Thursday, September 5, 2013

The Alphabet Project E-I

E is for Erectile

Ok, it's weak. I didn't say they were all going to be winners, I just said they'd get done!

It’s sad that a word like erectile
Has caused chuckles and snorts and guffaws
It’s an upstanding text and it leaves me perplexed
That it’s always combined with its flaws

Now a skyscraper is an erectile construction;
And no one would laugh at Trump Tower
Yet saying erectile without its dysfunction
Seems out of our language’s power

F is for Filaments

I once had locks between my head and all that’s in the world
In fact I’ve had a lot of hair; at one time it unfurled
But now I’ve shaved my silver mane, my hip identity
I look just like a rassler, on the Saturday TV!

Dear Lord, am I just crazy, did I slip another gear?
My scalp looks in a mirror like a peachfuzzed baby’s rear!
Perhaps I should have waited; maybe hell would start to freeze.
Oh filaments come back to me, this Samson’s on his knees!

G is for Gelatinous


I fancy myself a quite competent chef,
a commander of butter and cream
I haven’t a need for a recipe book;
I create on a wing and a dream

My successes are many, as guests would concede;
(I’ve a penchant for knowing their tastes)
I can conjure a meal with relentless appeal
adding feet to my visitor’s waists

But don’t ask me for lutefisk dinner.
I have tried. I have failed. I have stopped.
I have sweated and slaved on this fishy depraved
Yet it’s always gelatinous glop!

H is for Haggis

I know I’ve complained about lutefisk goo,
how snot-like the fishy can be;
a cod dipped in lye has a mild noxious nose
that makes even the ravenous flee

And then there’s the wondrous blood sausage
A flesh wrapped, most quagulant brick
Shiny black on the plate, I just prodded and stared
As I pondered myself getting sick

But there’s nothing folks eat quite like haggis
Take some guts, add some oatmeal and fat
Boiled in a lamb’s tummy, it’s fantastically yummy
Like the hairballs that come from one’s cat.

                             I is for Insignificance

At first I thought I’d be a priest, a gentle man of charity;
but I was doomed within a year, my insights lacked true clarity.
And then, a rock star was my goal! A Johnny Rivers or his type!
But practice was the death of me; the easy life was all a hype.

I dreamed myself a hero’s shine, a savior of the common man,
imbued with special qualities, plus winning smile and perfect tan.
I visualized my huge success, a master of the corporate plane
where I might break the business mold and give as much as I might gain.

But none of these things came to light, I never found the righteous path,
I’m more a coward than a king; and as for rich, I failed at math
I’m nothing of the stuff of dreams, but only average tailor’s weave.
My life is insignificance compared to what I’d make believe

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