The Language Poet's Final Four

O    N    C    E
D    A    Y    S 
G    R    O   W
L    E     S    S 
T    H    A    N
L    O    N    G,   

W   H   O’    D
M    A    K    E 
T    H    E    M  
E    A    C    H
M   O    R    E  
F    U    L     L

N    E    E   D
K    N    O  W 
W   H    A   T
W   O    R   D, 
W   H    A   T 
S    O   N   G 

T    H    A   T, 
S    U   N   G,
N    E   T    S 
T    I    M   E
L    E    S   S
N   U    L    L.

Doin' the Spellcheck Shimmy

Whence heroes de yore, like The Right Stuff's Chuck Yigger…?
Who cheers while the U.S. files climate's hair trigger…?
Who's praising the Christian while razing the Uigher…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'xigger.')

Who black-listed Zero Mostel and Pete Sigger…? 
Who back’d Michelle Bachmann and blog’d "How we dig ‘er!"…?
Who’s cast beaucoup ballots for Palin…? Go figger!
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'chthigger.')

Who neighs to his neighbor, "My handgun's w-a-a-ay bigger"…? 
Who drives after drinking way, tres too much ligger…? 
Who feels Donald Trump is in need of a wigger…? 
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'djigger.')

On steroids, Team USA's cyclists prov'd quigger, 
though using’s destroy’d more than one Major Ligger, 
while folks who should know better chortle and snigger.
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'kkknigger.')

Who cannabis bans but puffs a big cigger...?
Who boozes by gallon and not by the jigger…?
Who  flaunts G. I. Joe, dissing Eeyore and Tigger…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'thmigger.')

Who "pooh!"s his genetics but calls Mendel 'Grigger'…?
Thinks H'waii'ns by saucer came, not by out-rigger…?
And who doesn’t realize Drumpf’s an intriguer…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'houyigger.')

Who adores and defers to the Founders with vigor,
insisting all immigrants weather the rigor
of Homeland Security's brutal buttkigger…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'sphligger.')

When promises made to the farm-produce piggers
deserve follow-through, who are A-one renegers…?
A hint: who's hellbent -- neither zaggers nor ziggers...?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'tschiggers.')

Extraordin'ry: some black folks call themselves 'squiggers,'
whose ancestors came as slaves, stuff’d in square-riggers,
whose kin, nonetheless, are all Anti-Def Liggers.
Why would folks -- black, white -- ever call others 'thiggers'…?
Because they're Amer'cans…? Just facts, ma'am...just figgers!
(Amer'ca! In time we’ll forget we said 'mniggers.')

The Mystery of the Missing Menagerie

An alphabetical checklist of animals not observed disembarking the post-diluvial Ark 
includes the following. Each name is crossed out as its kind is addressed in the verses.
The Abracoot   The Bixwort   The Chaphter   The Dipshin   The Encest
The Fleurt   The Gannock   The Humblewied   The Indultyff   The Jimwhiskee
The Kennett   The Lastery   The Mormal   The Nestino   The Owser   The Pibling 
The Quarteus   The Ribaudred   The Snett   The Tshampeer   The Unqwood  
The Vaddage   The Waltroone   The Xissible   The Yoilous   The Zimmee

Tongues -- loos'd -- rumor’d it ‘round

how, once Noah touch'd ground –
having floated down forty-odd days –
some on board the man's ark
fail’d to, then, disembark.
What provoked such delays...? Some malaise...?

“For a judgment in rem,

I’ll put questions to Shem,
Ham and Japheth,” thought I. “Those three know
what went down on Dad’s barque.
They’ll shed light where’s there’s dark.”
Thus determin’d, I gave it a go.

“Brother Ham,” I implor'd,

“I shall not be ignor'd:
you’ve brought aardwolves, but no abracoots.”
“Shite! You’re right,” returned Ham,
“though I don’t give a damn:
before boarding, they’d shat on my boots.”

Then to Japheth I turn'd.

“Brother Japh: I’ve discern'd
you’ve no bixworts, although you’ve two bison.”
Spoke up Japh -- and I quote:
“I examin’d each coat.
Seem'd like bixworts would bring loads of lice on.”

I to Shem, with a snort:

“Holy cow!” Through his port-
hole, he'd – Ham -- chuck'd two chimps. “Where’s your claphters...?”
Chary Shem, making answer,
Said, “Claphters Ham bans, sir.
They constantly cling to the rafters.”

Then the two challenged me,

“Next you’ll query why we
have brought drakes and dugongs but no dipshins…”
then took pains to explain:
“Dipshins mock'd us: ‘What rain...?’
whence both fell into fits and conniptions.”

Later who should arrive

but their dad, Noah: “I’ve
been observing you, bugging my boys.”
Said I, “Not at all, lord –
though I must ask: on board,
why no encests...? It can’t be their noise.”

“No, no,” Noah shot back.

“Encests coo; they don’t quack.
It’s their odor that keeps ‘em ashore.
Who insists it’s their fussin’
that disinclines us, in
a word, would be wrong. Musk! No more.”

“As for noise, my good man,

it’s those fleurts and their clan
we abandon'd. Their clamor...? Rambunctious.
The twin ferrets we brought
both behaved as they ought.
But the fleurts’ lamentations...? Ur-unctious!”

“So you say, Captain N,”

I reposted, “But then,
how do you and your lads explain these...?”
And I fetch'd forth a nest
in which gannocks should rest.
“You brought geese: why no gannock pair, please...?”

“I’ll,” cried Ham, “field this, Pop.”

Then he sold me this sop:
“Anyroad, we tried loading one pair.
Said that pair (bred in Nome),
‘We’d regret leaving home.’
In th’event, we abandon'd ‘em there.”

*  *  *  *  *

“Down your gangplank skipp'd skunks

lugging vast steamer trunks,”
I observ'd, “yet appear’d no tshampeers.”
“That’s because,” answer'd Ham,
I had just told ‘em, ‘Scram!’
whence they’d drown’d in tsunamis of tears.”

The Fake & the Real or The Executioner's Song

His news is fake. His nous is fake.
(His gnus…? Fake too, folks feel.)
Now he, with (thanks to Jewish kin)
fake “…nu…?”s must daily deal.
Still, I ain't dim. When hanging him,
I'll check his noose is real.

The Sergeant N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee: an Hommage a Mildred Plew Meigs

Doh! for the Sergeant N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee! 
No poet afloat wrote as dreadf'lly as he. 
But, oh, what a one-off! So wonderf'lly twee
was the Sergeant N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee! 

So thick were his shtick, ‘twouldn’t slice with a knife! 
Still, his clowning abounded. Buffoon'ry ran rife. 
As both did -- indeed, do (see "Don Durk," "John Fife's wife") -- 
with Ms. Meigs…and N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee.