guff -- enough's enough) -- how
Hitler’s such a dapper dancer.)
Amen.
The Tse
The Tse
See the Tse? Half a flea, and so
horribly bent.
(Can such void be the handwork of
thieves?)That’s just Tse: thus Tse’s feeling just fifty percent.
What’s more, who cannot note how Tse’s coat’s but half rent.
As it happens, he gave up that one ‘Tse' for Lent.
Once more, Scripture reveals (Luke IV, v): “How one feels
depends often on ‘what one bee leaves.’”
Amen.
The Unpopularva
Pray pray
(don’t bray) for Josip Broz,*
blest Baronet of Bratislava,latest in the lofty line of Bratislavan Brozes.
Schoolboys dubbed me “B&O,”
while Joss they tagged “Umpopyou Larva” --
me for want of hygiene, Joss for altruistic causes.
Now he’s Blessed Josip. Nosegays ornament his altar.
While he lived, we scorned poor Joss for focusing our thinking.
Hear us, please, and teach us to embrace all saints who reach us.
Can’t we all just learn to get along? (Plus, why am I still stinking?)
Amen.
* Not that Josip Broz. I.e., it's not Marshall Tito; it's just a mosquito.
The Voyeruist Tick
Let us proffer a prayer for the Voyeurist Tick.
This naff nit’s not unknown to the femmes of our flock,Let us proffer a prayer for the Voyeurist Tick.
femmes whose back-bedroom windows are Tick’s bailiwick,
femmes whose bosoms are carrots to Tick’s little stick,
femmes whose strutting and rutting makes everyone sick,
as they stretcheth and bendeth and hyper-extendeth,
distending rear ends as they fondle fast friends…
But I ought not go on till I hear some “Amen!”s…
(By God’s weal, has it really gone seven o’clock…?)
Amen.
Let us pray for the tabloid-thralled
Wanna Bees,
who (though humbug) ape some bug
they’re not.As do Parasite Hiltons, Madonna Bees
ingest dim Britney Spearwig biographies,
asking Jennifer Antiston devotees,
craving Cath’rine Mozquito-Jones fantasies:
“Be there neater bugs than Derek Jeeterbugs?”
“What did Katydid Couric tell Oprah Winflea?”
“Is it true Bryant Gumblebee’s still a wife-beater bug?”
“Is J-Lo LoPest done dating Lice-T?”
”Can it be Uma Vermin adores Pee-Wee Herman?”
“Ed McMantises: aren't they red hot…? Well…are they…?”
(Well…no, they are not.)
Amen.
Oremus! Blessed Dave Duchovnit, so
completely full of grace,
protect our planet from this peccant
plague: Potato Bugs from space!Oremus! Blessed Gilli’an Anterson. so nice and yet so naughty,
do, please, intercede for us on high, thou thinking layman’s hottie!
(And, when X-Flies die, unto the sky please beam 'em, Blessed Scottie!
Amen.
Our Lord fancies not the Yes Mantis
(amen!),
as there slithers no toad he won’t eat
(yea, amen!)And when fawning’s all done and we pray he has gone,
he again (yet again!) tongues our teat.
Yes, the Yes Mantis once licked the Archbishop’s boots.
Said His Grace, “That’s one toady triathlete!”
Now, to sick sycopant’ry, he’s added more flatt’ry.
We'll pray for this fey psychopathlete!
Amen.
These other arthro-worldly souls who
have abandoned hope:
Be they celebritsetses past reprieve?
Aren’t they forgiven? Nope!Yet, though Zygote To Hell’s a Nazi, don’t alert no paparazzi.
We’ll do nowt but chant their names aloud and gun our sunset bell
and know that they’re all unforgiveable – i.e., not fit-to-liveable –
and doomed to ask, “What if?” an’ pull the shortest straw in Hell.
Yea, and behind each name’s a knell (amen!)…behind each name’s a knell:
George Grubya Bush (Ding!) Ahmad ChalaBee (Dong!)
Angelina JoLeech (Ding!) Arnold SchwartzeChigger (Dong!)
Aristotle Oh!Gnatsis (Ding!) Adolph HitLarva (Dong!)
Barbra StreisAnt (Ding!) Ztse Ztse Topp (Dong!)
Bea Arthropod (Ding!) Barry ManiLouse (Dong!)
Christina AguiLarva (Ding!) Clint EastWoodtick (Dong!)
Condoleezza Lice (Ding!) Cornboris Yeltsin (Dong!)
David LetterMantis (Ding!) Duran Durantula (Dong!)
Evel Kweevil (Ding!) Elvis PresLeech (Dong!)
Fitty Centipede (Ding!) Flyza Minelli (Dong!)
Gnatalie Cole (Ding) Gypsy Rose Leech (Dong!)
Harvey Fierfly (Ding!) Herman GoerRingworm (Dong!)
Lewis "MoSkeeter" LieBee (Ding!) Yakov SmEarwig (Dong!)
Jay LenNosee'em (Ding!) Kiri Te KanaWasp (Dong!)
Kate Mossquito (Ding!) Tick Clark (Dong!)
Larry Daphid (Ding!) Leslie Sluggams (Dong!)
Michael JordAnt (Ding!) Maggott Thatcher (Dong!)
Millipede-Vanillipede (Ding!) Nick NolTsetse (Dong!)
Ronald/Nancy ReagAnt (Dong! Ding) Regis'N'Kathie Leech (Ding! Dong!)
Rob Lowecust (Ding!) Roseanne Barrfly (Dong!)
Rush Limbug (Ding!) Pamela Sue Anterson (Dong!)
Richard MilHousefly Nixon (Ding!) Spike Leech (Dong!)
Sigourney Weevil (Ding!) Sean HanNitty (Dong!)
Scarab Fawcett-Majors (Ding!) Truman CaPotatobug (Dong!)
Vanilla Lice (Ding!) Wink MartinSnail (Dong!)
Anathema, anathema...an' that's all, Ma...
...Amen.
