It is a great pleasure to announce the opening of the 2011 metamorphosism.com International St. Valentine’s Day Limerick Contest.
Winner’s will be announced on Valentine’s Day, 14 February 2011 unless I’m having some crisis or something.
Rules:
- Be nice.
- Entries must be a limerick.
- This year’s themes: Jungian psychology, the recent astrological reform, Icelandic geography, monopolistic corporate imperialism and/or plutocracy.
- Entries must be made in the comments to this post.
I would like to announce my entry as official participant, this year.
Fire when ready.
okay, here’s my not so inspired try for this year
A Banker in old Reykjavik
Was feeling monopolistic
Then the intrest rates soared
“Not his fault”, said the Board
and then Eyjafjallajökull went ballistic
Volcanoes in Iceland, extensive,
Can make people quite apprehensive,
Eruptions last summer,
Some just thought a bummer,
While others became hypertensive!
In Iceland vast forests of birch,
Were destroyed, so now one must search,
Small patches one sees,
Of these kinds of trees,
For man this great land did besmirch!
I shimmied and shaked like a dancer
At the zodiac’s updated answer.
Oh, I’m not sure I get
To be Gemini yet,
But I’ve fully recovered from Cancer!
Though Libra I was, now I’m Virgo
– Not virgin, don’t you offend my ego –
My Myers-Briggs type
Was changed with a swipe
and somehow I learned to play cello
Astrological changes are tough,
For those who believe in this stuff,
When star signs were altered,
Self images faltered,
But others just think it’s all fluff.
Acquisition of wealth is the creed,
Of the corporate heads, fueled by greed,
A widening gulf,
Twixt the poor and well off,
Sherman’s antitrust act they don’t heed.
Hehe. Here’s one with a serious structural misconception :-)
Her Jungian psychologist Juliana is suing,
Archetypical analysis she sorely is ruing,
His probing of dreams,
Elicits just screams,
This collective unconscious will be our undoing.
Hard lava’s what Iceland’s composed of,
Erupting volcanoes are closed off,
Ash spews toward the heavens,
Grounds seven-three-sevens,
Each morning all cars must be hosed off.
Astrological changes mean squat,
Some folks just like stirring the pot,
Believers devout,
Can stand up and shout,
A new sign is what you have not!
(See: http://aol.it/goWivJ )
Pisceans are suave and artistic,
While Aries she thought narcissistic,
So when Sue made the switch,
From the ram to the fich,
She found herself less egoistic.
[Creative rhyming/spelling required for the astrology stuff :-)]
I’m sick of my shadow said Jung
To help him get over his gloom
In Vatnajökull
He got out his skull
On Brennivín, vodka and shrooms.
The end of the world as we know it
was discussed at the Reykjavik Summit
Ronald Reagan declared
that he was quite prepared
to have missiles ballistic now plummet
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iceland_summit)
Now Jung’s not as boring as feared,
But collective unconscious seems weird,
There’re memories too deep,
To the conscious to leap,
Into all human brains which are seared
“You’re nothing but low-living scum!”
The plutocrat said to a bum.
While feasting in wealth
He lost all his health,
And died as he choked on a crumb.
My Jungian counselor’s discerning
To know of my groin’s inner burning
Was met by the truth
Of my unrefined youth,
And my wet dream fulfilled all her yearning.
“You’re nothing but low-living scum!”
The plutocrat said to a bum.
Ironic: In wealth
He lost all his health
When he died as he choked on a crumb.
There once was a bright young librarian
Who was told she was not an Aquarian
She said with great scorn,
“I am not Capricorn!
After all, I am not a barbarian.”
Iceland is the product of motion
of tectonic plates deep in the ocean
It splits through the middle
Well this explains the riddle
why vulcanos cause regular commotion
In Buffalo were Scorpios too many,
Or so thought a lady named Jenny,
But now that’s been altered,
Scorp’s numbers have faltered,
In sooth, there are now hardly any!
In the States, says the ‘party of no’,
The just-passed health act’s a no go,
In the House most have wealth,
A great plan for *their* health,
And concern for the poor’s just for show!
A typical Pisces, lovelorn
Writes sad verse using clichés outworn
She’ll be much more nefarious
When she’s Aquarius
She might even star in some porn.
An amiable young vegetarian
Conversant in matters agrarian
Did gambol and curtsy
‘Twixt Heimaey and Surtsey
With an equally friendly Aquarian
Jane believed in the Sun Signs a bit,
But the ram did not well with her sit,
Thought her sign must be wrong,
She was right all along,
Now she’s Pisces: a much better fit.
