Tuesday, May 31, 2022
Raps
Whatever! put in Rust.
Whichever? shrugs
Lil: It's a Wrap!
she brightens.
Perhaps yes,
perhaps no!
emphasizes
Mrs Snow.
Learning Time
for the moment,
and that she's,
again,
trapped.
By it, them,
and the self
that she must
hug with-
out a word.
Labels: friends, loneliness, love, mystery, rap, self, time
Thursday, April 23, 2015
The American Constitutional Monarchy
Hardly without bitter opposition from other families with
ancient claims, but the Holy Zollerns were picked to be
America's Royal Family.
The "Holy" came through a smattering of priests, ministers,
and even rabbis.
But the best recommendation consisted of a crop of
handsome wastrels.
From that, not ecclesiastics of course, a King would be chosen.
As it was. King Hogate, the initial ruler of the American
Constitutional Monarchy!
“Twenty-Second Century,” gloated Senator Bissing(OK)
“and we have finally finally arrived!”
Hogate, the greatest wastrel of them all, a former ski-surf bum,
instantly took the reins--and the women.
It didn't go well with the former.
"I'm ruling by whatchacallit, Divine Right! Constitution's
a shit-rag."
When a delegation from Congress protested, he made
them kiss his feet, and kowtow backwards from the throne
room. All shown on video worldwide.
And too much of a demeaning disgrace even for a royalist
congressperson.
The women especially disheveled and hysterical.
At this historical point, Senator Einhuss of Pennsylvania, toasted
at Washington's Turf Club, "Long live the King! The new one, not
this stupid fuck!"
But they really hadn't made adequate plans for succession, and the
competing royal families started up again.
Intolerable. The King himself vowed beheadings, but couldn't
take the time away from weed and women.
His Guard surrounded him with machine pistols, always.
Which they, following historical tradition, turned on him.
Thus the American Royalist Experiment lasted about a year.
In another one, most of that persuasion were assassinated,
fled, or converted back to shoddy democracy.
After all this Civil War chaos, The New American Republic
was instituted.
It proved the old one, with even more bribery.
Most of the remaining Royalists followed their money to Bermuda,
looking hairy-knobby-kneed in the national shorts.
The young king is mourned, eighteen international films being made.
The tragedy is being exploited on Ebay, daily auctions of royal souvenirs that individual legislators have put up.
“Don’t give a fuck,
turn up a buck.”
But many feel they’ve carried the Congressional Motto too far!
“May you live in interesting times! cursed Chinamen a million
or so freakin years ago,” rapped the Bitchy Bees, a female group
heading, thank God, to Mars.
Labels: Absolutest, America's Royal Family, American Monarchists, American Royalists, Bermuda, bribery, Congress, Democracy, Mars, rap, senate
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
At Aunt Jemima’s Quilting Party
she sent home Uncles Tom and Ben. Women only!
No Race Gal, she had invited Scarlet O’Hara and
Jeannie With the Light Brown Hair.
The former bored on and on concerning myths of
White Southern Womanhood!
The latter flitted about, bearing her hair. Jemima got
them down to quilting, though Scarlet insisted on
sitting on her lap.
Well, you couldn’t quilt that way, so Jemima placed
her among the blackest women.
Simon Legree came to the door to do his horrible thing.
He had been tasked with keeping an eye on all uncles.
Jemima, though, turned him away so fast his atrocious
head was spinning!
The chattering quilters were making so much noise
that nobody could think! Even drowning out the beaters
of the feet on the Mississippi mud outside!
Jemima shouted that the dancers were turning that mud
into concrete for Uncle Tom’s and Ben’s heads!
That proved the laugh of the night! Finally you couldn’t hear
the dancers, who, discouraged, quit. Save one who rapped:
De fat black broad gets uppity
n’ make de party for white hos.
Racist dick he come to doh,
look for de crazy uncles. He
try seeing all de tits,
and mean as catshit!
Jemima invited him in for catfish, but Jeannie with the Light
Brown Hair started her borne-vaporing again, distracting
everyone.
Scarlet retched about her lost dump of a house: “Plantation!”
Jemima laughed uproariously, and was particularly jolly to all!
Where will we find her like again? Old Black Joe, he done gone!
Labels: Aunt Jemima, Jeannie With the Light Brown Hair, Mississippi, Old Black Joe, quilting, Race, rap, Simon Legree, Uncle Ben, Uncle Tom
Friday, October 25, 2013
The Ax Falleth
Awaiting a Turn
“Something is probable,” our boss winked.
Next day, twenty with identical cardboard boxes
escorted out by guards.
“Ordering more boxes,” our boss winked.
Morale shattered, if anyone cared.
Following week, twenty-one. Including boss.
New boss didn’t wink. He was in Omaha and we had
to Skype him.
Young, enthusiastic. “Stop worrying. It’s cool!”
And it was. Until required two months later to speak
to Rappy Robot, also in Omaha.
He hardly rapped, let alone said anything but normal
greetings and weather. “Warm for time of year.”
We cell-phoned a Shreveport guy at lunch.
“We got Rappy too. He’s a cagey one!”
Labels: employer abuse, layoffs, rap, robot, work anxiety
