2007 San Patricio Limerick Festival
9 March 2007
Welcome to the 2007 San Patricio Limerick Festival!
Last year’s festival was so much fun, I thought I wouldn’t change much.
A limerick, of course, is a five line poem with the rhyming scheme of AABBA. Some famous limericks you might know are Hickory Dickory Dock, and There once was a man from Nantucket… There are more limerick resources here.
Limericks are often naughty, so I won’t put any restrictions on what kind of entries you can send. However, if you do send me a super-bastos limerick, I promise I will enjoy it, but I can’t promise it will stay posted.
Please post your original limericks in the comments section of this post, or email them to me if you’d like some peer editing.
I will award eShamrocks to entries which distinguish themselves in both form and substance. Enter as many times as possible.
Theme? There’s no theme, is there? What rhymes with “global warming?”
I’m starting to think that Obama
Could rescue us all from the trauma
That W started
With Cheney, whole-hearted.
’cause Hilary’s way too much drama.
When Britney married K-Fed
They spent way too much time in bed
Now there’s two kids at home
Still Britney will roam
Off to rehab (post shaving her head).
Condolences dear Mr. Scooter
You gave your neck up for the Shooter
But soon the Decider
Ole Pardon Provider
Will be your number one rooter.
Oh dear, it’s spring again?
The time when all who kin,
Write limricks for Patrick.
No matter how spastic
Their rhymes, they hope to win.
Jeffers’ performance was not grand.
Wells’ tears were totally bland.
In cases of lying
Avoid all the crying
And just put your punk on the stand.
Sorry, I was on a roll!
***
Dear Anna Nicole, it’s so sad
You’re gone and your kid has no Dad
But one man or 22
Say “I’m the Baby Daddy, not you!”
And now there’s no end to be had.
Fox News is “news” for the birds.
Who can stand your untruthy words
Don’t host no debate
You know you don’t rate
You’re not news, you’re just silly turds!
“Subjunctive’s confusing,” you stammer,
You night-before-Spanish-quiz crammer
If you studied each day
You just might get an A
But you don’t, so you guess at the grammar.
Bin Laden is fifty today,
To him I have one thing to say
Wherever you are
(no matter how far),
I hope you don’t live to see May
Judge Cooke is incredulous
The Pentagon is pleading Daedalus
Misplacing the torture video
Deep in concentric ring presidio
Hiding their mendaciousness
Now Scooter’s a brazenfaced liar
Who’s facing juridical fire.
He flouted the law,
But his plan had a flaw;
May he soon be in prison attire.
By a weird coincidence I’ve just started to blog in limericks.
On Nice Guys (TM), originally from a forum thread.
Well I read, and was worried to spy
The woes of the famous nice guy.
You should know, by the way
There are many who say
“Nice Guys” are not nice, and here’s why:
If you listen to a feminist
They’ll tell you that women get pissed,
When someone’s “Nice Guy” claims
Secretly have the aims
Of hiding misogynist twist.
If you do a web search then you’ll see
These are not the right people to be.
For these claims of depression
Oft mask passive-aggression
And an ego that screams “me! me! me!”
Yes it’s true that in school, for a while
that the jerks may be top of the pile
but to lose being nice
is too heavy a price
to join cliques that are soon out of style
I’m sure you have pretty good mates
who manage to get on some dates
For in fact being nice
need not rid you of spice,
but resentment’s what everyone hates.
If you’re nice and are honest of heart
then your love life will hopefully start.
Whether early or late,
it’s a far better state
than to live stereotypes of this art.
Ooh, so excited to find some fellow limerickers! I love all of these! Here’s mine:
A New Look
Britney needed a means of escape
From all those publicity scrapes.
Her fans were appalled
When she shaved herself bald.
Now the carpet matches the drapes!
I also wrote a ton on Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. They may be outdated now, but here’s a sampling:
Love Takes Us Up Where We Belong
No day was as lovely as this–
The ceremony so full of bliss.
With the marriage decreed,
Tom jumped up with glee,
Grabbed a step ladder and gave Kate a kiss!
Tom’s Roman Wedding
You Catholics are fooled by deception.
Mine is the one true perception!
Miracles you compile–
Why not worship my child?
Talk about an immaculate conception!
There are plenty more, if you visit my blog: http://www.xanga.com/kaleidescopeeyes88. Click on “limericks” under the Tabs module on the left. (Excuse the shameless plug.) =)
You write for a conservative rag
On Crossfire, you did bleat and nag
Yes you, Robert Novak
Notorious right wing hack
But mostly, you’re just a big douchebag.
okay, I took the “what rhymes with global warming?” question as a challenge…
How to escape global warming?
