"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.)

"Erns up early worms get sure'll..." Spinning, Spinning, Ooh, Spinning, Spinning or Little Richard of Tehran: A Constrained Nonsense Rhyme

Erns up early
worms get sure'll. 

As santurs skirl, 
fresh chap (no churl) 
sports skirts of pearl.

Fast folds, unfurling, 

cast a curl. 

He hurly-burly 
twirls; they swirl.
(If me, I’d hurl.) 

Still, dervish, whirling, 
gets the girl.

"O, Captains -- America, Blood, Zero, Earth..." O Captain! A Constrained Nonsense Log in Rhyme Featuring an Alphabetical List of Skippers Captaining Ships Not Ordinarily Associated with Them

(Every skipper mentioned, as well as every ship, appears here in italics. 
If any prove unfamiliar to the reader, she is simply urged to "Google 'em.") 

O, Captains -- America, Blood, Zero, Earth --
thou be nowt if not captains courageous.
Some captains, however (there's rarely a dearth),
prove, on inquiry, captains outrageous. 
Might each, switching ships (here's an alphabet's worth), 
change the universe? Ponder these pages.

If Ahab had captain'd, instead of his Pequod, 
a carrack called Santa Maria,
then would Native Americans sigh with relief 
at the found'ring of "Chris's Idea"?
And would hunting white whales, like all searches for grails,
now be hailed as a failed panacea?

If HMS Bounty'd been captained by Beefheart 
instead of the wry Captain Bligh,
would its mutineers, rather than take to Tahiti, 
have fronted funk bands in Dubai?
And would Fletcher've been played not by Gable or Brando
but some far less self-absorbed guy?

If Endeavour'd been captained, instead of by Cook, 
by one Cap'n Horatio M. Crunch,
would be Botany Bay but one stop, since that day, 
on some serial cereal brunch?
And would Cook's tours be publicized "Crunch Tours" instead?
It’s a good bet they would, I've a hunch.

If the schooner We're Here had as pilot Der Captain
of "Hans-und-Fritz" fame -- and not Disko,
then would young Harvey Cheyne have become Daddy's bane
and migrated from Gloucester to Frisco,
where, no longer a kid, he'd do scenes in a vid,
playing Pancho to some sordid Cisco? 

If ace Captain Eddie's belov'd Flying Fortress 
became Captain Eo's space vessel,
then would World War II prove a minor ado, 
called when Ed asks Herr Adolf: "Who'll wrestle!"?
Or would spacetime get bent, with Ed's UFO sent
back in time to snuff young Georgie Jessel?

If Flint and his Walrus became SS Feathersword 
and its eponymous captain?
Would the forementioned Feathersword balk at such switch, 
crying, "No bloody way I'm adaptin'!"?
And would Captain Fantastic, with no ship at all, 
of a sudden start speaking Sahaptin? 

What if George -- "Captain Seafood" -- would try to usurp
Captain Gantu's Galactic Armada?
Would not Lilo and Stitch knuckle under and snitch? 
What would happen? In fact, next to nada:
George would grant Gantu's wish and serve everyone fish
with an order of fries, blah-de-blah-dah... 

What if Hook's Jolly Roger (once christened The Wasp)
were by Hornblower re-christened Sutherland?
Then would Captain Horatio, thuswise bereft, 
with no ark to embark towards the motherland,
taunt Herge's Captain Haddock, "You've no bark as well?
Must we both end our days in some other land?"?

What if Captain Insano had tossed in the towel...

(a work in progress)

Captain January

Captain Janeway

Captain Kirk

Captain Kangaroo

Captain Kidd

Captain Lorca

Captain Marvel

Captain Morgan

Captain Nemo

Captain Obvious

Captain Picard

Captain Queeg

Captain Ron 

Captain Sisco

Captain Sparrow

Captain Spaulding

Captain Teague

Captain Underpants

Captain Von Trapp

Captain White

Captain Xavier

Captain Yuri

Captain Yamato

Captain Zoom

Captain Zack

"You will find that algae hides your buggy..." A Baker's Dozen "On Approval" Outtakes for Your Approval: A Constrained Nonsense Alphabet in Rhyme

“You will find the dinghy by the jetty.” 

                  – Bea Lillie in On Approval from1944

“You will find that Algae hides your Buggy.”

