"How be this for one lime-juice-soak'd sight...? A Limerick 'n' Lime for Elton John

Did you know that Sir Elton was born Reginald Kenneth Dwight? Now you do. 

How be this for one lime-juice-soak'd sight?
Chinese chefs kidnap John late one night.
As they stuff Elton in-
to a pie-making tin,
we all watch while two Wongs bake a Dwight.

"At the first sign of thirst,,," Apprentice the Menace or What Do You Do?

At the first sign of thirst, true friends pour you a brew.
But when tyrants let fly rants, then what do you do?

Predawn, when you're yawning, you count sheep: "One...two..."
When Big Bully's brain's woolly, then what do you do?

When red states reach dead states, you reboot in blue.
But when votin's verboten, then what do you do?

Your pol you recall when he/she has no clew.
When Herr "Hairdo"'s a ne'er-do-well, what do you do?

The air's grown unbearable? Pink slip The Pru!
When Big Babies spread scabies, then what do you do?

(More to come: a work in progress)

When Cap Capon's a moron, then what do you do?

When His Hairness cou'n't care less, then what do you do?

When Der Ruler's a fool, er...then what do you do?

But when thugs lie like rugs, then...then what do you do? 

But when Don J.'s Chief Con A., then what do you do?

"Those EPA's backs? Lackin' spine..." Scott's Gone But Frackenstein Lives: A Reposting with Update

Those EPA's backs?
Lackin' spine.
They fail to beat back
Frackenstein,
a freakin’ fiend – the
frackin’ kind.
Whose freakin’ field’s Frack
frackin’? Mine!


No matter how I
tack ‘n’ whine,
Scott’s lackies back him
(claque o’ swine!).
Those hacks attack. Their
knacks? Refined:
my taps drip frappes of
blacken'd brine.


Still, do I plan to 
slacken? Nein!
“What hey!” say they. “Re-
lax! Some wine…?”
But when I fight...or 
crack 'n' pine,
I’m smacked -- redacted
back in line.

(All's gone to ru’n 'n’
wrack, in fine.)

"Forfend! Forfend! Who'd play the friend to Lady Mondegreen...?" Some Friends of Lady Mondegreen: Constrained Nonsense in Rhyme

Forfend! Forfend! Who’d play the friend to 
Lady Mondegreen?

This woman slew me kangaroo, then 
laid 'im on de green.

And yet this gal’s had sev’ral pals: one’s 
Thomas, Lord DeBoome,
that fellow who employed me gnu. Then 
Thomas low'r'd de boom.

When sometimes seen (the thought's obscene) with
Viscount Hugh Biehayve,
she'll purr to Hugh, "You devil you. Oh,
vhy cahn't you behave?"

Another mate she’s made of late is 
Dr. Juan Muntz-Wayjez.
Doc fired me cat. On top of that, he 
dock'd 'er one month’s wages.

Some say, I'm told, the lady's strolled with 
Elder Downen-Gropeter.
The man’s a rake. He stalked me snake, then 
'eld 'er down 'n' groped 'er.

(More Friends to come: a work in progress)

"Astele Astaire attempts an ara and a sarabande..." Trebled Terpsichoreans or Look who's Dancing! A constrained Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

Astele Astaire attempts a sarabande, an ara and...
as Amos and amigo Andy ace an allemande.

Br'er Bubbles bops. Buck Bunny Hops. Bold Busby Berkeley scenes...
boast borscht-belt buddies Bloom and Bialystock beginning brisk beguines.

Cut, Cyd Charisse! Chic Czardas cease! (Can-cans can't clock Cerocs!)...
Cor! Cunegonde and crush Candide can’t cut cute Castle Walks.

Dim Donald rants, “Damn Dragon dance!” (Don’s done: dropped, dumped, de-jobbed!)...
Don't Doc and Dopey (Doc’s disciple) disco -- Danse Macabr’d?

Each East Coast Swing by Elvis earns a 10 in Tennessee...
e-e-eas'ly edging Edie and “Eed”’s escort Ernie’s Estampie.

Fie, Frug! Flee, Fly! Le Freak? Bye-bye! Fads fail – so: fade already!
(Though Frick and famed familiar Frack effect one frabjous Freddie.)

