Al Qaeda will kill you so dead you are dead
They'll rip off your scrotum and chop off your head
Then use your remains in three nights of buffets
But that won't compare to the rage of those gays.
Al Qaeda has guys who'll shake hands and explode
Then others who'll serve up your chunks a la mode
Still more are in orbit perfecting death rays
But what you have to fear is the threat of those gays.
Al Qaeda will rip all your limbs from their sockets
And then mount your torso on Katyusha rockets
And fire you at toddlers to hearty hoorays
Still I shiver to think of the acts of those gays.
Al Qaeda's new poison will curdle your guts
Then they'll use your dead carcass to poison your mutts
Then serve up those dead dogs as poisoned parfaits
Though that's mercy compared to the plans of those gays.
--
More versification.
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6 comments:
You well may mock Roger but you don't know his history
The source of his trepidation is really no mystery
It's not memories of bloodshed that shatter his dreams
But that one night of passion he spent with Hakeem
Hakeem was just handsome, slender and strong
With smoldering eyes and a great big thick shlong
One minute Roger was sharing his Hookah
The next thing he knew he had Hakeem up his Hoohaw...
I was told there would be villanelles.
At least there was no math, S.C.
~
That were a real, proper, nice poetification, it were.
It is the main foot used in the construction of the limerick, as in "There once was / a girl from / Nantucket."
(not that there's anything wrong with that - girls from Nantucket are ok by me)
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