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Saturday, June 29, 2019

Frag Rags Constrain'd With Codons and Without Clinamina

My tricot-knit-
ted lab coats sit
in stacks of six-
ty four --
crochet'd in 9
BC, define,
they do, how less
is more.

‘Tis time, Big Mac:
define exac-
tly what’s in back
of ‘pure.’
(Abomina-
ble cause results
in bad effect -- 
that's sure.)

Her songs she’s left
in standard clef -- 
G, F…more oft-
en C.
“Tonight,” she boasts,
“I’ll frighten ghosts,
if ghosts there real-
ly be.”

My pencil sketch-
es baksheesh fetch,
though ink's preferr’d
by many.
Sell hot pants? Not
New Delhi…? Jodh-
pur dealers won’t
vend any.)

“Is she a fake?”
they howl. “Si! J.
K. Rowling’s not
her name.”
‘Tain’t no mirage:
at home, she’s ‘Taj’;
klangfarbmontage 
her game.

Though Royal Dutch,
the common touch
is “air’d” by K
LM.
Each flight’s quite calm –
no “flying bomb.”
(I love to fly
with them.)

Try kosher Spam –
no pork, no ham.
Delish? You bet
your glans!
No ham! No pork!
Just grab yo' fork!
(It comes in one-
pound cans.)

Quranic scho-
lar 'Rani’s hol-
ler: “Stop! Q’ran’s in-
correct!
That ‘u’ you drop 
'Q' ruins. Stop! 
You can't 'u's lop
uncheck'd.

And have you heard
this Scrabble word:
‘suq’? (‘R’s in it? 
Hell, no!)
Still, rules there are.
One (best by far):
Stick, nerds, with words
unfaux.

The Duke of York’s
odd love for storks
makes clear: the dork’s
turn’d queer.
Still, storks in si-
tu voted three
to one to shun
the dear.

This plea’s for you,
VW
detailer. My
fixation?
A peacock-blue
VW
x-rated dec-
oration.

Nobody owns
sitars with drones.
Now, xylophones
are trendy.
Who knows what’s next!
Perhaps a sex-
y zither’s mode
vivendi.

Some jazz is Thai
(I can’t think why).
Zaire sports jazz
bands...nu?
And Paris has
its Hot Le Jazz.
(These rhymes? Pizzazz-
y, too.) 

Friday, June 28, 2019

Remember This Day? 12/12/2012 -- The Speaker & the Fiscal Cliff: an ABC

Get on with it, John: post-election activity.
Still...let's not spill o'er the fiscal acclivity.
Tether your tears. Void your ploys: they’re too cute.
Just spare us a fall from the fear'd fiscal butte.

Do not risk our dough. Being broke’s such a drag.
Do not cast us down from that damn’d fiscal crag.
Mr. Speaker: to tweak ‘er you’ve had since last June.
Look -- do! --dead ahead: it’s the dread fiscal dune.

A tax hike – is that all the government TARP meant?
Disgraceful! We face -- full! --the fiscal escarpment.
The President’s deal? Take it! No time for stalls.
Mr. B: steer us clear of those drear fiscal falls.

How dare you proclaim we’re the world’s greatest nation?
We’re poised to go over the fiscal gradation.
Won't Democrats dub you “Congressional Chump”
if you don’t walk us back from the harsh fiscal hump?

Tax billionaires? Buffet says that would be fine.
But first: inch us far from the fiscal incline.
Can’t caucus chums swallow the debt-ceiling pill?
Please: just keep us away from the fiscal Jocks Hill.

Have you not eyed the most recent Rasmussen poll?
Read! And weep! Then keep clear of the fear’d fiscal knoll.
Don’t make of this issue a partisan wedge.
Please talk us down – now! -- off that foul fiscal ledge.

Your gavel you’ll save if you’ll use your cabesa
and spare us a fall from the Great Fiscal Mesa.
True medicine, John, not financial placebo
will ease this disease, this acute fiscal Nebo.

Abandon us not. Neither pooh-pooh nor pimp us.
How dumb to go tumbling down fiscal Olympus.
You won’t heed our pleas? Must we others’ aid seek?
Oh, don’t let us go over that bleak fiscal peak…

…that peak which provides to perdition a launching pad.
Don’t let us suffer the fierce fiscal Quinderdad.
Dunce! Can’t you once just be “one of the guys”?
And refrain from this bane, this corrupt fiscal rise?

We're warning you, Johnny, this cliff’s no chimaera.
Don’t stall, lest we fall from the fiscal Sierra.
Maneuvering must be immediate…or
we might trip, and so flip o’er the tall fiscal tor.

