Read Me, Reaper! (Unpub)

Read me, Reaper, what's ahead
"...in the buttons, in the bread..."
Wasted weekends at Club Med…?
(Boss: “You loss of pay must dread.”)
     O Death: you've done in Uncle Ed.
You've closed the lid on Cousin Fred.
You've shrouded Mrs. Gotobed.
(I can't drive Dilys from my head.)
 
Feed me, Reaper, as foresaid --
from "...ultravi- to infrared..." --
who've laid to rest Great-grandpa Jed, 
the King of Kenya, known as "Khed" 
(‘tis said Khed's worth his weight in lead)
who never left the Murphy bed
he lay on as a newlywed. Khed 
died as lived he: overfed.) 

Speed me, Reaper: please to shed
your ploy to "...’stroy my ‘oysterbed’"
with Inja ink (no pencil lead...?) 
injected by some quadruped
or biped (a Rhode Island Red…?) 
incorporating Sudafed
black-marketed through Cousin Ted…?
 
Heed me! Como ‘sta Usted…?
What shade’s your thread…? Venetian red…?
Are color’d threads like yours widespread…?
Do X-mark’d spots show where they’ve bled…?
I’d love to hear what all’s been said,
but hear it I'd from you instead...
so: read me, Reaper, talking head,
from top to toe, from A to Zed!

Imagine Girls (Unpub)

Imagine girls --
invented Pearls,
Malvinas, Merles
and Mallorys --
who come, then quick-
ly go, through Mich-
elangelo-
hung galleries.
    None nun nor crone,
each one has grown
(their lungs alone
weigh calories)
so flush that they’ve,
though blushing, waiv’d
all wages – tips
and salaries.

It's Hot or Doggerel Days (Unpub)

     (8/1)
It’s hot! (Tres hot: 
luke warm it's not.) 
Ann Miller got 
it: "...too darn hot!"
 
     (8/2)
Da's AC's shot.
Ma's…? Gone to pot. 
Cole Porter'd jot 
it: "...too darn hot!"
 
     (8/3)
It's hot! (Think not…? 
Ya'll don't know squat.)
So-o-o-o hot one's snot 
tends not to clot.
 
     (8/4)
One's nose approx-
imates a Brät, 
while lucid thoughts 
turn most exot-
 
     (8/5)
-ic: dream scenes fraught 
with Lancelot 
and Ladies of 
Shalott, Mahat-
 
     (8/6)
-ma Gandhi, An-
dy Kohut, Lot-
te Lenya, di-
va Montserrat
 
     (8/7)
Caballé, sheiks 
who reek of rot-
ten leeks in oil
of Bergamot,
 
     (8/8)
or Benoit
B. Mandelbrot 
(whose fractal "aht" 
I like a lot).
 
     (8/9)
Be you quadru-
ple bi-pass’d tot; 
be you the Hoo-
ple or the Mott;
 
     (8/10)
don pinstripe, check 
or polka dot; 
inhab McMansh 
or vacant lot;
 
     (8/11)
prefer weak tea 
or pepper pot 
(if tea, ami, 
that says a lot);
 
     (8/12)
be sri or sultan, 
late of Swat, 
prefer straight lace 
or gordian knot;
 
     (8/13)
be you robot-
ic or karat-
e maven -- you
may need a shot --
 
     (8/14)
if not, at least 
some bottled wat'... 
("Of what…?" you quer-
-y.) Water, twat!
 
     (8/15)
("Oo-o-o-oops! Just the flu-
id I'd forgot.") 
Who's else is hot 
(though Turandot...
 
     (8/16)
is not)…? Why, Rob-
ert Falcon Scott 
of the Antarc-
tic: "...'Sbloody hot!"
 
     (8/17)
Who else is hot…?
Hell's Margey Schott, 
pro-Nazi sot: 
"Mein Gott! Ich's hot!"
 
     (8/18)
(Who else is hot…? 
Anwar Sadat.) 
My cot, though in
a shady spot,
 
     (8/19)
feels, lately, like
a lobster pot: 
it makes me wish 
I'd got a yacht...
 
     (8/20)
or could lay hands 
on your garrotte. 
At least, thank god,
I  need not trot...
 
     (8/21)
(tho' true, I do, 
more oft than not). 
But why's it hot? 
Have you forgot?
 
     (8/22)
 America's 
a "melting pot." 
In any case, 
there lies this spot --
 
     (8/23)
it’s but a blot, 
a teensy dot – 
a beauty spot quite 
comely…? Not!) --
 
     (8/24)
upon die Son-
ne...done! It's hot. 
(Or, like as not, 
some knotty plot...
 
