Poetic Justice

If I was a bunny
Wouldn’t it be funny
To find out that I could fly?
Alas, as I say with a sigh
I’m not a bunny

There once was a limerick that came
That was really kind of lame
This is it
Devoid of wit
It has not achieved fame

Me, Myself, and I
Called out to a passerby
He was a gangster, hip and cool
One of those guys that never looked like a fool
He just sighed

A man from Bengal
Was invited to a fancy dress ball
He decided to risk it
Said, “I’ll go as a biscuit!”
But the dog ate him up in the hall

As the king said to me
“Do you have the key?”
I answered, “Yes.”
And he gave me a fez
Which I didn’t really need

A flickering candle
Was too hot to handle
A burning flame
With no name
Except Randel

I am a deep and dark room
Filled with misery and gloom
Loaded with hairy toys and more
Stuffed with dust bunnies galore
I am a vacuum

There once was a man at the mall
Who was rather quite small
He said to himself,
I must be an elf
For his sneeze had blown him down the hall

An Allegory

And so the last Spartan standing died, the Spartan king, falling under the mass of sharpened arrows fired by the despicable cowards. 300 they numbered, and defended their pass, their cities, and their heritage. 300 stood before the mad king Xerxes in defiance. A few thousand strong supported those 300, those who had not fled. And yet they were slaughtered like cowards, which they did not deserve. The mad king watched over all and smiled. He laughed, a cruel and malicious laugh, for he had won...but had he? For the cities were defended, and his victory was obtained by treacherous means. And the 300 died, fighting to their last breath...