Sunday, September 30, 2012
Oklahoma
William Z Winsom certainly never before put
groceries away naked.
But his clothes had been soaked from dragging bags upstairs through very
nearly solid heat. A sort of ticking came
from outside, leading, he hoped, to the promised thunder shower.
He discounted the perfunctory tornado warning, one a day for the preceding week.
Droplets whipped across his neck when he placed Special K atop the frig. As he
meditated on their appearance indoors, turning to the windows to check, the front
of the apartment ripped off with a roar, exposing him to the Billy Benloes, dragging
Grandpa, drunk, to a shelter.
"Always knew YOU was some kinda
pre-vert!" he cackled, black debris
circling the luminous group.
William Z Winsom certainly never before put
groceries away naked.
But his clothes had been soaked from dragging bags upstairs through very
nearly solid heat. A sort of ticking came
from outside, leading, he hoped, to the promised thunder shower.
He discounted the perfunctory tornado warning, one a day for the preceding week.
Droplets whipped across his neck when he placed Special K atop the frig. As he
meditated on their appearance indoors, turning to the windows to check, the front
of the apartment ripped off with a roar, exposing him to the Billy Benloes, dragging
Grandpa, drunk, to a shelter.
"Always knew YOU was some kinda
pre-vert!" he cackled, black debris
circling the luminous group.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Newlyweds Quarrel
-I was cheerleader and he star quarterback.
Make of that what you will. You and hubby
laugh at everything anyway.
-Not this. Not him. He's a jock worshiper.
-Anyway we got married. Monster bash.
Then he was drafted into the pros.
That's a short story with an anti-O'Henry ending. Broke his leg in pre-season
and never could get back.
So he’s small college coach, now, and I work
for the dean. It’s okay. I like all the women there. Not usual with me.
But before all of that! Early matrimony proved
rocky altogether. And we had this one fight
I couldn't even describe. I mean everything
was on the table--and bleeding.
I told him if we were going to go on like that,
we should shoot each other. He left, hot!
When he came back--I thought because he remembered something especially
biting he forgot to...
-Oh oh!
-No! He dissolved in tears and begged forgiveness on his knees.
-And what did you conclude from...?
-They never really learn how to fight.
-I was cheerleader and he star quarterback.
Make of that what you will. You and hubby
laugh at everything anyway.
-Not this. Not him. He's a jock worshiper.
-Anyway we got married. Monster bash.
Then he was drafted into the pros.
That's a short story with an anti-O'Henry ending. Broke his leg in pre-season
and never could get back.
So he’s small college coach, now, and I work
for the dean. It’s okay. I like all the women there. Not usual with me.
But before all of that! Early matrimony proved
rocky altogether. And we had this one fight
I couldn't even describe. I mean everything
was on the table--and bleeding.
I told him if we were going to go on like that,
we should shoot each other. He left, hot!
When he came back--I thought because he remembered something especially
biting he forgot to...
-Oh oh!
-No! He dissolved in tears and begged forgiveness on his knees.
-And what did you conclude from...?
-They never really learn how to fight.
Labels: argument, Battle of Sexes, female, relationship
Friday, September 28, 2012
Again, History
is the story we
tell each other.
Personal history
is the story we
tell ourselves.
Both twist
if we wish
to change
face, sav-
ing it.
is the story we
tell each other.
Personal history
is the story we
tell ourselves.
Both twist
if we wish
to change
face, sav-
ing it.
Labels: history
Thursday, September 27, 2012
History
is the story we
tell each other.
Personal history
is the story we
tell ourselves.
Both change
if we wish
to twist
face, sav-
ing it.
is the story we
tell each other.
Personal history
is the story we
tell ourselves.
Both change
if we wish
to twist
face, sav-
ing it.
Labels: history
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Two Republican Comedians
-Against President's jug ears alone, we gain close to a million votes.
-That many? Wow!
-Yeah, there’s a real Ear Aesthetic among
Republicans.
-The Mount Olympus of Eardom! All those
fat white people on the Convention floor?
Never thought once to check out external
auditory structures.
