Tweetable Limericks

by Lenny Everson

  Are labor-making devices

  Learning comes so slow

  It seems there’s little to show

  Compulsory, it’s not

  But take this thought

  Neither is survival, I know

  If we think all the same way

  It seems to brighten the day

  But when we do

  I tell you

  Someone’s not thinking today

  A fanatic’s the kind

  Who can’t change her mind

  It’s strange

  But she can’t change

  The subject, either, you’ll find.

  Ignore the cheers and laughter

  The yells from floor to rafter

  Don’t be couth

  Just tell the truth

  But be sure to leave right after

  Only a coward creeps

  Approaching infinite deeps

  Go for the toss

  You know you can’t cross

  A chasm in two leaps

  If revenge is a thirst

  And you’re planning the worst

  You can do

  To you know who -

  Just dig two graves first

  Sure, we want to prevail

  And to live to tell the tale

  But be aware

  Failure to prepare

  Is preparing to fail

  In a life of roses and thunder

  Things splitting your world asunder

  Take it all in

  With a wide grin

  For the beginning of wisdom is wonder

  He was the man of the hour

  But now our feelings sour

  For the measure of a man

  Is no more than

  What he does with power

  Truth only distracts

  From how life impacts

  Yes, truth, I say

  Is, in its way

  Far more important than facts

  Fact’s one thing, truth’s another

  Don’t confuse one with the other

  Hey, forsooth

  Fact is to truth

  Only a cousin, not a brother

  The revolt went without a hitch

  Musta satisfied someone’s itch

  The rich, for sure

  Ended up poor

  But the poor somehow never got rich

  Accomplishment’s a clue

  When the world measures you

  Like gold panning

  It takes more than planning

  What you’re going to do

  Every day I read

  How democracies bleed

  Hope, defeated

  Their people cheated

  By the forces of organized greed

  I watch the news and sigh

  So many questions “why”

  So don’t think it odd

  If I trust in God

  But keep my powder dry

  ****

  Chapter 6: Not-So-Deep Thoughts

  Gotta stop thinkin' and drinkin' at the same time, I guess.

  I don’t like to blab

  But some days I’m a crab

  I get mean

  And almost obscene

  In winter when days become drab

  Watching TV news

  Would incline one to the blues

  So I turn on an ad

  With some guy really glad:

  Hey, I have the right to choose!

  Hey my heart was breakin’

  Craving eggs and bacon

  So I started bitchin’

  Now my wife’s in the kitchen

  But I wonder what she’s really makin’

  You don’t have to be swift

  To know food’s a gift

  But, however sweet

  You shouldn’t eat

  More than you can lift

  She reads then follows your lead

  Music, life set the speed

  Less than romance

  Tango’s more than a dance

  Bound together – and freed

  As I get older each day

  I’ve changed in one sure way

  Happy, to listen, I be

  To those, you see

  Who don’t have much to say

  Verbal sparring’s my delight

  But people just take flight

  The reason, you see

  Must surely be

  That I’m so always right

  Trip on a crack

  Go down with a smack

  Watch the blue sky

  And birdies go by

  And enjoy life, down on your back

  Of course I don’t react!

  My life has been only an act

  You think you see

  The mask that is me

  It’s not, as a matter of fact

  For five days God made; inspired

  Stuff much admired

  Peanuts and wine

  Turned out fine

  But humans –

  You don’t do so good when you’re tired

  The way you say, “ah!”

  When you take off your bra

  Makes me think, honey

  We can save money

  And cancel that trip to the spa.

  I’d bet my only daughter

  There’s not much wetter’n water

  It’s good for drinks

  Hockey rinks

  And a home for the wily otter.

  The meaning of life, my son

  When all is said and done

  You’ll enjoy it best

  And get more rest

  When you learn there is none

  Knowing what humanity’s at

  I’ve decided that

  The more I see

  Of how things be

  The more I like my cat

  “Money talks; you’ll see”

  I cannot disagree

  I’ve learned it talks

  And also walks

  Because it said “Goodbye” to me

  No jumping to conclusions –

  That creates illusions,

  Keep silent, men

  Listen, then

  Draw your own confusions!

  Amid craziness and lies

  It’s foolish to be wise

  Have the guts

  To just go nuts

  And join the rest of the guys!

