Monday, August 20, 2007

Silat Limericks

So several friends of mine have been posting about the politics in our martial arts family. And I don't want to be left out, but darn it, I just can't seem to take the whole thing seriously enough.


Steve Perry (no, not the musician
the author) learned proper position
from Guru Steve Plinck.
Now, with pen and ink
he wins his opponents’ submission.

A young silat player named Bobbe
claims silat is not just a hobby.
You’ve got to have balls
to take all those falls
on hard marble floors in the lobby.

This newcomer, last name of Erven
drives a Mini—no hulking Suburban.
The back seat just fits
the sticks, gloves and mitts
and the beer in a super-sized serving.

Simooms from the deserts of Libya
or hurricanes out of Caribbea
may level our towers
but can’t match the power
of the terrible Silat Amphibia.

We silat folk all find it dandy
to get ourselves sticky and sandy
heavily bruised
dazed and confused
and slathered with balur cimande.

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