Wednesday, August 31, 2016

 

Our Proper Young Woman


Isn't. Just the once.

Resulting in tears thereafter.

The Artist builds her a Mask of Shame.

And she, heaving, soaks that.

Most of the rest of us act badly then.

Rip off the mask and piss on it!

There had been some drinking.

“So, there's no Moral Code anymore?”-from
our Supreme Ethicist later.

"There may be, but we prefer our woman
to your sick ideas."

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Tuesday, August 30, 2016

 

The Way She Knows


Desirous. He. But,
inspired rust.

A for effort, but she sends
him to the minors for seasoning.

Though the problem is talent,
not experience.

Charts his progress via
smartphone. Her recent

candidate sports romantic presence,
more than a bit overmuch

here and there.
He'll be severely hurt

to figure in a Three Team Trade
bringing the original back.

And under immediate pressure!
Hey! She knows no other way!

“Don’t like the heat? Then
skip the kitchen, BoyKid!

The little local girls remain
to love. Don’t ask them
anything.”

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Monday, August 29, 2016

 

Encore


-She's in Recovery. Perpetually.

-Booze? Drugs?

-Revisited them twice. But this is worse.
The worst one.

-Sex?

-Ah but you defile it! LOVE!

-That bad?

-The one in heavy leather volumes.

-Her bosom heaving? The crazy decayed
broad screaming in the attic? Some nut lecher
posing whitely on the noir heath?

-Never stops. And more atrocious yet, the
slimmer volumes of romantic poetry.

-There’s the killer!

-So she tries the Geographic Cure. Europe, Asia.
Biking, running, hiking! But the GPS sends her
to dead-end burgs where she thinks the village idiot is Lochinvar.

-Far from the mapping crowd!

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Sunday, August 28, 2016

 

The Minnesota Dream Monkey


has died.

(Obituaries from French,
British and German publications
here and here and here
...
Plus a poem in Japanese.)
...
our bright inquisitive dorothea
has left us but her work lives on!
--emailed, drsidneyglass@bestlab1.org
...
Our work, and that of Glass, converted
her dreams into a psychedelic river of
leaping fluorescence, and in her latter days
she learned that a few keystrokes could
change the program.


Into something otherworldly beautiful.
...
Only patent ever awarded to a monkey.

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Saturday, August 27, 2016

 

At the Little Blue Church of Hypocrisy


Doctor______preaches it
as the Golden Mean, tru-

ly achieving the Rule
of the same hue,

rephrased as Do unto others
before they...


A simple Faith,
like Spousal Rape.

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Friday, August 26, 2016

 

Righties Concluding


“Net Kristallnacht so
no actual glass lice,

but One Day we’ll have a nice
Punch and Juden Show!”

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Thursday, August 25, 2016

 

Liberal vs Conservative


on the Spiritual Level
is a fight unto Death!

Which is why we need
politicians. One might state
“Now wait

a little minute! We actually like
one or two of your new-
fangled notions. So let’s 


say we get to keep...
and you get...?”

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Wednesday, August 24, 2016

 

The Little Brown Guys


appear for crops
and construction.

The Man
likes the lit-

tle brown guys

because they settle
for less.

Those running little stores
like the little brown guys
and know all their names.

Sheriff says they're small
trouble. Pretty tame.


But politicians say no!
A threat horrendous!

One must fear!
But, after they leave

for other crops
and construction
under another Man.

Wink-wink nudge-nudge:
Thus the world goes round.

And round, a rather
agreeable sound.

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Tuesday, August 23, 2016

 

Competition: An American Story


Once again we patched together outfits for the
kids, and traveled to the Great-Great-Grandparents.

Clint had lost another job, and we presented an
appearance most bedraggled.

“Well, is this it?”

“Not even close!” And they bragged of the privations of the Great Depression.

We know the next visit will be the last. Their age.


Their voices, then, are feeble.

We show ourselves in clothes from Low Threads, a charity outfit.

“Is this it?”

“Yes.”





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Monday, August 22, 2016

 

=0


Ruck habitually flung
his arms skyward!

“What kind of life is this?
Godless and lacking in protein!”

Combining Faith and Nutrition.
Alternatively grave and sarcastic!

The best-worst thing to happen
to such a one: Glads. She

cancelled out whatever equation
he presented. Element by element.

Brilliant!
But o so tedious!

When they’re abroad,
the others grind their teeth.


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Sunday, August 21, 2016

 

In Fling-Flung Town


artificial winds
fling you about.

No cars or buses.

You just get out in it and
let it take you.

A real skill in arranging your body
for slowing, and then catching hold
of...anything for stopping.

