Shelley Byron Keats

A parrot was sick, yes quite chronic;
he took Henry's poems for a tonic.
He let out a squawk, now all people talk.
Supersonic he died on moronic.
...

The town of Henry's very own birth
wanted a tribute to this poet's worth.
They erected his statue
then someone sneezed, 'ka-choo! '
...

Henry dreamed the New World to see-a
on the Pinta, Nina, Santa Maria;
but that Columbus was such a strange fella,
when Herbie his own poems would yell-a
...

Gus the glutton whenever he was able
dined on Henry's pages of poems on the table.
He swilled them. He slurped them.
At high tea he burped them:
...

Henry desired the Nobel Prize.
In his eyes fine writing spelled lies.
He tried to steal the award
but took a slash from a sword
...

Shakespeare's character, Richard the Third
had a fondness for every turd.
Hernry's poems had the tone
-he wanted one for his own-
...

Garbed in sacred luminescence,
...

Henry tied his black cape on-(he's small)
Hung from wall, he'd enthrall at the ball!
Some actors were there,
Henry just couldn't care:
...

A man collapsed on the road.
Then a thief stole his wallet, I'm told.
The next pinched his key
and his left plastic knee.
...

But then say that the great Tsunami had touched you:
fingered you with spray, swallowed you whole,
then spat you out again....
Yet your wife, the clinging children an inch away, all just screaming bait
...

...

Claim God moves mysterious for us all
and yet I saw a brainless insect flutter
with dance, with shuffle- stagger, twist, totter
his drunken trail on a crooked wall
...

The Divine sure thumps poor Asian people
but now killer surf stays curbed, all sides.
Yes, the greying mob so tired, so faithful
can psalm the Glory of His Name,
...