Uly Sketches, Then Stacks, The Court

Drumpf Leggacy

 

The Managram In The Moon: #14 Porter

COLEPORTER

COLORPETER

Cole, on wings of gossamer,

eyes Moonscape's color, 'peter' -- 

a moon-rock hue stain'd greyish-blue

and spewing putrid fetor.

"Just One of Those Things" (song)

1935

Porter's lyric envisions "...a trip 

to the Moon on gossamer wings..."

The Managram In The Moon: #13 Poe

EDGARALLANPOE

APALEOLGARDEN 

"A pale ol' garden...? I think not,"

says Hans through Edgar Poe.

"What scapes the Moon has truly got

perhaps you'll never know." 

"The Unparalleled Adventure

of One Hans Pfaall"

1835

Hans travels via a revolutionary new balloon 

and a device which converts the vacuum of 

space into breathable air. He withholds 

information regarding the Moon's surface 

from people back on Earth.

The Managram In The Moon: #12 Ariosto

LUDOVICOARIOSTO

IAVOIDCOOLTOURS

Signore Ariosto's notice

("I avoid cool tours")

means "I hate long, cold lunar sojourns":

That's his. So...what's yours...? 

Orlando Furioso

1516 

Orlando's friend Astolfo flies to the Moon

in Elijah's flaming chariot in search of

Orlando's lost wits.

The Managram In The Moon: #11 Andersen

HANSCHRISTIANANDERSEN

NSHAREINDANISHTRANCES

Appends Hans Christian Andersen:

"...'n' share in Danish trances:

just don dese ol' galoshes, frien,'

'n' join our moonlight dances."

The Galoshes of Fortune

1838

The Managram In The Moon: #10 Tucker

GEORGETUCKER 

ROCKETEGGRUE

Poor Tucker's suffering

rocket-egg rue:

"No eggs were involved.

Anti-gravity...nu...?"

A Voyage to the Moon

1827

The Managram In The Moon: #9 Goose

MOTHERGOOSE

MOOSGOTHERE

Mother Goose:

"'Moo!'s go there,

i.e., cows. (Not 

dinnerware.)"

Hey! Diddle Diddle

pre-16th century 

The dog and the runaway

dish and the spoon...?

No evidence either 

lit out for the Moon. 

The Managram In The Moon: #8 Ives

CORASEMMESIVES

MORESSAMEVICES

Asks Cora Semmes Ives,

"Pure mores...? Nope! Same vices

we wreak'd before that Northern War:

'tis how the cornpone slices." 

The Princess of the Moon:

A Confederate Fairy Tale

1869 

Ms. Ives's moon utopia depicts 

"a purified vision of the antebellum South." 

The Managram In The Moon: #7 Defoe

DANIELDEFOE

OFAILEDEDEN

"O, failed Eden,

island Earth,"

drones Dan. "Might you, Moon,

yield more worth...?"

The Consolidator

1705

The Managram In The Moon: #6 Godwin

FRANCISGODWIN

OFRANCIDWINGS

Godwin sings 

of rancid wings:

"But geese that smell

still fly quite well." 

The Man in the Moone

1620-38

The Managram In The Moon: #5 Méliès

GEORGESMELIES 

IMLESEGEORGES

Georges Méliès says,

"I'm Lèse Georges

were I to not my 

Moon ship forge."

A Trip to the Moon

1902

The Managram In The Moon: #4 Kepler

JOHANNESKEPLER

HESJOKEPLANNER 

Johannes Kepler...?

He's "Joke Planner."

Born, was Johann, 

to that manner. 

Somnium

1620-30

The Managram In The Moon: #3 Verne

JULESVERNE

JUNEREVELS

"June revels...?" yells Verne.

"J'aime tell'ment la Lune...

...nor do none more bright burn

than moons loomin' in June."

From the Earth to the Moon

1865

The Managram In The Moon: #2 Cyrano

CYRANODEBERGERAC

ECCEYERAGRANDORB

"Ecce! Yer a grand orb!"

So swears sword whiz Cyrano.

(Who croons to moons 

must join the loons

and off to Bedlam go.) 

Comical History of the States 

and Empires of the Moon

1657

Cyrano travels to the Moon using

rockets propelled by firecrackers.

The Managram In The Moon: #1 Lucian

LUCIANOFSAMOSATA

ISAFATMOONCASUAL

"Is a fat Moon casual...?"
asks Samosata's Lucian.
(Who asks so twee 

we'll ne'er let flee
his mental institution.) 

