Flammeus Gladius

Carmina et Verba pro Discipulis Meis

Talker

Talker

 

 

With a butt twice the size of Eurasia,
he makes hippos that dance in Fantasia
look enchantingly slim.
Plus, a voice comes from him.
How I wish he would suffer aphasia!

 

 

–Tom Riley

Diet Soda

Diet Soda

 

 
Lots of soda he guzzles, God knows–
but it’s all diet soda! That shows
he’s concerned and controlled.
May he therefore make bold
to inquire why his fat ass still grows?

 

 

–Tom Riley

Prodigal Son

Prodigal Son

 

 

The wayward son the parable presents
never possessed an oceanic ass
like yours. How do I know? It’s common sense.
Christ would have mentioned such a hellish mass
of adiposity, fault of the class
that manifests the foulness of the soul.
Up from your fundament, you push your sass.
Gas from your butt bursts out your vocal hole.
Now you’re returning to your former role.
The gas that you produce will fill the sky.
With those receiving you I won’t condole.
They know that you’re a slack and useless guy.
Still now they take you back. I have to laugh.
The fattened parasite will kill the calf.

 

 

–Tom Riley