"His aim? to appall, folks. He's building a wall, folks..." Thaneeah...Thaneeah...That's All, Folks! or (Un)quiet F(o)l(l)ows the Don(ald): A Constrained Crambo

His aim? To appall, folks.
He’s framing a wall, folks.
His tweets? Folderol, folks.
His bleat, "I don't fall, folks,
don't stumble, don't sprawl, folks."
His hands are so-o-o-o-o-o small, folks.
So: how many justices might he install, folks?

His gazes ooze gall, folks.
His phrases? Banal, folks.
He answers folks’ call, folks.
His folks tend to brawl, folks.
And drawl with a “y’all,” folks.
And think he's King Saul, folks.
So: which third-world dictators does he enthrall, folks?

An indifferent pol, folks,
he claims wherewithal, folks.
His hair doesn't loll, folks
He combs with a maul, folks.
His brand makes a haul, folks.
He’s having a ball, folks.
So: when will his “telling it like it is” pall, folks?

His moll is a doll, folks.
His kids own the mall, folks.
His Hancock's a scrawl, folks.
His tales are all tall, folks.
“He’s nuts!” some folks bawl, folks.
Thus folks mustn't stall, folks.
So: what must folks do to make Drumpf cry, “Thaneeah...thaneeah...thaneeah...thaneeah...that's all, folks!"?

"In utt'ring the A word, I move my mates Mayward..." The A Word & Other Off-Limits Language or Verboten Verbiage: A Constrained Alphabet

(The 'April' and the 'buck')

In utt'ring the A word, 

I move my mates Mayward.

Its spirit? I fear it's 

enmoisten'd, post March,

while the B word Tru* hollers -- 

to guarantee dollars 

pols pass stop, at las,' 

at his desk -- shows tru' starch.

     * Not author Capote but former 

Buck-Backstop-in-Chief Harry S.

(The 'cuckold' and the 'drunkard')

C words go unmentioned 

by nerds ill-intentioned:

the wives of those guys 

toy with boys on the side.

As for D words? They're said 

when too much liquid bread

lets my bro into haut 

dipsomania slide.

(The 'enema' and the 'fart')

The E word shoots shivvers 

up colons, down livers,

'cuz rectal dysfunction's 

no man's mug o' tea.

And, though not what you think 'er, 

that F word's a stinker

once gas up one's ass 

proves one's fate (accompli).

(The 'green' and the 'halitosis')   

The G word, although it's 

the new blue to many,

is banned in all red states. 

(Do you vote in any?) 

The H word? Say they: he said 

she said I've got it.

(I say: Vescere bracis meis*…

or: sod it!)

     * Latin -- vulgar at that --

for "Eat my shorts!"

(The 'Injun' and the 'Jap')

Native American insult -- 

the I word.

Down under, it's 'abo' -- 

though such be not my word.

The J word, in Double U 

Double U Two,

seemed acceptable...then. 

(Oh! The evil men do!)

(The 'kike' and the 'lesbo')

'Round the last ring in hell 

one imagines Herr Ado'ph

pronouncin' the K word...

then laughin' his haid off.

Misogynist man-children 

whisper the L word...

then snort...then continue 

itiner'ries hellward.

(The 'more' and the 'nothing')

The M words gets mentioned 

by Oliver Twist

(all who do do get more...

and no slaps on the wrist),

while the N word,* to die-hard 

creationists? Weird!

They insist this world's made 

by some geez in a beard.

(The 'O-ring' and the 'panties')

It took Richard* to bring up 

the O word; he show'd

how, because rings were frozen, 

the Challenger blow'd.

And the P word: on Seinfeld 

this shorthand for 'scanties'

proves mentionable: 

Elaine mentions "the ______!"

     * Physicist Feinman

(The 'Quik' and the dead 'red')

Don't mention the Q word 

when visiting Hershey:*

they'll soak you in sauce 

till you're beggin' for mershey.

Suspected are you 

as the R word? McCarthy

will ruin your life -- 

till you're beggin' for “marthy.”

