Equivocal Barbs: A Constrained Nonsense Rhyme

'Barbies' be equivocal. E.g., here's three plus three.  
One's Bobbie and the Riders of his (Benson's) B-Bar-B. 
Two's Zanzibar, between the Wami delta and the sea.  
Three's"Butcher" Barbie -- christened Klaus -- who's no one's cup of tea.  
Valeria Lukyanova’s four: human Barbie, she.  
Five's Donald Drumpf, who tweets the barb (he shuns the repartee).  
Six? Mike Pence walks into a bar because he needs to pee.  
Yes! 'Barbie's are equivocal. (Now, let's grab Arby's kea.*)

     * A kea is a species of New Zealand parrot. It appears Arby's
does, indeed, "have the meats" -- even the more exotic cuts.    

More '-yson' on the (Fruit)cake

One -son of Ty- is Neil de Grasse.
In suits by Blass, Neil, spouting sass,
brings artistry to science class.

One -son of Dy- is Michael Eric.

Mike, part prof, part Baptist cleric,
rings exchanges esoteric.

A second -son of Ty-, Mad Mike,

who lost his dad while yet a tyke,
enlists twin fists nigh iron-like.

And what of Freeman, -son of Dy-?

And what of Peabo, -son of Bry-?
My ‘-yson’ well’s run dry. Goodbye.

Hold That Line! A "Diet"ribe

In my spoon I imagine no sugar.
In my mug I imagine no milk.
On my plate I imagine no pasta,
only green leafy veg and its ilk.
Each “…imagine no…” proving successful
leaves me more the giraffe, less the swine.
Grant this wish, Divine Vish: a volition suffish
to maintain my “…imagine no…” line!

Overheard at Club M E D: A Constrained Alphabet

"ArMED...? Nossir! Dangerous...? You betcha!"
     Jean-luc Martinez, Louvre Director, describes objet d'art Venus de Milo.

"Blow ME Down and pick me up!" 
     Kirk Douglas reprises performance in "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea."

"CriME Dog's the name; baseball's the game!"
     Former Major League first baseman McGriff contemplates name 'McGruff.' 

"Don't know much about MEDieval thought. Don't know grammar near as good as I ought..." 
     Sarge* parodies Sam Cooke's "What a Wonderful World This Would Be."

"Each droMEDary? One! Each Bactrian? Two!"
     Daniel Potts of The Silk Road Foundation opines on camel hump quantity.

"FraMED! I was fraMED, I tell ya!"
     Dr. Sam Sheppard recalls real-life saga fictionalized in "The Fugitive"

"GaME Day balls? All inflated to a guage pressure between 12.5 and 13.5 psi." 
     NFL's Dean Blandino summarizes league rule during Ballghazi investigation. 

"Howdy, hoMEDogs!"
     Sarge* mixes registers while addressing audience at D.C. open mic. 

"In MEDia res, baby: in MEDia res!" 
     Roman lyric poet Horace describes where ideal epic poet should begin tale. 

"...ME Donkey want water, hold 'em Joe..." 
     Belafonte quotes Mac Beth quotes Manning using iconic calypso lyric.

"King ME, Davey!" 
     Philistine Goliath importunes Hebrew David during checkers tourney OT. 

"'LaME Duck'? I'll give you 'laME Duck'!" 
     Barack Obama confronts Mitch McConnell in Senate Coat Room.

"...MEDicinal purposes only, and I've felt poorly now for fifty years."
     W. C. Fields paraphrases earlier comment on his much ballyhoo'd thirst.

"None naMED names!"
     Dalton Trumbo refers in tautogram to fellow Hollywood Ten colleagues.

"Oh, ME Darlin,' oh, me darlin'..." 
     Huckleberry Hound sings -- incorrectly and off-key -- a favorite tune.

"...PomME De terre, creme fraiche, Gruyere cheese..."
     Jacques Pepin lists ingredients in recipe for Pommes De Terre Macaire.  

"Question: when Mr. Ed airs in France, is it called M. ED"?
     Walter R. Brooks, author of The Talking Horse, inquires about residuals.

"ReMEDial Chaos Theory" nominated for Emmy? How cool is that!
     Chris McKenna, having penned that episode of "Community," enthuses.

"SoME Day my prince will come."
     Adriana Caselotti recreates Snow White voice-over from Disney film.

"Try some MEDoc, Doc!" 
     Sarge* riffs on Flanders and Swann's "Have Some Madeira, M'dear." 

"UnMEDicated...but I mean, of course, unmitigated...gall." 
      Source unknown

"Vulcans observe first contact protocols without violating the Federation's PriME Directive."
      Gene Roddenberry discusses superiority of certain alien races to humans.   

"Which way to MEDina?"
     Muhammad solicits directions from well-travelled camel driver.

"Xebecs? Rarely sighted outside the MEDiterranean, thanks to me and my brig-sloop Speedy." 
     Thomas Cochrane, 10th Earl of Dundonald, reminisces about naval history.

"Your MEDium is your message."
      Marshall McLuhan misquotes himself.

