Monday, October 31, 2016

Limericks Update 11/16

These selected limericks were written since the last update (newest first).

Come, Sweet Death
[Doomer Translation]
Benjamin the Donkey 2016

Come sweet death, come peaceful rest!
It’s over, whatever my quest;
Doom’s too much to digest
And I’m weary at best:
Come, oh come, peaceful rest!

Come sweet death, come peaceful rest!
Things are worse than I’d ever have guessed;
I’m extinction obsessed
And it makes me depressed—
Come, oh come, peaceful rest!

Come sweet death, come peaceful rest!
This is real, it’s not just a test: 
As doom has progressed,
Acceptance works best;
Come, oh come, peaceful rest!

Come sweet death, come peaceful rest!
To feel more and more distressed
Isn’t my last request
(If it’s yours, be my guest);
Come, oh come, peaceful rest!

Come sweet death, come peaceful rest!
We’ve covered the ground, I suggest:
If stuff’s not been addressed,
Tell me what’s unexpressed—
Come, oh come, peaceful rest!

Komm, süßer Tod
[Original German]
Johann Sebastian Bach, BWV 478

Komm, süßer Tod, komm selge Ruh!
Komm führe mich in Friede,
weil ich der Welt bin müde,
ach komm! ich wart auf dich,
komm bald und führe mich,
drück mir die Augen zu.
Komm, selge Ruh!

Komm, süßer Tod, komm, selge Ruh!
Im Himmel ist es besser,
da alle Lust viel größer,
drum bin ich jederzeit
schon zum Valet bereit,
ich schließ die Augen zu.
Komm, selge Ruh!

Komm, süßer Tod, komm, selge Ruh!
O Welt, du Marterkammer,
ach! bleib mit deinem Jammer
auf dieser Trauerwelt,
der Himmel mir gefällt,
der Tod bringt mich darzu.
Komm, selge Ruh!

Komm, süßer Tod, komm, selge Ruh!
O, dass ich doch schon wäre
dort bei der Engel Heere,
aus dieser schwarzen Welt
ins blaue Sternenzelt,
hin nach dem Himmel zu.
O: selge Ruh!

Komm, süßer Tod, komm, selge Ruh!
Ich will nun Jesum sehen
und bei den Engeln stehen.
Es ist nunmehr vollbracht,
drum, Welt, zu guter Nacht,
mein Augen sind schon zu.
Komm, selge Ruh!

Slacking Off

I’ve been slacking off, haven’t done squat:
I’m behind on chores, stay home a lot,
Eat and sleep as I feel,
Work on keeping it real—
It’s the end of the world—why not?

Doomer Desiderata

Go placidly amid the haste
And the noise when you start feeling spaced,
Because whether or not
You enjoy what you’ve got,
Soon it will all be erased.

Speak your truth if someone inquires—
Even dull and ignorant deniers;
They too have their story:
You’ll be their meat quarry
When trying to warn them backfires.

Inequality fucks with your head;
It’s a given, so try this instead:
Whoever you are—
A bum or a star—
We’ll be equal soon when we’re all dead.

Your achievements and plans full of wit
Won’t last much beyond your obit;
Changing fortunes of time
Mean we’ll soon turn to slime:
What you leave behind won’t be worth shit.

You’re a child of the universe no less
Than anything else in this mess,  
But it’s might that makes right,
The end’s not here—not quite,
So don’t count on nothing, I guess.

Maybe your life’s been a bust,
Which you don’t understand—you’re nonplussed!
But there’s no need for shame:
You were never to blame,
Because molecules move as they must.

It’s good that we’ve had this small chat
Before the whole shithouse goes splat;
Whatever you do,
We’re fucked through and through: 
Strive to be happy—good luck with that.

No Hopium Zone Thread

What if we had a colloquium
Which doesn’t allow any hopium?
Any found in this thread
Gets called out instead,
And suffers the utmost opprobrium.

Church of Goodbye

I believe in the Church of Goodbye:
It explains what’s come nigh—also why!
And for those who deny
What I spy with my eye,
They all should go eat shit and die.

How I Plan to Go

Non-doomers might think I’m a maniac
To think on the last time I’ll hit the sack:
I’ll skip the occasion
Of bad home invasion
By having a previous heart attack.

The Situation

Starvation, suicide, or predation
Are the choices, on careful mentation;
And if you still think
We’re not going extinct,
You don’t understand the situation.


Here lie the humans, now through;  
They just did what animals do
Ever since their debut—
Not too much, in review:
Get born and die, eat, shit, and screw.

Wake and Bake

Each morning, as soon as I wake,
It seems normal is harder to fake;
Extinction’s ache
Is too hard to take,
And that’s why I wake and bake.


It turns out the future is not-so-great,
But we can’t do a thing at this late date;
We must meet our fate
And there’s not long to wait:
The best we can do is commiserate.  ]

What to Expect

Don’t forget that doom’s overall trend
Is downhill—every day we descend;
Things get more and more wrecked,
But that’s what to expect
When the world comes to an end.

We’ve Peaked

We’ve now reached the final frontier: 
That part where we all disappear;
As time keeps progressing,
Things get more depressing
Because it’s all downhill from here.

That Annoying “Hair on Fire” Phase

Once the news has your mind overturned,
You must tell folks who’re still unconcerned
Plus doomers (although
By that point they all know)
What you’ve only just recently learned.

Today Is Better Than Tomorrow

I wouldn’t beg steal or borrow
More time in this valley of sorrow:
Today’s bad enough,
Things keep getting more rough,
And they’ll probably be worse tomorrow.

That Period of Time

There’s a period of time which is rife
With all sorts of sorrow and strife
When you wish you’d have died
Yet you don’t suicide:
It’s that period of time we call “life.”


Each morning I wake up in bed
With just one idea in my head:
I can’t hardly wait
Till we get to the date 
Of the morning I’m waking up dead.


If life’s mostly hitting a wall
Of misery none can forestall, 
Aside from some drive
Of instinct to survive,
Why bother living at all?


Once we know all our chances are blown
How should we face the unknown?
While awaiting our fate
We can still mitigate
Suffering, including our own.


Exercise has utility
For muscular capability:
But COP21
Will get nothing done—
It’s an exercise in futility.

Respond via Stage 2 and fume,
Or revisit Stage 4 and its gloom;
Either reaction
Can serve as distraction
From coming to terms with doom.

A meaningless communiqué,
But wine from a sommelier,
Repartee in Franglais,
The local ballet,
And cafes on the Champs-Elysees.

There’s no need for pique or dismay,
Whatever they do or don’t say;
We’re not going to get through
What’s about to ensue
‘Cause it’s now far too late anyway.

If ever you had any hope
That we’d beat extinction and cope,
Then Paris in France
Shows there isn’t a chance,
So we now know the answer is nope.

It’s over, hello termination,
Many thanks for your participation;
As reason departs,
Goodbye science and arts,
And good-bye civilization. 

Thanksgiving 2015

Let’s give thanks for every small boon
(Though doom’s somewhat inopportune),
And top off the list
With that we won’t exist,
And this shit will be all over soon.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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