You motion’d to Mitch, “Let’s give F.C. a whirl.”
Nossir! No one should urge the unsafe fiscal Ural.
Support some heights, sure: some might prove “muy bueno.”
But veto all vaults o’er the fiscal volcano.

We’re altophobes all. We’re afraid of the tall.
We’d not hit (much less fall from) that weird fiscal wall.
The Recession Bell’s rung. The Depression Bell’s ringin.’
Arrest our descent from the fiscal Xiao Hinggan.

You need to announce using mots full of moxie,
“No falls from the fiscal…” (don’t faint) “…Yagradagze.”
Your seeing us through this will earn you thanks…and a
wet kiss -- if we miss it: the fiscal Zaranda.

We’re fed up with hillocks, with hummocks and hills.
With tors and Zarandas we’re stuff'd to the gills.
We’ve had it to here, whether curb, slope or shelf.
If you’d risk fiscal cliffs, best to fall by yourself!

Thursday, June 27, 2019

A Tragic Lack of Footwear & Other Disgraceful Constraints

It’s said the cobbler’s children have no shoes. That’s not the half of it.
It’s sad the cobbler’s children have no shoes. Upshot...? An alphabet.  

Arrestees’ angels...? No “Adieu”s.

Beer brewers’ babies boast no brews.
Commandos’ chickens cop no coups.
Directors’ dickenses...? No dues.

Extras’ enfants...? No “Et tu...?”s.
Flouters’ floor apes...? No “F. U.!”s
Gambians’ gremlins grab no gnus.
Hostess’s heirs...? No “How do!”s.

Iceman’s issue...? No igloos.
Jesters’ juveniles...? No jeuxs.
Keepers’ kids...? No kangaroos.
Lav attendants’ lambs...? No loos.

Milkmen’s moppets mint no “Moo-oo-oo!”s.
Nudges’ nippers nab no “Nu…?”s.
Ooglers’ offspring own no “Oo-oo-ooh!”s.
Pess’mists’ prog’ny pot no “Pooh!”s.

Quislings’ quizkids quench no Qs.
Rascals’ rug rats rate no ruse.
Sous chefs’ shavers stir no stews.
Touristiques’ toddlers...? No Toulouse.

Urges’ urchins...? No "Ubu"s.      
Voyeurs’ very young...? No views.
Wu Zaos’ womb fruit win no Wus.      
X-men’s xeroxes...? No xus.

Yes-men’s youngin’s...? No “Yes: you”s      
Zookeeps’ zebrafish...? No zoos.
Seems children lose, no matter whose,
and we're left here to sing the blues.

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Rime: an Acrostic

Tump, chump, mugwump, frump, grump, garbage dump. 
Rump, glump, Kevin Crump, slump, strump, vacuum pump.
Ump, shump, speed bump, clump, crump, triple jump. 
Mump, klump, sump, hump, h-r-r-r-rump, lump, Andy Gump.
Plump, stump...(ta-tump, ta-tump, ta-tump, ta-trump, ta-trump, ta-trump…) 

"Sir Paul's fur balls..." Double Dutch

Sir Paul's fur balls, Saint Paul's crop!
Nepal, Naipaul, paintball…plop! 
Chez Paul, gay ball, RuPaul...? Fop. 
Topol, Bopal, Donn Paul's flop! 
Free-fall, flee pol Ron Paul's slop! 
Dope haul...? Don't bawl: phone call (cop)! 
Low ball, don pall: John Paul's Pop. 
Fast ball, last call, that’s all...stop!
How many drop steps can you do?
One-half, one, square root o' two... 

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Narcissistic Personality Disorder or The Ill Eagle

My Russian dramatic fave...? Chekhov’s The Seagull.
Norwegians who’ll trigger tears...? Edward H. Grieg’ll.
A canine one learns to love...? Peke-…wait: a beagle!
Worst guilty obsession...? (Is Oprah illegal...?)
What weakens one’s will to win...? Chronic fatigue’ll
World’s fav’rite dead princess...? Di [sob] was so-o-o-o regal.
But what’s more distressing than Ben “Bugsy” Siegel...?
One lemon-pate head of state ve-e-e-e-e-e-ery ill eagle.

We Are Where We Live: Auda City

Observe the folks 
of Auda City,
labell’d 'tres outre.'
Heels...? Hair...? Drinks...? Spiked!
Who'd get all psych’d 
to them a visit pay? 
(Perhaps in June 
I'll change my tune, 
or May...
but not today.)

