Thursday, September 30, 2010
My Pocket Starbucks
has four wall outlets for
those of us possessed
of weak batteries. Get-
ting next to one can
take craftiness plus
shoving. Call us
Pricks with Bricks.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Indulging in Aged Bourbon
-How come you never hear legislative ladies
talk about their husbands?
-What's to say? They're pussies! How could it be
otherwise, married to a dragon?
-Can’t we run history backwards and take the vote away?
-Back to '17? Nah. Let's look forward! We're modern, hah hah.
-All right then, I'll introduce an amendment forbidding
-So they can't pedal their ass around the block?
-Good one! And the car!
-Chip away, huh?
-Making up in the rearview mirror and babbling on cell phones! Danger to their various communities!
And we know they can't park one: All that particular silly pantomime disrupts commerce!
-Agreed. But the big one is voting and, not incidentally,
opposition gets the lion’s share of them.
-So many bleeding hearts!
-I got it! Science! We commission a huge study by a Christian
college: Women temperamentally unsuited to vote, therefore...
-Not at present, but let's not give up on this.
-Where there’s a will...
-there’s a slow, sneaky program.
-How can I get a dick implant?
-I don’t know but our party needs one. We shouldn’t have to
even bother with all this feminist crap.
Labels: feminism. women's vote, reactionary, women
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
-How'd it go?
-Ah the usual gaiety then! But, pray tell, any highlights?
-Got a sobbing grandmother on a gouging pay plan.
-A service! Like doctor, priest, teacher!
She was underwater then?
-House, car, everything.
-I was...being witty.
-Wave a red flag. My brain is fried.
-And is she still heaving?
-Buck up, Macduff! Pays our bills. Thus no obnoxious prick calls us.
-I'm the bulldog face of American Pig Capitalism!
-Halt! Before you mix another metaphor! Or wave the
real red flag!
-Too hammered down to be Socialist rebel.
-I wonder if most of them are ditzy utopians, or have choked overmuch on plutocratic gorge.
-I don't need theory. I need a decent job among decent people.
-Rarer and rarer. Way the bosses prefer it.
-Well, now some cheap incendiary booze and letting the TV paint my face.
-I used to be a man!
-Miss that part.
Labels: bill collection, Capitalism, gouging
Monday, September 27, 2010
I live in Cocoa Beach, Florida, and if the shooting war between staunch white Republicans and undocumented brown workers coincides with a Category-5 hurricane, blood will flow down from the causeways.
I hope to have a brick of Kraft cheese to strike a deal with a shattered guy bearing a loaf of bread.
I won’t sell my cheese outright. No way.
And neither I nor my future survival partner will accept a bar of gold.
Labels: Golden Gate, hurricane, immigration, survival, White Republicans
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Short Conversation w/Song
-(singing) Better to have love and lost,
than never to have loved at all.
-Your music captures the thud-
ding resonance better than the words.
-They're a team.
-Uh huh. How about Better to be free
-Flat, stale, and unprofitable.
Not to say anti-romantic.
-Yes, it's dear.
Labels: entanglement, love, Music, relationship, song
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Lunch With Charlie
Ow! said I.
Too bad, remarked
Charlie the Ant.
I browse my paper at
the same outdoor lunch
spot and Charlie or
his ilk get me often.
Hey! Throw down a few crumbs
and we'll go crazy over ‘em
and thereby spare you.
Next time I did and--I want
to say thousands--but maybe
hundreds formed black seas around
tiny pale islands. The Nabisco Islands.
Oh a few outliers came my way still,
like poets leaving men
and women at picnics
to commune with
the sappy pines.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Rocco and Wiseass Wally
Your Democrats are below pitiful! Republicans throw
bushel baskets of shit at them hourly and they
lisp "Ith a lie!" And girly-pout at such awful meanness!
I have more tolerance. They refuse to legislate
and must have something to do. So, Big Lie
Technique Repubs have learned at Mama's icy tit.
They're just filling the vacuum of Democrat's dumbness!
Nature abhors etc. Or is that Nature's a whore?