Develop sci-fi terraforming!
Forget cleaner cars –
let’s colonize Mars!
(It’s better than more Desert Storm-ing.)
[UPON WATCHING "WHO KILLED THE ELECTRIC CAR?"]
With scientists all in agreement
the truth still remains inconvenient.
Technology’s grown
(there’s computers in phones!)
so why are our engines not clean yet?
An ex-pat I may not yet be,
simply a student who lives overseas.
But I’m not nearly as proud
of the American crowd
(here in Scotland) as they think I should be!
This one’s for you JP:
Bacon, you are food divine
Better than ambrosia or wine
You wrap all in joy
Not turkey or soy
But true pork belly be mine
I couldn’t resist global warming. .
In nature the bees are not swarming,
weather patterns seem NON-conforming,
and I’m standing taller
while he’s gotten smaller,
Should I credit the global lands warming?
The rarity of a true Christian,
Like a toilet that’s never been pissed in,
Ain’t found at the Senate,
Not one of them in it.
Hey, it’s just a lie they persist in.
And what of our friends in the House,
Like Gingrich (Retired), the louse?
He asks for repentance,
Appeal of his sentence
Of hell for mistreating his spouse.
But he only asked Dobson, not God,
And we know the good Doctor’s a fraud.
So who’s to determine
If Newt’s saint or vermin?
The Almighty, or James’s “rod”?
There once was a young man from Texas
Who was caught driving drunken and reckless
Since his dad was a Bush
He got slapped on the tush
Now he’s driving us all off the precipice.
There once was a bunch of old wrecks
Who could not bear for girls to have sex
This they could not confess
Without seeming a mess
So they invented an entire pseudo-science about life beginning at conception, “fetal pain,” and Plan B as abortion, and did everything they could to divert state and federal funding into so-called “pregnancy crisis centers” and overturn Roe v. Wade. Those fucking puritan nitwits.
LOLOLOL! I vote for Nancy!!! Thank you for the best gut laugh of the day!
With donkey-dong pendulous
And sex-stamina sedulous
The hedgehog left class
And made money in ass
Rend’ring his students incredulous.
I’ve slept on top of the mountain
I’ve slept on top of the hill
I’ve slept on the road
And in a ship’s hold
I’ve not slept with her but I will
The best of all foods is the cheese
If you offer some I will say please
Whether hard or creamy
Good cheese is dreamy
Even when coating green peas
Feminists argue and claim
The patriarchy is to blame
Yes it is true
What can we do
To avoid yet more of the same
Refuse to stand down or be mute
Or play the tumescent flute
Of asshats I say
Away, go away
Or we are likely to shoot.
Jolt says we must bitch or suck cock.
One chooses the feminist flock,
Or gets pubes in the throat.
Since we got the vote,
We’ve not really paused to take stock.
But maybe fellatio’s a ruse
To ignore more insidious clues
Patriarchy’s been leaving
While secretly thieving
The rug right from under our shoes.
I happen to like my cocksucking
As a spicy addition to fucking.
Any way I have sex,
I’m sure it will vex.
Both the radfems and dudes have me ducking.
The personal, they say, is political
But feminist laws feel Levitical.
I’ve got my libido
Dressed in a tuxedo
So it won’t attract someone critical.
Bitch asks us, “But do you trust women?”
And this makes me sour as a lemon.
They so rarely trust me
To know what I can be,
But I can’t get off on condemning.
I guess I was Baptist too long
To want to prove stuff right or wrong.
I’m weary of judging.
Must we hoist the bludgeon
On people who like to suck schlong?
If you think that it’s easier to date girls
Far less stress to exchange swine for pearls
Then you’ve n’eer passed the test
Of dual PMS
Nor ‘eer ducked all the things girls can hurl
Today I administered the WASL
And it made me so glad I’m a fossl
Because the prompts are too dull
To fill even one page full of bull-
And They want three-that’s impossl!
Now I can’t stop. Damn you, JP!
Those limericks I wrote were polemic.
I don’t agree on what’s systemic.
Have sex for the reason
Your booty needs greasin’.
Note: Puritanism’s endemic.
I don’t think that sex is an ethos,
Even if there are tres or just dos.
If you ban it from people,
Go kneel at a steeple.
To claim it’s “for women” is gross.
Some radfems and chauvinist pigs
Sound often like moralist prigs.
No human can joy
With our bodily toy
Without them all steaming their wigs.
I get that our sex is oppressed,
From the matins when we all get dressed
To the time we lie down,
Ladies wear a frown,
For into men’s service we’re pressed.
But I have testosterone too,
And I get my rocks off like you.