Saturday, June 22, 2019

Five Hommages a Perec's "Wishes"

Introduction

Below you'll find a batch of short narratives leading to even shorter conclusions consisting of abecedarially constrained vocables. These texts have been inspired by a set of George Perec’s annual “Wishes” – the famous Oulipian’s passages of imaginative prose sent to his friends each new year. Bonne annee!

BAybEebIbOhboU 

During the now-infamous 1919 season of American baseball (infamous, admittedly, for reasons unrelated to the event here under discussion), a novice sports reporter for the Hearst-owned Boston newspaper The American found himself tasked with an unusual assignment: interviewing Red Sox players in pursuit of a story behind the rumor then making its way around the league – namely that there existed a demonstrable link, a direct numerical proportion, between the volume of beer, wine or other spirits of choice consumed by any given hitter prior to a game and that player’s batting average. Questioned on the subject, specifically regarding Sultan of Swat George Ruth, who was enjoying yet another stellar year at the time, the team’s third-base coach not only effectively quashed this theory but gave it a brief dose of the raspberries to boot, at least as far as that theory might pertain to the Bambino, answering…

“Babe…? He bibe eau. Boo!”

CAycEecIcOhcoU

"Hey, Mor! What's in the recipe for that delicious chicken loaf thingamie you always make for Maundy Thursday's dinner," asked NPR's Marketplace host of his Norwegian-born mother. 
     "That dish no good minout use special rooster bring in from China," cautioned the flour-dusted woman.
     "I'd sure love to prepare it myself this year, even though our economically challenged President's tariffs on imported fowl -- hens and roosters -- make dishes like yours virtually impossible. I guess it'll take a real stroke of luck to get my hands on such a bird." 
     "Right, my boy," answered the senior Mrs. Ryssdal, who, expanding on her response, reminded her son...

“Cake key, Kai...? Coq coup.”

DAydEedIdOhdoU 

Declan Donovan Dade, undistinguished husband and father but notorious in his neighborhood for being ever behind in the settlement of his pub tabs, passed away quietly in his sleep Sunday last. Several balladeers performing at Grogan's Castle Lounge, Dade's watering hole of choice, were swift to incorporate the miserly reputation of the pinchpenny Dade into their nightly ditties lionizing Lounge locals:
     "O Dade, he died, dough due.
      Dud dude Dade, he died, dough due.
      He slipp'd off the plate owing 7s.8.* O...

Dade…? He died, dough due.”

     * Seven shillings and eight pence, pronounced here "seven 'n' eight."

FAyfEefIfOhfoU

After decades as Hollywood's earliest Queen of Scream, Fay Wray tired of headlining horror films and began a search for "more demanding roles." Still, scripts casting her opposite a host of cinemonsters continued to pour in, all of which she roundly rejected. Then suddenly she reached an agreement with RKO to star in a proposed remake of King Kong -- an agreement which carried a significant codicil. In exchange for reprising her Anne Darrow character, she would be permitted additionally to star in a series of films portraying famous characters feigning madness. Such films would provide roles setting up the strong performances she now insisted on doing. As payment for her willingness to remake Kong (and, in passing, to save RKO from bankruptcy), the studio commissioned five screenplays providing the starring and costarring roles Ms. Wray demanded. Thus screenplays featuring fresh treatments of Hamlet, Randle McMurphy, Odysseus, Vincent Gigante and Nellie Bly (with Nellie, Wray was sure she smelt Oscar) were begun. As a Variety headline put it at the time…

"Fay fee...? Five faux fou."


GAygEegIgOhgUe

Introducing:
     The Dance Suite Quartet.
One guy glides 
     through a slow allemande.
The courante? Au courant 
     to a second. 
(Seen together, they're half 
     of the band.)
The third guy -- 
     a gal, as it happens --
shows a knack 
     for a slack sarabande.
The fourth, who a gay gigue 
     engages,
is a newborn. Still, 
     give him a hand! 
Or…

Gay gigue guy…? Go "Goo!"