Much overshooting at first.
I gave up on Macy’s after a week
of attempts, but next week I had
the knack.

Collisions inevitable, but you learn
to present the smallest profile near
others.

Young couples arranging to get
into each other's arms is a wonderful
ballet!

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Saturday, August 20, 2016

 

The Hostage


First, by the book. In a bombed-out
building, my treatment at their hands
crisp but humane.

Later, things rather loosened.

When the building ground at night
and sections fell down with roars
and choking dust, it was voted to
move.

By then, they trusted me, and gave
me a street address to report to.

I took the bus there. It was at the end
of the line and the driver parked and
walked with me to find it.

Another night before anyone showed up.
And two of the old ones never did.

Including the head of our cell. An election
held, very democratic.

Allegiance promised to our new head. Me.

So, required a new hostage.

We decided on a young Brit who seemed to
think that war was Elevenses.

I managed to get him some Earl Grey and
biscuits eventually.

He frequently toasted us, tea in styrofoam, with
“The Absurdity of Everything!”

Grew a fierce red beard.

Why do we all like each other so?

Promise to hold reunions starting in 
ten years time.

Oxford, first.

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Friday, August 19, 2016

 

Dueling Phones, 2066


Merritt Dash-Haas silenced his phone
which was a hot brick in his hand,

and blinking RED DAY!

Third time this month, and now with
pictures of people in earthquake and
wars, trudging to whatever will grind
them up.

“Not Red LETTER Day?” he laughed.
“Well, I’ll handle whatever!  Battle-
scarred me!”

But the phone warned he was ill equipped
for such bravery: Blinking 6,7s filled the
screen rapidly.

“I’m at 6s and 7s? No wonder! Life has kicked
the crap outa me this month.

So I’m to do nothing? Take it! Let it blow over.
Emerge so shaken that I...!”

Mercy-Dell Halloran studied him quizzically.
Soon, their phones magnetized and threw back
each violently.

She was on the ground when he got hers away
from her and flung it into Coxey’s Pond.

Followed by his.

“Might kill a few fish but...never an emergency
like this!”

These naive individuals went off with each other.

To God knows what forbidden destination.

Just a perfect capsule detailing the wilfulness
of today’s sexed-up youngsters!

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Thursday, August 18, 2016

 

The Woman Bored By Everything


finally tried reading, again.

But the authors too florid,
wrapping rhinestones in
platinum words.

And those whose tacked opposite
cast wisdom in asperity and just
sounded crabby.

Art helped her for a time, painting,
sculpture.

The more outlier and crap, the better.

A few shocks, a few laughs.

Her girlfriends recommended sex,
of course.

A week in the woods with a Polack
with a twelve-word vocabulary!

But, knowing her luck, said Polack
would not perform due to a massive
Mother Complex, or a nagging
vocational failure at Microsoft.

Was...she heading for that kind of
bitchy behavior which offended all?

Perhaps so, when she, instead,
discovered long walks.

Made no difference whether mid hot
concrete or cool dapples.

After, she breathed!

And not a thought.

Am I becoming a moron? laughed she.






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Wednesday, August 17, 2016

 

A Prophet


The Man Who Discovered IT in New Haven

cozied. Kept quiet. But flourished
in health!

Others questioned him and he merely
laughed.

As a matter of fact, became apparent
to many that they diminished as he
increased.

His happiness became unbearable, and dark
things were therefore hinted as to his fate.

Especially since he began to rub it in.
“Look at you pukes!” and the like.

Women decried his behavior to his face,
since the men afraid of him.

He did listen to them--“the Fair Sex”--
and decided to share his secret in a loving
and not arrogant way.

He built a small platform of two by fours
and brute-forced it to the New Haven Green.

For some reason, his lecture had to be
delivered naked.

He endeavored to explain why in the poetic intro,
but Patrolmen Cassady and Pesticci, snatched
him in his transported, blinking, rhetorical midst.

Called in a crane, too, from the Streets Department
to trundle the platform to their yard.

Yale shortly wanted it. Putting together a display
for the Peabody Museum of “American Prophets,
from John Brown to...” well, our latest, local, flowering.

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Tuesday, August 16, 2016

 

Historical Moment


With literally one second left!
Hopskip blurted out “Dermotty
Q. Dinslow and Badger!”

The answer to the Championship
Question of The Greatest International
Trivia Contest Ever!

“Entertainer of the Year in the same month
he was convicted of Bestiality with which
animal?”

Ole Hopskip never received his Crown
because The Moral Army broke through
the barricades and slaughtered everyone!