  I’ve often thought that

  Life would be flat

  If we walked around

  Not making a sound

  With nothing to grumble at

  You, son, can still get fame

  Have people remember your name

  With a bit of C4

  One kilo or more

  And someone, of course, to blame

  Following a crazy master

  They run a road to disaster

  Don’t they know

  Even limping slow

  On the right road is faster

  No advice I spurn

  But consider it in turn

  For no-one yet

  Have I met

  From whom I could not learn

  Ah, madness in spring

  Is a fine old thing

  Just a bit

  Will do it

  For commoner or king

  A little learning, I thought

  Often don’t mean squat

  But find, I do

  A lot of ignorance, too

  Ain’t either all that hot

  Folk songs (it’s true)

  Will rehabilitate you

  If you’re willin’

  To hear some Dylan

  And a lot of James Gordon too

  My life? I tell ya, kid

  Was sorta like a squid

  Wearing a paper skin

  And learning the violin

  In public, while I did

  The tyranny of TV news

  Can drive a guy to booze

  I find I’m caught

  In whatever thought

  That
they carefully choose

  God bless Edison tonight

  If he hadn’t got things right

  We’d all be

  Watching TV

  Only by candlelight

  Retirement – I could go thru

  All the things I intended to do….

  I thought I’d have time

  But now I’m

  Busy with nothing to do!

  The advice is over the top

  “Hey! Slow down! Stop!”

  But by middle age

  My advising sage

  Is, alas, my doctor, not a cop

  Is that three buxom lasses

  Trapped in pure molasses?

  Oops, just some trees

  Swaying in the breeze...

  But I'm glad I found my glasses

  Retirement’s not like a shelf

  Where you live like an old garden elf

  There’s plenty to do

  At least, if you

  Can learn to live with yourself

  What’s this year to me?

  It’s when I learned to BE

  To accept and forgive

  Then laugh, love, and live

  Like no one could see

  In middle age you’ve got

  More lukewarm than hot

  You can do as much

  Of work and such…

  But would rather not

  Money- I could live without it

  Ah! Don’t you doubt it

  The trouble, you see

  Isn’t me

  It’s that the world is crazy about it

  ****

  Chapter 7: More Not-So-Deep Thoughts

  Computers someday, I’ve read

  Will think like a human head

  But the danger is real

  That someday we’ll

  Think like computers instead

  Anchored in nonsense are they

  I guess they’re happier that way

  Than to make a boat

  That might float

  On some seas of thought today

  To yourself be true

  My son, for if you do

  Every man

  Will know he can

  Put his trust in you

  I look back on the year

  Add up each laugh and tear

  It wasn’t that bad

  Really, I had

  Nothing to fear but fear

  O my boss, you’ve

  Had the luck to move

  To your Incompetence Level

  And the Devil

  Will be happy to approve

  My boss, that jerk

  Loves each management perk

  Like setting my goals

  With bizarre controls

  Making it difficult to work

  Oh, how I dote

  On the books I never wrote

  Published works

  Are just for jerks

  And some hungry goat

  I really feel some fear

  When I look into the mirr

  Or when I go to

  My recent photo

  I can really use a beer

  I’m not really a smartee

  A failure at repartee

  The perfect words, you see

  Always come to me

  Just after I’m a departee

  A better artist you’ll be

  Without reality

  If you change into truth

  In a telephone booth

  And shut your eyes to see

  Never pentacostic

  Not even acrostic

  Life’s as much sense

  As a butterfly fence

  And that’s why I’m an agnostic

  I see you’ve been getting hell

  “What a loser!’ they yell

  Ignore the booing –

  If it’s not worth doing

  It’s worth not doing well

  Cats fight, I’ve found

  The fury much renowned

  Fur will fly

  Makes me wonder why

  There are so many kittens around

  In living day to day

  Some wisdom comes my way

  Like (I concede)

  If at first you don’t succeed

  Give up skydiving, I say

  ****

  Chapter 8: Seasonal and Outdoorsy

  Starting with that late-winter restlessness, and moving on to mountain biking.

  Outside, winter proceeds

  The birds are into the seeds

  And I keep a beer

  Cold, and near

  We’re fulfilling their personal needs

  Water, from rooftops, flow!

  Melt, you grungy old snow!

  I prefer my bicycle

  To the prettiest icicle:

  It’s been a fine winter, but – go!

  Water, from rooftops, flow!

  Melt, you grungy old snow!

  I prefer my bicycle

  To the prettiest icicle:

  It’s been a fine winter, but – go!

  Twiddle-dee-dee

  Water breaks free

  I say, heart-felt

  That an early melt

  Is more than alright with me.

  Ivory hills of snow

  Turn to water, I know

  Well, I’ll remember the white

  Some summer night

  By the campfire’s glow

  You, February, I won’t miss

  Not a pleasant month, this

  Take your cold and snow

  And as you go

  I bend over, blow you a kiss.

  Old photos and beer, that beats a

  View out the window that greets a

  Guy getting cheer

  From a two-four of beer

  And another big slice of a pizza.