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

The Twelve 'Chair-'s, Vol. III

The Umbrellas of 'Chair'bourg 
The 'Chair'leston, South 'Chair'olina 
The Carl 'Czhair'ny 
The Rosea'cha'r'n Joad
The 'Chair'ismatic 
The 'Chair'min (Please Don't Squeeze!)
The 'Czhair'coslovakia 
The 'Chair'cropper
The 'Chair'on Tate
The 'Chair'eshalom
The 'Chair'oot
The Ca'chair' in the Rye

(Images to come: a work in progress)

The Twelve 'Chair-'s, Vol. II

The 'Chair'coal Sketch
The 'Chair'vil (with parsley, tarragon, chives: fines herbes)
The 'Chair'icature
The 'Chair'ity Stripe 
The 'Chair'lie Pairker
The 'Chair'ries Jubilee
The 'Chair'ry Lee Lewis
The 'Chair'ge of the Light Brigade
The Tibetan 'Chair'pa
The 'Chair'que du Soleil
The 'Chair'rod Brown
The 'Chair'oot

(Images to come: a work in progress)

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

The Twelve 'Chair-'s: a Sketchbook, Vol. I

(Sketches for the 'Chair'ub, the 'Chair'okee, the 'Chair'cuterie and the 'Chair'sey City, New 'Chair'sey remain on the drawing board. Watch this space!)
































Monday, June 17, 2019

It's a Gnu'd, Gnu'd, Gnu'd, Gnu'd World: an Illustrated Encyclopedia

(Illustrations to come: a work in progress)

First, some (perhaps) unexpected gnus

The Gnuvena 
The Gnun's Tale 
Captain Gnumo
Gnubile 
Gnutrogena 
Saks Fifth Avegnue 
The Agnnual Wildebeest Migration 
Agnusticism
Agnuities
Agnus Dei
A Gnus la Liberte
Brass gnuckles
The constellation Signus
Cow magnure
Corgnucopia
A dugout cagnue 
Entre Gnus
Fig Gnutons
A Greek Gnu
(A Yiddish Gnu?)
Debussy’s Gnuages
Debussy's The Aftergnuun of a Gnu
The Gnuberry Library
The Gnuclear Option
M Duchamps’ “Gnu Descending: A ‘Stark’ Case”
M Duchamps’ “Gnudist Sending Astaire Käse”
Gegnuflection
Gnubile
Candy Gnugut
Gnudnik
Gnuks and crannies
Gnugies
Gnuisance Law Suit
“Gnuke the gay black whales”
“Gnu lamps for old”
Gnumatic drill
Gnumismatics
Gnumonia
Gnunc Dimittis
Gnuritis and Gnuralgia
Gnurosis
The Gnuport Jazz Festival
Curly the Stooge: “Gnuq-gnuq-gnuq…”
Gnuter gender
Gnutragena
Gnutral zone
Gnutritionist
Gnutron bomb
Gnouveau riche
Gnu wine, old bottles
Guns (anagram for Gnus)
Hangman’s gnuse
High Gnoon
The Interregnum 
The indigenous Ingnuit 
Judgment at Gnuremberg
Jangnuary through Gnuvember (the gnu year)
Lobster Gnuberg
Merovingian Gneustria
The medieval gneum
"The ognus is on you"
Mork from Ork's “Gna-gnu, gna-gnu”
The Papal Gnuncio
Parvegnu
Pgnumonia
Quidnunc?
Signum, the bell tower ringing canonical hours
Signus infection
Snug gnus sung guns (palindromic gnus)
“You sgnuze, you lose.”'
Etc...etc...

Next, some old gnus, or, places in the gnus: a gnuzetteer

Gnu Amsterdam 
Gnu Bedford
Gnubia
Gnu Caledonia
Gnu Delhi
Gnu England
Gnufoundland
Gnu Guinea
Gnu Hampshire
Gnu Jersey 
Gnu Jack City 
Gnumibia 
Gnu Orleans
Gnuport Gnus 
Gnuremburg
Gnu South Wales
Gnutown 
The planet Uragnus 
The planet Vegnus 
Gnu York
Gnu Zealand
Etc…etc…

Finally, some gnusmakers; or, people in the gnus 

Argnut Daniel 
Agnubis of Egypt
Anthony Gnuley
Bob Gnuwhart
Catherine Degneuve
Doctor Gnu (Dr No + Dr Who?)
Eleagnu Roosevelt
Fathead Gnuwman
Gnuwman! (Seinfeld’s postman)
Gnuton Minnow
Gnuwt Gingrich
Huey Gnuwton & The Gnus
Isaac Gnuwton
Jagnus, Roman god of duality 
Krognus, Greek god of time
Juice Gnuwton 
Julie Gnumar
Jimmy Gnutron
John SuGnuGnu
Kgnute Rochne
Keagnu Reeves
The Gnu Lost City Ramblers 
Le Fagnu
Magnu Ginobili
Magnum P. I.
Oliver Gnurville Hardy
Paul Gnuwman
Peggy Gnoonan
Queen Gnur
Rudolf Gnureyev
Robert Gnuwton
Sgnupp Dogg
Sgnoopy (Charley Brown’s Dog)
Spiro Agnu
Ted Gnugent
The Vegnusians
Wignuna Ryder
Yagnumamo Indians
Zbignu Brzesinski 
Etc...etc...

