Feel free to publish, post, or pass on Your Weekly Politickle by F.R. Duplantier:
“I once had a daughter or son.
To this day, I don’t know which one.
I later was wed.
Still, my first child is dead.
Please forgive me for what I have done.”
From the archive:
No, their numbers are never reported
(If they were, they’d be greatly distorted),
But this year in the throng,
Fifty million-plus strong,
Are the souls of the children aborted.
Oh, the wailing could hardly be shriller
For the fallen abortionist Tiller:
How those pro-choicers burn
With such tender concern
For an infamous serial killer!
NO BIG DEAL
Why feel sorry for the slain
While you’re sucking out his brain,
Tearing off of him
Every little limb,
If he cannot feel real pain?
“Shall I never see the morn?
Hear a rattle, bell, or horn?
Or taste the air?
Or touch your hair?
Must I die before I’m born?”
“In confusion I resorted
To the ‘choice’ that was exhorted;
Now every day
I cry and pray
For the baby I aborted.”
LOST ON EARTH
We’re so eager to find a trace
Of the least little life in space,
But here on Earth
We bar the birth
Of lives we could embrace.
Don’t be fooled by the “pro-choice” ruse
That amoralists use to confuse,
For your choices could
Be bad or good
And it matters how you choose.
Five Justices’ wanton support
Preserves the grim “right” to abort:
To keep babies alive,
Replace one of those five
And establish a life-choosing Court.
“Oh, Mama, don’t let that thing get me!
Oh, Mama, you’ve not even met me!
Oh, Mama, please give
Me a lifetime to live!
Oh, Mama, you’d never regret me!”
Last week’s limerick:
He’s again at the club, is he nuts?
He’s no athlete, the man is a klutz.
All this time on the green,
It’s becoming obscene:
He should mind something else than his putts.