Aprilizing Insta-Poets

WHY IS THE POETRY WORLD pretending that poetry is not an art form? I refer to the rise of a cohort of young female poets who are currently being lauded by the poetic establishment for their ‘honesty’ and ‘accessibility’—buzzwords for the open denigration of intellectual engagement and rejection of craft that characterises their work. The short answer is that artless poetry sells.

Rebecca Watts: The Cult of the Noble Amateur

 

Insta-Limerick

 

A poetess/princess, Miss Kaur

Was promoted through publishing’s power.

Scrawling lines for a hobby,

This perky Punjabi

Turned rupees to dollars per hour.


Litany of Limerick

One World Limerick

The notion of nations united
gets the global progressives excited.
Their party of Babel
is Nimrod’s own rabble
(we’re left with the Right uninvited).

 

Values Clarification Limerick

Many worldlings (whose ways we bemoan)
hope their lives we’ll approve and condone.
But we couldn’t care less
for the views they profess;
we just wish they would leave us alone

 

Roman Limerick

Our antichrist leaders (so Fabian)
are more Nero, and less like Octavian.
So with Caesars and salad
I’ll dress up my ballad.
(The future’s plebeian or Flavian.)

 

Kente Pajamas Limerick

A racist obtuse Afro-whiner
Tried to give the right-wing a black shiner
While applauding Obama
He railed at my mama
His manners could be a lot finer . . .

 

Apocalyptic Limerick

The riddles of John’s Revelation
imply a large-scale devastation.
The end is not too clear
but looks rather nuclear:
a well-deserved A–bomb-in-nation.

 

Freethinking Limerick

An atheist, weary of fables
Found his intellect turning the tables.
He declared: As a nihilist
held to a higher list,
I’m for erasing the labels.

 

Mendacious Limerick

Fake propaganda as news
only fools those it’s meant to confuse
there is wrong, there is right
when you’re left in the light
of a nation with little to lose.

 

Um . . . male and female
are the ONLY two genders.
Deal with my Haiku!

 

Thankless Limericks

https://i0.wp.com/www.akademifantasia.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/Thanksgiving-Turkey-6.jpg

Career politicians, who cluck
as they strut with an impotent pluck
make me sick with the season
befouling all reason:
they’re less of a cock than a cuck.

 

That gobbler and turkey-neck Mitch
makes me furious—so mad that I twitch.
He obstructs all our battles
and jiggles his wattles;
unpardoned, unworthy (but rich).

 

The patrician political class
is a party that speaks through its ass.
They are lacking in guts
with no ifs, ands, or buts
but I swear: they produce enough gas.