“Do you mind that Cugie’s dyed your Doggie?”
“In a bind, Bea’s* Edgy, never Foggy.”
“She’s not dined. Still, Googie* hates her Hoagie.”
“Lowell's kinda Itchy. (He's a Junkie.)”
“Sue's behind -- and Kitty, too, looks Logy.”
“She’ll get fined if Maggie puts out Nookie.”
“Foodies find her Orgies use Pierogies.”
“Horacio signed ‘Quiroga,’ – not ‘Quirogi.’”
“They’re not blind: sane Ranis spurn the Suttee.”
“He’s behind; he’s Tardy (Uncle Urbie).
“Film fans find Clive* “Veddy, veddy Witty.’”
“Unassigned: X or Z…(Yaddi-yaddi…)”

      * Bea Lillie, Googie Withers and Clive Brook 
all appeared in the cinema classic On Approval. 
Other individuals mentioned here – Kitty Carlisle, 
Xavier Cugat, Margaret Thatcher, Horacio Quiroga 
and my Aunt Tillie Sprawl’s former husband Urban – 
merely attended a screening of the film.

"Imagine girls: upstairs maids -- Pearls..." Hommage a Paul Valery or Whores with Hearts of Gold: A Constrained Nonsense Rhyme

Imagine girls: 
upstairs maids -- Pearls,
Malvinas, Merles
'n' Mallorys --
who come, then, quick-
ly, go, through Mich-
elangelo-
hung galleries.*

None nun; none crone. 
Yet each one's grown
(each tummy show'in' 
its calories)
so flush that they’ve,
though blushing, waived
all wages – tips
and salaries.

     * Pace, Prufrock.

"Your news sounds so sibilant: savage and sad..." Appeal to Potus: So: Sir, Send Some Soon Sounding Silly! A Constrained Nonsense Study in Sibilance

Your news sounds so sibilant: savage and sad.
So sarcastic, self-serving. So seismic’lly bad.
Your news sounds so “So-spins-sad-Capitol-Hill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so serious, sexist, severe.
So shallow. (It sucks, your sick stories I hear.)
Your news sounds so “So-dies-that-compromise-bill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so shattering, shoddy and shocking.
So sinical (sic) when some Spanish you're mocking.
Your news sounds so "Senate's-so-run-o'-the-mill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so slanted. (Some Sundays, so slow).
Soporific. So sordid. (Superior? No!)
Your news sounds so “Sev'ral-steps-back/forward-nil”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

Your news sounds so style-less, so slovenly, no?
So sordid: so stolid. So schlock; so "so-so."
Your news sounds so “Such-shit-drives-Jack-to-kill-Jill”y.
So: Sir, send some soon sounding silly!

(For more late-breaking news, watch this space: a work in progress)

"One pair of /shu:t/s (one spelt it 'Shute')..." One Pair... & Others or Pairs of Pairings Not Pomaceous: A Constrained Nonsense Rhyme

One pair* of /shu:t/s** (one*** spelt it ‘Shute’)
once shared one pair of parachutes.
The shrewd galoots proved resolute: 
they'd wear, unaired, wet Wellie boots.
    * The first of the duo is Marchette Chute.  
    ** 'sh' here substitutes for a proper but 
undownloadable (at least by me) symbol 
for the fricative.
    *** The second of the duo is Nevil Shute. 

One pair of Bulls* from local shuls** 
declared one pair of parables.
One’s Mike; one's Scott. If heed's paid, you’ll
note knells untolled at tractor pulls.
     * NBA Chicago-type.
     ** Funny: they don't look Jewish.

One pair of grins – one's yang, one's yin –
once graced one pair of peregrines.* 
“Good day, friend Minh.” “How fares ye, Flynn...?”
(If frowns such clowns wear, no one wins.)
     * Not falcons but characters from foreign 
countries -- 
Viet Nam and Ireland, probably, judging by 
the names.

One pair of pets were ordered, “Get
thee b’yond yon pair of parapets!”
Their fate? No fete. (Here, on cassette,
view “Tigh and Tigger’s Death Duets.”)

One pair of Sauls from Montreal
installs one pair of parasols.
Just who plants whose none now recalls,
nor are there pressing protocols. 

One pair of dice – much-needed spice –
she’d introduce in Paradise.
“Eve! You’d entice? Heed Asp’s advice.
Uns-s-s-sliced, one apple will s-s-s-suffice.” 

One pair of Moores* one can’t ignore
once took one pair of paramours,
new senses ceding (veiled before)
to turns of phrase like “two-by-fours.”**
      * Michael and Mary Tyler and their 
respective partners. 
      ** Some early manuscripts transmitting 
these verses show “hardwood floors” or 
"foreign shores" here.

One pair of graphs (one can’t but laugh)
attempts one pair of paragraphs
to paraphrase, though just one half 
proves readable; the rest is chaff.