"Zeus, Danae, Perseus, Polydectes, MEDusa: fewer than six degrees of separation."  
     Frigyes Karinthy touts his theory. 

    * That's Sgt. N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee (the N stands for 'Nonsense')

'Twixt Your A and My B...: A Constrained Alphabet

   'Twixt your
A and my B curtseys Ahab* -- 
facing east towards oases now dry.
Call the man 'al-Kitaab.' Greet him: "Marhaba, bab’!"
It's one bright Sunni way to say "Hi!" 
       * Not Ahab the whaler, of course. Rather, Ahab the Arab.

     'Tween my
B and your C? The step basic.
It’s the move which determines the dance --
whether swingout or salsa or box step or bop.
Whatcha waitin' for, Fred? Here’s your chance.

     'Twixt your
C and my D creeps a crawdad,
of the family Astacoidea.
It’s called 'crawfish' or 'cray' -- 'spiny lobster,' too. (They 
taste tres toothsome in seafood paella.)

     'Tween my
D and your E runs a Deere.
"Nothing runs like one, dear!" (So they say.)
But once wilderness yields to agrarian fields, 
where the Deere runs, no antelope play.

     'Twixt your
E and my F sports an elf --
neither dwarfling, homunculus, toy,
Lilliputian, Tom Thumb, teeny-weeny or minikin: 
Pan's just a slow-growing boy.

     'Tween my
F and your G grows a fig,
made to mask multitudinous sins --
that's to say, all the naughty bits: A’s and T’s  (asses, tits)
Mostly, though, multiple chins.

     'Twixt your
G and my H rides a Goth -- 
as a rule, either Ostro- or Visi-.
But for once, this barbarian's tag's non-sectarian. 
This keeps historians busy.

     'Tween my 
H and your I dwell the Hopi,
with their fab -- absolutely! -- kachina. 
(But where'er 'absolutely' and 'fabulous' fuse, 
Patsy plots with her patsy Edina.)

     'Twixt your
I and my J? Intra-hadj,
i.e., duels to the death among sects --
even Sunni on Sunni and Shi'a on Shi'a: 
no wonder their nations are wrecks.

     'Tween my
J and your K sails a junk --
like some ships, manned by fly-by-night crew. 
Giving captain the slip? That's what's called 'jumping ship.'
Shipping junk’s called ‘FedExing smack’…nu?

     'Twixt your
K and my L hides a kernel. 
("Colonel Potter? Blimp? Blake? Sanders? Kurtz?
Klink? Gaddafi? Adama? Tigh? Mustard?" -- oh, mama:
please stop! My occipital hurts.

     'Tween my
L and your M? Mr. Lem.
Don't confuse him with Stanislaw Lec.
Both are Poles, both great souls but with differing roles.
(Nor is either a certified Czech.) 

     'Twixt your 
M and my N moves a moron. 
Why'd the moron steer clear of the bus?
'Cuz the driver -- one Juan -- announced, "Nope! No "more on!"
Said the moron, "Hold on! Let's discuss."

     'Tween my
N and your O? Captain Nemo. 
Cries a trio of tub men: "Don't throttle us!"  
Replies Cap, "Nemo dat what a guy hasn't got."
He then swamps their small tub with his Nautilus.

     'Twixt your 
O and my P? Alley Oop,
in his day, syndicated Neanderthal.
If you've not seen the funnies, you'll not see this pun: he's 
a 'toon -- thus is rendered short and/or tall.

     'Tween my
P and your Q? PDQ.

     'Twixt your
Q and my R lurks a queer.

     'Tween my
R and your S bloom the roses.

     'Twixt your
S and my T...

     'Tween my
T and your U? Bishop Tutu.

     'Twixt your
U and my V? UniBev.

    'Tween my
V and your W's* The View. 
       * Here pronounced in two syllables, as is 'Dubya' (remember him?).

    'Twixt your
W* and X waxes wax. 
       * Once again pronounced as is 'Dubya,' -- i.e., in two syllables. 

     'Tween my
X and your Y freaks the xany.

     'Twixt your
Y and my Z plays the yazz.

