The CosmoLOGICal Constant
The Cosmo-LOGIC-al Constant is a collection of nonsense verse about the zaniness of the Uni-VERSE.
This famous limerick inspired a number of my limericks on this page:
There was a young lady named Bright
who traveled much faster than light.
She set out one day
in a relative way,
and came back the previous night.
The poem above was originally penned, in a slightly different version, by Arthur Henry Reginald Buller; it appeared in Punch (Dec. 19, 1923). I find it intriguing that one of the best revelations of the weirdness and zaniness of relativity can be found in a limerick. I was inspired to pen multiple rejoinders:
The Cosmological Constant
by Michael R. Burch
Einstein, the frizzy-haired,
said E equals MC squared.
Thus all mass decreases
as activity ceases?
Not my mass, my ass declared!
The Inconstant Cosmologist
by Michael R. Burch
An incestuous physicist, Bright,
made whoopee much faster than light.
She orgasmed one day
in her relative way,
but came on the previous night!
Ass-tronomical
by Michael R. Burch
Relativity, the theorists’ creed,
says mass increases with speed.
My (m)ass grows when I sit it.
Mr. Einstein, get with it;
equate its deflation, I plead!
My Personal Theory of the Big Bang
by Michael R. Burch
My personal theory of the Big Bang solves three vexing cosmological problems:
(1) Why did the singularity start expanding?
(2) Why is our universe expanding faster than expected?
(3) How do we get rid of the need for dark matter and dark energy?
I'm sure "my" theory isn't unique, but I haven't heard it proposed elsewhere, so I will call it mine. This is how it goes:
Our singularity was a black hole in another universe. It kept sucking in more and more matter and kept getting more and more condensed until it finally reached a critical mass and suddenly began to expand. As it expanded, our fledgling universe was attracted by the gravity of the older universe, which caused our universe to expand at a faster rate than it would have expanded on its own. As it expanded, our universe "adopted" galaxies on the fringe of the older universe. This explains the James Webb telescope finding distant galaxies that are "smoother" and "more mature" than expected. And because the gravity of the older universe explains our universe's faster-than-expected expansion, there is no need for dark matter or dark energy.
Just in case this theory hasn't been proposed before, I came up with it at 12:58 AM on Tuesday, September 10, 2024.
Parting is such sweet sorrow
by Michael R. Burch
The universe is flying apart.
Hush, Neil deGrasse Tyson’s vexed heart!
Repeat, repeat.
Don’t skip a beat.
Perhaps some new Big Bang will spark?
Neil deGrasse Tyson told Stephen Colbert that what keeps him awake at night is the fear that expansion will cause most of the universe to become invisible to us.
Time Out!
by Michael R. Burch
Hawking’s "Brief History of Time"
is such a relief! How sublime
that time, in reverse,
may un-write this verse
and un-spend my last thin dime!
Time Back In!
by Michael R. Burch
Hawking, who makes my head spin,
says time may flow backward. I grin,
imagining the surprise
in my mother's eyes
when I head for the womb once again!
Woeful Waffles
by Michael R. Burch
for and after Richard Thomas Moore
I think it’s woeful
and should be unlawful
to eat those awful
tofu waffles!
Unsold on the "Golden Years"
by Michael R. Burch
I’m getting old.
My legs are cold.
My book’s unsold and my wife’s a scold.
Now the only gold’s
in my teeth.
I fold.
How It Goes, Or Doesn’t
by Michael R. Burch
My face is getting craggier.
My pants are getting saggier.
My ear-hair’s getting shaggier.
My wife is getting naggier.
I’m getting old!
My memory’s plumb awful.
My eyesight is unlawful.
I eschew a tofu waffle.
My wife’s an Eiffel eyeful.
I’m getting old!
My temperature is colder.
My molars need more solder.
Soon I’ll need a boulder-holder.
My wife seized up. Unfold her!
I’m getting old!
