The Curse of the Verse.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
21

Poor Meek, alas, received a blast, a discharge all electrical,
And now casts about for cures but so far all are ineffectual;

Some folks have now suggested twice he imbibe e’er alcoholic,
but this will lead to nothing but him dancing all a-frolic.
The drinking isn’t going to cure the rhyming of each word,
for all his lines will rhyme when they are all samely slurred.

We pity Meek, to help we seek to cure his sad affliction,
but I cannot say “You’ll be cured today,” at least not with much conviction.

There is one cure of which I’m sure; but it’s more dire than known curses;
Meek must be brave, to be thus saved, and enter a match titled, “Versus:
Meek and the lions,” he’ll rhyme his defiance, and promptly be quite dismembered
Our heads will be bowed, we’ll all say aloud, “Meek, you will be remembered.”
Like the candy by Reese’s, he’ll be in pieces, no saving him by doctors or nurses,
And we will contrive that he’s the first to arrive at his gravesite in six different hearses.

But no rhymes will be heard, as he’s interred, his curse will have finally lifted;
His eulogy rehearsed, will say “He was cursed, but simultaneously very much gifted.”

22

Welcome Newbie! And I’ll agree ~ it could be in my head.
But how to get it out is what I need to learn instead.
What abhors me even more is that my rhymes are getting lamer.
This board will claim my user name should come with a disclaimer.
I’m getting to the point where it really doesn’t matter
If the choice is rhyme or death ~ I’m leaning to the latter.
I’ll keep that as a last resort. ~ I still ponder what to do.
Still I’m coping, faintly hoping I can pass this onto you.

Hope now fading, faith degrading, and crashing optimism.
My Priest declined to be entwined in a rhyming exorcism.
Salvation desperation! ~ Now this is getting scary.
To unknown Gods I sacrificed my rhyming dictionary.

.

23

a true quandary
you find yourself in; haiku
frees one from verse curse

24

A haiku will not do it, nor will prose or free verse.
Alas our friend has found nothing yet that grants freedom from this curse
Four days Meek has posted here in desperation and need.
But there something not yet posted that may indeed succeed.

Find a willing partner. A spouse or friend will do.
And find a place where nobody will barge in on you two.
Hot animal sex should do the trick to get your mind off your duress,
And be sure to post every detail here so we may learn of your success. :smiley:

25

Thank you friends, it never ends ~ my sanity is lost.
I must slay this rhyming way, no matter what the cost.
Haiku. Renga.Tanka. ~ I’ll try all of these.
But do you really want me also to offend the Japanese?

Hot monkey sex may stop the vex, I beg my gal ~ alas;
She said if she hears one more poem, she’s gonna kick my ass.
‘Twas not my first rejection, but another one of many,
One thing for sure, ‘til there’s a cure ~ I won’t be getting any.

While seeking answers on the net (and rhyming as I surf.)
Some goons from Hallmark[sup]TM[/sup] called to say I’m stepping on their turf.
“Guys like you, we have to sue. ~ You’re a poetry destroyer.”
Then handed me some papers adding, “Better get a lawyer.”

The judge said he’s ordered a mental competency hearing.
This news had the gallery jumping up and cheering.
It is to weep, it’s hard to keep emotional containment.
They’ll say this was the “snapping point” ~ in court at my arraignment.

.

26

This is just plain awesome

27

You poor young man, I feel your pain;
Seek help, I beg, directly
Therapy for this tireless refrain
Which haunts you so intently.

Perhaps some meds would best quell
your overactive prose;
A valium to help dispel
These disquieting throes

For the sake of your lady’s mental health
and the relief of her poor ears
I urge you now, with haste and stealth
Before this ends in tears
Get a scrip, through connivance or wealth
I wish you luck and cheer.

28

Therapy had seemed to be a rational solution.
My kinfolks had me dragged off to the mental institution.
Valium, Prozac, Lithium ~ atop a Thorazine drip.
It didn’t help the problem but wh[COLOR=DarkRed]oa dude [COLOR=DarkOrange]it [COLOR=DarkGreen]was [/COLOR] a trip[/COLOR][/COLOR].

Diagnosis; rhyme psychosis, with acute halitosis,
Somewhat manic, schizophrenic, with a tendency to panic.
He’s psychotic, and neurotic, also fiercely patriotic.
Tried hypnosis, the prognosis ~ will not aid his poems atrocious.

