I’ll still watch you Game of Thrones
Though you chill me to my bones
Biggest question with this show
Why do you hate women so?
Sand snakes aren’t as good as guys
They should fight someone their size
Arya beaten with a rod
Queen is jailed by the god squad
She can’t even help her bro
‘Cause they say he’s a big ‘mo
Poor Sansa should have escaped
Not all women should be raped
All women need to know
Not all men are shallow
Green, hazel or blue eyes
We love you any size
We love you if you’re tall
We love you if you’re small
We love you if you’re brown
We love you when you frown
We love you when you grin
We love you if you’re thin
We love you if you’re fat
We love you, and that’s that
Before we met, she had two
The same as most women do
Later on, she had just one
It was still a lot of fun
Now she has a pair again
With or without she’s a ten
Lorna is this woman I know
Who I met 30 years ago
She came to town the other day
To find some new board games to play
So Lorna, Marc, and Natalie
Played Istanbul with Jean and me
Then we drove to Captain Nemo’s
The card game Gloom is what she chose
I picked up Basic D&D
Then we ate dinner by the sea
We all had a fantastic day
Can’t wait for the next game to play
It was six years ago tonight
We met, and Jean was out of sight!
Set up on a crazy blind date
Neither knew that it would be great
She’s the kind of woman, you know
That you grab, and you don’t let go
The kind you can’t stop thinking of
Six years gone, and I’m still in love
#YesAllWomen is not trumped by
#NotAllMen, so if you’re a guy
You need to walk in women’s shoes
To see how #SomeMen can abuse
Women know that it’s #NotAllMen
But it happens time and again
That #SomeMen think that it’s their right
To hassle women day and night
Women are not simply objects
To be your slut, to give you sex
You need to treat all women well
If you don’t, you can go to hell
Wheel of Fortune’s Pat Sajak
Is as dull as dental plaque
He goes trolling on twitter
And he comes off as bitter
He pokes fun at climate change
And takes pix at a gun range
He puts down women and gays
His opinions cause malaise
Please don’t follow Pat Sajak
Sony should give him the sack
“Wonder Woman is too skinny
Though she looks good in a mini”
Fanboys are antagonistic
They are never realistic
They’re as fun as a root canal
But they hope Zack picked the right Gal
Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III
Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
Pope Francis said in a promo
That he was not anti-homo
Then he excommunicated
A pro-gay priest who had stated
Women should be ordained as well
The Vatican can go to hell
So, Kate and Willie popped out a boy
Women around the world jump for joy
From Buckingham Palace to Beijing
Such excitement for this future king
But for the moment, he’s just a prince
And all this chatter makes most men wince
There once was a woman from Solvang
Who was looking for a guy to bang
She found some nice dudes
Without attitudes
But she’d still rather have a big wang
There once was a woman from Mayo
She would drink every night and day-o
When she hit the town
She’d drink the boys down
And end with a roll in the hay-o
Happy birthday to the amazing Jean
The sexiest woman I’ve ever seen
Not only pretty, she’s funny and smart
I knew she was a keeper from the start
Our weekends together should never end
I couldn’t ask for a better best friend
Spanish language TV is hot
The women do not wear a lot
All the men are muy macho
As I watch, eating a nacho
I don’t understand what they say
But it makes for a nice workday
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman’s days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our wingèd horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road,
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone’s in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven’s part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse—
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Leaving behind us the alien, foreign city of Dublin
My father drove through the night in an old Ford Anglia,
His five-year-old son in the seat beside him,
The rexine seat of red leatherette,
And a yellow moon peered in through the windscreen.
‘Daddy, Daddy,’ I cried, ‘Pass out the moon,’
But no matter how hard he drove he could not pass out the moon.
Each town we passed through was another milestone
And their names were magic passwords into eternity:
Kilcock, Kinnegad, Strokestown, Elphin,
Tarmonbarry, Tulsk, Ballaghaderreen, Ballavarry;
Now we were in Mayo and the next stop was Turlough,
The village of Turlough in the heartland of Mayo,
And my father’s mother’s house, all oil-lamps and women,
And my bedroom over the public bar below,
And in the morning cattle-cries and cock-crows:
Life’s seemingly seamless garment gorgeously rent
By their screeches and bellowings. And in the evenings
I walked with my father in the high grass down by the river
Talking with him – an unheard-of thing in the city.
But home was not home and the moon could be no more outflanked
Than the daylight nightmare of Dublin city:
Back down along the canal we chugged into the city
And each lock-gate tolled our mutual doom;
And railings and palings and asphalt and traffic-lights,
And blocks after blocks of so-called ‘new’ tenements –
Thousands of crosses of loneliness planted
In the narrowing grave of the life of the father;
In the wide, wide cemetery of the boy’s childhood.
It’s about time that Congress backed
Violence Against Women Act
Republicans like the drama
When it seems to hurt Obama
Injustice at the Supreme Court
Minorities have lost support
When good happens in Washington
Another’s rights become undone
Never ask a comic book fan
If Thanos could kill Superman
Is Quicksilver as fast as Flash?
Don’t make me angry or “Hulk smash!”
Fate or Strange – who’s the best doctor?
Could Wonder Woman beat up Thor?
Does MJ love Peter Parker?
Could Batman get any darker?
Is Jordan the best Green Lantern?
Can Human Torch get a sunburn?
Nerds and geeks adore these topics
That’s what sells so many comics