The Gerdts’ Gavotte blows cold 'n' hot. Their Galliard’s frankly fair...
But Gomer's goofy gofer Goob's “got game.” Great Grizzly Bear!

How Han and Baka’s hearty Haka – hopped to karaoke –
hammers Hengest and his homey Horsa’s halting Hokie-Pokie!

I’m (like), “I like Ike’s Ike Dance. Its coequal? Nowt comes close!
It’s like (like) Ishmael’s infat’ate Isaac’s Ikar’otikos!”

John’s gentle Jewish Jesus jogs just jigs; he cuts few rugs... 
just as Jorinde and Joringel, jailmates, jive few Jitterbugs.

The Khons of Kottar’kara’s kin (in K’rala, ‘burb of Bali)
cause young Kipling’s cooked-up creature Kim to craft crack Kathakali.

Last For One’s Lambadas lead to lots of agitprop
but lambaste Lena and late lover Lennie’s listless Lindy Hop.

Martha Graham’s manic mayhem mimics mad tornadoes,
making Mork and main-squeeze Mindy’s Mambo more like mashed potatoes.

Nijinski’s Numa Numas? Nyet! They’re nada. Next, his Jotas
‘nable Nora and naff near-‘n’-dearest Nick to nail nine Notas.

Olga (“Pre’brazhensk’a owns the One Step!” -- Dance Tbilisi)
outdoes Ozma and her old man Oz’s onerous Odissi.

Pavanes by Powell provoke a howl (Pachanga Parties rule!),
thus prompting Pantagruel’s – please: pace, Panurge! – plodding “Pas de Duel.”

“Quicksteps…and hurry!” Arthur Murray’s queering his Quadrille.
So Quixote’s “quid/quo” Quackenbush quips, “Try an Irish Reel!”

Rogers (Ginger)! Risking injury, her Reggae ‘numba’
ruins Rusty and (R-r-ruff!) right hand Rin-tin-tin’s recumbent Rhumba.

Sof’ane Sylve’s Single Swing sinks Shearer’s Sevillanas.
So Sebastian’s second self Sebastien soft shoes Sardanas.

T. Tharp’s atop Tune, Tommy’s harp. Tall Tommy trots his Two-Step.
Another Tom, with teammate Tuppence, Twists – a tried ‘n’ true step.

Upa urges Upa-Habaneras – not a new dance –
until Umar and his umbra Uthman undertake their U-dance.

Voltas by Travolta, vintage Vals by Valentino
vie with Victor’s vis-à-vis Victoria’s Vamp – vamp’d stamping vino).

Wendy Whalen’s Waltz (Wend’s wailin’!) wins a first for poor dance.
Wilding whistler, with his wingman Wilde, whips up one wicked Wardance.

The fourteenth Louie’s Texas Tom turns Maxixes to Xangos,
ush’ring X-Man and his xerox X-Gal toward X-rated Tangos.

Yoshida’s YMCA’s yucky…much like her Yabolchko.
Yet, young Yin and yokemate/”Yes”man Yang’s Yang Ge still takes top taco.

Zakharova’s Zydeco zaps Zorba’s Zorba dance.
(As for Zeisberger and zweister Zinzendorf? Zounds! Mesall’ance!)

"Paul's pal Paul plus post-doc Peter..." Pauline Paul or Metadoggerel: A Constrained Nonsense

Paul's pal Paul plus post-doc Peter
(rhyme, alliteration, meter):
Both be fine with thyme on lime
(meter, assonance and rhyme).

"Unusual viewing, Aurora Australis..." Looking Through the 'Alis' Glass or Jaberwocky Weather: A Constrained Abecedarial Nonsense in Rhyme (incomplete)

Unusual viewing, Aurora Australis.
It lights up the south pole. It ain’t Borealis.
To laugh at such naffness you’d have to be callous.
Who knew you can’t view it from D.C. or Dallas?

Another phenomenon, nifty et. al. is

the mistral. ‘Twould take a femina fatalis –
a girlie with gams garbed in garter or gallus –
to say it ain’t fabulous. Even George Halas
has hailed it his “fav’rite big wind, inter alles” –
so much so that lesser gusts claim they are “j’alous.”