So after weeks of bouncing **meek **in rooms with rubber walls,
The doctors called it hopeless now they won’t return my calls.
At this stage, suppressing rage ~ my girlfriend left me stewing,
So Maureen dear, I ask with cheer, ~ “Hey girl, how YOU doin’?”

.

29

Therapy definately has not worked and sex you will not gain,
While speaking all the time in verse, and the problem does not wane.
You’ve tried everything suggested, your head is surely is spinning.
Do not give up because, you see, our hearts you have been winnning.

Six days of speaking solely in rhyme most certainly it is tiring.
But I see courage in your posts. Your tale is most inspiring.
So impressed upon upon my mind. Your story so imbibed,
That I have taken it upon myself to add this thread “Subscribed”.

Continue this heroic battle. We read with anticipation,
For you to find an answer to your perplexing situation.
Know that we are here, my friend. We hope you fix your ails.
And when you do, remember to post all the juicy details.

30

There’s a cure, I am quite sure,
For your bemused affliction,
A way to sway your rhymings pure,
Into a valediction.

It requires us all, your doper friends,
To join in song together,
And help you make your best amends,
In silence, now, forever.

For as a child attention seeks,
So rhymes the sweet meek poet,
And ev’ry post by rhyming geeks,
A new one in meek soweth.

Yet I for one, I cannot bring,
Myself to this brave gesture,
I much enjoy the rhythm King,
And all his verses treasure.

Therefore, instead, I plead to thee,
Lay not thy pen to rest,
But rather use these skills and see,
Where they are employed best.

We’ll gladly help inspire you, Sir,
To gain what you desire,
Through subtle use of cunning verse,
Rekind’ your lover’s fire.

If all else fails, I recommend
Address your rhymes to reason,
And charm a lawyer lady friend
To help you through the season.

She’ll be equipped to help you fence,
With all your standing problems,
As well as with those rather dense
Hallmark & Kinfolk Goblins.

Yea, hear our plea, oh poet pure,
I’m sure Dragwyr agrees,
No longer seek for this a cure,
And get off on your knees.

Instead the blessed rhyme do spread,
I’m sure noone objects,
In many another splendid thread.
(Especially those on sex.)

31

I once again review this thread and ponder your sad plight.
The question now, “Can he withstand much more poetic blight.”
Through posts of thoughtful meter and verse, poor Meek is still in dispair.
And lo’ the Dopers far and near gave all their support and care.

As I look back over previous posts I’ve offered to solve his woe,
I am now struck with clarity. For I am in the know.
A magician wizard pro am I, and so to resolve his wish,
The magic words I shall intone. A spell I shall magish.

“Abaracadaba”, “Presto Chango”, and “Hocus Pocus”, too.
You hear me chant, “Sim Sala Bim”, and “Bippity Boppity Boo.”
A flash of light! A puff of smoke! A wave of the magic wand!
The spell done. Now go, my friend and without rhyme, respond.

32

Arwin, folks won’t stand for reading words so convoluted,
Having to endure the pain of verse that can’t be muted.
With everyone complaining that the board is now polluted,
Posting rhyme all of the time ~ is sure to get me booted.

I must voice I have no choice, and opt for rhyme conversion.
I’m sure the board grows weary of my poetry perversion.
This blunder spell I’m under ~ on no one I shall bestow,
I’d sell my soul to Satan, but they banned him long ago.

My friend Dragwyr, I know you are quite magically gifted.
With no contempt, you attempt to get this damn curse lifted.
Incredibly but regrettably, your spells cast with such fervor,
This electronic tonic was rejected by my server.

.

33

Get off on your knees was offered here as a word of wisdom
But what kind of fella finds a patella fit for eroticism?
Knees may be knobbly or may go wobbly but aren’t in the slightest bit sexual
To get off on your knees, you may try if you please, will be quite ineffectual.

Yes, I gripe, oh, but perhaps it’s a typo, and wasn’t what Arwin meant;
Get off of your knees has a more meaningful bent.
But I can only quote what Arwin wrote, of his or her own volition,
So Get off on your knees perhaps refers to a position.

While you are kneeling, rubbing and feeling, in great anticipation,
With perfect timing you’ll stop your rhyming at the moment of ejaculation.
And ejaculation of words; absurd? They’ll pop straight from your mouth.
For who can have time to make up a rhyme when all blood flow goes south?

