On Rigel Nine did Mister Spock
a sexual frenzy undergo
as more than manly Captain Kirk
and all his sainted crew of jerks
   was wiped out on the blow
So twice ten pints o' gin-laced pulp
he downed in one inhuman gulp
and seen some sights what weren't quite there
that romped around his dope-chewed mind
he leapt out from his underwear
and skewered alien slime:

Wahoo! down that grease-caked hole of glory
pig-wild joy atop a screaming Klingon
In his lost galactic purgatory
in fractured chunks he spewed his story
knelt, and strapped his evil thing on
and from the cosmos, out came steeling
eyes aboil, the perfect demon
Drunks along the bar did thunder
shit their shorts in awestruck wonder
Spock, for all his prideful boasting
fell (he thought that Kirk was joking)
Then, by Christ, the faeces flew
as up aloft, the phasers blew
Sooth: the Enterprise exploded
wiping out their stunted Master Race
they tossed what's left into the pits of space
then grabbed the pony prince and rode it
Spock's communicator roared
"Take them now. You are the Lord."

   Spockie howled in awesome pleasure
   propped up on the shithouse throne
   yelping out in mangled measure:
   "Full warp power; pogue mo hone!"
Crowned by lust he couldn't hide
first he fiddled, then he died

   A nutcase with a Cuisinart
   pureed Spock with zealous glee
   It was an idiotic feast
   lovingly with butter greased
   stewed in mediocrity:
   Spock we mourned in purple grief
   with fickle-hearted tears
   we rolled around in our belief
which buggered up our gears:
Hey, Spock-o-baby, rise thee up
and lead us on the Enterprise
smoke your sacred hookah stuff
drape us in your martyred guts
call Kirk and Bones and all the boys
notify the Federation 
in your blue orgasmic throes
Come, we cried, in bells and bows

and then
with no great hesitation
on the third day, Spock arose.

                                           (Mike O'Brien)