Flammeus Gladius

Carmina et Verba pro Discipulis Meis

Month: July, 2018

Lovestruck

Lovestruck

The sneer on Peter Strzok’s exultant face
Makes lovestruck leftists cream right in their pants.
Although to us it seems quite out of place,
The sneer on Peter Strzok’s exultant face
Moves sluts and punks of Hollywood to race
Each other for the slightest blowjob chance.
The sneer on Peter Strzok’s exultant face
Makes lovestruck leftists cream right in their pants.

–Tom Riley

Old Man Appeal

Old Man Appeal

“O how I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name.”

—Shakespeare, Sonnet 80

What’s Bernie got, O Alexandria,
That I have not? He’s older, it is true—
But is he writing sonnets, girl, to you?
He’s only capable of blah-blah-blah
And silly socialist euphoria.
His rhetoric is like an old left shoe.
What does it matter, turning Kansas blue?
I offer adoration. You say: “Ah!”
What’s that? You’re more than just a pretty face?
You want me to respect your intellect?
You’re not impressed by literary grace?
Praise for your brain is what I must perfect?
Might as well conquer interstellar space.
There ain’t no mind there, baby, to respect.

–Tom Riley

(Bernie and Alexandria rally socialists in Kansas.)

Big Trouble for Little Tommy

Big Trouble for Little Tommy

I’m in big trouble now. The Mighty Shea
Hath sworn that he will fight me tooth and nail—
Or maybe oil and lipid. Can he fail
To smash me in his superhero way?
His volume is a frightening display,
His mass an almost legendary tale.
Some fans have christened him the Killer Whale.
How can I ever hold such force at bay?
My hopes are fading fast. I’ve done the math.
With planetary size I can’t compete.
But wait! I’ll scatter donuts in his path!
As Shea distractions, those work super neat.
At any rate, though fired with righteous wrath,
His giant ass is still right in its seat.

–Tom Riley

Schwarzenfucker

Schwarzenfucker

With a frau who was thick and toad-faced,
Arnold cheated – and ended disgraced.
Thus his comments, snail-brained,
Are adroitly explained:
He just envies the Donald’s great taste.

–Tom Riley

Comrade Brennan

Comrade Brennan

Why in the world is Comrade Brennan pissed?
Has Putin’s stare betrayed the Revolution?
What is there for a Commie to resist?
Why in the world is Comrade Brennan pissed?
Why does he shake a red and empty fist?
How has his vast scheme suffered diminution?
Why in the world is Comrade Brennan pissed?
Has Putin’s stare betrayed the Revolution?

–Tom Riley

Life Coach

Life Coach

“Get a life!” cried the beggar on the street.
In her own mind, her life was an example.
Her cold disdain became unbridled heat.
“Get a life!” cried the beggar on the street.
Did well-heeled passersby admit defeat?
They should have – for her screech was more than ample.
“Get a life!” cried the beggar on the street.
In her own mind, her life was an example.

–Tom Riley

Monster Movie

Monster Movie

“Shea’s attacking!” the little kids cried
On a Tokyo set. But they lied.
The beast never attacked.
It was all just an act—
Like Godzilla, but undignified.

–Tom Riley

Wild Ascent

Wild Ascent

They’re hot to drive the Trumpster’s numbers down.
He uses this to boost his wild ascent.
Uneasy lies the orange hair with the crown?
They’re hot to drive the Trumpster’s numbers down.
They paint him as a schemer and a clown.
They twist and torture every slight event.
They’re hot to drive the Trumpster’s numbers down.
He uses this to boost his wild ascent.

–Tom Riley

Origin Story

Origin Story

A crazed, self-tortured scientific guy
Pursues unholy ends with practiced haste.
In the academy he’s been disgraced.
They’ve called him mad. Him! Mad! Oh, what a lie!
They are the ones who will not even try
To see the sorts of truths that must be faced—
To see the possibilities all spaced
Before him, twisted stairways climbing high!
Well, now’s the night! The thunderstorm is here.
With Heaven’s prohibitions he will strive
By harnessing the troubled atmosphere.
The lightning is preparing to arrive!
Discharge! Aha! Obstructions disappear!
“I call it the Pezzulo! It’s alive!”

–Tom Riley

Prophetic

Prophetic

Is Shea prophetic once again today?
Well, fasting in the desert ain’t his thing.
Self-abnegation’s not a game he’ll play.
He’s never really cared for hunger’s sting.
The imprecations that he loves to sing,
However, seem to please the crowd of cunts
Who follow him. His smugness he will bring
To bear in prose that proves that he’s a dunce—
And, swiftly, far too many mental runts
Will hail his brilliance and his righteousness.
Though warned about false prophets more than once,
They will embrace that fat slob nonetheless.
His wrath is slack. His humor isn’t funny.
Yet still he wins approval. Please send money.

–Tom Riley