crap [krap] noun: The stuff you wrote in junior and high school that you thought was really good poetry, only to read it years later and see it for what it is.

Asparagus is great
You know what you just ate
Odorific
and for some terrific
Each time you micturate

I heard a great metaphor the other day.

I was at an event on Capitol Hill commemorating Vietnam veterans. One of the speakers said:

Back then, people didn’t like the song. They didn’t like the conductor, and they took it out on the musicians.

As I type it, it actually sounds a little cliché, but there is still something quite poetic about it, and I’m sticking it on here so I won’t forget it later.

oh how i love to write
more than i do to fight
but for a girl
and a chance to score
you know there's a chance that i might

Little Miss Muffet

Dairy she loved to eat
The spider he took a seat
She turned with a whirl
She screamed like a girl
And beat a hasty retreat

Romeo and Juliet

Divided by a name
A story of inordinate shame
with poison and knives
that wasted lives
Their deaths were all in vain

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Huck he made his slip
Down the Mississip
On a raft with Jim
And the Dauphin
They had an amazing trip

LtL sent me this link to a site that has some famous poems rewritten as limericks—really bad limericks, I might add.

I’ve decided to give it a go, and here’s my first attempt:

The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner

A wedding guest was cross
To hear the sailor’s dross
A tale of thirst
A gunshot burst
And the death of an albatross

The boy was so impressed
With the woman in the skimpy dress
For fifty dollars
And a quarter of an hour
She pretended that he was the best

For your entertainment pleasure:

There once was a user named Jo
who's ennui continued to grow
he's just a monkey
who's looking for fun, see
and seeds that he can sow!

There was an old man in town
Who was always fooling around
till the night he got nailed
by Bubba in jail
and left without a sound

I spoke with a man in a pub,
and here's the gist of the rub:
Whenever he flew
he spilled his goo,
and joined the Mile-High Club

She came from the island of Rasm
When touched on the neck would spasm
When she danced on the pole
She lost control
And let out a screaming orgasm

[NB: I wrote this for a friend to post on a forum in a limerick duel we've been having]
Jo Cose was really quite dumb,
always looking for fun.
When unusually fickle
he'd fondle his pickle
and fire off shots from his gun.

[NB: and here's my response to "his" post]
My sorry friend Kelox
is very full of mox
a chocolate banana
he compared to his manna
and 'nads the size of rocks.

The man's talents allowed
for him to be so proud
A cunning linguist
and an able pianist
He could play to any crowd

Dentists we do harass
and it's all because of their task
In our mouths they linger
with picks and fingers
But it's better than in our ass

their time by the anus they tend
my boy and his gang to spend
the perineum
must stay between 'em
and they'll stay the best of friends