-A thing of beauty is a joy forever!
-But not a Jew forever! And will we someday
admit theirs, and more yellow or black ears?
-Not possible. I said Aesthetic, didn't I?
-You did! And that can only mean white.
-Amen Amen I say to you...
-Pale faces rule.
-All the pretty ears!
-Against President's jug ears alone, we gain close to a million votes.
-That many? Wow!
-Yeah, there’s a real Ear Aesthetic among
Republicans.
-The Mount Olympus of Eardom! All those
fat white people on the Convention floor?
Never thought once to check out external
auditory structures.
-A thing of beauty is a joy forever!
-But not a Jew forever! And will we someday
admit theirs, and more yellow or black ears?
-Not possible. I said Aesthetic, didn't I?
-You did! And that can only mean white.
-Amen Amen I say to you...
-Pale faces rule.
-All the pretty ears!
Labels: ear;Republican, President's ears
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Was a Rebel,
announce I from
time to time.
Seinfeld counters such
a class of utterance
(paraphrasing) No,
Johnny Yuma is a rebel.
You’re a nut! Hey! On oc-
casions didn’t really speak up,
for shyness, though these duds
somewhat balanced by shooting
off my mouth sans any substance
through other crazy frames.
But so what? 300 estimable
average in baseball.
Jerry's comment still gives
me no end of amusement
in itself, at myself.
Labels: bold, loud, quiet, rebel, Seinfeld, shy
Monday, September 24, 2012
Seiko Astron Watch*
or The Toys of the Rich
advance Empire.
And yet, a cat
can look at a King.
And the scuzziest peasant
in America ask the time
of the equipped exalted,
though such precision
goes by him.
*Set by GPS, might lose or gain a second in
100,000 years.
or The Toys of the Rich
advance Empire.
And yet, a cat
can look at a King.
And the scuzziest peasant
in America ask the time
of the equipped exalted,
though such precision
goes by him.
*Set by GPS, might lose or gain a second in
100,000 years.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Rewards
The Right Wing Government had featured much Freedom-Mouthing, and leaders
in limousine monstrosities followed by
Yes Persons in buses.
The leaders were murdered by the Revolution,
and scruffy newcomers took over in jeeps.
The Yes Persons, of course, switched
their tunes seamlessly.
Soon enough, the revolutionists evolved
into Armani suits, the limos returned,
and everything relaxed.
Five years in and we were pretty much
into the Every Man a King, Every
Woman a Queen phase.
Which takes us to the present milieu, best illustrated by a walk I took with my friend
in Minneapolis.
The first wave we encountered wore PERSON OF THE YEAR tshirts. Followed by LITTLE LEAGUE CAPTAINS of their various times.
Then GIRL SCOUT GOLDENS!--
COOKIE SELLERS EXTRAORDINAIRE!
Most of the award winners had pushed
ahead as a sort of impromptu parade,
some carrying actual trophies which
flayed around dangerously. Such flashing hazard proved too chaotic to TOP INNOVATIVE BUSINESSMAN 2032.
He organized them by screaming.
BOWLERS OF THE DECADE, ST PAUL, helped him, and soon was restored aimless milling, and Top Innovative's sanity.
BEST LITERARY SCHOLAR, TWIN CITIES, EXCLUDING DOWNTOWNS AND NEIGHBORHOODS SURROUNDING
GUTHRIE THEATER smiled, once we got close enough to read his tshirt.
We were about to test him with obscure allusions when a Grandmother shrieked
at us in no recognizable language.
Then we did decipher "Where's your accomplishments, Numbnuts
Nothings from Nowhere?”
"Mine are home. Mother taught us not to flaunt." I answered.
My friend added, "When all are marvels, who does the work?"
“Not you!” she snapped, this CHEERLEADER OF THE CENTURY. “I recognize your type, calling everybody whores and sluts!"
“If the shoe fits...” he fired back.
“Yeah? Well, when they snuffed the old regime, they missed you two. Well, let me tell you, that can be remedied!” She joined
THE PARAMOUNT-TOP DELINQUENTS (FORMER) CLUB, playing boccie in
Elliot park.
