Best Lampoon Poems
Once again, he dresses himself with flour-puffed face,neck ruffles and oversized shoes ,
all this fanfare for kids wiggling Barney Bailey shrieks :
He juggles coins, flashes a silly mime while blistered thoughts knead in the circus of a mind:
his son lost lying in a bed of snuffed dreams exiting from the ghastly night while clouds dim beneath the marquee...
Giggles flood the rows where laughter drowns a sea of guffaws; a moment when life becomes a lampoon a farce
an illusion :
No one knows the polka dot tears which press inside a clown's leaking heart
as he traces the wild grins of youngsters seeking his presence ,
youngsters like his own lifeless child--
own child he did not watch go the light...
his false laughter turns into silent howls
imploring just an intermission from
the stage.
But the show must go on where the absurdity of man is , once again , enacted.
Will liberty ring out again
beneath the cries of human rights
can freedom's name survive,
dissembling and lies
Will duty from its prison flee
throw off its shackled memory
is respect just a word
spoken,but never heard
How long,how long 'til I becomes thee ?
when when will ego bend the knee
the victim is not me
my friend my friend it's we.
Who rings this bell of liberty
truly woke sounds our culture's death knell.
David Cameron
Skull you could hammer on
Back from the Lords as Home Sec
Shows the UK has just gone to heck.
Suella Braverman
Made many mistakes, but the major one
Was using the pro-Palestinians
to insight riot from Social Darwinians.
Written: June 05, 2026, for a contest sponsored by sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
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Cimmerian commonwealth
nursing holy brews
churning mysteries
with argent wands
Titans in penumbra
lean close—
brewing enigmas
with argent stems,
greasing the gears.
A grimoire of governance
flutters open,
pages full of
incondite lore
and hornswoggle headlines
nobody fact-checks.
Power studies itself
in a cracked mirror—
greed blooming
like desert weeds
that never dies.
Chiefs grin
their counterfeit harmony,
buying belief
at clearance prices.
Sages—late learners—
soothe the crowd
with honeyed noise
and velvet fog.
Farewell speeches flare
incarnadine,
promising everything,
delivering vapor.
Morals limp in last place
while oily fingers
rake the jackpot.
Imbroglio eternal—
truth rationed
in dogmatic chains.
Skyfoam slogans rise,
tiaras of lies
wilting under their own shine.
And we—
visceral, wary,
perpetually bemused—
watch the circus
spin its cabotage wheel.
Yes, yes—
The Illuminati runs the day.
Sure, mate—
and I’m the Pope
of Broadway.