Keep wandering! Your opponents go straight to the jugular!
They’re a a dopey burlesque and fool no one.
Death Panels indeed! Just got Grandma off the booze
and now the Democrats are gonna execute her!
Laugh on, Macduff, but that kind of egregious shit sticks.
Only in the voting troglodyte's mind!
At any rate, Democrat and their professors are
gathering themselves right now to compile a dossier
of Republican whoppers. And forge something forceful!
Be a long meeting!
In two rooms.
One's for footnotes.
Rocco argues with any who come into view in South Philadelphia. He’ll even chase some down.
Labels: Death Panel, Democrat abstraction, Republican Whoppers
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Oh Say Can You See to Pray?
When you know it's a lie
and pronounce it anyway,
you're a politician apply-
ing a strategy. Awful certainty
of a final reckoning’d militate
against such bopping, meretri-
cious sinning in a Believer, but
doesn't seem to: Staunchest
Upholders of the Faith laying down
the most egregious whoppers.
Labels: Faith and lies, religion in politics
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
-Piled too high in the warehouses. Something falls
on a guy, we got Workman's Compensation nosing in!
-Don't want either. Workman hurt or government butting in.
-So, let's sell something? That's the revered model.
-Old model. Something new evolving here.
Buy another warehouse!
-As your accountant I'd like to snap you to your senses
by saying you can't afford it, but...
-No end to warehouses I could buy.
-Then how 'bout rent? I'll run the figures if you want but...
-Like to own things. You go there and it's all yours.
-But there's a limit!
-I don't think so.
-Can become a pathology!
-Don't doubt it. May I point out to you that I got rich
by being considered nuts.
-And you can add to your wealth by peddling what crams
your multitudinous warehouses!
-I don't think so. We'll see. We'll just wait and see.
-Like King Midas.
-Always a favorite!
-Perhaps you figure it’s great collateral for loans?
-I’ll consider that. When I get around to
considering anything. If.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Publicist finds maestro alone in dark theater.
Suggests park to listen to summer band.
He winces at expected clinkers.
Art Tatum like improvs at night club etc?
Good, but late hours.
Then, small experimental theater company?
Ever see genius color up? “I’ll have my secretary phone!”
So, newer twists on kitchen sink glazed
with four-letter words. New to him
and his enthusiasm grows.
He becomes investor.
Enter Kyre, stage left, right, and everywhere else.
Other company members call her
Rhymes-with-Fire...or with Dire or Liar.
As in “Rhymes-with-Fire told the playwright
to dump the entire second act. He’s muttering
in the alley.”
At any rate, when she was actor the director drank,
when director the cast mutinied.
As Fate will mishandle it, romance ensues
between our sweet maestro and this incendiary
who'd be a handful to a man thoroughly experienced.
All expect flameout, of course, but they marry shortly after
at a stockbroker's digs in East Haddam.
The prognosis is, of course, less than poor,
however, until Kyre's great decision:
She leaves acting and directing to produce.
In her first try she stages
The Tempest in a roller rink, asking
Maestro to write the music for barrelhouse
organ. It proves more than a smash.
You can’t get a ticket. Scalpers ask
three thousand a pop!
A year later most of the whole caboodle
moves to Broadway, of course, and there’s
a film with Johnny Depp.
Maestro asked to write other scores
and conduct all over the world.
Kyre and he buy a place in Tuscany
and spent a month there a year,
Maestro totally adored and
Kyre battling all the merchants.
Well, flip the milestone years off the calendar
as in old black and white musicals and
place a foot near the grave ledge for both.
The marriage remains in a state of
incipient explosion which amuses
Maestro and spurs Kyre further. She has added
menacing metal bands to her production stable.
He wears noise-canceling earphones
to auditions she coaxes him to attend.
Labels: art, couple, marriage, Music, theater
Monday, September 20, 2010
Look for a soloist,
find a chorus. Though
the song remains
despite the fresher
strains we release.
When we leave it
will stay, resounding
over mountains, boom-
ing down through valleys.
