Wednesday, October 31, 2012


What Makes Partners Run?

-Hail to you thou Corporate Jew!
The sheep line up for fleecing.
More aggressive ones to the fore!
Only God could’ve made such a  world!

-Will it bother you that I'm not Jewish?

-Bother me? I haven't been bothered
since I just missed jail time on another
scheme-dream. But that was amateur and
this, professional perfecto!

-Confidence always worries me.

-In measure, dear un-Jewish Sir. In measure.
We’ll make the suckers wait a bit. Pockets still open.

-Are you worried about new laws?

-Nah. The Republicans get bought immediately, Democrats give homilies 

first. But it's all the same.

-In the Catbird Seat, huh?

-I like that! He sings the last song he heard
with his whole heart! As if it's his own.

-Sorry...but things going too well. I'm for hedging some bets.

-Hedge? Fine! Run that thing right and it's the
biggest scam yet devised by man.

-You don't object if we gain some things sort of morally?

-No way! I've been to church. Give that a 

shot too. You do what you have to do.

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Tuesday, October 30, 2012


Alright, not

Blues in the Night.
Partners' ears shut
prior to leaving.

This new one wishes
the moment only, but

you reject such a call,
by persisting in a history
ripping others, thus wield-

ing old saws of
morality painting

you correct. The wreck's
ahead, ghost ship lum-
bering in awful mists.

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Monday, October 29, 2012

The President Has Flaws

Oy does he! Exercising
the other party to

extremes: pointing them 
out bringing more
obsession. Though joy in

such hot pursuits
best left to crazies.

Anyway, who could withstand
barrages with Big Boys’ dough?
Did Chester Arthur undergo

similar? Course not. For History saws
his wood now, and it’s nothing much.

Grover Cleveland? How rawly whacked!
Back to dimension of open torches, chants

of "Ma, Ma, where's my Pa?" sans dancing
fairies of today’s political consultants.

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Sunday, October 28, 2012

You can bring Rose
with the turned-up nose
but don't bring Lulu.*

Ambiguity first! (Intellect’s
battle cry?) Turned-up as in

cute like little piggy? Or,
her emblem of assuming

superiority of taste?--
lording over all of us

from snoz. Anyway, none
in ball-breaking Lulu:

strenuous! and that's it.
I’ve tried counseling her
for society’s sake to eat

a bit of shit, but, wildly in-
educable to the end...

oh well, eventual room
for such women too,
separated dramatically.

*Don’t Bring Lulu–several versions beginning in 1920s

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Saturday, October 27, 2012

You, Located

World Series in
City by the Bay so

camera establishes
bridges and water and

plopped in the middle, Rock
of Alcatraz, apprehended

from your gangster flicks
of course, but what if

Alcatraz made
a movie about you?

Your absurd escapes
and suspect modes?

How you and place
Often for ill.

I’ll get you into
the laundry, not
the worse gig

but caution!
Always! Shivs

have a way there,
midst the shim-

mering steam and sacks,
of mysteriously finding backs.

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Friday, October 26, 2012


-Look! You're the artist. You hafta figure out how, but you must change. I can't get you any work at present. And with year 3000 
coming up...?

-Well I'm trying like hell but you know that I'm a clone. Of other clones, actually. The original me was born in the nineteen forties. Then the acting prototype was Alan Ladd. 

And for the tearjerkers, George Brent
who wore a sports jacket consisting of shoulder pads, and was abnormally 

sensitive to the ladies.

-Yeah? Never mind that last horseradish. 

Alan Ladd and Humphrey Bogart were film noir. After three nuclear wars, that sorta evil considered incredibly bush.

-That noir stuff still permeates me. I can’t help it. Some prof at USC is starting a group, though. For clones in the movie industry.

-Well, anyway...hold on!...may be something after all. Jeanine’s telepathing me about another screwing-a-robot film. Yeah!
You get lustful with one and then--

with a nod to the girls–-actually fall in love. Hell of a plot!

-I'll take it!

-It's a boy robot.

-I go either way--due to the times.

-That's a start towards solving our big problem! You’re a handsome young 

man in any age. That should always 
mean money!

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Thursday, October 25, 2012

Very Short Essay on Types of Power

Guy throwing out vote on a technicality
is like Mafia goon breaking your knee
for late payment.


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Wednesday, October 24, 2012


-Like we need more Art History Majors?
“At this time, Picasso lived in the South
of France.”

-And fucked. What else would you do there?

-The party's not concerned with them.
But other, more symbolic, individual parasites.

-Have a nomination?

-There's one  guy, plays tuba, but his repertoire consists of, like, minuets. 

Total asshole!

-Does he pull it off?

-Probably, but that's another topic.
We're talking music. And mincing.

-Hah hah.