One peer of Keats (some l’hommes d’elites)
repeats one pair of parakeets’
loquacity: “Too-wheet, too-wheet!”
(L’eclairess’ment: “What’s shakin,’ Sweets?”) 

One pair of docs (one Groucho mocks)
apparently’s one paradox:
The short one’s wily as an ox.
The shorter? Dumber than a fox!

Two pairs of dimes – amalgams I’m
to view as pairs of paradigms
(financial fall guys for tough times) –
now fail, I fear, to “k’ching!” my chimes. 

One pair of Finns did, for their sins,
smear pairs of beards with paraffins.
That each bears pairs of double chins
dimmed damage to respective skins.

Of all accounts of pairs of mounts
in Lit, which pair be paramount?
If Silver Rosinant’ surmounts,
does Dapple Tonto’s Scout discount?

Do “noids” of Freud’s wax overjoyed,
annoying pairs of paranoids?
Of pity Sigmund proves devoid,
while Anna schizoids now avoids. 

One pair of lies (who’ll posit “why?”s?)
will petrify and paralyze.
The first? That God bestrides the skies. 
The second? That She prophesies. 

One pair of Rays (so someone says)
twin virelays in paraphrase
determined to compose…in days!
Fiasco? Let me count the ways. 

One pair of sites sits trained tonight
upon one pair of parasites.
Before they flee (row left, flow right),
let fly…and nuke their leukocites!

One pair of Ds (thus: PAR-OD-DY)
misspells completely ‘parodies’
and orthographic’lly ODs…
unless one’s speaking Parrotese.  

One pair of cleats to prink two feet,
one each for pairs of Paracletes.
Two’d be taboo; yet still they’re fleet.
Pete* poached the pair. (Pete always cheats.)
     * Precisely which Peter continues 
undetermined. 

One pair of blasts, one day long past,
destroyed one pair of parablasts.
One film crew on the scene was gassed.
Press sketches? Neither’s Nast’s or Chast’s.

One pair of cells, one chemist tells,
invade one pair of paraceles
within one’s brain, where – swell! – they’ll swell,
until one’s hearing “boids ‘n’ bells.” 

Who’ll dare to share au pairs – in pairs –
with Herr Moliere? Au pairs like theirs
could care for heirs of trillionaires.
(Their nightmares? Or their answered prayers?) 

One pair of guys (Would I tell lies?)
discovered pairs of Paraguays.
The one? A tropic paradise.
The other? Hot 'neath Paris skies.

Parameters? I don’t know yours,
but mine rate pairs of amateurs
who’re fabricating haut coutures.
(One hopes that “off-the-rack” endures.)

"A couple of parabolas,"
declared one pair of gabblers,
"results in psychobabble, sirs,
from mathematics dabblers." 

Paracelsus and a pair o’ seltzers await 

versification: a work in progress

"When asked, 'Have you...'" Beyond 'Bucket' Pas(s/t) the Buck(et List): A Constrained Nonsense Crambo

When asked, “Have you your bucket list to flesh out waning days...?”

I answer, “I’ve my duck it list. I’ve shunn'd that former craze.”
I’ve also drawn up chuck it lists for chores I shan’t discharge.
It’s filed with my upchuck it list -- a fetid file...and large.)

I’ve jotted sev'ral suck it lists to treat of life’s defeats.
My yuck! it list keeps track of folk who tweet unseemly tweets.
I’ve got a nip ‘n’ tuck it list – some lipo for my rear.
Close follows on: my ducat list. (Those lipo jobs come dear.) 

Asked, “Have you made your shuck it list of turnpikes you’ve not taken...?”
I answer. “My amok it list’s the syllabus I’m makin.’”
No “Walk!” Must run! No talk, just fun. Perhaps I’ll steal a raft.
(That item tops my Tom ‘n’ Huck it list. Some say I’m daft.)

My peers pen Sears Roebuck it lists to index stuff they’d buy.
They’ll need some megabuck it lists as debit cards run dry.
When dawns that day, their names I’ll spray on out o’ luck it lists.
(Or else they’ll make my schmuck it list, of clucks who shake clench’d fists.)

When show me their Canuck it list do lads from Saskatoon,
I read ‘em my Nantucket list, with no aim to impugn,
then flash 'em Winnemucca lists (avoiding Sparks, Nevada.)
We've all got pass the buck it lists: who claims we don’t knows nada.) 

I keep a Habakkuk it list for biblical perspective. 
A peep at my lame duck it list pegs pols who’re ineffective. 
I keep a keep on truckin’ list to index all my lists.
At length I'll need my f**k it list, when set to slit my wrists.