Composing, thus, their own paradox-
ically steady and improvisational
brand of music forever.
Afghanistan--*Key Karzai Aide in Corruption
Inquiry Is Linked to C.I.A.-Times
Labels: Afghanistan, capitalistic corruption, CIA
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Terrestrial Saint
When I inform the wise man that
so and so is an obnoxious prick,
I'm advised that he’s to be judged
on other-earthly standards only.
For he glimpses the mystic and
the holy. Those in the same line,
who might lose tooth, instead
praise him to heaven. High-
er loyalty ‘mong such char-
latans forsooth touches moi.
Friday, September 17, 2010
-I'm here because you're in trouble!
-Yeah, but opponent just congratulated you
on clean campaign. That means their polls see a lean.
-I needn't ask further...
-Three weeks left. Lifetime! First two: Communist-Socialist-
-Plus, he’ll vote thumbs down when on Grandma’s Death Panel? Uh huh. Well there went our Mr Smith Goes To Washington pure outsider!
-Professional Wrestling! Your glowing virgin couldn’t take opponent’s filth one more minute! So he's compelled
to fight back even dirtier!
-And the last week? I'm guessing fag.
-Well our own person isn’t the butchest knife in the drawer.
Prefers dancing with your son whilst wifey bottles preserves
as a matter of fact.
-U-tube him wrapped in bandoleers at gun nuts picnic!
-He might be queer but he's truly queer for Second Amendment?
-We’ll cover the board, and I’ll never again be able
to face this vilest of un-patriots at my church.
-You don’t face anybody in this town, you face ‘em down!
Labels: political strategy
Thursday, September 16, 2010
was a lot of things o
goodness was he!
But not the least a sex-
ual firecracker! Presently,
it’s mostly crackers.
Labels: cracker, Franklin, sex
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
So like a scowling
NBA forward, rich
take elbow room
for ballclubs and ballet
and whores. Now add
slyer miscellanies we
also dare not tax
by low critique.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
-So everything I learned is wrong! My beliefs a shit pile!
-That’s about it.
-And that leaves what to do?
-Nothing. Or reinvent yourself.
-Been a long life, and jammed full of reinventing as it is.
-Yeah, the new remains the enemy of the old.
-Same old shit, I’d say.
-That view marginalizes. Let’s them label you the old fogy.
-That’s okay so long as I can have brews with other
condemned, go back of the ballfield when everything has
shut down for the night, and laugh our ass off pissing!
Labels: new, old, reinvention
Monday, September 13, 2010
Friend hints you're on list so
you go to Feds. They insist
upon solo prolix,
of wide complexity
to square their crated
evidence. Having sung
thus, duly awarded a tract
home in a strange place mid
alien corn. American-Dreaming
neighbors big on Little League.
At old digs, despised:
ratted when, instead,
one for team required.
Labels: gangster, loyalty, witiness relocation
Sunday, September 12, 2010
He's obvious, of course,
heavy tread in the carpet-
ed corridor, plywood squeaking
underneath. Door-click from 14E
effectively means cessation
of rosy life within. In 14D
I hear little, dreading
more the shapelessness
abiding in the courtyard.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
-They’re religious now. So get ready for prayers and grace--
-Latter should have more severe rationing.
-I meant grace before meals.
-God bless these eggs and our egos.
-Well, be polite.
-When was I not? But we're martyrs to a motion
not our own. Last time it was...Eastern?
-Not really, some guy on PBS.
-Ah yes! Temporary social improvement and perpetual
-Well, anyway, they're old friends.
-Their flavor of the month notwithstanding?
-Ooo you’re mean!
-Yeah, heaven's out so long as it's filled with bleating assholes.
-Just thinking of your soul’s a good thing for you.
-(sings) O let the midnight special turn its ever-lovin’
light on me!
-I know that one. For once. Guy's in prison. You think our marriage is a prison?
Labels: fashion, friendship, marriage, religion
Friday, September 10, 2010
roar the self-minted
guardians of us all,
but they're as pur-
ring kittens while
devour us hourly.