  Water’s movement seems

  To hold the season’s streams

  And in the rain

  I learn again

  The seaward flow of dreams

  Find the gear, find the pace

  Avoid trees, find space

  Forgetting trouble

  Intense in my bubble

  And a grin all over my face

  The troubles of the year

  Just disappear

  Mist of the morn

  One guy reborn

  In wheel, pedal, and gear

  Immoveable pillars beside

  A dirt snake ten inches wide

  The trail twists; I grin

  Glad to be in

  This forest rodeo ride

  The drive, the mud, the rain

  The slip, the crash, the pain

  I get up, then

  Start again

  Someone around here’s insane!

  ****

  Chapter 9: The Arts

  Cruelly real, or abstract

  Not always rife with tact

  Poetry grows

  Like a rose

  Finding in imagery, fact

  Away the orchestra floats

  The audience puts on their coats

  Do they know, of the art

  The largest part

  Was found between the lines?

  Art’s an interest, you say

  Something you’re doing today?

  If in doubt

  Stay out

  Art’s not a thing, it’s a way!

  The quality of art, you state

  Is a matter of debate

  No! Any art

  Is always part

  Of a revolt against Man’s fate

  Art should cross fences

  Laughing at pretences

  Spicily seasoned

  A carefully reasoned

  Derangement of the senses

  Half of music’s no more than

  Whispers from the Great God Pan

  Notes are seeds

  From his reeds

  Loving chaos his only plan

  The soul perseveres

  Among the café pioneers
/>   The writing numbs

  A poem becomes

  Trouble, drowned in tears

  A poem’s a wizened elf

  I drag down from some shelf

  I shivers my spine

  When I write a line

  I don’t understand myself

  Poetry’s role, I feel

  Is never to conceal

  Nor to teach

  But make each

  Truth more truly real

  Call her reality’s sleuth

  Poking at the aching tooth

  Ember and fire

  The poet’s a liar

  Who always speaks the truth

  Into the canyon, a rose

  A poet carefully throws

  He publishes a book

  Try not to look

  The effect’s the same, he knows

  Hurt, the poet squeals

  Writes, a poem, heals

  But all that pain

  Is just in vain

  Unless the reader, too, feels

  I write free verse, and yet

  Those words I soon forget

  If it don’t rhyme

  It’s like I’m

  Playing tennis without a net

  A poet is seldom swayed

  By the money he hasn’t made

  The income is low

  But, you know

  Poets are born, not paid

  Remember, when you’re bored

  Pen – mightier than sword

  So write what’s true

  Later, we’ll award you

  A posthumous award

  An artistic dream you’ve nursed

  For its glory you thirst

  Please take heed –

  Of the things you need

  Confidence in nonsense comes first

  High-ho good fellow

  I want a sound that’s mellow

  Not one that’s

  Like dying cats

  So please put away your cello

  This instrument’s role

  Is distressing one’s soul

  A cello’s the wail

  Of a guy thrown in jail

  For life with no chance of parole

  Are you sandpapering a cat?

  Well, it sounds like that

  That cello’s in pain

  But then again

  I kinds like where it’s at!

  I’m kinda getting uster

  Strangling my rooster

  And getting mellow

  Caressing my cello

  And you can’t prove I ever abuseder

  Timpani’s the sound of God

  Stomping earthly sod

  Yelling, “What a bummer!

  Every drummer

  Is more than a little bit odd.”

  Sometimes I think in wonder

  That timpani’s thunder

  Cries “Vandals! Bent

  With cruel intent

  On pillage, rape, and plunder”

  Is timpani’s thunder

  From Heaven rent asunder

  And a horse, rough-shod

  Carrying God

  Rolling this whole world under?

  An oboe’s the sound of a duck

  Whining about her luck

  The kids are grown

  Her friends are flown

  And she’s about to be hit by a truck

  Sounding like the brake of a train

  And a guy with little to gain

  The cry of an oboe

  Is an arthritic hobo

  Finding shelter from the rain

  An oboe’s a little bit gay

  (Not meant in a pejorative way)

  But be it known

  It wants to be blown

  Once, at least, today

  **** END of PART ONE****

  Chapter 10: The Poems in Tweetable Form

  This is part two, which contains the same limericks, but with the line breaks replaced with slashes for easy tweeting.

  ****Part Two****

  ****

  Politics

  It's a cheap thing to dis politicians. So I did.

  Democracy’s noisy and blind/The worst system out of man’s mind/The most foolish insanity/Of humanity/Except for all of the others I find.

  Our leaders - a curse/Sucking the public purse/It won’t do what it should/But democracy’s still good/‘Cause other systems somehow are worse

  Yesterday’s answers, it’s true/Are all he offers you/But he gets your vote/That wily old goat/Every election, on cue

  Our leader usually tries/To hide his sense of surprise/When we give a high grade/To promises he made/And believe even one of his lies