A True Story 

2nd century A.D.

The boat carrying Lucian and his

crew of 50 is swept up by a giant tidal 

cyclone and carried to the Moon. 

Materials for Moon voyage piece

Anon  late 9th - early 10th century  The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter

     Moon princess, banished to Earth as a baby, returns to the Moon accompanied by an entourage of Moon people. 

Polish folklore  Pan Twardowski 
     Twardowski is dropped onto the Moon while being taken by the Devil to Hell. He continues to live on the Moon, allowing his companion, a spider, to descend from time to time to Earth on a thread.  

A Man, A Plan, A Can-... (ard, A Savoyard...?)

As oft I've said before,
my goal's been to explore,
through metric feet 'n' rhymes galore --

through metrics 'n' rhymes galore -- 

the soul of ancient lore, 

then dole (though less be more)

out yarns from yore -- at least four score -- 

that ne'er have been doled before.

As elsewhere I have said,

my plan's to forge ahead,

to sift Lit's gamut from A to Zed --

Lit's gamut from A to Zed -- 

to thread through letterhead

with pen (or pencil lead)

a scribble of verse (or prose instead)

which never before's been read.

Once more my spirit's stirr'd --

my wit my Muse has spurr'd -- 

to fashion forms of cartoon 'n' word --

to fashion cartoon 'n' word --

till verity's been blurr'd 

(though such may seem absurd),

then, undeterr'd, to hone a herd

of notions till now unheard. 

In closing, I concede

that, though I feel a need

the athenaeums of wit to feed --

'thenaeums of wit to feed --

my only fruitful deed

is barely to succeed 

in mass producing a freakish breed 

of Nonsense but few will read. 

Your Voice, Your Vote: Anagrammatic Options, 2024

Don't say you can't. 

You know you can. 
Just holler, "Vote 

UP REV McTAN!"
     Or, beat your drum 

and blow your trumpet, 
telling pals to vote 

VAN CRUMPET! 
     Pull your socks up! 

Show some nerve! 
Then tell 'em, "Vote for 

AUNT McPERV!" 
     Or...just enhance 

your MAGAdance, 
abandon hope...and vote 

TRUMP/VANCE!

Drumpf Speaks To His Base Introducing His Latest Drumpf-Branded Product, DrumpfEar©, Following 7.13.24; Or, "For...More...Ears!!"

"Achtung, you MAGAmugs: I fear 
I've gain'd a vote but lost an ear.
Friends, countrymen: do lend me yours!
Mine's bloody...plus, I've shat my draw'rs.

     But buy my DrumpfEar©, made of plastic.

Tack it to your own with mastic.

Pink 'n' tone-deaf -- just  like mine -- 

it's yours...for $90.99."

"I'm now crown'd King of Kinky Ears:

Van Gogh, Colbert... that pair are peers,

though I alone raise up my fist.

(Of fisting folk, I top the list.)

     But buy my DrumpfEar©. But you must.

'Twill tell your world 'In Drumpf We Trust.'

It comes in sizes S, M, B(igly).

Big-eared be, like Uncle Wiggley."

"Right-wing ties...? Too red, too long.

Melania says the look's all wrong.

I say true MAGAns wear red ties.

(All do do, who believe my lies.)

     But, meanwhile, buy my DrumpfEar©, do!

(Who's truely true to  Drumpf buys two.)

I want your loot. Plus, chew on this: 

my next assassin might not miss.

Stakeout At Chez Gardener: Homage; Or, I Then Drew You This Picture: An Apologial Sketchbook

          Metamelos

 

     Here's logg'd three dogg'rel stiches, all burlesquing lines by Carroll

     in the hopes of launching loads of laughs -- at minimum, a barrel.

     To diss 'em you're entitled; you dismiss 'em at your peril.

          Stiches

I mark'd a crescent moon, that segment sewn on Muslim flags. 

I then drew you this picture, like those shown in Turkish mags. 

Your comment...? Brash: "Who pens such trash be nowt but scalawags." 

I gazed on Joe; he's six-foot-fo' but elsewise like ourselves. 

I then drew you this picture which into his essence delves. 

But you, like H.V.D. before you, moo'd, "More bleedin' elves...?" 

     *Hugo Dyson, Tolkien's fellow Inkling, on hearing that man's 

reading of his Ring Trilogy's latest installment, famously remarked,

""F**k! Not another elf!"

I found a shrivell'd foreskin (a memento from some bris...?).

I then drew you this picture. (Note the dehydrated jizz.)

