A Collection of Bergson's Limericks
"Reasonable?" she asks, with a gasp,
"That's a first, and it's real hard to grasp."
Since most look at Cleo
And shout: "My-O-Me-O!
That girl's got one hell of an asp!"
I pray: "Let us make the decision
That God lives in EVERY religion.
Not: 'My God is bigger
You Kike Baptist Nigger!'
Which leads us to endless division.
Did God give some group an 'exclusive'?
The 'chosen', the 'saved', non-inclusive?
The minute you say:
'There is only ONE way!'
To all others, you're crass and abusive.
Jesus, Mohammed or Buddha
Or Krishna or Vishnu, Garuda
Or Mormon or Moses
They all deserve roses
Not ONE of them's bad, they're ALL gooda (Sorry 'bout that)
I hear, in one voice, mankind ring
It's God's single song they ALL sing.
The melody varies
Like Doves and Canaries
But MUSIC'S the similar thing.
I'd offer a simple prescription
To end mankind's 'right-wrong' conniption.
If we could agree
What seems so plain to me:
Truth and God are beyond all description."
Georgann:
Some born again experiences are like pop tarts. Whammo.
The bell goes *ding* and the thing is browned. (snip) ..
like a slow browning on toast. (snip) the person was either
a pop tart kind of conversion or has been browning for a very very long time
I'm hardly as crude as John Rocker
And Ma Church? I'm not here to knock her
But will God be brooking
This talk about cooking?
Is Jesus, His Son, Betty Crocker?
In response to the Genital Guy, who had used the name
“Who Wants to Be a Millionaire's Genitals?”
A milionaire's balls? Highty ho!
Now that's a great thought for a show.
'Cause soon as you win
Ladies shout: "Come right in!"
You'll go places that poor balls can't go!
Some drink Cabernet, some drink Rose'
But drink of Christ's blood? No way Jose'!
'Cause if you ask me
'Bout his identity
I suspect Jesus was Keyser Soze.
Georgann:
It was exclusively about *every* person being equally imperfect before a perfect God.
You've divvied up life with precision
In dumbly dichotomous division
You drunk a whole bottle
From old 'Aristotle'
Who split 'A' and 'B' with precision:
It's God OR it's man
Either chaos OR plan
It's a kid OR adult
It's a nut OR a bolt
If it's good it's not bad
If it's happy, not sad
It's a girl OR a boy
It's a tool OR a toy
Either morning OR night
Either wrong OR it's right
Either neat OR dishevil
It's angel OR devil
What's white isn't black
Things in front aren't in back
You're a pagan OR saved
Either free OR enslaved
It's a lie OR it's truth
You are old OR a youth
You've a checkerboard brain
Little boxes, insane!
Won't you please get the urge
Have dichotomies merge
Because, THEN you might just get the riddle:
Your GOD is the thing in the middle!
After Bushman complemented him on his writing:
A mad jumbled thought swirl comes gelling.
Whence comes inspiration? No telling.
I blush. Humble. Red.
No. I've not a big head
But stand clear! Other parts might be swelling!
This Purim, let's tell all the goyim
(That means gentiles, girlim and boyim)
How God, good ol' Yahweh
Said: "Haman? Feh! Oy vay!
He screwed with the Jews? I'll destroy 'im!"
Let's say it with tongue tight in cheek
If Purim's true meaning you seek
Then stop all the noshin'
On prune Hamentashen
Or you'll have the runs for a week!
Eyegore implied that Goergann was ““…in service of the Anti-Christ!”
And Please don't squeeze the genitals commented, “It is rude of you to
disparage the Anti-Christ so.”
Ol' Eyegore's not really to blame
For giving Georgann the wrong name
With her wacky zeitgeist
She is no Anti-Christ,
But a loony sex-starved Auntie Mame.
Cyn replied to that last one: “I'm a huge fan of yours, Stephen,
but you are defaming Mame, and I take offence.”
Of erring so, I was unwary.
T'is true: Unlike Mame, Georgann's scary!
Would fences be mended
And you less offended
Had I like'd her to Virgin Mary?
GOSMG observed that Dr. Laura seems to think everything is really about sex.
There's reason that sex, Laura fears
T'was a mishap, ago, many years:
She fell out of bed
Landed square on her head
And her Ben-Wa balls lodged 'tween her ears!
Someone named Sherri posted a message that was obviously intended
to be for Dr. Laura, and Eve said, “Sherri, I think you have wandered
into a newsgroup rather than the Dr. Laura website. Your remarks and
your obvious confusion at the reception you received in this ng are what
make me think you are just in the wrong place. If you will go to
www.drlaura.com, I think you will find a forum for your comments more
to your liking. If you choose not to go there, so be it.”
Says Eve, our serpentine kitten
With kind warning words, gently written:
"Go away, stupid witch
'Fore my fangs start to itch
And your buttocks get brutally bitten!"
Referring to JohnMount, Cyn said “Plain women who won't sleep with
JM must be "nuns". Attractive women who won't sleep with JM are refered to as ‘sluts’.”