Untitled Nonsense Verse
Although I prefer
onions
to bunions,
begging your pardon sir,
I still primarily defer
to legal reefer.
—Michael R. Burch
Low-T Hell
by Michael R. Burch
I’m living in low-T hell ...
My get-up has gone: Oh, swell!
I need to write checks
if I want to have sex,
and my love life depends on a gel!
Be very careful what you pray for!
by Michael R. Burch
Now that his T’s been depleted
the Saint is upset, feeling cheated.
His once-fiery lust?
Just a chemical bust:
no “devil” cast out or defeated.
Being a peace activist, I once wrote a limerick in an attempt to stop needless wars:
Of Tetley’s and V-2's
(or "Why Not to Bomb the Brits")
by Michael R. Burch
The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable ...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable.
Menu Venue
by Michael R. Burch
At the passing of the shark
the dolphins cried Hark!;
cute cuttlefish sighed, Gee
there will be a serener sea
to its utmost periphery!;
the dogfish barked,
so joyously!;
pink porpoises piped Whee!
excitedly,
delightedly.
But ...
Will there be as much glee
when there’s no you and me?
Anti-Vegan Manifesto
by Michael R. Burch
Let us
avoid lettuce,
sincerely,
and also celery!
This anorexic light
by Michael R. Burch
This anorexic light’s a little zany—
Put a CD in, it plays Bonnie and Delaney.
Shine it on a tooth to bleach it pearly white,
or dazzle any enemy; fry one to a mite!
Just a little flash reshapes imperfect eyes
or drops invading aircraft all around you—just like flies.
We’ve saved the best for last—just take one sandy grain
and lase it and you’ll get a tiny, chipper brain.
Crunch
by Michael R. Burch
A cockroach could live nine months on the dried mucus you scrounge from your nose
then fling like seedplants to the slowly greening floor ...
You claim to be the advanced life form, but, mon frere,
sometimes as you snatch encrusted kinks of hair from your Leviathan ass
and muse softly on zits, icebergs snap off the Antarctic.
You’re an evolutionary quandary, in need of a sacral ganglion
to control your enlarged, contradictory hindquarters:
surely the brain should migrate closer to its primary source of information,
in order to ensure the survival of the species.
Cockroaches thrive on eyeboogers and feces;
their exoskeletons expand and gleam like burnished armor in the presence of uranium.
But your cranium
is not nearly so adaptable.
Hymn to an Art-o-matic Laundromat
by Michael R. Burch
after Richard Moore’s “Hymn to an Automatic Washer”
O, terrible-immaculate
ALL-cleansing godly Laundromat,
where cleanliness is next to Art
—a bright Kinkade (bought at K-Mart),
a Persian rug (made in Taiwan),
a Royal Bonn Clock (time zone Guam)—
embrace my ass in cushioned vinyl,
erase all marks: anal, vaginal,
penile, inkspot, red wine, dirt.
O, sterilize her skirt, my shirt,
my skidmarked briefs, her padded bra;
suds-away in your white maw
all filth, the day’s accumulation.
Make us pure by INUNDATION.
Published by The Oldie, where it was the winner of a poetry contest. This poem was inspired by the incongruence of discovering "works of art" while doing laundry at a laundromat with row after row of coin-operated washers and dryers. I was reminded of the experience while reading Richard Moore’s poem “Hymn to an Automatic Washer.”
Relative Theory I
by Michael R. Burch
Einstein’s "relative" theory
says masses increase, all too clearly,
at speeds close to light.
Well, his relatives’ might,
but mine grow their m(asses) more stilly!
Relative Theory II
by Michael R. Burch
Einstein’s peculiar theory
excludes all my relatives, clearly,
since my relatives’ asses
increase their prone masses
while approaching light speed—not nearly!
Relative Theory III
by Michael R. Burch
Relativity, we’re led to believe,
proves masses increase with great speed.
But it seems my huge family
must be an anomaly;
since their (m)asses increase, gone to seed!