General White merely muttering “Some down,  
Lifetime to go!”




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Monday, August 15, 2016

 

A, B, C, D


D-Day!

ANDY AND HIS FRIEND, ONCE-CHUBBY

A: The Government gives it some
patriotic panache. D-Day. But it's
only the day each senior decides
on his or her future.

OC: A, B, etc?

A: It'll help if I knew what the
categories meant!

OC: Get out then! Circulate! Listen!
Pretend to be interested in the crap
architecture or whatever.

A: I'll do that to fill the time, but
it's a crapshoot anyway. When they text
me and give me an hour, I'll just choose one.

OC: Knowing you, you'd like to stay right here!

A: You got that right!

OC: Well, four to one odds. Great! Show me
other situations in this incompetent vale
of tears where you get such good odds.

A: Don't paint me lucky. That's a mistake!

OC: Whatever.

A: At any rate, I’ll text back, or tell the sexy
Carolinia, the cyber voice.

OC: Who’ll say “I love your choice, Andy!
B is YOU.”

A: Somewhat mechanically, but what the hell!

OC: I heard of a guy they sent to an All-Women Place!

A: Good Christ! How did he ever...?

OC: Strangely, worked out! He didn’t like to talk anyway.

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Sunday, August 14, 2016

 

Jack the Genius


 An Adventure in Art

Jack the Genius was plan old Jack
for many years. Making small films
and writing stories and scripts.

Until Bitsy Hopewell where a sweet
cheerleader morphs into a particularly
obnoxious male.

This labored effort won the Sheep Drover’s
Film Festival in Australia.

The jury especially referred to its artlessness.

Two viciously competing schools arose:
JG and JUF, the last meaning Jack the Utter Fool.

They booked adjoining meeting rooms at the Muncie Y for the Indiana Outlier Flick Fest.

Bloody fisticuffs later.

Jack was shut out on awards there, and quit the business.

That didn’t stop either group.

And younger critics mention him in the same breath with Kurosawa and Fellini.

A short breath...the squabble goes on!

Jack the Genius marries Stella Adela, Stripper, washes cars.

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Saturday, August 13, 2016

 

Girlfriends Discuss


-Health Club's having
Hangout Night. Nude.
Coed.

-Sights ideal and dumpy!

-Larry the Postman!

-So what?

-Reputed dick like a horse!

-Like a horse'S!

-By all means let us get our
grammar straight!

-Distinguishes us from the animals.




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Friday, August 12, 2016

 

Bigfoot and Butterfinger


When Bigfoot was finally captured,
he was held in an upper corridor
of the Mangrove United Townships
Jail. There was sufficient headroom
there, and he was triple manacled
to a cell door.

An architect designed a super secure
cell to be built around him. And a
Republican firm naturally got the
no-bid contract.

There he hugely stayed while his
trial never went forth. Not ever
speaking to, or mixing with, another
prisoner.

He was famous among them, and
a betting pool ensued.

As to when his second shoe would drop
of an evening.

Pal Evers won the night when the thumping
noise coincided with a horrible shriek.

Tippy Kitsers, aka Butterfinger, was crushed
to death under the shoe.

Butterfinger, homeless, ran errands for the
men after visiting hours, getting them candy
from the machines etc.

He slept where he could indoor or out, but this
evening had snuck into Bigfoot’s super secure cell!

An investigation, of course, where Democrats scream
of the incompetent, gouging privatization that
enriches Republican greasy goombahs.

And Republicans asked if a return to the days where
the Democratic claw was in every pocket etc etc.?
 

At any rate, Bigfoot is finally moved to a special building just
for him at Leavenworth. His trial will be in the Kansas University
Memorial Football Stadium, halftime, vs Nebraska.

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Thursday, August 11, 2016

 

Late Remedy



The authorities declared the only street in town
one-way.

As a result you couldn’t get back!

Unless you negotiated a maze of dirt roads,
and tangled Indian Paths.

Which we did in good humor, often in conversations with fellow pilgrims.

When the authorities got wind of the camaraderie, they stationed police and Guardsmen to funnel us back,
silently, to the main street.

Then the joke became you had to circumnavigate the globe to return home.

A whole genre of Anti-Official scorn and humor
followed.

Got back to them, and they raised a far barrier so nobody could leave town.

Held a public meeting there.

We killed them all at it, the One-Way signs flung on the bodies.

Then celebrated. Dancing!

When the old and children left, it became Dionysian.

When Freedom finally comes, it can take that form.





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Wednesday, August 10, 2016

 

Repetition Is Destiny


-Only one commandment in American Politics:

THOU SHALT MAKE THE RICH VERY VERY COMFORTABLE !


