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Day 1: This is my version of a nonsense poem to celebrate the inanity of April Fools Day!
Gallumphing Through Gullibility
Are you a gallumpher? What is that?
A horking honky, or something flat
out of a ridgeline filled with paste,
nice and nourishing, but has no taste?
What of this all? What do you think?
Is there something else to drink?
I don’t know, do I but do. Is that all
there is, or is it well to call the call?
Is that a put, you mean, or does it seem
like everything’s done as a humpty, lean
and mean, instead of a throaty boar
that’d rather its name be scored for four?
Ha, ha, you think. This is my ritz, where
something similar takes a cake and flings it
far, before a watching siren locks it there;
simple, you mean, to make something up.
Gullibility tosses a throw onto a bed of onions,
perhaps you’ve seen him in his meekness live,
I never heard he’d had a bout with bunions,
but then, that’s something that’s got no jive.