I just have to see Iceland, thought Jed,
To the beautiful Westfjords I’ll head,
The puffins and such,
One can reach out and touch,
They’ve not learned to fear people, it’s said.
( http://iceland.vefur.is/iceland_regions/westfjords.htm/ )
The Westfjords, a glacial creation,
Is a place one finds rejuvenation,
Such beauty pristine,
Is now rarely seen,
And Iceland’s one beautiful nation.
http://iceland.vefur.is/iceland_regions/westfjords.htm
Sue thought Cancer the very best sign,
Twas the reason her beau’s so divine,
But when he got bumped,
And to Gemini jumped,
She found she still liked him just fine!
Chiefs got rich while their great big banks failed,
Or would have, if they’d not been bailed,
Misdeeds of monopolists,
Can lead to apocalypse,
Oh would that they all could be jailed!
How long will this limerick craze last?
It’s hard not to be taken aghast
but from ludicrous themes
sprout these consiousness streams
And the good ones now turn up en masse
Changing rules for this limerick contest
would be welcome but would it draw protest?
Would the rhiming elites
promptly take to the streets
causing much aggrevation and unrest
I’m no specialist in matters Icelandic
Well, in fact I’m just autodidactic
But I know just this þing:
Iceland’s spelling is king
But the typos I make are gigantic
In Húsavík, tired of watching the whales
Things to see, without many details:
There’s a great perineum
at the Icelandic Phallological Museum
I still ponder over what this entails.
These two go together.
From the high rocky cliffs of Heimaey,
Young puffins set off on their way,
Confused in the night,
In the town they alight,
On the streets, they’d not last through the day.
Town folks on these dark August nights,
Set out with their trusty flashlights,
Search all through the town,
Hunt the lost pufflings down,
The next day set them back on their flights.
Heimaey is a volcanic island off Iceland.
Video re puffin rescue: http://tinyurl.com/57me5f
In seventy-three on Heimaey,
The volcano Eldfell had its waey,
Five months lava flowed,
Till it finally slowed.
Folks cooled molten rock with sea spraey.
While this great volcano erupted,
Isle life was, in toto, disrupted,
Lava flowed ever stronger,
The island grew longer,
Old maps of the island, corrupted.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heimaey
Photo of lava: http://tinyurl.com/6j8d77c
We’re now in the ‘Year of the Rabbit’
Jung thought broader than Freud about ‘going at it’
Iceland’s volcano eruptions rages
While Walmart lowers local wages
A few sussed out global wealth & then grabbed it.
As he thoughtfully furrowed his brow,
Said her Jungian shrink, “Let’s see now,
“You can’t find your animus,
“Unless you smoke cannabis,
“And that is a problem, just how?”
Mary pondered the meanings of “syz’gy”,
As she lazily tossed her old frisbee,
“Earth, sun, moon, all aligned…”
But then Jung came to mind,
And she wondered aloud what might his be.
Jung, syzygy: http://tinyurl.com/4q9j58y
See under “The persona”
There was a wise ol’ woman pikey
Who had a very potent psyche
She arched her type
A metaphor so ripe
That those who fucked her said “crikey”.
While America’s Court Supreme
Was interpreting Murdock’s wet dream
By giving a vote
To BP and Coke,
Karl Rove joined the “fair” Fox News Team.
Iceland’s words has the world’s tongues corrupted
With Viking names, long and disrupted.
Eyjafjallajökull, we’ve found
Is spelled like it sounds,
Still the Yanks wish Katla had erupted!
Oh Libra, the archetypical slut,
You’ve just had a punch to the gut.
Your sign is now Virgo,
Now sex you must forgo,
In short, you must keep your legs shut.
PS. I know how to spell Murdoch.
The mystics, all smoking their hookahs
Have a new sign for us: ophiuchus.
Though some will exclaim,
“Just keep it the same!”
Don’t change it like you were George Lucas!”
To my sweetheart, it’s all immaterial
Whether horoscopes use the sidereal.
In this Year of the Rabbit,
I’ll stick, per my habit,
With the sign that says you are ethereal.
Only checking in now, but delighted to see Brandelion has raised the limerick bar this year. I’m also relieved to learn I didn’t miss anything since I would have been unable to comply with rule (1) and would have objected to the repeated obsession with Iceland (I’m still trying to delet Bjork lyrics from 2009).