Labels: Capitalism, government
Thursday, September 09, 2010
thieves? Dishonoring joke
states they steal the train
while less-inventive Dems
light-finger tickets only.
But a something’s there: a di-
vergence of rank vision! Now,
bring it to a solon who concurs,
“Amplitude! Opposition swanks
cramped views, pretends
to aid the peasants. While
we don't even pretend,
knowing where our bread
gets buttered, and how!”
Labels: corruption, Democrat, graft, Republican, vision
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
I’m incomplete con-
sumer of mass culture
and an educated snob bob-
ing through famous for allusions
by astringent wit, uh huh. All in
all, satisfied missing out on much.
TV the great time machine, yes?
Catch what was memory-
holed 30, 20,10 years ago.
Shows pretty good though
I condemned back when.
You sniff hypocrisy? So be it
for any particular moment.
Eventually we all prize some
half-ass stance from another.
Labels: celebrity, hypocrisy, snob, time, TV
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
More etc Change
Every fiery revolutionary wave
wills its own orthodoxy, yet roots
through despised predecessors
when it suits. Thus the personal
testaments of freedom of both sexes
to love whoever, whenever, breaks
down with sexual jealously
eating from the inside out as
it has always, and systemically.
Labels: jealousy, love, revolution
Monday, September 06, 2010
Flown to a remote site to solve a unique problem,
he returns to the office without sleep, only to be greeted
by a guard with a box containing his personal items.
Later, to his wife:
-I don't think so.
-How could you not--?
-Take a peek at my car. Therein sits a guard.
Without doing justice to his macho vacuity I recite:
“Please return. Those responsible dismissed.”
-What a headache I'm getting! How? Why?
-A cabal discovered and snuffed. But why did it
focus on you?
-I just do my job!
Labels: firing, office politics, working
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Neat fellow with spade beard there. Let's call him Sigmund, who asks
-Does z’emphasis on zexuality disturb you?
-Makes me squirmy. But that's okay since it's just a part.
-Who says dis nonsense! Merde! “Everything!” you don't understand?
-I don't really have to talk to you. Most clever people today have assigned you to the dumpster.
-Vot ist dump--?
-I’ll speak God! Plagues! Job had picnic, believe me!
-Wow! Is there a lot of revenge in the profession?
-You can't know half, Dummkoph!
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Running to beat
the ball at first
base, one must rush
through the bag, not
slide or leap, gamboling
so the umpire might be
hoodwinked by a rapid
change in attitude. As
a later judge might keep
you around or divide the assets
in your favor, or sentence you
to ride beneath
the streets of
Labels: Baseball, first base, judge, umpire
Friday, September 03, 2010
Victorian Melodramatic Novels
Lose patience with the stuffy
camp of lady overmuch pro-
testing innocence, and man
Yet, keener women “fall” even
today as men preach less than
blessed assurance between
beer and ballgame.
So what has changed?
Labels: women's rights
Thursday, September 02, 2010
“That the crazed are righteous hardly en-
lightens. They naturally forge purity tests.
Well my candidates are men and women--
not boys and girls raptured out by lout-
ish terpsichore. Politicians! who'll rock n’
roll with angels and with devils to get it
done. Too impure for present?
Only the vote tells, but the force
of the practical trumps noise
when people gather themselves.”
Labels: practical politics
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
-You got your token Black, so now you want a token Spick?
-Don’t talk that way! We’ve never talked like that. Ever.
-Only your racists and haters.
-Big Tent! And they don’t really mean it. Mostly humor–-healthy venting.
-Sorry, but you’ve come to the wrong man. I can’t run in the present hatred of all things Mexican. It hurts-–if you can understand that.
-No such hatred! Illegals, yes. Hey, some are Guatemalans, midgets down from the mountains.
-Your big contributors are the largest employers of
all such wretches.
-So...we don’t quite start with Utopia?
-You’d give anything for a voice saying in Spanish
“I’m Señor So and So and I approve this message.”
Labels: politics of immigration