Finally she pointed to us, her silk jacket taking on a leaping iridescence in her agitation after missing a blocking shot.
Her team threatened with upraised fists too.
Discretion being the better part, etc., we slid though the prestigious crowd, finally entering the Hot Dog Depot.
Award-Winning of course.
We sat on a very large and quite artistic
BEST OF THE FOOTLONGS, SAN DIEGO trophy in marble.
You'd think they wouldn't allow that
but they did.
The Right Wing Government had featured much Freedom-Mouthing, and leaders
in limousine monstrosities followed by
Yes Persons in buses.
The leaders were murdered by the Revolution,
and scruffy newcomers took over in jeeps.
The Yes Persons, of course, switched
their tunes seamlessly.
Soon enough, the revolutionists evolved
into Armani suits, the limos returned,
and everything relaxed.
Five years in and we were pretty much
into the Every Man a King, Every
Woman a Queen phase.
Which takes us to the present milieu, best illustrated by a walk I took with my friend
in Minneapolis.
The first wave we encountered wore PERSON OF THE YEAR tshirts. Followed by LITTLE LEAGUE CAPTAINS of their various times.
Then GIRL SCOUT GOLDENS!--
COOKIE SELLERS EXTRAORDINAIRE!
Most of the award winners had pushed
ahead as a sort of impromptu parade,
some carrying actual trophies which
flayed around dangerously. Such flashing hazard proved too chaotic to TOP INNOVATIVE BUSINESSMAN 2032.
He organized them by screaming.
BOWLERS OF THE DECADE, ST PAUL, helped him, and soon was restored aimless milling, and Top Innovative's sanity.
BEST LITERARY SCHOLAR, TWIN CITIES, EXCLUDING DOWNTOWNS AND NEIGHBORHOODS SURROUNDING
GUTHRIE THEATER smiled, once we got close enough to read his tshirt.
We were about to test him with obscure allusions when a Grandmother shrieked
at us in no recognizable language.
Then we did decipher "Where's your accomplishments, Numbnuts
Nothings from Nowhere?”
"Mine are home. Mother taught us not to flaunt." I answered.
My friend added, "When all are marvels, who does the work?"
“Not you!” she snapped, this CHEERLEADER OF THE CENTURY. “I recognize your type, calling everybody whores and sluts!"
“If the shoe fits...” he fired back.
“Yeah? Well, when they snuffed the old regime, they missed you two. Well, let me tell you, that can be remedied!” She joined
THE PARAMOUNT-TOP DELINQUENTS (FORMER) CLUB, playing boccie in
Elliot park.
Finally she pointed to us, her silk jacket taking on a leaping iridescence in her agitation after missing a blocking shot.
Her team threatened with upraised fists too.
Discretion being the better part, etc., we slid though the prestigious crowd, finally entering the Hot Dog Depot.
Award-Winning of course.
We sat on a very large and quite artistic
BEST OF THE FOOTLONGS, SAN DIEGO trophy in marble.
You'd think they wouldn't allow that
but they did.
Labels: award, Fascism, revolution, reward, socialism
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Two Young Men Speaking
Their Unique Chapter
-How’s it going with Jeanette
-It hath made me mad!
-Maybe you should change your luck.
Kick her outa the bed for Bruce.
-Ah yes, Bruce, the archetype! Curlers in
one hand, decorating swatches
in the other. The Berstein’s sofa
haunts him! It was never quite right!
-Whatever. You might find more love.
-He’s as severely menstrual as Jeanette!
-That’s impossible, I mean physically.
-More things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
-How ‘bout yours?
-Shut down. Failure every which way.
Their Unique Chapter
-How’s it going with Jeanette
-It hath made me mad!
-Maybe you should change your luck.
Kick her outa the bed for Bruce.
-Ah yes, Bruce, the archetype! Curlers in
one hand, decorating swatches
in the other. The Berstein’s sofa
haunts him! It was never quite right!
-Whatever. You might find more love.
-He’s as severely menstrual as Jeanette!
-That’s impossible, I mean physically.