-I'm zeroing in on him.

-To what end?



-We're holding it now. You and I.


-I'll AK-47 him at foolish rehearsal. Clean through!

-Tuba also? Too bad! Anyway, dying for something that petty! Oh well, I’d 

withdraw my verdict in an important matter.

-Hey, the party has done right by me. I'm returning the favor. Ours not to reason why...or something like that.

-Uh huh? Power corrupts and absolute 

power corrupts absolutely. Heard that one?

-Heard it? I’m enjoying the shit outa it!

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Tuesday, October 23, 2012

The Bore of the True Way

So Johnny One-Note
coming to the party?
Well then I ain’t! Else-

where, nobody preaches,
and chromatic folks try
laughing at themselves.

Almost a recipe
for good times. Or
Heaven. Diatonics

gravely loved
in the other.

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Monday, October 22, 2012


 The March of Slime

When Crazies argue,
the result proves
2+2 = 5. Addition-

al number factors
agitation for us all.

Whereas when Rationals
discuss, they’ve understood
the overall, and compromise

mollifies the other sanes
to some degree, so much

media rashly prods
the truly venomous

to palliate the boredom
of the good. After a spell,
raucous quotes have spun riot

in retaliation for hum-
drum minimal sense.

The diction dives enough
to stir up Talk Radio and
other shit buckets.

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Sunday, October 21, 2012


Leading bird hereabouts,
Pot-Bellied Skirtchaser.

If one of these entraps
a fledgling, can be hell

on wings for all snared in
the risible process. Specific

Old Romeo’s visible health shot
by haste & lies, & spread feathers

de-preened with daughter
crying “Daddy, how could you?
With that awful slut!” (Land-

mine! midst her wide&wooly sex-
uality. But, thought is wood for her

circle.) The Juliet on view dis-
covers biblically consecrated
lucidity within her confusion.

Wife, too, finds her own true love
from the whole grimy imbroglio:

Justice! She & Advocate con-
certing in vindictiveness.

Courts advance latter,
where tribes once
lopped off heads.

At any rate, hopping mess
in modern domestic sense.

& multiplying by thousands,
could we be better served, let’s

say, by a Devil’s Island for
marriage malefactors?

Then society could reserve
its energies for roads

& airport expansions. So,
all of us, too, breathing

easier over tea
& cookies.

Checking iPads
for the latest


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Saturday, October 20, 2012

Trio, Distaff

Three housewives form detective agency
(tentatively slotted for Fox, Fall)

Mrs X, Psychic
Mrs Y, gabby, but nuggets if you're patient
Mrs Z, scientific, travels with microscope,
ordinarily says little

Theme plays, vaguely Jewish. Twin flutes,
drifting above a classy do.

Y  My daughter, Nan, ran away with a man.
   (Incoherent tirade re men)

Z  Be all that vitriol as it may, I need 

to get into her room. Clues. 
Names from old dance programs.

Y  Her dancing not a worry at present.

X  I...see a beach.

Z  Better she’s outside. Health.

X  It's from Survivor. Spearing fish.

Y  (goes off on discussion of buttercreams)

X  There's...a different beach and two men.

Menage de trois say French.

Y  Leave them out of it. It's filthy enough.

X  And now there's a...third man!

Y  Busybody! She got into everything as
    a little girl.

Z  We must discover the third man's theme!

Y  Put it on the TV. Let the whole world know
    my family's disgrace!

X  Let's all have tea. And Entenmanns.

Flutes return, fade.

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Friday, October 19, 2012

--with concluding advice

The help speeds
through the rear.
Quicker in, quicker

chance for tips. Any other
income blocked by cameras

beaucoup. Those stealing will devise
the best surveillance. Some few invited

in the side. Trained for Wealth some
day? More like to take the fall when
shit hits fan. A hedge. Unlikely, though,

if all the pols stay bought.
But in event most hellish, off
go eager underlings to Stir.

The pluts themselves demur
What hath God wrought?  Plus
Senator Suckup exclaims as low

injustice even THINKING
they've done wrong!

His special tax law
doubling emoluments
for the inconvenience.

(If you don’t like all of this, try
it up your ass. You're entitled.)

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Thursday, October 18, 2012


One fellow writes of vicious
politics today, & sticks

in paragraph about his cat.
I like people like that. Hit save.

Not sly asskissers knowing how
to go w/the flow (u know who u are),

but mortals in their
own whacked sphere.

Marching to different drummer? Yeah &
sufficient for present, though some-

times the drum gets caved in,
drummer down in the corner,

crapped out on some powder
or searing liquid.

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Wednesday, October 17, 2012


Since both parties
brought a pulse
for this occasion,

exchanges proved lively,
often raucous. That's

politics. Fitfully, grace-
ful thoughts plopped in,

but raw stump points
rendered the very air
retarded. So what?