Though 'duh' JM tried hard to trip her
Cyn here won one big for the Gipper
Our delicate lass
Stuck it right up his ass
Now he sits on a size five glass slipper.
Mount cried: "Cyn! That's really obscene!
You stuck the thing up to my spleen!
I'd feel less deflated
If you'd lubricated
Your footwear with some Vaseline!"
Cyn says: "Listen dork, I don't care it
Might seem that I've played most unfair it
Is true that when playing
I thought of the saying:
"Your ass fits the shoe? Well, then wear it!"
Cyn commented, “Aww...Stephen, I'm honored, and I thank you
from the bottom of my heart, but I must confess: I wear a size nine.”
I pray you won't think me as petty
But now, I'm all edgy and sweaty.
I'm sure that you're neat
But those big flappin' feet
Make me think like I've fallen for Yeti!
There there Cyn. Don't cry. Don't 'boo hoo'.
There's still some fun things we can do.
In case of a flood
Or a slide of wet mud
We can paddle 'em like a canoe!
Cyn answered, “Oh goody! Somebody wants to play!”
While others have mentioned this, too
You needn't think I would "boo hoo"
If my feet turn you off,
Continue to scoff
The rest of me's better than true.
And Stephen said:
For feet, some men catch flaming fire.
Metatarsal! Achilles! Perspire!
But I don't get kinky
'Bout big toe or pinky
My fetish is just a bit higher.
Indeed, you set parts of me struttin'
(Between necks and knees? I'm a glutton!)
It's quite elementary
To seek loving entry
In neighborhoods near belly button.
Cyn continued:
So thank or curse your luck
Depending on the image thats stuck
When I kick of my Keds
To climb into bed
It's not *you*, dear Stephen I --...
Stephen:
Rejection? A fate I can stand.
(Since love can't be had on demand)
So if you don't mind
Least ways, 'til I go blind
The solution is fimly in hand.
Charles Basner, back when he had fewer (three fewer, to be precise)
things demanding is time, wrote this:
Stephen Bergsen, alone, is the winner.
Against one he may find he's the grinner.
But if there were two,
(maybe more, maybe you!)
We can win, even though we're beginners
And Stephen replied:
If limerick madness is growing
There's something all bards ought be knowing:
Like sex (not a sin)
This is no game to win
The REAL joy is to keep the thing going.
A loony free-form mad creation
Should ne'er be the source of frustration
Take time with each trick
If you write it too quick
Then it's premature expostulation.
Charles:
I weary of talk homosexual
And tirades against those who hate y'all
But ne'er will I tire
(Until I retire)
Of conjuring words ineffectual.
Stephen:
To reason with bigots is hell
Sometimes we must rest, set a spell.
But first give Jak a tip
(Strictly out of friendship):
"When your IQ hits ninety-five...SELL!"
Cyn:
Though I realize a man has his needs,
I'll try *not* to picture that deed
But before you begin,
Dreaming of Cyn,
Of the following words, take heed:
Stephen:
Do, Lady Cyn, close your eyes.
It's a move one considers most wise.
At the risk of my life
(Hell, I DO have a wife!)
There's a big Cyn-bad moon on the rise!
Cyn:
When you mentally take off my dress
Remember what Pope Charlie says
Once your need is full-filled
And seed has been spilled,
Be sure to devote it to Tez.
Stephen:
But speaking of... uh... 'seed production'
I need some accountant's instruction:
Forgive my temerity:
'Tez' counts as charity?
Yes? What a great new deduction!
Tina said (regarding JohnMount):
>And what disrespect he has for the women he supposedly sleeps with.
A sexual girl is a floozie?
John Mount: Ladies man. What a doozy!
A libidinal fount
The last 'girl' Mount did mount
Was a hole in his mattress named Suzie.
GregK:
Though we shouldn't make rules ex post facto
Some poetry can seem quite hacked, so
before pressing "send"
I do recommend
that you trim with a cyber X-Acto.
Stephen:
Bravo! What a winning wordsmith!
(He deserves a response. S'cuse my lisp):
Excess, we must trim
Lest in yellow, we swim
And a poem isn't pithy... just pith!
Chas:
You exhort us to edit. You're right.
In a rhyme extra words are a blight.
But don't cut the gristle
Or else your epistle
Will wax metaphorically trite.
Georgann said htat Chas’ limerick was very well done, to which Stephen said:
I'll temper compulsive profanity
To serve a much greater humanity:
Thank heavens, Georgann
You acknowledge the MAN
Though he's 'damned' by your damned Christianity.
I know. Love the sinner, not sin.
What a self-righteous place to begin
To look down condescending
In ways never ending
On everything outside your skin.
Stephen realized he hadn’t written one about Tina…
Remiss I've been, and more's the shame
No Tina poem? Yes. I'm to blame
Since only a fool
Wouldn't dribble and drool
For some babe with a team for her name.
But still, is the girl high on drugs?
The Niners? (Brow wrinkles, he shrugs.)
It's simply bad taste
All that passion to waste
On a team like the Golden Gate Slugs.
(Jay! Eee! Tee! Ess! JETS! JETS! JETS!)
Cleo:
August doesn't have much of a yen
For me, Ellen, Martha, or Cyn.