As advice this is dregs; I know not what bent legs do to add greater clout,
But we’ll see with great clarity the absolute verity when you report how it all came out.

34

I have been known
As the Oh-So-Close Poet,
For I’ll make near-rhymes
And not even be aware of the fact.

In everyday speak
I’ll use words quite exotic–
Something my wife thinks
is very sexy.

But alas! I forget
to record all this verse.
My poor memory
is a perpetual annoyance.

So instead I just live
a life that’s quite mellow,
instead of becoming
another Yeats or Wordsworth.

35

As to your little problem,
The answer is quite simple.
As easy as falling off a log,
Or popping a raw zit.

To make the curse evaporate,
just think all day in rhyme.
It’s guaranteed to strain the brain,
Like stopping on 10 cents.

Then come the years of therapy,
It’ll cost a pretty penny.
But free you’ll be of this peculiarity
Which, natch, will still leave lots.

36

Oh Meek! You have not yet begun
To exhaust all your options,
Although of course it has been fun
To read Doper opinions.

I first suggest some Super Glue
Spread all over your keyboard,
Next, some scissors to cut right through
Your internet and phone cord.

(Might I add that if the cutting
Gives you a little shocky,
That as well may stop your typing
Like in the Jabberwocky.)

With hammer and nails, bar the door,
Chain your poor feet to the floor,
Wrap your hands in chain-mail mittens
(before you do, feed the kittens)

It really is simple you see,
Hide yourself from society!
Bear me no ill will for this help,
Let me save you from your self!

(Although I must admit, this post
Inspired me more than most.
Your story, along with the rest
Made me quit being a guest!)

37

You say you’re cursed with posting verse, you poor sad forlorn Doper!
Your prose removed by an electrostatic interloper.
I wish that I could help your plight caused by the lightning’s flashin’
Alas I can but post in verse in sim’lar Doper fashion.

But meek, maybe you have not guessed your problem’s cause correctly
Perhaps your sad affliction was brought on more indirectly.
My mind tells me that lightning can not cause your prose to flee.
I’d say you got this bug right here on the SDMB.

Right in the midst of suffering, would you declare it wrong to
Inquire as to just what en’my all your base belong to?
For Og’s sake, go and free them then, or give it a good try,
And we will see you later…Oh, and when come back, bring pie!

Or are you plagued by mods and admins here or elsewhere Dopal?
On one hand, Dex, on t’other, xash, and on the third: Hi, Opal!
Are you of they who criticize their running of the boards?
Cuz’ I, for one, do welcome our new Mod Hat overlords!

Or could I posit, t’was not lightning? Could it mayhap be
A death ray of the style seen soon after Nineteen-Twenty?
Or in the year that JFK was named 'mong Presidents
Did you spend 20 minutes in the Mariana’s Trench?

Or are you an unhappy victim of a miscreants yearning
Who wished to see your anguish at his taunt: “Your dog I burning”?
If you think to yourself “Such people don’t exist! Pshaw!”
I hate to burst your bubble, but they’re out there…Gotcha Ya!

It’s time for me to end this post before penis ensues
O’er Doper cliche phrases put to my iambic use.
I hope you’ll celebrate in style when change comes to your luck,
and say “Wooooo! I am masturbating like a motherfuck!”

38

Oy.
:rolleyes:

39

Five days this thread, without posts, I thought dead, or such I thought it was so.
Sengkelat thought where it’s at was a definition wrong from the go.
“Verse 24/7 will bring you to heaven.” A good theory by and by,
But no cure is my guess, for poor Meek’s duress. T’was a great idea, ArchiveGuy.

Miss Violaceous was not being facetious suggesting a long separation.
No longer a guest, she gave it her best; yet I’m sure for poor Meek, no salvation.
Oh sure, blame the boards, and the Mod overlords. scotandrsn, surely you can see,
That many dopers here have problems severe, but none blame the SDMB.

I’ve taxed my brain dry using verse that is wry to help out my doper friend.
Yet I fear that his trouble was simply made double; All thing beings equal in the end.
Tis a problem quite tough and we’ve tried lots of stuff. I know not where the answer doth lie.
Unless, sans remorse, we let nature take it’s course, and simply let this thread die.

40

It appears that some Dopers, from near and far lands,
Clearly have way too much time on their hands! :smiley: