Saturday, April 02, 2022
witty takes as
kids huddle in
parkas when rusky
comes lotza shreds
wisps fur then
ballet never did
well w/murder
Labels: ballet, murder, Russia, Ukraine, war
Saturday, March 05, 2022
Mr Oggley-woh-pickle-wiggle
Finally got me & 3 kids (Daddy: “War-Dead”)
on military flight! But not enough baggage room,
so caseworker insists on 1 Toy for all 3. They VOTE!
Mr Oggley-woh-pickle-wiggle wins.
Nondescript & filthy as I tape him to
my backpack.
We’re off! Land in Florida place I never heard of.
All old people, so love the kids that first night.
Though guy who runs motel wonders:
“What funny country you from?”
I dig out the backpacks & hang the clothes
all over to air out.
Sit outside with 1 eye on my deep sleepers.
Mr Oggley-woh-pickle-wiggle complains loudly!
I go back in & untape him. Wash him in the little sink.
“Can we go outside now? “
I nod to him. He airs out in the lawn chair next to mine! “Look at that LIGHT!”
Not much--moon big as a sun though.
“You're one GREAT MOM!” Thank him…but
saying to him that he’s just a dream.
“Nope. It's me.”
I laugh, & he goes on:
“And never ever forget
how much I love you!”
Labels: children, doll, refuge, toy, war, war-dead
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
Occupied
Labels: army, collaboration, conquered, injustice, life, patriot, revenge, war
Sunday, April 01, 2018
Memoir
Labels: aftermath, chaos, exhaustion, morality, Policy, regret, Remarque, strategy, Vietnam, war
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Inventing History
Labels: coup, feminism, history, importance of myth, myth, revolution, rule by women, war
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Love and War
Gen and Austin pride
themselves on their
quirks.
Agreeing that two
neurotics don't make
a true crazy.
But Gen has begun wondering
if they do.
Their last quarrel escalated
so, and the sex after was
rushed and awful.
Finally, Austin makes the
case for their sanity as
both refuse to die for the
“cause” in a war with the
dogpatch nation who insulted
our Executive and Congress.
Patriotism reputed to be
the last refuge of the
scoundrel, but our two
meretricious branches
cycling well past.
Labels: Congress, couple, crazy, Dogpatch, Executive, meretricious, neurotic, patriotism, war
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
Dressing Down the Dressers Up
The attack on the fort
didn't go well this year.
More men than ever
being drunk.
And for the first time, some
women dressed as men.
At least remaining sober.
If silly!
In his mind he shoots a
defender dead.
Also a drunk.
Then attackers flee.
How gratifying!
And how the women scream!
He'd only once fired a real
shot in anger.
Missed.
But, young.
Then.
Labels: American History, drunks, guns, re-enactment, violence, war, women
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
Future Rocks!
Word just received of the death of
Adam Sheeshman.
Frontman for group, Bomba Gibi.
His mangager, Lute Fen, to release
details soon.
(Please be patient with our researcher.
All male babies named Adam Sheeshman
during the presidency of Adam Sheeshman.
A numbering scheme was lost during
the Afro-Korean Wars.
The hope is that Mithatpasha Caddessi,
his media company, will clarify matters
with an extended biography later today.)
President Adam Sheeshman said
this at 7 AM:
“Musical Genius! I grew up on
Slutmax! Know every word.”
Labels: dictatorship, ego, Musical Genius, Rock, war
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Location
Labels: guns, rubes, shots fired, urban, war
Friday, July 14, 2017
War and Other Scientific Observations
Terrorized children in
later teen life sigh.
They’ve developed
larger eyes.
The better to see us with.
Labels: children, children's eyes, terror, war
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Weaponizing Food
The menus have dropped
from aircraft and missiles.
And flooded our personal
computers.
Apparently we're to learn
how to cook their slop?
Eat it too? Not unless forced.
It's a death sentence.
Some are taking language
classes already. They have a
language as do we, but theirs
being graced by gastric means
also.
They say things with stomach rumbles
and farts and long belches.
Plus, punctuate ordinary discourse
thusly too.
And our air was bad BEFORE the war!
Oh well, this too will pass.
(In egregious times, egregious puns!)
Labels: conquer, food, gastric, war
Saturday, April 01, 2017
The Thinker on a Block of Ice
Roark luckily reached a human.
Robots never assured him.
Even though Mr Chance quoted
the robot, Roark worried less.
“It says don’t fret about a temp
of 136. Start getting concerned
around 150.”
In the meantime he was to seek
every opportunity to cool down.
In the Non-Radiation Zone he had
permission now to enter, courtesy
of Mr Chance, he could sit on a
block of ice.
The gossip there pointed to young
women wearing clothes again.
The doctors saying on All-Media
that it was unhealthy.
“But, aesthetically,” Roark remarked
to a paunchy Lillian on the closest
block, “adding a bit of color?”
She’s firm, though, in calling
them whores.
Labels: fever, future, future medicine, Medicine, mores, nudity, radiation, sex, social norms, standards, war, whore
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Questions and Allusions in Our Age
-What’s the New Love’s name?
-Dolores.
-Is she attached to a family also?
-Claymore. Dolores Claymore.
-That’s a land mine!
-You got THAT right!
Labels: Claymore, land mine, relationship, Romance, war
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Recycling
“They both turned
to gaze
for a moment
at the corpse. . .
It remained
laughing there
in the grass”*
Not enough given
to the comedic
aspect
of war. Dead clowns
as an example.
*Steven Crane’s words
Labels: allusion, clowns, comedy, Crane, death, literary allusion, Red Badge of Courage, war, war as comedy
Wednesday, March 08, 2017
In Vain etc
Labels: changing history, progress, rationalization, war, war fatality
Monday, November 14, 2016
Tea in Aleppo
-That last mortar round made a nice fire for us.
Pull up a piece of ruin and sit down.
-Will this new president kill us?
-What’s more certain when the old one
failed to?
-This new one hates us on the spot!
-Look around you! Avenues of Mayhem!
He’s just another form of modern clarity!
Labels: Aleppo, fear, Moslem, President, Trump, war
Monday, September 05, 2016
During the War
I fought on the Home Front,
chiefly by theft, bribery and
Black Market.
Patriotism was unpatriotic,
really. But never in words.
Having won, I realize the
Conquering Truth of our Bravery
in doing without occasionally.
Sacrifice, in short. For Nation!
Pride indescribable steels me now.
Labels: black market, bribery, home front, nation, patriotism, sacrifice, war
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.
Labels: election, Elevenses, group rules, hostage, tea, war
Thursday, June 16, 2016
The Man Who Worried Incessantly
simply gave it up before the barbarians
swept through.
What was the use? Most would be beaten
and/or raped.
And the killing would be entirely random.
As Fortune would have it, he was packed
into a truck, heading for a upland meadow.
And firing squad.
When! The Leader spied him grinning insanely.
“I have such mud turtles around me!”
Thus became he a kind of Man Friday,
fetching drinks, and dressing him
for battle.
In the moment, though, helped roll
the bodies downhill.
The leader had volatile moods, but Friday
kept the smile pasted on.
After a year, they invaded the small kingdom
bordering the chaotic one.
A girl brought in after the day’s carnage.
She spoke in monosyllables. Pliant, yet somehow
defiant.
The leader rejected her. “Still water runs deep!
Give me the dizzy, shallow one always!”
But then thought it a Capital joke to give her to Friday.
“The Fool and the Mud Turtle!”
He often asked about the couple, but didn’t like
Friday’s replies. Not funny enough. Broke a pole
over his head one time.
As a result, Luonga and he plotted an escape
to a village so poor no one would ever bother
taking it.
Presently they reside in Gwandenka. That low place, and they, forgotten by God.
The Old Fools is their designation. Even the children and grandchildren call them that.
Labels: barbarians, children, Family, firing squad, grandchildren, invasion, irrational leader, old fools, perpetual war, poor village, survival, war
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
The Revolutionary Woman
Widely assumed that since the Democrats will run a
woman for president, that many Republican gals will
“pull her lever” in the privacy of the voting booth.
And thus not do as they're told.
Such perversity! I'm...still not quite sure. Most Republican
Babes being Stockholm-Syndrome!
Though we had a few in our Revolution! Occupying the YW
in our town.
We had brought our husbands’ weapons from home. Plenty of
groceries too for the inevitable siege.
Which went on for two months. Were we absent from home
all that time?
Not really. Some got back in emergencies, negotiating with the
enemy to pass.
Certain categories of women allowed to:
1) The Happy, Prancing Fool
2) Sweet Sue
3) The Upright Old Broad
4) The Militant, but on simmer.
That first week, Happy, Prancing. We plastered to
the window to watch her wide smile and z-ing gait.
It was a thing of beautiful idiocy. And made the men
quite happy. They all hugged her when she could hold still.
Sweet Sue a week later. Oozed honey. The guards insisted
she stay with them a bit for danish and tea and her most-loving
look–-which lingered long after she left! Like the Cheshire
Cat’s Smile.
No mystery to the UOB, crepe dress crackling with static electricity,
high neckline.
Proper librarian! All the men deferred, pretending she still
carried some sex along with her that might yet charm old
Birkenstock-wearing lesbians.
The only Militant ever granted leave hid some weird sex deep
within her. All males intrigued. And of course willing to be ruled
by her with the future promise of the Great Whamma-Whamma.
No, we didn’t give up, despite what the right-wing media maintains. And maintains.
We negotiated an end to the Occupation.
Mostly done by those Militants who kept the fatal-cliche-mysteriouso down, intellectually.
The weapons still locked in a room at the YW, with our One and
Two having keys.
We failed simply because we wouldn’t shed blood, that is kill
someone’s father or bother.
Next time, we won’t hold to this. As very painful as that is.
Labels: female, Female Advocacy, guns, Republican, Republican Woman, revolution, Revolutionary Woman, violence, war, Women's Movement