As cute as we are,
We fall short by far...
'Cause August would much prefer men.
It's OK. We still think he's swell.
But with straight guys we've no parallel.
We won't be outdone,
We're second to none.
We're the Babes of A-R-T-D-L!
Cleo
Who wonders how Stephen manages to do this several dozen times in a
weekend. This is hard work!
Stephen:
From my birth, it was easy to do.
Heck, I started before I could chew!
When I popped from the womb
Saw the doc cross the room
And I rhymed: "Slap my butt and I'll sue!"
I rhymed as an eight day old tot
They grabbed me. I yelled: "No you're not!
Don't take even a snip
From that tiny thing's tip
'Cause I need every inch that I got!"
Stephen, writing about Jak:
Dull Jak with his dull admonition
Flames on 'bout an old definition.
But with beasts? I say "Ick!"
Though that's Jak's bailiwick:
He screws sheep in the doggie position.
So think, Jak, 'bout history's progressions.
Things change in evolving processions.
T'wasn't too long ago
There were slaves, don't ya know
And black folk were *defined* as possessions.
Give up homophobic alarms.
World's changing. That's one of life's charms.
Try and act the tough jock
Hold back hands of the clock?
Well, it's likely to break both your arms.
About Dr. Laura:
She brews bileful bigoted broth
With dim-bulbs who pledge 'ternal troth
Only talks to her own?
Then DL stands alone:
With two pigs and an old three-toed sloth.
A format switch! From Limerick to Haiku:
Damn! Those nude pictures!
Satan posted them again.
How I wish I'd shaved!
A silver lining:
You may take comfort knowing
She's not YOUR kid's mom
After Beatlebum chastised someone for a misplaced apostrophe:
'Root' with his ego all swollen
Is proud of his 'proof reader' trollin'
So Root, here's a comma ,
Now run to your momma
And shove an ! right up your colon!
Now copy this poem straight to disk
Then 'way from here, you, we'll all wisk
Keep up masturbation
'Bout folk's punctuation?
Your privilege: It's your *
Charles Basner, regarding premarital sex:
If god really wanted us to avoid sex until we're married he
could have given us less of a sex drive, made us so the first
person we had sex with we bonded to.
Responding to Tina most foxy
The Lord spoke through Basner by proxy
God said:"Stick with one?
I'd have made it less fun
And your semen would be pure epoxy."
To follow God's preachers on telly
And stick with one, belly to belly
The next time you screw
You should use Crazy Glue
As a substitute for KY Jelly.
In a discussion about virginity and the Bible:
Toward virgins, we men feel great zest
None but virgins can pass the great test
You see, mi amigos,
They play to our egos:
"You're God! You're the first AND the best!"
And men stuck with 'gear' slightly rinky
Who fear women bolder and kinky
Can say: "You're surprised?
Why they're ALL the same size:
'Uh... er... um... 'bout as big as a ten year old's pinkie."
Regarding Cyn’s reference to “…posting in tassels”
I share Brother E's predilections
For bountious bosomic perfections
But tell, dearest Cyn
When you dance, do they spin
Round and round or in opposite directions?
Georgann:
I'm talking about politics and how liberalism has aligned its
goals with non Christians. Of all stripes. They have done an effective
job of demonizing the Right with the RR connotation as if to mean
the conservative Christians (protestants specifically).
You know we don't buy phony cryin'.
This victim crap? No WAY it's flyin'!
Kentucky's your home
So don't act like it's Rome
'Til I buy me a used hungry Lion.
August:
He's the kind of guy who would be perfectly happy if he could live
completely cut-off from female interaction.
Some women shriek shrill, some sing psalms
Some shop 'til they drop, some give alms
But e'en when I doubt 'em
I know that without 'em
I'm left with no love but my palms.
I'm off for a two week vacation
Of sun, sinful sex and libation
And so, let me say
That you'll just have to play
Here without all my word masturbation
Some find silly poems an affliction
And others, a bright benediction
But genius or hack
Do be sure I'll be back
'Cause this place is a fucking addiction!
CodeThis stated that he and Jak were not the same person.
Said Shakespeare: "All words are a game.
What matter's the thing, not the name."
Call it Jak, call it 'code'
It's the same fetid load
Since the stench is exactly the same.
When he came back from vacation, Cleo wrote:
We really are glad that you're back,
Tho' we really do owe you a "thwack."
You got 14 days
Lounging, soaking up rays,
And we got to listen to Jak.
Stephen said:
What joy to receive all these 'kisses'!
Friendship and friends? T'is what bliss is.
Fret not at Jak's act
Take console in the fact
That not one of you here is his missus.
Doth Jak deserve poetic stingers
In trade for his non-zingy zingers?
He's lost and alone
And was cut to the bone:
Jak was spurned by his own palm and fingers.
Unfortunately (or fortunately) I'm up to my eyeballs in a
project at the moment and probably won't be able to do much
posting for a time, but I WILL endeavor to endeavor as often as I can.
Best to all -- Even Georgann, bless her well-intentioned
(though misbegotten) soul
And, as far as I know, we haven’t heard from him since.