Back to Lincoln-Douglas,
consecrated by History

and as full of baloney.
Again, politics, boys ‘n
girls. Animals roaming

far savannas terrify
but lack rhetoric.

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Tuesday, October 16, 2012


Their coffee wrecking
my stomach,

I buy a 2 buck bottle of water,
5 cents of which goes to give
the children something

not over-filthy to drink in one
or another banana republic.

Someday I’d like to go there
myself, call over little Juan
and give him the fuckin nickel.

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Monday, October 15, 2012



We're the River Boys, our chief antagonists the
Mountain Boys. We labeled them derisively, their
hailing from a hilly section of the city, but
they liked the name.

Rumbled many a time! Let’s call the results a draw.
The historical highlight was the State Street Chaos,
where the fight spilled out of Delahome Park and
blocked traffic to and from downtown for three hours.

That was a mix of brawling kids, and cops using clubs.
Our pact forbade weapons. Fists only.

Register-Courier, it was, came up with STATE STREET CHAOS!!!  Excoriating the mayor and police chief.

The latter was a florid boozer who couldn't get away
with only words this time. He actually responded.
Police Academy grads were sent away to study
Gang Control in New York and Chicago.

When they got back they made inroads, but the atmosphere
in the neighborhoods was changing anyway. Both places
being seriously boutiqued, and with shopping centers
planned. Pennys to anchor theirs and Sears ours.

Slums were cleared under federal programs and nostalgia
buffs complained mightily. But the housing stock was lousy
and shoddy, however picturesque. (We had a couple of
houses slide into the river during a downpour.)

And the women had gotten the bit in their teeth, actually
picketing downtown for equal pay. Which would have been
enough, but they wanted to enforce “feelings” on everyone.
Some men responded by drinking more, others by hugging
while meeting. In the cultural wave, the younger River Boys
and Mountain Boys became feminized.

The older guys have dug in, sort of. A representative fellow
we call The Ambassador, lives among us now, having taken
a job on a barge. But he comes from the "mountains."

Actually was a ringer there, import from New York’s Bowery.
Real Neanderthal who fought in the welterweight class under
the name of Packy-o McFarland.

He's a bit outspoken and we quote him often. "Where can you get a fuckin drink around here? All the dives have 

pasted nautical crap on the walls, and the bartenders 
are college graduates. 

The waiters were old men with long aprons and black 

shoes and limpy feet. Now they’re squirts bullshitting 
about wines.”

“What the fuck do the women want? They turned 

the whole city into a chick flick already! How ’bout 
a rap, side of the head, to help straighten the dears out?”

With prompting of his sister-in-law, a Domestic 

Relations Officer dropped by, but determined 
he was all talk.

I’m just back from a sales conference where I met an old
Mountain Boy. We spoke of our memories of State Street,
and he pointed to a scrape on his chin he said I gave him

I apologized. Forgotten to take off a ring in the frenzy.
We laughed at it all. What’s left?

“You know,” I told my son when I got back, “Lots of changes
for the better, but...something lost too.”

“Yeah, stupidity!”

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Sunday, October 14, 2012

It Falleth As

Across the ring
his eyes are fire.

Ready for the kill? He
might think so. I’m
way down on points,

though he has weakened,
body and will. But my

handlers are discussing
throwing in the sponge

since left eye hardly
merits the name. It’s
the sponge all right! In

from his boys! So he’s done!
Viral, some pneumonia thing

he’s denied and punched
until totally spent, a husk.

My guys lining up
for high fives. Last, my

Guardian Angel, who
confided before this

the other dude finished. Radio
mouth says it isn’t justice! So?

Tough. Anyway, I’ll take
mercy every time. No

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Saturday, October 13, 2012


Something jars, & sense
myself hardening up.

I’ll come to some
refractory stance.
Irish. Unmovable.

You could throw
carriage bolts

at my head &
they’d bounce off,

all unfelt. You’d be
doing me a favor.

(Comfort me
with carriage bolts
for I am sick of love.)

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Friday, October 12, 2012


Show Token

-All races have similes for me. Black as the
inside of a cave, etc. Many more clever.
And extended.

-When I showed them your photo, they went
all babbling-ecstatic.


-Do I hafta explain the gig?

-Can I rely on my innate rhythm?

-Ha ha. They just put you front and 

center, often next to the speaker.
When he makes a joke you laugh etc. 

But you’re mostly there for optics.

-A quite dark contrast. Just rallies then?

-Some banquets!

-Goody! I can bounce the rubber chicken 

like a basketball.

-Maybe a smaller dinner thing or two–if they’re videotaping.

-Not usual. They’re often private. 

And clubby. Speaking of which, money?

