metasyntactic

i think i snapped a synapse
perhaps i’ll have a relapse
in my bathtub swimming laps
watching clouds to see what haps

the thing i can’t get through my wig
what exactly is a thingamajig
what i’m trying to catch in my mind mit
is an elusive whatchamacallit

keep pressing the button on my keychain fob
expecting it to unlock the thingamabob
and then when things get really sticky
try to unstick it with a little doohickey

met a group of guys with six packs
lost in the library among the stacks
munching filler words like spicy snacks
beyond the binding, transcendent syntax

in awe i watched these hyperlexic clowns
unsatisfied with mere mortal pronouns
yaccing away with no words spoken
hacking away at each unclassed token

whatsit was a well-wisher
frobozz brindled brimfisher
these polychromatic edibles
are metasyntactic variables

meta syntactic
meta synaptic
met a syn haptic
idiosyncratic

you never can find a fnord
hidden in a dark fjord
don’t tell me what you think you heard
i swear to you, it is a word

i knew a friendly rotagilla
who lived beneath a little villa
its constants were hairy labels
these metasyntactic variables

it sang a song as it flew
it sang, i sang, and you can too
foo goo moo koo roo soo loo
zoo boo yoo doo woo hoo too

i followed foo into a bar
i followed like it was a star
then after bar i followed baz
like a spaz with three feet haz

then heard and organ or a moog
the echo of a hollow-voiced plugh
into the darkness i threw a shoe
it flew into a grue stuck in the flue

the twisty passages made me dizzy
exhausted, on my knees, screamed xyzzy
all the dwarves flew into a tizzy
a lightning bolt and my hair went frizzy

spelunking down and down i went
until my lantern and bird were spent
all went dark, stuck at the crux
so i uttered the clucks of a quxy quux

i dove into the long-dammed gorge
and surfaced with a mouth full of corge
a while i was trying to find fred
i found waldo’s head instead

i graulted ashore into the mud
and fell quite garply with a thud
glib-flobbed along all blimey rhymey
and ended up all wibbly-wobbly

so there i stood in fields of clover
wearing gloves on rock of glover
when overhead flew bird of plover
it was then i knew it was over

it sang a song as it flew
it sang, i sang, and you can too
foo goo moo koo roo soo loo
zoo boo yoo doo woo hoo too

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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