Can I be sure you really have no clues to whose it is...?

I ran across a mood ring. (How shall stay a mystery.)

I then drew you this picture -- true to life, as well you see.

Your attitude...? Your routine mood. (You're such an s.o.b.*)

     *"Spawn of a bitch' allows for gender-neutral slander. 

I stumbled on a lava lamp at St. Jude's jumble sale.

I then drew you this picture at a seven-thirteenths scale.    

(You never liked St. Jude's -- how all the price tags were in Braille.)

I spied a Bible planted in our fam'ly's chiffarobe.

I then drew you this picture. 'Fess up! Who's the credophobe...?

Your out-of-order answer...? Some misquoted verse from Job.

I broke two Xmas bubble lights bequeathed to us by Mom. 

I then drew you this picture of their fragments in my palm. 

If I have warn'd you once, I've done a thousand times: Stay calm!

 

I ate three Brit-baked sausage rolls, each stuff'd with mince of pheasant.

I then drew you this picture: "Happy birthday! Here's your present."

Your feedback, once you'd eyed it, proved remarkably unpleasant.

I read a line of Lewis's where's mention'd railway shares.

I then drew you this picture showing half a dozen pairs. 

You cannot know how struck I was when you remark'd, "Who cares!" 

 

I eyed a damaged emu egg, one smuggl'd from its nest.

I then drew you this picture which such sightings would attest.

I'd fail'd to realize my sketch would leave you so distress'd.

I then saw...who...? (So: was it you...? The shaver gave no name.)

Whereon I drew this picture -- though as yet it lacks a frame.

But you'd agree: whate'er I see, your come-back's e'er the same...?

One Fine Day At Texas Tex's Textile Tavern

     In one 

West-Texas town 

sits a textile-themed tap

     stuff'd with 

crepes, cottons, calicos, 

cashmeres with nap.

     A 

priest and a minister 

enter that bar;

     therein

join'd by a rabbi 

these holy men are.

     "All di-

vines, vicars, padres, 

imams, monks in robes..."

     tallies

Tex, "...welcome be. Fear not 

State's moral probes!

     "Textile 

Tavern embraces 

all men of the cloth --

     all...re-

gardless of credo. 

(Unless you're a moth.)"

Selfie Sketchbook: Terrorism Takes A Pair Of Poses

The Domestic Terrorism Cellfie 

     Pose One

 

We're white, supreme...the Master Race,

'n' foreign-born but fer God's grace.

Ya'll girlie girls best learn yer place.

(Does tinfoil headgear spoil my face....?)

   We're proud. We're loud. We're MAGA's base.

We march the Mall, spray ya'll with mace...

though White House docs Drumpf does misplace

'n' tyrants' rants Drumpf does embrace.

(My cap is made of foil 'n' lace.)

   We synagogues 'n' mosques deface. 

Us dudes das Juden won't replace.

That Holocaust did not take place.

(My tinfoil hat glean'd that from space.) 

     Pose Two

 

   To Pence 'n' Nancy we give chase.

We'd hang 'em both to make our case

for burnin' down this frickin' place.

(My tinfoil tam scans scams from space.)

   While climate change will us outpace,

asylum seekin' we'll erase.

Our cons to Don will throw each race. 

With Dems we'll never interface.

(My hat of tin tunes din to space.)

   Of shame we show no hint nor trace. 

We'll not stand down; we'll not lose face. 

(My tin-foil cap maps raps from space. 

We pack AK-s, though, just in case.)

Selfie Sketchbook: Peter...

 

Pete Pumpkineater's Pumpkin Shellfie

Our Peter a dilemma's got:

his strife 'n' trouble* nags...a lot.

(Plus, who's that squash what crash'd Pete's shot...?)

     *'Trouble-'n'-strife' is 

Cockney rhyming slang for 'wife.'

Selfie Sketchbook: Bethle'm...

The Bethle'm Boychik's First Noëlfie

A swaddl'd Savior squats in straw

and Virgin Mary's womb's still raw,

while Joseph muses, "Who's his Paw...?" 

Selfie Sketchbook: Southerm...

The Dixie Lost Cause Rebel Yellfie

"Uncle!" mutters Robert E.

while Sherman utters, "To the sea!"

and Johnny stutters, "Yee-haw-yee-e-e-ee!" 

Selfie Sketchbook: Rossini...

 

The G. Rossini's William Tellfie

Pomme-topp'd Junior bears his task.
Kemo sabe wears a mask.

(Where his sidekick stares...? Don't ask.)