Best Schtick Poems
* Collaboration of Limericks written by Jan Allison,
Tom Cunningham, Tania Kitchin and Lin Lane
Here's a news flash, the latest scoop
There are parasites in the soup
AI bottom feeders
Poet superceders
Those who cannot write worth a poop
Artificial intelligence is smart
But never uses words found in the heart
Some dolts use it to cheat
Thinking they are discreet
We should hit them in their butts with a dart
They say AI is here to stay
But plagiarism is another way
Some may copy/paste Poe
Or other greats you know
Add their name, it's sorted way hey!
We know you're fake and using AI
Your poems are nothing but a lie
Wanting to be cool
but instead, a fool
Now you can just leave our site, goodbye!
Some poets get Poem of the Day
It's AI, (of course they don't say)
AI contest "winners"
Are poetry sinners
Does admin prevent them - no way!
Real poets write using only their hand
AI users need more'n a reprimand
Deleting their accounts
'fore their winning surmounts
There should be a way they could all be banned
Stay put, no need to get out of bed
Or have a thought in your empty head
So, just ask Alexa
And she'll write it for ya
A shame you can't use your brain instead
What is your real poetry name?
As fake poems seem to be your game
All Plagiarism and AI
We're really not sure why
Your page is pathetically lame
Pestilence borne in the form of AI
Not of Biblical proportion but why
do you have need to chouse
Poets' concern and rouse
the community to feel so awry
On the day AI begins its world rule
People will still call each other a fool
Is the human race then doomed
AI will have us all groomed
To serve them as lowly slaves, a footstool
I asked a generator to write a Limerick, its response was...
An AI that wrote with great flair,
Could craft limericks beyond compare.
With rhythm and rhyme,
In a jiffy, each time,
It brought smiles to faces everywhere!
This was my response
No! au contraire, AI generator
Not everyone smiles at your creator
I will admit you're quick
but it's deceptive schtick
You're a bad poet's ego inflator
Please allow me to introduce,
Without any pardon or excuse,
A man who needs no introduction,
To those he’s given instruction,
A man who has always helped me,
To understand extreme fallacy,
Through guidance and edification,
He spreads his extreme education,
Now he never reserves his lessons,
And always leaves his impressions,
Upon those he teaches his schtick,
For he is our scholastic mechanic,
Always he tinkers under the hood,
To find the best of what is good,
And now without further adieu,
I am proud to present to you,
A man who’s mind always races,
And affords us other head cases,
A view most definitely skewed,
By great wisdom and high I.Q.,
A man whom I proudly call my brother,
Who’s humble wit makes him tougher,
Than my boastful wages however manic,
…Our G-Man the scholastic mechanic!
I'm full of poop I am I am
Tried being serious but don't think I can
Tried every trick
It's not my schtick
Guess I'll continue being a dirty old man
© Jack Ellison 2015
The Dreams of Library Ladies
Library ladies could it be you sometimes dream
With books (and children) all put in their place
Do you imagine an alternate library scene
A view transformed to more exotic space
The British Museum, perhaps you hear it calling
With more books than at which you could shake a stick
Rubbing shoulders with the likes of Marx and Lenin
Guiding them on better path could be your schtick
Under massive Radcliffe Camera's noble dome
Among dusty denizens of Academia
In such an arena would you feel at home
Looking pale, intense, with a name such as Ophelia
Alexandria' s great library (not far from Giza)
As one of nine goddesses of the muse
If given a request from Julius Caesar
Would you find yourself unable to refuse
Then if you feel adventurous and wild
Unseen University beyond the sphere of man *
Magic books have you enchanted and beguiled
But as librarian might become an Orang Utan
The Louvre attended by gallant chevalier
Might be a better option to embrace
Can you see yourself descend a grand escalier
Like Audrey Hepburn before the Victory of Samothrace **
Though life here may seem less thrilling than your revery
Don't be dismayed but feel a rightful pride
In your books are phantasies, a virtual treasury
Dream your dreams for these are such that you provide
* ref. Terry Pratchett's Disc World
** In film: ‘Funny Face’
They are on the final stage
Of being in their Nascar cage
Soon they will leave the Daytona sun
And under the lights this car racing contest will be done
After putting up with the rain
It is time to deal with the pit crew game
Check the gas and the glass
Along with the discount tires needed to go fast
Since right on the heels is the Pennzoil shell
Who is trying to make all this gel
Pushing a little harder on the pedal made things go
And Shell Oil was a leader during this east coast happy hour show
As many laps and miles went by
Everybody seemed to be enjoying this sunshine state ride
Kroger might have had a spin and those chocolate candy nuts still wanted to win
It was on lap 184 that discount tires found themselves headed for the exit door
There four wheels lost control in this event
Sending many to the emergency tent.
