I'm the early bird For once in my existence: Keeps the worms at bay
Possibilities Drifting fast through time and space My mind is open
It's Twenty Nineteen And so, here it comes again the FiNiku strikes
The FiNiku strikes The FiNiRick- will it strike? We just cannot say.
FiNiku eats bugs And climbs walls on sticky feet. No, that's a gecko.
Easily confused; Poetry and small reptiles - Almost the same thing.
Returning again Concepts held back like acorns Maybe I am nuts.
Alex replied, Let's do FiNiRick Which left me in such a predicament For as we both knew This place boasts FiNiKu So I say - this is barely a limerick
Set up a new thread! Or suffer the odium And be limeracked....
Someone else, not me. Done enough damage for now, Starting FiNiku.
My wandering eyes Dream of sugar plums, wait in Antici pation
Solid as a rock, This thread sits and does nothing! Not a rolling stone.
Like a rolling stone; Like the FBI; like the CIA; dig it.
Stable or moving FiNiKu's what I'm here for; Count those syllables!
'Eleven plus two' Anagram of 'Twelve plus one' Coincidence? Yes
No coincidence! Miraculous anagram! Part of Grand Design!
I watch Grand Designs This is my favourite part: It's them and not me.
Is this the summer? Canada sends strange weather. All it does is rain!
FiNiku steams on. Almost time to help out by... Kicking FiNirick
I've concluded that Two poetic forms are all One needs to prosper.
Two poetic forms Are all One needs to prosper? Which One? FINIKU!!!!
Become One with All "Heaven and Earth's fetation." (I steal the best lines!)
Buddhist wants hot dog; "Make me one with everything." What a dumb old joke.
Take five, Jazz Quartet Grab a snack from the vendor Hot dogs for cool cats
Take five, give seven! Metaphor for compassion Mixed time signatures!
Mixed time signatures? They lead to offbeat madness. You can count on it.
Mixed time signatures; Gosh, I love them very much. My bread and butter.
My bread and butter Is bread and butter in fact. Traditionalist!
Been trying to think Of a coherent haiku Butter in my ears
Dog's acute hearing-- I'm caught eating raisin toast, All butterfingers.
Burned the raisin toast Set the toaster dial to six Now it's raisin' hell.
I was raised in Hell, It's a town in Michigan. Would I lie to you?
Well, there are no lies According to some people, Just "alternative facts".
Your syllable count For the last and final line: Alternative five.
No, Stephen, you're wrong; Alternative facts again; Just five syllables.
Fie, this post-truth world, Where maths takes a holiday! ...I should do the same
Don't understand why Guvmint schools teach new maths but Taxes use old maths
Is this world post-truth? Post-post-post-post-post-post-truth As old Bill might say...
Folks, there is no "Truth". All of your "Reality" Is in your own mind.
Then the mind is real? What contains the container? Post cereal box!
It's an enigma; Your ego thinks it exists Although it does not.
Language, that bastard, Confuses me, and then it Ontologizes!
Ontogenetics, A recapitulation Wholly off-topic.
I need to avoid Fissiparious blues bands. Nothing but sorrow.
Stay indehiscent! (I tell my brain) and remain A single fruit loop.
Better a fruit loop Sweet, colorful, & yummy Than a dull brained O
I think it's spelled "froot" - The cacography's called for: No fruit in Froot Loops!
(Also, no Froot Loops in most non-US places; Oh, Humanity....)
(And I've not said peep about Froot mini donuts. Oh, fellow humans...)
Why you've not said peep About Froot mini donuts Is because they're poop.
A bright blue donut: Dye delivery device I can do without
Barbara spake truth About donut after-lives: Something to dye for
I once ate froot loops, Stolen from the grandchildren. The dye died in milk.
Those 'o's in 'Froot Loops': Self-demonstrating artic- Damn syllable count!
Possibilities
Drifting fast through time and space
My mind is open
It's Twenty Nineteen
And so, here it comes again
the FiNiku strikes
The FiNiku strikes
The FiNiRick- will it strike?