No Alvins Named Ailey: A Constrained Alphabet

No Alvins called Ailey nor Babas called Ali
were collared at "Occupy Gasoline Alley."
No -kissangel, Bally-, no Rumpole de Bailey,
no  :: .. : . :.: ... :: . . : . . :: : : :.: . --  (too Brailley),
no "Serpent! From hence shalt thou crawl on thy belly..."
No sesame bialy, no Sam's "Wooly Bully."
No Elliot, Billy, no brews news "-corn, Barley-." 
(But brief Melvin Belli’s okay -- though just barely).
No Brahmins from Bollywood bruising Brad's brolly 
while filming Brad brawling in ballrooms on Bali.
Caught: Lassie the Collie cavorting in ceilidh 
while wildcatting coke for a cartel called Cali.
Debut'd at Dad's Deli: a drag "Hello, Dolly,"
deploying the daughters of Salvador Dali.
Elle's Christmas equale, penned especiale,
in Ely was panned as "a tad Emmental-y."
Fat, fatuous Frawley erected a folly
wherein he philander'd – folks felt fairly freely --
until he f**k'd Fifi, one fleet femme fatale.
"Game goalie -- no ghoul, he -- vaults, gaily, a gully..."
or so reads this galley proof. (What? A spoof? Golly!)
His comet, called Halley, flies frequent as hail; he*
just trolls his noëls hailing IVs and Holly. 
     * Sgt. Jim N. Smithe-Magee (the N stands for 'Natale')
Her Berryness (Hallé) our Holy of Holies
defiled on her Harley. (Heard howl'd: "-leuia! Halle-.")
Allama Iqbal: he ingests his ice lolly
then misinflects 'Italy' (terms it 'I-tal-y').
Joined: Fisher (Joely) with wa-a-a-ay too much jelly.
She (formerly scrawny) grows brawny -- though jolly.
Kiss one: □ goddess Kali; □ Kristyna Kashvili;
□ the Senate's "-son, Hutchi-" aka Kay Bailey.
La Langtry's a Lily and Eli's a Lily
and Allen and Tomlin -- each lovely, both Lilys.
But Lorelei Lee, though not lowly, 'sno Lily,
and buds just won't bud for Jean-Baptiste de Lully.
Mrs. Bloom's christen'd Molly, Ms. Meg's a Mulally,
whilst Earhart's called 'Meeley' -- or 'Millie' (or 'Mellie')...
Nelly Bly is dressed Nattily, as is Naphtali.
Undressed: Censorinus (de die Natali).*
     * Infamous, of course, for composing in his 'birthday suit.' 
One dragon called Ollie. One Taitz known as Orly:
once tethered together, one true 'two and only.'
Pass the pralines to Pauly! Punt pretzels to Pele!
But, soft! Here's a U-turn: some cracker wants Polly!
Quick! What sort (...qualis, quali...) be Great-uncle Quigley
to level at Neville his poisonous quill, eh?
"Retreat? Never! Rally!" rants Wall Street cop Raleigh.
"Those kids were unruly!" (Still...leper spray? Really?)
See Sally. Run, Sally! Run, silly Svengali!
(They once jogged with others, but now they sprint soli.)
This thirteenth timbale near trebles our tally.
Let's meet in St. Louis (clang-clang goes its trolley).
Ulysses (called Uly) blows hot ukulele.
His riffs and routines are esteemed -- not unduly.
Vern heard 'cross the valley a thunderous volley:
applause from Volturno but boos from Vercelli.
No Wonka-ther-Willy? No Monte-ther-Woolley?
No Cleaver-ther-Wally? Died -- doin'-the'r-Wheelie.* 
     * A quartet of hommages a Edward Bear aka Winnie-ther-Pooh.
X fields 'Xiphoidally. Y yields '"Yardboid"ally.'*
Z? Z's for 'Zigmund' (though not Zigmundfreudally).
     * In the manner (though not with the accent) of Charlie "Yardbird" Parker. 

Queries of a Jabber Wonk

Where's it written it had to've been brillig...?
Were the toves all that slithy...? Or what...?
Did the wabe witness gyring...?
Most find gyring tiring --
though who'd not give gimbling a shot...?
Were the borogoves totally mimsy,
or proved mimsiness partial at worst...?
Did those raths label'd 'mome'
(had those mome raths no home...?)
outgribe piecemeal...? Or did they first burst...?

Shun Pence? "Bon Chence!"

Two pence, four pence, six pence, a buck.
Mike Pence...? No sense. So-o-o-o dense: yuck!
Whence our defense 'gainst this schmuck,
this prince 'mongst bad gents Pence...? Good luck!

Prosopogostichs for Georges Perec

In his nonsense verse “How pleasant to know Mr. Lear” the 
popularizer of the limerick makes amusing observations 
about himself. In the nonsense octave below readers are 
urged to discover an equally intriguing character who, it’s 
hoped, will prove just as amusing and, in the end, just 
as “not unpleasant to know.”

Not unpleasant to know...? Monsieur Perec
whose locale is the alphanumeric.
His Oulipian lists skirt the xeric 
while his novels ensnare the chimeric.
Though his visage some view as barbaric
(few confuse him for cultural cleric),
to reforge pleasant Georges, surnamed Peric,
would "iron"ical prove (fully-ferric).

Let's Just Saey (Sic) It Ain't Rosy-fingered

Todaey the daey dawn'd graey-on-graey --
so graey that 'daey,' 'todaey' and 'graey'
must each (all three, or so they saey)
be spelt with e-augmented 'a.'

Notable Nobs Not Unpleasant to Know: Italo Calvino

Not unpleasant to know...? The Calvino
whom his mom named Italo, not Dino --
an artiste, even when a bambino.
Counting cards in his cousin's casino
left no time to play Keno in Reno,
though he did treat the antineutrino
in his book Cosmicomics. Calvino
is a paradox. No...? Just ask Zeno.