-More things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
-How ‘bout yours?
-Shut down. Failure every which way.
Labels: friendship, stereotyping
Friday, September 21, 2012
Can't Sleep AM Radio
Gold bugs promise fortunes
& guys can't get it up. Strained
brained right-wing ranters
(singularly loved by the vicious)
shoring survival food against
invading racial waves.
Others counseling love
stricken, or loan
stuck. Mega Church, ord-
inary Christ-extortion. Sports
dudes trying picayune
quarrels. It's all hardly vast,
but waste
land nonetheless.
Gold bugs promise fortunes
& guys can't get it up. Strained
brained right-wing ranters
(singularly loved by the vicious)
shoring survival food against
invading racial waves.
Others counseling love
stricken, or loan
stuck. Mega Church, ord-
inary Christ-extortion. Sports
dudes trying picayune
quarrels. It's all hardly vast,
but waste
land nonetheless.
Labels: Hate Radio, radio, Right Wing, vast wasteland
Thursday, September 20, 2012
“Where did you go, Joe Dimaggio?”
Joe told S&G he didn’t
go anywhere. Anchor-
ing Mr Coffee
commercials. But as soft icon, did,
from the getting and spending
where sex grossed out
the straights unless
a gain to it, Mrs
Robinson yanking a fin
from her funky purse.
Joe told S&G he didn’t
go anywhere. Anchor-
ing Mr Coffee
commercials. But as soft icon, did,
from the getting and spending
where sex grossed out
the straights unless
a gain to it, Mrs
Robinson yanking a fin
from her funky purse.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
The Great Privatization
-We got a Bangla for President.
Ten bucks a day.
-And VP?
-His brother-in-law for five.
-And their staffs?
-They don't need no staffs of lazy bums.
Used to working hard.
-Man! You've saved millions off the bat.
-Still slow going though. We just finished
with FBI.
-Eskimos?
-Don't be funny! We're getting the
Bangla to issue Executive Order.
Humor must be announced
beforehand. Too much time sorting
things out.
-I'll walk that back.
-Never mind. Apologies waste time also.
-At any rate...?
-FBI all India Indians now.
-How's that working out?
-Fine if your don't mind the curry stinks!
-That's humor!
-I'm exempt.
-We got a Bangla for President.
Ten bucks a day.
-And VP?
-His brother-in-law for five.
-And their staffs?
-They don't need no staffs of lazy bums.
Used to working hard.
-Man! You've saved millions off the bat.
-Still slow going though. We just finished
with FBI.
-Eskimos?
-Don't be funny! We're getting the
Bangla to issue Executive Order.
Humor must be announced
beforehand. Too much time sorting
things out.
-I'll walk that back.
-Never mind. Apologies waste time also.
-At any rate...?
-FBI all India Indians now.
-How's that working out?
-Fine if your don't mind the curry stinks!
-That's humor!
-I'm exempt.
Labels: privatization
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
So Candidate Nabbed
mouthing typical
Royalist shit?
So what? Noise, not
news
whenever boys do it.
Grownups, at a point,
make them ante
up
since they can see
no moral reason
to.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Class & Paternity
The Apparent Mystery of Class
-I don’t know who your father is. Sam was close and so so sweet. The only one.
The rest, insane scum! Do you actually want their DNA at this late date?
What for? None would have stuck like Sam did, and love you the way he did.
And does. Not a one I can assure you!
-Mother, are you a whore?
-Then, yes! Not as bad as them, but who could be?
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Afterlife
He knew Hell, like, already.
From the sour sonabitch
who ruined worklife every
black morning: Harangue or bit-
ter saw vibrating even now. Can
the feathered flits drown such by
winging it? Providing raw music
to dance athwart till he detects
a partner loose enough
for Paradise?
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Study History, Anthropology etc
Thoroughly interested in how
they did it then, since we don't
really know what we’re doing
at present. Our doubt for now
concerns the endless rout
of so-cautious thought by
fatal happenstance. “O
if I could only get a breathing
space!” On that personal level,
it‘s not you who writes finis.
