Kern's Holler Poem Bunker
RastaBillyBob
Take a moment to ponder the fate of Legume
SubGenius minister; brain as big as a room
His muscular heart, though it pumps bunker oil
Has a time keeping up with the brain's constant toil
His rhyming, his timing, his broad sense of humor
Has attached itself to my butt like a tumor
To my mind he defines the Yeti decorum
With his terse contributions to the alt.slack forum
I've seen him in action, I've witnessed onstage
This scary ex-biker with Viking-like rage
Pink turns to panic, and gorms get to running
When they hear this SubGenius Reverend coming
There are many faint Xtians, and Muslims for sure, 'n
There are several Hindus, who've had their turn on the wheel
So just don't kill Kenny; that's the thirty-buck deal.
Twas X-Day, and the Yetikin
Did 'frop and grumble on their fate
All slackened were the coders there
And the Barneys slept in late
Beware the Goomerwock, my sweet
The eyes that glare, the mouth that spits
Beware the ghost of Chaz that dwells
Behind the fire pit
She posted as the Boss of Us,
Longtime the kooks she gaily bashed
And wrote them all in fairy tales
The quirks they had, she trashed
And then, there in the alt.slack woods,
There came with sound and smell of grinch
The Goomerwock with farts of flame
And penis, just an inch
"Begone!" Said Back It Up, the Boss
And take your stench along to Hell
"Eat this", said Goomer, pointing down,
And came back just as well.
She took her virtual quill in hand
The keyboard it went clicky-clack
She spewed forth on the internet
And never did read back
Brave Tater captured every word
Each verse into the Holler kept
And those of us stood 'round in awe
And laughed until we wept
Oh, hast thou taken in account,
The Bobbies, who around us wait
The drooling trolls who want for slack
But add not to the debate?
Come next X-Day, that's what we'll say
It all will come to end
Go back to work, you hapless jerk
And do your best, 'til then.
Among my Honest Dancers, there are two who do quite well
They execute a pirouette with the grace of paired gazelle
To watch this viscous couple dance, one would hardly know
That one is blind; the other deaf, and both had polio.
The Poetry Bug
Twas the midst of December, as I recall,
When the poetry bug got the best of us all
First Back It Up, Dynamite, Susie and Tater
Stang, for his part, joined in a bit later.
But the one that surprised me, I know not why it should,
Was Legume -- Holocaustal -- but his poetry's good.
He took on the Big Boss, in a poetry slam
And if asked, "Are you impressed?" I would say, "Yes, I am."
When the pixels calmed down, for a while maybe longer
Everyone felt a feeling, I guess some felt it stronger
It seems a rhyme, for a time, makes each thought appear wiser
Like Saints Dylan, and Berry, and the Slack Advertiser
As Lobotomy stares at his microscope kingdom
And Kitteh finds cat turds, and places to fling 'em
Mistar Sistar's reclining, and showing who's mastar
Through the Windows to nowhere, only 7 times fastar
That Zapanaz happens to be listening to music
That somehow lends relationship to all these confusics
Pisces the Priestess, and Young Pantiara
Have some things in common, that we're not yet aware of
And so the day passes, another one goes,
And I'm on the roof, have to deal with the snow
Here all around us, and in leagues far away
There's a little bit more of the "Bob" in each day
Merry Solstice!