Definitely Limericks: Ee-El
Imagine the shock you would feel
To find you’re the wrong kind of eel:
Surrounded by jelly
In some geezer’s belly,
And not even charged for the meal.
The clever are faced with a choice:
To gather their thoughts or their voice.
To be intellectual
Is rarely effectual;
If you’ve been effective, rejoice.
Me and my self-obsessed ego:
Wherever my words go, there we go.
Via limericks, he preens,
As we light up your screens
From Las Vegas to darkest Oswego.
“Pass the pepper, dear.” Grandpa said, “Eh?”
Grandma turned to him: “What did you say?”
“Beg yours?” he replied.
“Speak up!” Grandma cried.
Married fifty-eight years to the day.
In the Eighties, we worshipped John Hughes,
“Choose Life” T-shirts, those velcro-tab shoes,
New Romantics, E.T.,
And the brand-new PC
With a whole 16K you could use.
Eighties politics sure had it all
For conservatives: Reagan walked tall,
Thatcher privatized Britain,
And Russia was gittin’
Its ass kicked—goodbye, Berlin Wall.
The Falklands, Chernobyl, the war
In Afghanistan, Challenger, or
“Greed is good”—take your pick,
It could all make you sick,
So I won’t be remembering more.
The increasingly adamant king
Said, “I wish thee to dance and to sing.
Both thy feet and thy voice,
Master Jester—no choice.
It isn’t an either-or thing.”
When a button is labelled “eject”,
The behaviour you’re led to expect
Is it spits out your tape,
Not a screech and a scrape
As the thing ends up eaten and wrecked.
As you eke out a living, be sure
To retrieve grains of rice from the floor,
As well as half-chewed
Bits of thrown-away food,
As you never know when there’ll be more.
He loves keyboards and moogs a whole heap.
Any synth-less song sends him to sleep.
He adores electronica.
Just sample his moniker:
DJ Digital, Lord of the Bleep.
Ellipses can indicate pauses
For thought, the omission of clauses
Or words, trailing off
At the end, or... (Don’t scoff.
Indecision is one of their causes.)