But without much adieu
we’ll all muddle through
sans your hysterical input.
Remember that before you
again do History.
Labels: Anthropology, history, mortality, thinking
Friday, September 14, 2012
On High Manipulation of Facebook Stock Offering
There’s honor among thieves
but not among the wealthy.
They screw each other over
as gleefully as they do
the poor.
Labels: Facebook, rich, Stock Market, stock offering
Thursday, September 13, 2012
“It's not bitter, not sweet.
It's a star-spangled treat.”
The patriotism of beer
needs go unchallenged,
a universal. The putzes
in Munich burned so
with stricken ambition
to quickly remake the world
and opposing faces, yet their
sodden crusade highlighted
an expiration date in
a thousand years! As
the languid scholar asked
of Hamlet, “How’d that
come out anyway?”
Our vacant young portrayed by
brewing commercials are all
carpe diem. They challenge
button-downs with happily
slapdash horseplay, like
self-conscious orphans
anxious for adoption.
Labels: beer, beer commercials, Nazi, patriotism
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
When Rich Beg
to let The Market work!
they mean for them.
If it doesn't, they bribe,
collude, and bully.
And John Q Sucker beams
the screwy propaganda. Hoping
for tips, of course, he's ripped
off encore. Reference Ancient
Irish Vulgate: They piss in
your pocket ‘n tell you
you're sweatin’.
to let The Market work!
they mean for them.
If it doesn't, they bribe,
collude, and bully.
And John Q Sucker beams
the screwy propaganda. Hoping
for tips, of course, he's ripped
off encore. Reference Ancient
Irish Vulgate: They piss in
your pocket ‘n tell you
you're sweatin’.
Labels: "Free" Market, propaganda, rich, ripoff
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Old Political Floridians
-That picture in Melbourne paper? President from rear? Nappy hair and jug ears. Picanniny Central!
-I’d be more careful saying...
-What for? Only you here.
-They say...don’t trust anybody.
-Hell I trust you!...why you were even queer
before it became fashionable.
-In the present atmosphere, I don’t think you could blackmail me on that.
-Leaving the dancing fairies behind, I got enough
on you to put you into Leavenworth.
-Bit of hyperbole there I do think.
-You Do? Well I don’t! Repeat it!
-Oh come on now, it ain’t a game.
-Repeat it!
-You got enough on me to put me in Leavenworth.
-Language can have such beautiful melody!
-That picture in Melbourne paper? President from rear? Nappy hair and jug ears. Picanniny Central!
-I’d be more careful saying...
-What for? Only you here.
-They say...don’t trust anybody.
-Hell I trust you!...why you were even queer
before it became fashionable.
-In the present atmosphere, I don’t think you could blackmail me on that.
-Leaving the dancing fairies behind, I got enough
on you to put you into Leavenworth.
-Bit of hyperbole there I do think.
-You Do? Well I don’t! Repeat it!
-Oh come on now, it ain’t a game.
-Repeat it!
-You got enough on me to put me in Leavenworth.
-Language can have such beautiful melody!
Labels: Florida politics, Racism, Republican
Monday, September 10, 2012
Degrees
Democrats have an obtuse
relationship with truth.
Point out fibs, they're
puzzled. Republicans
are proud to lie,
the more grotesque-
ly unrationed
the better. Brimming with
joy in their high, hale Quest
for the Grail of Fabrication.
Labels: Democrat, lie, Republican
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Saturday, September 08, 2012
Antares
He retired to Florida quite early after
Dr Kistlerling, the younger one, unearthed
the precise code for Inky’s premature aging.
It plugged in nicely to Social Security
and United Healthcare computers.
Gwen-Ellen quickly went into a Bingo
frenzy and drove evenings to all compass
points from their Pembroke Pines condo.
He tired of the endless talk about digestion
among his new boccie buddies, joining
an internet group dedicated to Dellina,
Queen of Porn
His own particular dedication was to a part
of her anatomy called “The Sweet Corporal.”
He applied himself to that, and to the larger group,
ultimately becoming the latter’s president.