A third, the monsoon, praised by cricketer Kallis,
is also endorsed by ex-footballer Lalas…
…aforethought with malice bears poet Novalis…

…slick Jackie Onallis (sic)…Palace de Phallus…
…declines ‘qualis, qualis’ for Traci Rogalis…
…as Telly Savalas stiffs young Thomas Tallis…

…”Deutschland Uber Alles”…twin tubes of Vitalis…
…Prince Edward, with Wallis…Kab’larian’s ‘Xalis’…
…for all we know, y’all like to spell Xalis 'Zallis'!

"Love's all you need. Love's blind..." Love: An Abecedarial Song

Love's all you need. Love's blind. Love comes but once. Love never dies.
Love enters through the kitchen and (per Hyde and Ken) love flies.

Love grows where (whose?) Rosemary goes. Love hurts. Love's in the air.
Love's just around the corner, Love. Ain’t that love over there?

“Love kills,” sings Freddie Mercury. Alas: Love's Labour’s Lost.
Love makes the world go ‘round. Though rhymed a lot, 'love's not by Frost.

Love's old sweet song at twilight comes. Love's potion number? Nine.
Loves' qualities? One hundred forty four, each one divine.

Love rhymes with 'dove' and ‘plenty of.’ Love's story? Told by Segal.
Love's often unrequited. (Some have wondered if love's legal.)

Love vigilantes' Iron & Wine with vocals by Sam Beam.
Love walks right in, claim George and Ira Gershwin. (What a team!)

"Love X, Y...Z," exclaims Luke James. "It's all the love you'll need."
Still, one thing’s sure: though true, though pure, love's rarely guaranteed.

"How comme il faut that Wolfgang chose art!" Moe's Art: A Constrained Nonsense in Rhyme (with Image)

How comme il faut that 
Wolfgang chose art!
(Which Wolf? Amadh  
A. S. Mozart.)
No? Aunt Flo (I’m
told she knows art)
crows, "Wolf glows with
beaucoup beaux-arts,
most unlike your
uncle Joe's art -- 
calendars with
"'ho's in hose" art.”
(Begs this poser:
d'yall suppose art
apropos of
Wolf's kunstprose art
blows away Moe's 
status quo's art?)

An example of Moe's 

so-called 'status-quo's' art:

"Five Chalk Figures 

on Faux Blackboard" 
Chalk on slate:
24" x 32"
(sold)

Truth in Wordplay

The Drumpf Apothegm: AMERICA FIRST!

The Drumpf Anagram: DRUMPF = MR F’D UP

"Why's there something, friend, rather than nothing?" Something for 'Nothing': A Constrained Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

Why’s there something, friend, rather than nothing?
Occur answers heard proffered by priest,
by philosopher or pseudo-science guy?
Metaphysical inquiry: ceased?

Hold your horse! Grab a gander at Google!
Key in “N…O…T…H…I…N…G”!
Then type, one at a time, ev’ry alphabet letter.
'Tis nothing but nothings you’ll see.

There is nothing At (all). There is nothing But (net).
There is "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. 
    * Composer Ellington

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 did that sell?
     * Poet Robert

There is "Nothing Kumpares ((ouch!) 2 U)." That’s Sinead.*
There is Nothing Lasts (longer than ____). Post your best pun.
So: what’s up? Nothing Much. Nothing Matters (as such).
(Nor there’s nothing (nope: nothing!) New (under the sun).
     * Singer O'Connor

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?)
     * Critic Roger 

“Nothing Suit (like a suit)," warbles Neil Patrick Harris.
“We’ve nothing To (fear)," Franklin* feigns.
(And can verses reveal whether nothing’s Unreal?
Nothing Ventured? Then how trace our gains?)
     * President Roosevelt

There comes easily nothing Worth (having).
There’s the nothing (for) Xmas (I’m getting).*
There’s the nothing Y'all (tell but the truth in a courtroom).
There’s Nothing Zac" (Brown’s band, I’m betting).
     * Holiday pop classic "I'm Gettin' Nothin' for Xmas." 

Nothings all. But exist they instead of the somethings?
Whose research puts that to the test?
Besides, why is there something instead of some nothing?
Tomorrow, perhaps, you'll have guessed.
(In the meantime, I'll give it a rest.)