Saturday, June 15, 2019

Incantations A Through H

Abracadabra...cadabra! 
Bippity! Boppity! Boo!  
Chick-a-lack! Boom-a-lack! Sissy-boom-bah! 
Doobie-do! (Bie-doobie-do!) 

Eeny 'n' meeny...'n' miney 'n' mo!   
Fa-la-la! Fa-la-la! La! 
Gillygillossenfeff'! Katz'nellen Bogen!  
Har-dee-har-har! Hot-cha-cha!

The Euphonious Gazetteer

In Birmingham is heard the Alabagpipes solemn drone
In Phoenix, Snareizonas keep the beat.
In Miami, night till morn, each native toots his Florglehorn.
In Nome, Alaskazoos resound on every street.

Woodwindianas wail…but where? In downtown Terre Haute.
Wilmingtonians perform on Celloware.
In Pittsburg and surrounds Serpentsylvanias abound…
though in Saint Louis, Chalumeaussouris are rare.

In Hartford and New Haven, the Corneticutt is blown.
In Atlanta, it’s the Georgan they enjoy.
In Star and Pocatello dwells this Idahoboe fellow.
In Chicago people bow Vielleinois.)

In Des Moines, the Iowashboard reins as instrument of choice.
In Topeka and in Dodge? The Kanstanet.
In Louisville and Bowling Green, they play Kentukuleles.
Baton Rouge is where Louwhistliana’s met.

In Boston Massachuba’s play. St. Paul plays Minnesoudas.
Minneapolis enjoys its Theraminn.
In Yazoo City, Mississippiano players run their scales.
In Butte and Billings, the Montenor Sax is in.

In Omaha, Nebrasska sections dominate their bands.
In New Rochelle, New Yorccarina’s king.
In Raleigh, not one flutist’s found whene’er North Carillonas sound.
In Deadwood, South Dakotos are the thing.

In Cleveland, the Ohihat’s part of ev’ry drummers kit.
In Portland’s felt the Oregong’s vibration.
A roadie out of Providence sets up his own Rhodes Island.
In Cope, South Carillonas stir elation.

In Fargo and in Jamestown, North Dakoto’s what one hears..
In Nashville,Tennessitars are what’s cool.
In Dallas, Texasaxophones outnumber longhorn steers.
Way out in Salt Lake City, Flutah’s rule.

In Richmond, how their Virginals drive southern belles quite wild!
In Wheeling, the West Virginal intones.
In Milwaukee, the Wisconcertina’s played by ev’ry child.
For their Or’gon folks in Portland sport a Jones.

In Silver Spring, the Dulcimeryland is on display.
In Norman, you’d an Oudklahoma hear.
In Concord, their Jews Harpshires, play'd in tune, will make your day.
In Barre, Vermontdolins caress the ear.

In San Juan, Puerto Ricorders sound, play'd even by the tots.
In Denver, Coloradios get played.
In Montgomery, Alabanjos give the natives there the hots.
(In DC…? What music's heard’s a diff’rent shade.)

The Song of the Otolaryngologist

There but for Pell grants go eye.
Lacking funds, you can’t get there from ear.
Who knows this? The Shadow: he nose.
(As for those who would throw it? Just throat!)

Friday, June 14, 2019

Stifle Your Kids!

Admonish all your ankle biters! Bridle your bambinos!
Chaperone your cherubs! Dominate your dwarfarinos!

Educate your elvervolker! Fetter fast your fidgets!
Govern all your gamins! Guard your gremlins! Ground your gidgets!

Hog tie all your half-pints! Indenture your Infantae!
Jail your junior jackanapes! Kibosh your kiddies, kan’t ye!

Lock away your lambkins! Muzzle all your moppets!
Nail your Nips! O'erhaul your offspring! Playpen – please – your poppets! 

Quell your quints! Rein in your rugrats! Silence all your sucklings!
Tailor-tune your tadpoles (lest turn'd into ugly ducklings)!

Unfree your urchins – urgently! Your varmints? Please vamoose!
Wind down your whippersnappers – else each “whipper will” run loose.

Xenoblast your xiphomorphs! Yoke up all your young!
Fin’lly…ziplock all your z-z-z-z-zsters! If you do, this verse I’ll bung.

Christmas Day: A Mare Egg...

     "A Mare Egg, Her Wrist, "Miss Two 'U'"