In his first email in that capacity, he remarked
on the name of the subgroup resembling Sweet Caporal Cigarettes, a brand popular mostly in the World Wars. This historical fact joined others of a
gynecological sort.
The couple rose in darkness every humid morning
and performed brisk housework before breakfast.
And lately, Gwen-Ellen eased the hangover from
mid-morning restlessness, with sporadic trips
to an afternoon bingo in a local strip mall.
They took to wearing moccasins, brand name,
Happy.
In his non-porn activities on the net, he discovered large star Antares was nearly directly overhead, and they began drinking to it with orange juice at breakfast, prior to Special K.
He retired to Florida quite early after
Dr Kistlerling, the younger one, unearthed
the precise code for Inky’s premature aging.
It plugged in nicely to Social Security
and United Healthcare computers.
Gwen-Ellen quickly went into a Bingo
frenzy and drove evenings to all compass
points from their Pembroke Pines condo.
He tired of the endless talk about digestion
among his new boccie buddies, joining
an internet group dedicated to Dellina,
Queen of Porn
His own particular dedication was to a part
of her anatomy called “The Sweet Corporal.”
He applied himself to that, and to the larger group,
ultimately becoming the latter’s president.
In his first email in that capacity, he remarked
on the name of the subgroup resembling Sweet Caporal Cigarettes, a brand popular mostly in the World Wars. This historical fact joined others of a
gynecological sort.
The couple rose in darkness every humid morning
and performed brisk housework before breakfast.
And lately, Gwen-Ellen eased the hangover from
mid-morning restlessness, with sporadic trips
to an afternoon bingo in a local strip mall.
They took to wearing moccasins, brand name,
Happy.
In his non-porn activities on the net, he discovered large star Antares was nearly directly overhead, and they began drinking to it with orange juice at breakfast, prior to Special K.
Friday, September 07, 2012
Inner Campaign
-Your opponent has breast cancer.
-Just one side. I can pin her down on the other.
-How can you live with yourself?
-Nothing’s fuckin easier.
-I...don’t know...
-Grow up! It’s war!
-More like pigs!
-Yeah? Well get out there and squeeze the biggest porkers
so they squeal. Squeal lahk a pig!
-Deliverance.
-What we’re promising, Sonny Boy!
Labels: breast cancer, campaign, partisan, party politics
Thursday, September 06, 2012
Conventional GOP
They featured the white heart of darkness
with notions medieval in starkness.
But they had a good time
dispensing the slime.
Then adopted ebullience to bark less.
Labels: GOP, limerick, platform
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
Capitalism’s “Creative Destruction”
Meaning the greedy
obnoxious pricks short-
ing the little guys for sport.
Labels: “Creative Destruction”, Capitalism
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
The Devil Can Quote Scripture
Not to look here for example.
His surrogates abound
like "patriots"--some overlap
in language trapped.
A case or two illustrative?
Just look around.
Labels: devil, hypocrisy, patriotism, religion
Monday, September 03, 2012
Romney Tours LA Hurricane Sites
Do he talk to de cullids
on de cots? Tell dem
hard times not un-
beknownst to he?
Be Proud Negroes!
he buck dem up?
Sunday, September 02, 2012
Resolving
A, then? With
its apparent
clarity? Or B?--
thinking in bits
of parts. One,
the familiar.
Other, retic-
ulation. Many
say go for it!
You'll grow.
Uh huh? This prole
opts for steady.
Mystery'll come on its own,
like an infecting guest. Or in
today’s transcendence
of the real halfass.
Labels: alternative, decision, risk
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Bide a Bit, 4AM, Male Corridor
-Hope I’m safe here in the boys’ section.
My lady nodded back off and I hadda
walk somewhere!
-I’m waiting for Dribbling Pete in there.
-One...last drop. I think he’s done.
-No way. He got ten dancing minutes left.
Meanwhile, how’s it going? Especially your
sex life?
-Same old boring shit...and THAT went!
They’re kissing as Mr_____emerges,
fumbling at his pajama fly. He sees nothing,
but curses generally.
Labels: convalescent home, senior