-That’s the Democrats. How about the Republicans?


-Add a VERY.

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Tuesday, August 09, 2016

 

The Choice


-Disenchanted with both choices, I’m joining
millions in writing in Bert Hogg!

-Never heard of him.

-Bert presently resides in a lab at Stanford.

-He’s...a pig?

-Bingo! But one who can talk about the level
of a seven year old.

-Add another year and he could be President!

-Will be, if our polls are right.

-And two terms?

-One will be enough. He gets bored.

-We’ll get sick of the reporters interpreting every
grunt! And the guaranteed haters knocking
everything as pig-like!

-“He handled the Easter Egg Hunt like the pig he is!” First Lady Pig help out there?

-Hortensia, from Yale’s lab.

-Change the name! The real despisers will have
too much fun with that first syllable.

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Monday, August 08, 2016

 

She sings


 Born to be WI-i-i-ILD !

Actually was, but seeks man
of wider syllable.

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Sunday, August 07, 2016

 

Will She?




-Wow! Your presence announces!
One moment not there, and then, Whammo!


-I enjoy being paid attention to.


-A  fellow at my wife’s office? Snake! Your opposite.You sense 
him before he enters.  Or slithers.


-I’ll never be accused of that!


-What a wonderful full, bright laugh! Ballsy even! Gives me hope! Us!


-That’s nice.


-It has been despair here! Crawling! Empty! Despised! Humiliating! Thought it’d never end! But now? With you?


-A possibility.


-Would anything I SAY…?


-Neither for or against makes a bit of difference.
In your favor, all your favors, I have extensively prepared.


-I’ll ...just have to BLURT it out! Will you sing?


-I might.


-Would prayer help?


-It’s all, simply, up to me.


-For what it’s worth, I don’t care for the demeaning label of Fat Lady.


-I  have Art; I don’t require revenge.

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Saturday, August 06, 2016

 

-Too Much of Your Flattening Socialism!


and what of the guys down at the docks?
Oxford English and Tea Time?

Well I’d much prefer the foulest of languages,
and booze, and brawling!

-And their women?

-Wow! Raw sex, and yet they drive
romantic stakes into their black hearts!

-Obviously, we must temper social progress
to fit your literary imagination.

-Obviously!

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Friday, August 05, 2016

 

2066 …


or the more things change…


-They painted the passageways, and Larry
sent Robot Benny to check on the stickiness,
or none.


All the painters yelled! Except Gloria, who
shrieked out a girlish C over C.


That last piercing did it for Benny, who whirled
thrice and collapsed!


-Ridiculous! His whole LINE is oversensitive!


-Got him in a dark room.  Deprogrammer Litzky
types in calming algorithms.


-Send that Litz to me later!


-No need, Ruthie! Just the one thing does it for ladies!


-Sex harassment rap at your old place too?


-I take it back! And any three future utterances!

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Thursday, August 04, 2016

 

Fate Awaits


and is nothing but patient

When the child in the man
went wild, insisting on
double portions in everything,
and stealing others' food, we
naturally turned to his woman,
balanced, mature.

A beacon of a real grownup!

Unfortunately, she had morphed
into a perpetual teen, dancing till
dawn with fellows of foreign names,
and waking up God knows where!

We asked Old Andrew, who'd been
through the mill and spat out twice.

"Only thing cures infantilism is tragedy,
so abrupt that even total goddamn fools
recognize it!"


Thus we go through life cringing, waiting
for something terrible.

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Tuesday, August 02, 2016

 

Language


Jorge dreamt jagged visions.

Which harrowed him till noon.

He then carried on his appointments
until late dinner. Which was quite
late in Barcelona.

Spanish the preferred language there.

He also possessed Oxford English,
and spent a vacation July there yearly.

Joining the same discussion group,
which had lost the thread after
the war. And most members by now.

He always arranged to meet a few
remaining for punting on Thames.
Which dappled pleasure he loved.

No one ever showed, so he methodically
destroyed his straw boater.

Back to Spain to finely mince Corporate Law.

Married?

Surprise! American! She hits familiar Jersey City
for her July. Junk Stores.

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Monday, August 01, 2016

 

Our “Celebrity”


-I thought this being-through
stuff was one and done.

Finally, "Get out! You stink!"

-Yeah, you'd think. But, a process.
I was to a party where you were
ruthlessly parodied.

-Love it! Young people with talent?

-To burn. Far exceeding the target!

-Every knock is a boost.

-All the cliches fit. The best one being...

-The Final Curtain?

-But you've locked your teeth therein.

-Musty!

-Both!

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