In Which An Uninitiated Chick Watches the New GI Joe Film

Since I took on a housemate, my abode,
Already quite a nerdy palace, yes
Is thoroughly and quite completely Joe'd
(And Who'd and whatnot), it's not hard to guess
What I've just come from. And as movies go,
Retaliation certainly has got
A lot of movie in it. We all know
It's just a toy commercial, and I'm not
Its target market, but I still had fun
(Except for all the screechy parts). But why
Does that one ninja chick, who surely must
Be stealthy, go on whizzing though the sky
In tights that emphasize her glowing butt?
How is that sneaky? Whatever, my brain
Is far too pummeled to end this refrain.

Bernard the Helper Mule: A Mock Epic for @popqueenie and @lucysfootball

When Buddy, Legolas and Keebler all
Attended the same party, long ago,
Alas, the three of them perchanced to fall
Into great folly, and, well, as you know
From looking at their tee-shirts... let's just call
Them most unfortunate. But how they show
Resilience is most inspiring! They
Don't let their illness stop them on their way.

Now, Legolas and Keebler simply got
Expected gifts from all their elven kin.
But Buddy? Such was not to be his lot
He took so many helpers for a spin
But Santa wouldn't spend the green (that's not
To call him cheap or anything, 'cause, well
We do hope he'll be gen'rous someday. Hell!)

So Buddy, helpless, lonely and bereft
Sat by the subway, begging for spare change
And scrabbling blindly for the crumbs we left
Of sandwiches, when one day, something strange
Occurred. Disgruntled, angry and deranged
One Kinky Kelly, formerly a deft
And lithe performer, just released from jail
Learned that his mule now saw him and thought "fail!"

"He doesn't love me anymore!" he cried.
"I thought tattoos were sexy, but, no good."
In tears he sank down to our Buddy's side.
And Buddy got to thinking. "Kelly, would
Your mule consider going for a ride?"
Quoth Kelly "He's a hussy, sure, but could
You give me just a moment?" "Sure." "All right.
Let's give it one more try, Bernard, tonight?"

Bernard, though, wasn't having it, and kicked
His ex right in the groin. "Um, he's all yours,"
Quoth Kelly. "Aw, I hope this don't afflict
You too bad," Buddy said, then, on all fours
He struggled toward the mule that he had picked
To be his helper, and, just as the doors
Closed on poor Kelly, grabbed it by the fur
And pulled himself upright. "No, as you were."

The streets of old Manhattan never saw
A sight like Buddy and his Bernard, as
They learned to help each other. "Oh, look, aw!
That's wrong, that is" was typical. "He has
His hand up in that donkey's--" "Shut yer jaw!"
But Buddy, he was used to all that jazz.
"Don't listen, Bernard," he would say, and for
The mule's part, there was really nothing more.

They learned to help each other, and now they
Are quite insep'rable, and other elves
Who partied with him on that fateful day
Just wish they had a helper mule themselves.
Especially Legolas, who, people say
Keeps hidden deep amongst his many shelves
Of poetry and lit, some rank mule porn.
Alas for him and his pale unicorn...

Poet's noet: The original inspiration for this can be found at LucysFootball HERE and further elucidated at Snobbery blog's feast of "Low-Ku" HERE.

In Which A FiendMaster Looks At 40

What can one say on so august a day
(That happens in December), when the man
We call FiendMaster comes to, come what may
A birthday he'd avoid if e'er he can
(Though I found it unscary)? This guy writes
Foul stories, demonizing ice cream men
And most beloved muppets. Now his sights
Are set on unknown, new, bad vistas. When
He told me weeks ago that 40 loomed
And that his liver lillied, how could I
Not mock his cowardice? Yes, Paul, you're doomed.
We all are aging. These years do fly by.
Now quit your whining and write some more tales.
Your Fiendlings don't like waiting. Trim those sails!

In Which I Am Creeped Out By Doom Presaging Mascots

Great Britain's brought us horrors before now
The monster Frankenstein built, just to name
One mem'rable example. Oh, but how
Those limeys have surpassed themselves! The same
Imaginations that once wrought the case
Of Jekyll and of Hyde, of Wicker Men,
Of gothic horror elegance, same place
That gave us Slake Moths and Remade, that den
Of terror and of nightmares now gives birth
To twin Cyclop'ean horrors that may yet
Surpass them all. O, poor unready Earth,
That soon shall feel their sprightly tread, I bet
Your children's screams already peal their fears.
Just wait 'til their dominion in two years!

Sonnet Dare: In Which I Contemplate Pieces of Kate

I lost my temper at one point today.
Some news tore out my heart from in my chest.
My liver is on strike to make me pay
For the Greek beer I drank last night. It's best
That we don't even mention these, my knees
Rebelling, too, from biking on a flat
(My eyes refused, e'en though I did say "please"
To see in all that dark where we were at
Enough to pump it back to fullness) ache
Somewhat. I fear they might come off if I
Don't keep an eye on them. I'd hate to make
The error of misplacing them. I'm spry
But without them I'm hopelessly in place,
And someone's sure to ask "why the long face?"

Winter Has Found a Cruel New Way to Mock My Fragile Hopes and Modest Dreams

This morning at my local grocery store,
Was laid for me a welcome, glad surprise:
Strawberries for a dollar, nothing more,
Per pound, and those of quality and size
And scent to make me wonder when I am.
It's wintertime, yet they they were, so ripe
And ready to be made up into jam.
I bought up four; my debit card did swipe
And brought them home with great alacrity --
But then I came back home to find a mess:
My ceiling weeping like a willow tree,
My kitchen floor awash in snowmelt, yes,
Those roof repairs they did that raised my rent
Last time around were money so well spent!