     * In Pennsylvania

(The 'shit' and the 'tit')

Swung the hammer 'n' missed. 

Hit the thumb 'n' got pissed.

Formed the agonized fist. 

Now the S word's heard hissed.

The T word means breast, 

like most mammary monikers:

'chesticles,' 'sweater meat,' 

'boobs'...happy 'hon(i)kers'?

(The 'ubu' and the 'vagina')

It's OK if one mentions 

the U word in Art.

Oh, if only we'd see it,* 

and take it to heart.

There were days when the V word 

was strictly forbidden.

Then enter'd Eve Ensler. 

Now, nothing's left hidden.

     * E.g., "Ubu Roi," the theatre- 

of-the-absurd drama by Jarry.

(The 'why' and the 'XXX')

The W word: 

that it's banned is half lie:

it's both outlawed and urged -- 

do (or don't) query, "Why?" --

while the X word's avoided 

when doubled and tripled

in ratings of cinema  

penis'd and nippl'd.

(The 'yoni' and the 'zoff')

The Y word? In Sanskrit, 

it's eas'ly avoided:

Max Wertheimer didn't, 

but Maslow and Freud did. 

Comes, lastly, the Z word. 

Suppressed? No! No! Uttered                    

by me,* well aware on which 

side my bread's buttered).

     * That's the main reason why 
the Z word gets mentioned a dozen 
times during the verse parody 
"Let's Call the Whole Thing 'Zoff'! -- 
a PWWL post from January of 2012)

"My Auroraborealphabet comprises twenty-six..."The Abecedarian's Abecedarium: A Constrained Alphabet of Alphabets in Rhyme

My Auroraborealphabet 
comprises twenty-six

atmospheric curiosities 
in Technicolor pics.

My Bacchanalphabet delights 
in rites of Dionysus.
For ‘S’ the matter’s satyr plays. 
For ‘I’ the subject's ISIS.

My chapbook, Chaparralphabet, 
shows six and twenty plants.
Each blooms in northern Baja, 
there its scrubland to enhance.

My so-called Donegalphabet 
commends the Em’rald Isle.
(I wrote as well a Dalphabet, 
Afghanistani-style.)

My gem, my Emmentalphabet, 
unfurled a world of cheese:
Areeshes through Zanetti parmigianos. 
(Jeez! No Bries!)

I penned a Femmefatalphabet. 
Dark ladies shape its theme:
those Mses who emasculate, 
those Mrses who scheme.

Apace I traced my Galphabet 
of naughty girls and nice.
I proffer'd them, should not 
my Femmefatalphabet suffice.

Please don’t forget Halalphabet. 
It features food taboos.
Okay are artichokes and ziti. 
Not okay is booze.

My International’phabet 
posts patriotic songs.
Some ten plus two require kazoo. 
(Just one needs Chinese gongs.)

You might enjoy Joualphabet. 
My trips to Montreal
exposed me to their language blue – 
in Quebecoisey drawl.

My curious Kanalphabet 
portrays the manhole covers
of Polish cities – twenty-six! – 
much rummaging discovers.

In viewing my LoCalphabet, 
do dieters explore
the benefits of kelp and grits? 
They do, for less is more.

My Mygalsalphabet corrals 
those gals with punk reputes –
tarts, hookers, slags, streetwalkers, hags, 
loose women, prostitutes.

Behold Neanderthalphabet! 
Ancestral tales it tells –
from Australos through salmon roes 
to simple single cells. 

My Freud'an Oedipalphabet 
lists psychoanalytical
complexes in a nexus.
(Some folks say I'm hypocritical.) 

My Pastoralphabet portrays 
poetical bucolics
where shep- and cowherds schlep through cow turds.
Frolics. Rollics. Bollix!

( a work in progress) 


Quetzalcoatlphabet

Roncevalle’phabet

Saturnalphabet

TajMahalphabet

UberAll’phabet

Valhall’phabet

WailingWallphabet 

Xylitolphabet 

Y'allphabet 

Zoologicalphabet