Il était un gendarme à Nanteuil,
Qui n’avait qu’une dent et qu’un oeil;
Mais cet oeil solitaire
Était plein de mystère;
Cette dent, d’importance et d’orgueil. — George du Maurier (1834-96)
Elsewhere other-accessible
• Vers Nonsensiques — more by du Maurier
Un moine au milieu de la messe
S’eleva et cria en détresse:
« La vie religieuse,
C’est sale et affreuse! »
Et se poignarda dans les fesses. — Edward Gorey (1925-2000)
I wake from dreams and turning
My vision on the height
I scan the beacons burning
About the fields of night.
Each in its steadfast station
Inflaming heaven they flare;
They sign with conflagration
The empty moors of air.
The signal-fires of warning
They blaze, but none regard;
And on through night to morning
The world runs ruinward. — A.E. Housman in More Poems (1936)
There was a young fellow named Bright
Who travelled much faster than light.
He set off one day,
In a relative way
And came back the previous night. — Anonymous
From the depths of the crypt at St Giles
Came a scream that resounded for miles…
Said the vicar: “Good gracious!
Has Father Ignatius
Forgotten the Bishop has piles?”
(Anonymous)
Elsewhere other-accessible…
• Doc Proc — a review of Dr Miriam B. Stimbers’ Botty: An Unnatural History of the Backside (2014)
There was a young man of Cape Horn,
Who wished that he’d never been born;
And he wouldn’t have been,
If his father had seen
That the end of the rubber was torn.
(Possibly by Swinburne)
Proxi-Performative Post-Scriptum
The toxic title of this para-poetic post (incorporating key archaic adjective “lorn”, meaning “desolate, forsaken”) is a radical reference to core Lady Gaga single “Born This Way” (which, to the best of my recollection, I haven’t heard but have heard of…). I originally intended to call the post “Torn This Way”, but decided that this adversely and anticlimactically anticipated the punchline of the limerick.
Overlord In Terms of Core Issues Around Maximal Engagement with Key Notions of the Über-Feral 