At the risk of coming off turgid
I offer this tale esoteric
Hoping it’s not found insipid
Nor causes one to be apoplectic
But rather received with alacrity
Without the need for paroxysm
My word there’ll be no chicanery
And avoidance of anachronism
Far from being sesquipedalian
Nor need for any razzmatazz
The tale of the slubberdegullion
Who thought himself full with pizzazz
Though being so supercilious
His affect stirred only dudgeon
Any good was so very fugacious
From this untoward tatterdemalion
Yet still he persisted a mumpsimus
If you will, and worse a panjandrum
So aggravating and rumbustious
Redeeming qualities not a modicum
An unquestioned snollygoster
Given to being quite vagary
An ill-reputed hugger-mugger
And a voice of such cacophony
But I see that you are insouciant
And consider my warning malarkey
Since you wish to be recalcitrant
My apologies for being persnickety
I end my tale of the rapscallion
Without further ado or rigmarole
Avoiding becoming ultracrepidarian
I have met my supererogatory parole
Categories:
mumpsimus, funny, humor, language, words,
Form: Verse
The BBS has the tracks of how your gestations condescend,
your keyboard is where your fingers time and again stumble.
Numb and dumb, short-winded nib despairs of the scutwork's end;
In regard to your mumpsimus, succumbing to ink inundation, prostrate paper ceases to mumble.
Once arises the idea of an art creation, ineffably blent
or the one free from the rough-and-tumble,
pristine pulchritude, original mindscapes' most faithful fere,
shrinks and shrivels the way Venus dodges factitious smear.
Categories:
mumpsimus, beauty, muse, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme