This day held for primary vote,
Saw the Hippie’s post of a note,
He should cast his ballot,
cast not one, but a pallet,
And reelect some old goat.
Charlotte had kin she did boast,
Whose legend to Spider’s was most,
Magnificent in style,
and cunning and guile,
and turned a poor minnow to toast.
:: shoulda stuck to prose!! ::
To compare the Spiritus Mundi,
To a fellow known as Ted Bundy,
Seems a bit off the mark,
for when caught in the park,
The Mundi’s ID said Al Bundy.
Two Bundys both one and the other
I’ve been likened by two unlikely brothers
for under the skin
Style and Izzy R kin
To the constant regret of their mothers
The confusion between two and to
Was unfortunate and very sad too
I compse on the fly
And hit submit reply
When I should have been using preview.
I can see from the words of that man,
That smart guy - he’s not yet my fan,
Let’s see the guy get,
(For he hasn’t much yet)
His own verses to rhyme or to scan.
That Izzy R the sharpest of tacks
A true master of rhyme and syntax
But when counting a line
He sees 8 and says 9
It is math skills the poor fellow lacks
That Mundi - it’s futile to thwart,
On this I can surely report.
A bastard? How clever!
Who thought that he’d ever,
Dream up such a thoughtful retort?
I see that our newcomer’s verse,
Is stern and a little bit terse,
Please give him a break,
or leave he may take,
And to me that would surely be worse.
Though Mundi, like so many nerds,
Has mastered alot of long words,
In thinking with clarity,
He’s yet to reach parity,
His thoughts are not fit for the birds.
Does Izzy have lice or just nits?
He scratches his head in such fits.
Despite all his flaking
A mistake he is making
This is MPSIMS not the PIT.
Should the dizzy one wish to continue
This exchange in the boards proper venue
I suggest that he start
A thread true to his heart
“Spite, malice and poor poetry, too.”
Hey Mundi, I’ll give you a blow,
I’m willing to call off this show.
Don’t take it too hard,
It’s not just you, pard,
Us bigots are like that, you know.
Oh the Spiritus soars at such news
Of the pending limerickal truce
This thread might be flimsy
But pleasure and whimsy
Should not suffer from grudge and abuse.
There once was a poster, or two
Yes, three, that I actually knew
When taken by one
Most pleasant, and fun
But together, they’re shrill and brash too
If indeed we end up in the pit
I won’t worry or think ill of it
I will instead return
The respect you have earned
And for this I have been seen as fit
There once was a thread that I loved
Though of limericks, as tame as a dove
Now you three have seen fit
To have brought in some grit
Well, all’s fair, so off with the gloves!!
While Spider was in Office Training
Poets were no longer abstaining.
But some were quite haughty
and really too naughty
while they were each other disdaining.
Now Spidey says “Listen, you guys!”
(And you’ll do so if you are quite wise.)
"If this dissing resumes
I’ll send you to your rooms!
“Enough is enough!” Spidey cries.
-----
—////\\
I see what you fellows must think.
In a vacuum these poems sure do stink.
You’ll perhaps let it slide;
See it’s all justified,
If you’ll only check out this here link.
Now back to amusing discoursing
since the brawlers are through with their horsing
around. It is good
that they stopped being rude
to prevent TN*hippie from out-sourcing.
The lure of post two double naught,
Is appealing much more than it aught,
For a thread that’s too long,
is inherently wrong,
And the milestone is subtlely sought.
ahem, to get this back into the limericking spirit…
There once was a plumber named Barry
Whith a face and an ass truly hairy
When he’s fixing a leak
His clients would freak
Not knowing at which side they were staring
There once was a Lawyer named Phil
Who said 'All my clients get chills
Not at hearing their sentance
Do they show their repentance
But it’s after they look at my bills
There once was a naughty Professor
Who was quite the snappy undresser
When teaching his class
He would flash them his ass
But they seemed to have learned none the lesser
A fluttering, flatulent flutist
considered becoming a nudist.
The bassoonist cried “Spare us!
We just couldn’t ‘bare’ this.
The unfilterted toots would be rudest.”