We just cannot say.
FiNiku eats bugs
And climbs walls on sticky feet.
No, that's a gecko.
Easily confused;
Poetry and small reptiles -
Almost the same thing.
Returning again
Concepts held back like acorns
Maybe I am nuts.
Alex replied, Let's do FiNiRick
Which left me in such a predicament
For as we both knew
This place boasts FiNiKu
So I say - this is barely a limerick
Set up a new thread!
Or suffer the odium
And be limeracked....
Someone else, not me.
Done enough damage for now,
Starting FiNiku.
My wandering eyes
Dream of sugar plums, wait in
Antici pation
Solid as a rock,
This thread sits and does nothing!
Not a rolling stone.
Like a rolling stone;
Like the FBI; like the
CIA; dig it.
Stable or moving
FiNiKu's what I'm here for;
Count those syllables!
'Eleven plus two'
Anagram of 'Twelve plus one'
Coincidence? Yes
No coincidence!
Miraculous anagram!
Part of Grand Design!
I watch Grand Designs
This is my favourite part:
It's them and not me.
Is this the summer?
Canada sends strange weather.
All it does is rain!
FiNiku steams on.
Almost time to help out by...
Kicking FiNirick
I've concluded that
Two poetic forms are all
One needs to prosper.
Two poetic forms
Are all One needs to prosper?
Which One? FINIKU!!!!
Become One with All
"Heaven and Earth's fetation."
(I steal the best lines!)
Buddhist wants hot dog;
"Make me one with everything."
What a dumb old joke.
Take five, Jazz Quartet
Grab a snack from the vendor
Hot dogs for cool cats
Take five, give seven!
Metaphor for compassion
Mixed time signatures!
Mixed time signatures?
They lead to offbeat madness.
You can count on it.
Mixed time signatures;
Gosh, I love them very much.
My bread and butter.
My bread and butter
Is bread and butter in fact.
Traditionalist!
Been trying to think
Of a coherent haiku
Butter in my ears
Dog's acute hearing--
I'm caught eating raisin toast,
All butterfingers.
Burned the raisin toast
Set the toaster dial to six
Now it's raisin' hell.
I was raised in Hell,
It's a town in Michigan.
Would I lie to you?
Well, there are no lies
According to some people,
Just "alternative facts".
Your syllable count
For the last and final line:
Alternative five.
No, Stephen, you're wrong;
Alternative facts again;
Just five syllables.
Fie, this post-truth world,
Where maths takes a holiday!
...I should do the same
Don't understand why
Guvmint schools teach new maths but
Taxes use old maths
Is this world post-truth?
Post-post-post-post-post-post-truth
As old Bill might say...
Folks, there is no "Truth".
All of your "Reality"
Is in your own mind.
Then the mind is real?
What contains the container?
Post cereal box!
It's an enigma;
Your ego thinks it exists
Although it does not.
Language, that bastard,
Confuses me, and then it
Ontologizes!
Ontogenetics,
A recapitulation
Wholly off-topic.
I need to avoid
Fissiparious blues bands.
Nothing but sorrow.
Stay indehiscent!
(I tell my brain) and remain
A single fruit loop.
Better a fruit loop
Sweet, colorful, & yummy
Than a dull brained O
I think it's spelled "froot" -
The cacography's called for:
No fruit in Froot Loops!
(Also, no Froot Loops
in most non-US places;
Oh, Humanity....)
(And I've not said peep
about Froot mini donuts.
Oh, fellow humans...)
Why you've not said peep
About Froot mini donuts
Is because they're poop.
A bright blue donut:
Dye delivery device
I can do without
Barbara spake truth
About donut after-lives:
Something to dye for
I once ate froot loops,
Stolen from the grandchildren.
The dye died in milk.
Those 'o's in 'Froot Loops':
Self-demonstrating artic-
Damn syllable count!
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