Relative to Whom?
by Michael R. Burch
Einstein’s theory, incredibly silly,
says a relative grows, willy-nilly,
at speeds close to light.
Well, his relatives might,
but mine grow their (m)asses more stilly!
Relative-ly Speaking
by Michael R. Burch
Einstein’s theory is really quite silly—
it says masses increase, willy-nilly,
at speeds close to light.
Well, his relatives’ might,
but mine grow their (m)asses more stilly!
The limerick has often been used for political purposes, and to expose, satirize and savage charlatans such as a certain orange-hued ex-president. When the subject of a limerick is that slimy, I have coined a new term for the resulting poetic form: the slime-erick or slimerick. Here are are some slimericks of mine:
The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!
Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"
Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
"We're a nation in need!"
But toupée the price, do we dare?
Toupée or Not Toupée, This is the Answer
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
Oh crap, we elected Trump prez!
Now he's Simon: we must do what he sez!
For if anyone thinks
And says his "plan" stinks,
He'll wig out 'neath that weird orange fez!
Viral Donald
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
Donald Trump is coronaviral:
his brain's in a downward spiral.
That pale nimbus of hair
proves there's nothing up there
but an empty skull, fluff and denial.
White as a Sheet
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
Donald Trump had a real Twitter Scare
then rushed off to fret, vent and share:
“How dare Bernie quote
what I just said and wrote?
Like Megyn he’s mean, cruel, unfair!”
Humpty Trumpty
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
Humpty Trumpty called for a wall.
Trumpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Now all the Grand Wizards
and Faux PR men
Can never put Trumpty together again.
15 Seconds
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
Our president’s sex life—atrocious!
His "briefings"—bizarre hocus-pocus!
Politics—a shell game!
My brief moment of fame
flashed by before Oprah could notice!
Trump’s Golden Rule
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
Donald Trump is the victim of leaks!
Golden showers are NOT things he seeks!
Though he dearly loves soaking
the women he’s groping,
get real, 'cause he pees ON the meek!
Is Trump the ANTICHRIST? When the Hebrew prophets spoke of "the Trump of Doom" and a "little horn" were they speaking literally? (For a YUGE slew of 666 connections, see Is Donald Trump the Antichrist?)
Baked Alaskan
by Michael R. Burch
There is a strange yokel so flirty
she makes whores seem icons of purity.
With all her winkin’ and blinkin’
Palin seems to be thinkin’—
"Ah culd save th’ free world ’cause ah’m purty!"
Copyright 2012 by Michael R. Burch
from Signs of the Apocalypse
all Rights and Violent Shudderings Reserved
Going Rogue in Rouge
by Michael R. Burch
It'll be hard to polish that apple
enough to make her seem palatable.
Though she's sweeter than Snapple
how can my mind grapple
with stupidity so nearly infallible?
Copyright 2012 by Michael R. Burch
from Signs of the Apocalypse
all Rights and Violent Shudderings Reserved
“Clintonian” or “Billistic?”
by Michael R. Burch
There is a new term, “Clintonian,”
which means, “Stop your bitchin’ and moanin’.
He’s only a man
doing all that he can
to put kneepads in the Smithsonian.”
Any Woozy Floozy Will Do
by Michael R. Burch
Once Kennedy, as we all know,
bedded a goddess, Monroe;
but a man of less mettle,
Bill Clinton will settle
for Lewinsky and a quick blow.
A Tale of Two Stiffies
by Michael R. Burch
There was an ex-candidate, Gore,
who amazed with his talent to bore.
“He was incredibly stiff,”
interns said, with a sniff,
“though not like his predecessor!”
Eerie Dearie
by Michael R. Burch
A trembling young auditor, white
as a sheet, like a ghost in the night,
saw his dreams, his career
in a poof!, disappear,
and then, strangely Enronic, his wife.
NOTE: Fortune named Enron "America's Most Innovative Company" for six consecutive years, but the company went bankrupt and vanished after its accounting practices were determined to be fraudulent.