Agatha Raps

Fratricide, patricide, homicide
You provide
Throughout our varied history
The source for thrills and mystery
Who did it?
Who hid it?
Colonel Mustard, Professor Plum
Exactly when did you become
These homicidal lunatics
Quarry for the private "dicks"
Who run in rings around the "coppers"
Whose lacking brains are sure show stoppers?
Don't look now- a second body!
(Doesn't matter, not a hottie...)
Looks like the amanuensis
Saw something he'd best to miss
Prussic acid in his tea...?
Who am I to disagree?
He's dull and surely poorly written-
The ingenue has got me smitten.
It would be the best of plans
To put some sleuthing in her hands!
She can scope the iffy relation
Whose guilt would cause no consternation
(He's a bad boy, but misunderstood
and she can change him for the good.)
But this romance is just a side show-
Chapter twelve and still we don't know
That the victim's brother's mother's daughter
Heard something that's no doubt taught her
Don't hint of what or who you know
Oops... strychnine in her escargot.
Now in quite rapid succession
The toll takes on a grim progression:
Butler falling down the stairs,
The lawyer smothers- no one cares,
The crazy aunt will get a cosh,
Best "friend"? More poison in his nosh.
Neighbor, killer simply shoots
Maid? Toaster in bath electrocutes!
The long lost cousin gets a knife:
Hatchet for his long lost ex-wife.
The bad boy gets anthrax, as does too
That pesky, pesky ingenue.
The detectives do not even scream
When someone shoves them in the stream....
Last one sinking like a stone
And here I'm left, now quite alone.
It was almost over before I'd begun it...
Murder I wrote? Like hell- I done it.

Numbers low like two and three most always seem to disagree
"Six is yours!? Why, no, it's mine!" And two takes eight, while three grabs nine.
But unlike poor Jack or feckless Jill, our numbers tumble up a hill
Towards that deep and boundless sea known only as infinity
And calmer numbers soon prevail on that strange and spacious trail
And 700,009 can calmly sit, and feel just fine
That he will only rarely be at odds with 19,003.

A old friend was close last night, but she was hiding in the gray



But this was understandable: other forces were in play.



And with no sun ever rising, the night became as plain as day...

Who am I to think these things?
Well, even cats can look at kings-
And if their gaze, it should transpire
Draws down the wrath of royal ire
They've eight lives left- and so with me:
I've just agreed to disagree

Time's, it seems, a funny thing- it simply comes and goes
And just where it gets to going there ain't nobody that knows
And some say time and space can be somewhat interchanged
Although to my untrained eye that seems just plain deranged
But they insist and that's just fine, and I will let them be
But one thing that's not letting up: that bitch is entropy.

Time's arrow- no, not the magazine
From order to pure chaos, and all points in between
This heat will be the death of us, just you wait and see
I'll put friction in my diction: the bitch is entropy.


In simpler times to beat their grinds madmen dreamt machines
That started without stopping- motion perpetual their schemes
But one and all each bouncing ball bounced less each time it fell
And no demon's deal could change that (just shut up there, Maxwell)
One reified conception laughed hard and merc'lessly
And to put a name right on it: that bitch was entropy.


Time's arrow- no, not the magazine
From order to pure chaos, and all points that you've seen
This heat will be the death of all- you won't be there to see
I'll put friction in my diction: the bitch is entropy.


I'd like to fix the broken
With just the spoken
Word.But disorder
Makes that border
line Absurd. Chaos theory
is my query:
We're all winding down
You'll not get more than
.99 horse
of this one-horse town


This heat will be the death of all- I won't be there to see

[grumble grumble grumble]

Just damn you, entropy.

Grick bickle grack-
Blarge blackle gurge
Smeeny smacka sckite
Hohmablahnamerge
Omanturna fargepheresis:
Oppa doppa congarthesis.

"e"
(see previous)

Riddle me this, Caped Crusader...

I may kill or maim, but I would never injure
I might skirt the truth, but I would never lie
I could last a day, but I would never endure
Although I might fall sick, I would never die.

What am I avoiding?

Less Than Meets the Eye

You left me - what was your deal?
Your point of view just seems .
As though each and every word you speak
Is said soliciting an
If my heart were to be my guide
You'd leave me feeling quite
So in what I choose I must be clever-
My is now just plain