-My commission alone greater than your usual fee! You’ll get rich.

-It’s an ill wind...all right.

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Thursday, October 11, 2012



-No use evading it: I'm the loner in 

these parts too. Oh I tried to become 
social, more or less, when I first moved 
down here. Joined a kind  of dining club.
A guy and his wife and I met at their 

events and had drinks after.

-What were they like?

-The horsey set without the horses.

-Is that better or worse?

-I don't know. They must yearn for them.

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Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Vice Presidential Debate

Two Irishmen.
What can you expect?

Even the tight little
accountant of the 1%, en-

nunciating fascist Ayn
Randisms, possesses
blarney blood nonetheless.

The second bucko hails
from the Tip O'Neill,
Jim Curley school,

where whiskey flows
like buttermilk and

miraculous narratives
meander through
flatulent meadows. He’ll

tell jokes inappropriate
as the definition of
Irish foreplay:

Brace yourself, Bridget!

The other Harp ordained
to steer altar-boy clear.

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Tuesday, October 09, 2012

The Pool of Grim Price

Always a private pool
you can get into,

thus reducing your costs
through competition.

Ah yes, the beloved horn-
swaggle of privatization,   

where you eventually pay more
than under bumbling government.

“But only because you forgot to factor
in a and b,” maintain accountancy shills.

Or c? Enabling Enchiladas buying whores
buttercreams forever.

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Monday, October 08, 2012

Pres Debate

The one can't
detect a key to

shape-shifty angles,
and gets down from
the grating process. 

Other zips like Road Runner
without the punctuation, and,
in grave appraisal, proves

as full of shit
as a Christmas Turkey.

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Sunday, October 07, 2012

Is it Granada I See or Only 
Asbury Park? 2 *

I object to the "only"
but wags counter it's
understood anyway.

Americans tend to worship
the old and often ruined.

A guide takes you to
a place bums piss
and calls it History.

*At Long Last Love

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Saturday, October 06, 2012

Christian Girlfriends

-We prayed during the date.


-Ended up utter pigs.

-Hey! One thing leads... Did you share the guilt afterwards?

-I don't know what he did after dismissing him forever.

-Harsh! And your dates now?

-Praying not to have them.

-Well, I’ve...been a pig and enjoyed wallowing in shit.

-That's the trouble. We can get to that point.
Faith is the only defense.

-That’s where I am all right. Better give me some verses.

-I got some, that’s for sure.

-I’ll clutch them to my bosom! Isn’t that a lovely and a funny word?

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Friday, October 05, 2012

The Last Days of Campaign

-My image not absurd enough, you have
me at war with a cartoon character.

-My kids love Oookie Dookie!

-Where's the percentage?

-The votes of a few thousand maniacs.

-How about the ones of those who will write
Oookie Dookie in.

-Great! Your opponent's loss.

-How do you figure?

-No Oookie Dookie fans'd ever vote for you
anyway. He's silly and funny and goofy.

-I can be...

-You couldn't get a laugh at a funeral.

-But my own'd provoke quite a few!

-Whoa! Boss! That there is wit! Like a
whatchacallit bug in amber.

-This whatchacallit campaign is in amber.


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Thursday, October 04, 2012

Sick yet of Romney and his vulgar billionaires?

Taking a break from gouging
the rest of us to indulge
in political hobbies?

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Wednesday, October 03, 2012

Natural Selection

-Just the words Community Organizer makes
your scorn erupt.

-Yes, but I'm an Equal Opportunity Scorner.
I'd add Social Worker, Government Psychologist and Religious Do-Gooder.

-I get the drift. Anyone helping those on the lower limbs of the tree.

-Left alone, Nature will break them off and the
whole dependent crew plunge.

-To their death?


-Your ilk has been known to employ a saw.

-We're too busy pushing the Great Wheel!

-And if you don't have a place there, then
know your place?


-Have you ever heard of the two famous churches in Philadelphia? The servants 

would drop off the exalted family at the 
one, and then drive the carriage to 
the other. Where the minister had been instructed to release them just in time
to pick up their betters as they emerged.

-I like anything systematic. And, I'm sure,
both heard the same scriptural flapdoodle.

-O ye of rich faith!

-I need it. We still don't rule fully enough.

-That's because it can't be completely bought.

-But mostly. We'll see about the rest.

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Tuesday, October 02, 2012

Nothing stings like the taunt of a fool

Thus do opponents
debating prepare
for a taut outfit

of zingers loosed
in context, or,
bizarrely, alone.

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Monday, October 01, 2012

“Well shiver me timbers!”

Old Salt, alluding
to ship's central

structure menaced.
& if you're present-
ly peering

round, so shook,
listening, listening,

for whirlpool or
tsunami expected...


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