Or would if I could,
All the more’s for the good,
Or else I get lonely and blue.
Now springtime is almost upon us.
Let’s dance and let’s sing and let’s spawn us.
Ideology be damned,
Come lend me a hand,
We’ll all rut ourselves till there’s rawness!
* My 9 year old announced she had to find a spring poem, “Irish, St Patrick’s day, March, something like that. And it has to be 16 lines long, or more.”
“And oh yeah, it’s due tomorrow.”
So I wrote my own — In limerick!
****
The clocks go one hour ahead
But we just can’t get out of bed
It’s spring-ahead time
Time to write Spring rhyme
But we have Spring Break in our head.
The hills all start to turn green
The winds are no longer mean
There’s a warmth in the air
Time for legs to go bare
It’s Spring Break! We need a new scene!
The weeks drag slowly by
At night, I try not to cry
In a few weeks or two
We’ll be riding Jet Blue
Spring Break! It’s time to fly!
March floats in like a dream
St Patrick’s day, time to wear green.
Or a pinch you will get
So wear green and don’t fret
It’s Spring Break! It’s time to scream!
Even though very slim are the chances
Y’all already know what my stance is;
Waste hundreds on Prom?
Best to stay home with Mom
Than to be seen at lame high school dances!
Graduate study is grueling
Undergraduates? Constantly dueling.
The adjuncts are resigned
And the staff is benign
But the faculty? Conscious, but drooling.
It is spring again here in the north
And all hormones begin springing forth
I’d be willing to pay
For a roll in the hay
And for the second, the third, and the fourth.
Now four years we have been in Iraq
Settled near a hard place and a rock
So while Britney is shaving
And Dick misbehaving
We’re spending 400 billion on [post traumatic] shock.
Mr Scooter you are going to need a pard
For embarrassing a husband who told a cannard
A Clinton you’re not
With a memory that’s shot
The truth was a little too hard
There once was a man named Ann Coulter
Who, to decent folks, was quite a revolter.
If we could only just gag it
That mouth who cries “Faggot”
And block Fox, the pimp that has sold her.
There once were conservatives so imbued
With moralism, they thought sex was crude.
But they supplied an administration
That’s the essence of fornication
For with Dick and Bush, you’re sure to be screwed.
A misadventure in pursuit of oil
Has led us to invade soverign soil.
Now we’re stuck in Iraq
Constantly under attack
It makes my blood start to boil.
Well boy if you’re ever in Denver
Don’t never do wrong just do right
No fussing no fighting
No scratching no biting
Mind your manners, you’re in for all night
The Gardasil mandate smells funny
It would make Merck’s financials quite sunny
They’re in such a big hurry
That it makes me worry
It’s not about health—it’s the money.
The patron of patriarch’s St. Patrick
(who really was very priapic).
He’d donate a bob
for a decent blow job,
but what he secretly craved was a rim lick.
Jen Reid sends this one through email:
A descendant of Gian-Carlo Rota
Couldn’t get satisfied one iota;
For what gal would perform tricks
Of combinatorics
With a guy who looks so much like Yoda?
Thanks Jen!
There once was a general named Pace
Who cried to be homo was a disgrace
the press heard of this gaffe
by the Joint chiefs of staff
Now stands with eggg on his face
I once went to bed with this bum
Who peaced out before I could come.
So I stuck out my chin
And stayed and peaced in
And came by my own rule of thumb.
I may as well make a confession:
I’m skipping my therapy session.
But my sins to rehearse
Always makes me feel worse.
Guess there’s no easy cure for depression.
I oughtn’t be feeling so blue,
My lot’s better than others’, it’s true.
But as far as I see,
It’s about me, me, me,
And I can’t stop to worry ’bout you.
Perhaps it’s just my occupation
I can’t help but to feel the sensation
That I’ve turned to a slob
Clocking time at my job
And I’m long overdue for vacation.
The features genetics have dealt
Make me neither handsome nor svelte
But one thing I’ve seen,
On March-seventeen
Is everyone’s suddenly Celt.
In settling an online feud,
You can be unconsc’nably rude
By messaging them
To say on IM:
“im her an im killin ur dood”
You’ve rhythmed, you’ve rhymed, you’ve composed
You’re all winners here, don’t feel hosed
So I hereby decree
(by pow’r vested in me?)
that the fiesta o’ rhymes now be closed.
Please feel free to continue to post limericks here, especially if they’re sociopolitically important. I will announce the winners in a new post.
[...] decided to do it in autumn. Because I forgot to do it in the spring. After this year’s Limerick Festival, I think I’ll put a Rated-R ceiling on the entries. As always, NC-17 haiku may be sent to [...]