     (8/25)
of Aeroflot's,
or, p'rhaps, Pol Pot's.) 
Kool-Aid, it's said's, 
verboten: "...Dot-
 
     (8/26)
-dot-dot-dash-dash-
dash-dot-dot-dot..."* 
Yet, 'til the Trane
Man states he's got...
 
     * Mr. Morse's code for 'S.O.S.'
 
     (8/27)
our S.O.S, it's 
still hot, wot! 
Some cooler spot 
to plant one's "bott"…?
 
     (8/28)
You'll find no tit-
tle -- not one jot. 
Say...is it me 
or is it not...
 
     (8/29)
just that much hot-
ter since I sta't-
ed jotting
this Ode De Hot…?
 
     (8/30)
It's hot! So what…? 
There's simply "not-“
hing to be done...
but kvetch alot.
 
     (8/31)
Cole got it right: 
It’s too darn hot. 
(Ol' Cole's a rot-
ter: too damn hot!)
 
     (9/1)
How's 'bout some cool 
September song…? 
(September In The 
Rain’s not long.

Left Unfin-': (Unpub)

Left unfin-…? Anaïs N-…
Left unfin-…? Benjam-…
Left unfin-…? Chinny Ch-…
Left unfin-…? Doolittle L-…
Left unfin-…? East Berl-…
Left unfin-…? Fraternal tw-…
Left unfin-…? Gelat-…
Left unfin-…? Harleq-…
Left unfin-…? In Like Fl-…
Left unfin-…? Jamaica …
Left unfin-…? Kith 'n' k-…
Left unfin-…? Lanol-…
Left unfin-…? Manneq-...
Left unfin-…? No Room at the …
Left unfin-…? Original S-…
Left unfin-…? Pangol-…
Left unfin-…? Quercet-
Left unfin-…? Ramek-…
Left unfin-…? Shit-eatin’ Gr-…
Left unfin-…? Twain's Huck F-...

Left unfin-…? Underp-...

Left unfin-…? Vera L-...

Left unfin-…? Where’ve You B-…?

Left unfin-…? Xiang J-...

Left unfin-…? Yang 'n' y-...

Left unfin-…? Zeppel-...

Kings Song (Unpub)

Here’s the thing: Art’s the king
who Excaliber can spring.

Kings, these are, from afar:
Caspar, Melch’or, Balthazar.

Burger King lacks the zing
Ronald’s Special Sauces bring.

Charlemagne…? You da magne!
If you cagn’t, which Charlie cagne*…?

     * Not to be confused with 

Charles Foster ("Citizen") Kane.

Cymbeline. Fuehrer Mein.
(One’s down my Thames; one’s up your Rhine.)

Don King an’ King Donovan.
(Neither King cooks coq au vin.)

Deng Ziaoping. Little King.
Josip Suk…? He’s Fiddle King.

Emp’ror Ming. Rodney King.
King (Morgana) sure can sing!

Falstaff’s pal…? Shakespeare’s Hal.
(Pace, Ashurbanipal!)

Good King Zog. (Boo’d…? King Frog:
him the Grimms limn in their blog.)

Henry Eight. Alfred (Great!):
Which king was the fashion plate…?

If it’s Lear’s lot one fears,
it’s of Edmund clear one steers.

Jesus, who’s King of Jews,
trues ‘em. Glues ‘em to the pews.

King Aroo. Vishnu, too.
Ousted: Charles, in Cromwell’s coup.

Lion Kings. Mayan Kings.
Lear leads lists of dyin’ kings.

M. L. King. Thee we sing.
Forget we’ll not “Let freedom ring.”

Ngo Quyen ruled back when
Nam maim’d fewer U.N. men.

Ottokar : Ivan (Tsar) ::
Herge : Serge. (Too bizarre…?)

Papa Doc. Kings of Rock.
One “in signo vincit hoc.”

Quick, Bert: sing “’fI were king…”
(Outrageous – though contagious -- thing.)

Richard Third. ‘Bella’s Ferd.
Edward Eight. (His date’s a turd.)

Saul and Saud…? Both were proud.
(Solomon was well-endow’d.)

Tamerlane. King Hussein.
March King…? Long may “suzerain”!

Ubu Roi. Add the Shah.
For the hat trick…? Offa. (Hah!)

Vlad the Rus. Oedipus.
(Patricides I shan’t discuss.)

Wenceslaus. Kings in Laos.
Ptolemy was Cleo’s spouse.

Xerxes ruled: Greeks got school’d.
Since then, craze for Persia’s cool’d.

Young King Cole. King Creole.

(Nat and Elvis – very droll.)

Zedong, Mao: sacred cow.
Tut and Kong and Vidor... 

                                       Ciao!