When returned the laps were showing only ten
Oscar Meyer still was on top to defend
Ketchup and mustard were not needed
Only some grueling time of something called competing
Down the wire the seventy-seven set off such a fire
But nevertheless
It was the fed express
Who got there working overtime
Making sure they were first over the checkered line
But the show was not over since there was one last out of control car schtick
Performed as a Nascar trick.
After finishing the race Oscar Meyer made its case
Let’s flip the bun
To see if there is any ketchup left when the stunt is done.
Up in the air they went
Coming down feeling really spent.
At this hour it is in God’s hands and he is in charge
Of this Nascar star.
But all in all, the Daytona meet stayed with in the law
Sending the circus to Las Vegas where they are here to gamble money
Not the stock car who is there true honey.
A new day perhaps, of immeasurable tin, sound of din
A hurricane noise, a thrall of riotous cuts, although thin
The blood-curdle choke of rage from before
Now purchased like plasma from the needle store
Go hump yourself, If you want my schtick, you vampire whore
You’ve had enough since the Garden, Lillith, you’ll not get more
Now the ratio between human, vampire, dragon and other dead
Has been cast with fair radiant echo against the nuclear thread
A shroud sewn with Alcubierre’s hand and Teller’s eye
Will re-write the laws of your time to die
Not forced by the forced prison of your local priest
Or enticed by Babylon to take part in it’s wicked feast
The work that was promised to Adam and re-framed unto Cain
To un-curse the valley, glen and land: to filter Acid from Rain
With thorns o- the rose coming loose from the Bush
And snakes running hither or thither in scintillate Rush
The Oracle of Satan found new charms to spread in perfect Cube
Could be the shape of Sound Maynard or Max’s Cubic Rube
The Time of Orwell Now and Jobs spelling Apple at his Side
And Sting writing programs for the Cops, whom along for the Ride
the Bladerunner checkin for humans among the technical horde
Huxley detected the separate spirit, lobotimized souls, Model T Fords
And Harrison checked again with electric sleep on the Brain
A tear for Summer, or a vision for Canticles, a wave almost Inane
With countless ages past since the Dust of Sumer lent
It’s hell-bound rasp of gutteral destruction spent
The awful wave of gas, a riotous nuclear blast
In the once Green land where sage grew fast
The dim spectre of time has given up the ghost
With markets bazar and material plenty, yet consider the cost
From Alabaster bone the Ocean’s a-shallow
The Mermaids remember the times that were fallow
Year upon year the bi-peds walked without aim or deed
That could count for fullness, even yet upon steed
Even in those ages of lore when upon horse they’d trot
Or with Gasoline chariot to the park like Mel Ot
None could account for the empty space of land
Or like Kieth Stone, bend down and till without turning into sand
The eidolons of time, immemorable: drooping, eternal clocks
An echo of murmurs, drogue and sorrow, indifferent as the rocks
Whom would not cry out, with refusal of price
None could garner their strength or bleed them twice
When you mind your mind cause' all you find.
Is dried up fruit under the rind.
You can't recall what you should know.
You think maybe it's time to go.
The fog is thick, nothing will stick.
You can't depend on your old schtick.
The fading blues is now the news.
Lord knows it's not what you would choose.
So to be thankful on this day.
You have to cast off your dismay.
And eat some turkey, take a nap.
Then wake up, have a nightcap.
For every year family's will fear.
That Uncle will drink too much beer.
And Auntie will be in the wine.
Don't worry, tomorrow, it will be fine.
When everyone must go back home.
I'll sit right down and write a poem.
About how life has come and gone.
And how a thought can't seem to dawn.
Just rambling runnings in the mist.
Of something, I didn't get the gist.
The absence of the facts dismissed.
Oh yeah, here is my Christmas list.
This revolutionary fella followed by
Adams family patriarch,giving rise
twin heir (plain lee gifted "Renaissance
Man") Jeff force'n without hemming
and hawing, subsequently conceding
nexus (nor horse drawn Lexus) of Colonial
power to Madison, thence Monroe
buttoned up as suitable candidate after
which younger Adams elected.
Thirty four followed Jackson's club
trumpeting (some Obama nib bully)
bushwhacking their way predicated
on faulty Algorithm, charming
charismatically with hint of Clint
like glint in eyes, blinding populace,
sans ray gun (Reagan), Car Tour ring
with peanut gallery in tow, affording
(unpopularly pardoning unfashionably),
a Jerry rigged nixed son, followed
by John's son tainted by stain of Vietnam,
but with said Southeast Asian debacle,
one ken heady (sporting thick styled hair)
inherited an internecine conflict, essentially
precipitated, when Eisenhower hardened
political stance against any allies of the
Soviet Union, (sans The Viet Cong), and
pledged his firm support to Diem
and South Vietnam.
Now with preceding administration, one
harried true man unleashed advent of atomic
spectra upon Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, this
purported preemptive measure scary ruse
felt to thwart exaggerated Japanese government
threat (military intelligence) scheming to
wreak untold havoc upon American troops
within the Pacific theater of World War II.
The former horrific decision controversial,
then and to this day Hoover expert historian,
diverge, asper corroborating the necessity
to usher in the Cold War, yet majority foreign
policy wonks might grudgingly attest that
said thirty first commander in chief did maintain
a Cool Edge throughout onset when doomsday
clock began countdown to Armageddon,
an unimaginably blaring, deafening, earsplitting...
cacophony distant rumbles heard, nonetheless,
no Hard dinning ghoulish nightmare (potentially
obliterating all life on planet Earth) haunted
Wilson, nor Taft, only gunboat diplomacy
mere child's play exhorted, less catastrophic
comparison, when Teddy Roosevelt wielded
"big stick schtick" namesake corollary to the
Monroe Doctrine in 1904...ad nauseum.
I’m very pleased to introduce to you
something once a toy made completely new.
All you need are two good legs and balance! But it’s not a bike.
It’s as healthy as biking, so cyclists, take a hike!
It’s much more fun for everyone to JUMP their way
to where they want to get to every day.
The bottom part of it, once made of rubber,
used to wear down fast and made a few kids blubber.
For when the steel part poked itself on through,
annoying clatter hitting pavement would ensue.
That old-fashioned part that gave bounce for you
is completely remodeled. Now metal won’t poke through!
And better yet, it’s not rubber-made at all!
You now can jump to anywhere on anything, and you won’t fall.
This awesome patented invention will never get stuck
in dirt, grass or gravel, nor in mud and muck.
With longer and higher jumps than you ever had before,
the distance you can jump has increased twenty times more.
No one else but us has this technology.
Come and take a test-jump. You will see. . .
why we call our product the Quick MOGO stick.
POGO redesigned, will make you jump for joy, and that is no schtick!
March 16, 2018 for
"Advertisement: Sell something, make us want it" contest of Lewis Raynes
I think Rude-Pun-Zel was a hidden name for Rene Zellwinger!! Remember about
2-3 years ago, no matter what movie playing you went to, she starred?
Patricia- when I played that gig 2 weeks ago in that nightclub, my between
songs "schtick" made one feel they were in the Catskills, circa 1950s! Luckily,
the band did not disapprove. Next time , I open for them!! (only kidding!). tom
hope you feel better, I've felt lousy last 2 days, myself. Nite!...
Sitting here thinking,
while I’m holding my own,
I’m wondering how so many big heads
fit into a pontifical cone?
Riding in a chair of gold leaf,
always raised way above the rest
No wonder these elevated mortals
start feeling they’re better than the best.
Oh omniscient, watch out for that nearby and
lowly dreg with a humbling stick.
He’ll let the air out of your head you oblivious,
magnificent but self-made schtick!
Said a level-headed young man named Dick
I wish I'd a name that was not so schtick
His mother said, Put it on the shelf,
Your father named you after himself
And, we all know, he was sort of a prick!
Written June 28, 2022
I catch junk with a stick
Whip it like batter
Make it thick
Set it firm in an oven brick
A sleight-of-hand trick
Flipping a well-rehearsed schtick
Pulling it out of the fire quick
Cool…then plate with a crispy breadstick
Sink your teeth in…taste the kick
A feast of rhyme…a bold remix
Juicy lyrics on a drumstick
if there was no poetry
then what would become
of my fledgling thoughts
unbaked as they are
raw
this mish-mash of words
words
words
words I’ve barely stirred
i have made them presentable
readied them to be penned
they all wait proudly
showing their finest
how versatile they can be
wanting to be chosen
metaphors so clever
phrases perfectly turned
runes waiting for attribution
clichés anticipating new life
would my gift for schtick
never get the chance to evoke
the laughs I so crave
oh! what a terrible curse
to have my pen stilled
where would I put the
clatter in my head
if not into poetry
each precious word a chick nudged
from its nest
all my babies: some fly, some fall flat
splat!
i am mother to these fledglings
watchful, hopeful, shaping them
helping them fulfill their potential
and when they take flight
avoiding the fate of Icarus
they save me
for a moment
they save me
from the madness
of
the world
I have a deep ingrained aspiration--
[Wake each morning in anticipation]
A poem I have written earns first place,
So far, this simply has not been the case.
I follow the rules; I give it my best
Apparently, I just don't pass the test.
I am trying to mimic Dietrich's schtick
My simplistic rhymes are making me sick.
My editing skills are rather severe
The secret to first place is persevere.
Perhaps time will reward me with good luck
Meanwhile I won't give a flying f--k!**
The old saw's right I am eager to say
A broken clock is on time twice a day.
So, I'll continue submitting my verse
And hoping for the best--tenth place or worse!
[NOTE: I have carefully adhered to the 10-syllable line of iambic pentameter
but have embraced poetic license with the rhythm of each line]
[**NOTE: I deeply apologize for the "four-letter" word in the sixth
couplet, but I simply could not resist!]
Written March 19, 2021
for "Rhyming Couplets" contest
sponsored by Janice Canerdy