The Ghosts of Gammer Groznez; or, The Mad Non-Binary Olfactor's Song: Tercet the Second

"We thought we smelt a burning cross, 

the brand the Klan deploys.
Our further snort (the full-fledg'd sort) 

sens'd MAGAgirls 'n' -boys
igniting BLM flags -- 

some, chiffons; some, corduroys."

One Fine Day At The Wimbledon Grand Slam

      The Heartbreak of Cervicalgia 

What Are Friends For...?

Think my bucket list's disabl'd...? 
Tabl'd...? Nay! All's on the table:
write my alphabetty Grable;

right the Leaning Tow'r o' Babel;
mut'ny 'board the Caine enable;
bruit apologenius stable;
limn an nth-degreesop fable...
(Him who helps...? My "chum"per cable!)

Runcibl'd Spooner: Banbury

Belle, well-bell'd 'n' -ring'd, 

has ridden:
Ride a Cock-Horse.
     Sure -- I'll keep that jew'l 

well hidden:
Hide a Rock...? 'Course!

     Moral:

Where's Lady G stash jewelry...?

Runcibl'd Spooner: At the Movies

Place to view 

a Pickford flick:

Motion Picture Palace.
     Villain's brew 

makes hero kick:
Potion Mixture Malice.

     Moral:

Second feature...? Overreacher!

One Fine Day With Leonardo And Mona In The Portrait Studio

 

"That's what you think I look like...?"

Runcibl'd Spooner: SCOTAlogical

Scène de crime 

of Antonin Scalia:
Supreme Court.
     Bowdler's meme 

for 'type o' diarrhea':
Poo (cream sort).

     Moral:

Constr(u/i)iction's strict; needs interdict.

The Ghosts of Gammer Grosnez; or, The Mad Non-Binary Olfactor's Song: Tercet the First

"W thought we smelt the afterglow 

of sexual desire.

We snorted more and...Blimey! Cor! 

'Tis Drumpf's coiffure, afire --

which odor's not unlike some hot 

ignited whitewall tire."

"You Are Old, Father William..." Variations (cont'd)

"'Tis with Gold (Sherwin-Williams)," 

 the young man said,
"that you've painted, Herr Drumpf, 

 all your buildings.

      With most people in need, 

 how's your lunatic greed 
 still allow such 

 extravagant gildings...?"

     "In my youth," said the fellow,

"I'd often heard tell o'

 King Midus's Touch 

'n' such hype.

      So I said to myself, 

'Oro's my brand o' pelf.

 As for people... 

 ...they're -- meh! -- not my type."

"They're still sold -- Whip-Poor-Will Yums --

that once-trendy bird feed...?"

ask'd Oz of the pet-shop 

proprietor.

     "If they are, Whip and I

shall buy all you'll supply. 

Nowt but Whip-Poor-Will Yums seem to 

quiet her."

     "In my youth," said the salesman,

my appetite angled towards 

dog biscuit, bird seed 

and kibble.

     Now grown older, I still

can't get hands on my fill.

So, when Yums clog the stockroom...

...I nibble.

Runcibl'd Spooner: GOAT

 We love Federer: 

 so, frickin' sue us!
 Game, set, match.
    Patrick Dennis begs his aunt, 

"Hire Louis!"
"Mame! Get Satch!"

     Moral:

Dennis; Tennis: One's a menace.

A is for A: An Illuminated Alphabet in Verse: Letters N. E & I

      N is for N:

     If numbers I would specify,

     though nothing too specific, 

     an 'N' you'd see -- like "...Nth degree"

    (though Ns can be horrific).

     E is for E:

   

     An 'E' he pair'd with 'm c squar'd,'

     then mark'd, with care, them equal.

     Since, mathmen hath mimed Albert's math,

     tho' none claim, "Here's its sequel."

              I is for I:

 

            

             As egos vie, each gal 'n' guy

             feels (s)he's the primo person.

            "Who's first...? Me!" (My response is "I...

             ...else why keep Nonsense versin'...?")