A Weird Poem for Jon Scheyer

A lot of you know that I hold Jon Scheyer in pretty high esteem. I won't recite his stats, but suffice it to say the dude is having a good year. So why not take my fandom to the next level? I have no other ideas for today. This is what you get. Tomorrow, live blogs of the Duke and UNC games, and then I'm off work Friday.

An Obsessive Person's Ode to Jon Scheyer

In the camps, around the fire
In cafes, where men perspire
They will know you for a liar
If you slander Jonny Scheyer

Blond and slim, with talent rife
Slicing zones just like a knife
If he marries in this life
I will surely hate his wife

Make a list of things you hate
in red ink, and if that slate
includes a certain Devil great...
FIE ON YOU, I'LL SET YOU STRAIGHT!
I'LL HAVE YOUR PATE UPON A PLATE!
DINERS SHALL YOUR HEAD AWAIT!
A FRENZIED FEAST SHALL BE YOUR FATE!

...

A delay, my friends, to catch my air
at times, you see, poetic flair
leaves the artist weak and bare
with no vital force to spare!

Thankfully, a lack of verve
shall never plague a single nerve
of wond'rous Jonathan, observe:
he has moxie in reserve.

The healing touch of Saint Theresa
the eerie grin of Mona Lisa
the stance, askew, of Torre Pisa:
none shall match the pure mystic grace of my hero Jon Scheyer

SAY AGAIN?! A BONE TO PICK?!
MY LAST LINE STRUCK YOU TO THE QUICK?!
I FAILED TO MAKE THE RHYTHM CLICK?!
TO CONSUMMATE THE RHYMING TRICK?!

A joke! Relax, you frightened scholar
You're right! My meter went to squalor.
(And yet, for but a paper dollar
I'd wring you by your Windsor collar)

But let us not our past lament
lest our errors we augment
My subject, aye! I catch the scent
Scheyer: Son of Firmament

Have you seen the bright blue eyes?
The swatting arms when he denies?
The roaring cheers, the female sighs?
The world will crumble when he dies

And from the ashes, angel wings
shall spread, and when the creature sings:
Wreaths of fire, sacred stings!
The end of days, the death of kings!

(Yesterday, I ate a snack
of cornflakes in my clapboard shack
and patterned in the milk, alack!
The face of Scheyer, staring back!)

It may be years before we fall
but though we fret, delay, and stall,
none shall ever hold our thrall
like Scheyer, Duke of Basketball!





(If any post will ever get me arrested, deported, or just restraining-ordered, it's this one. Or this one. Or this one. Anyway, please take this as a joke. See you tomorrow.)