Number

      Ordinals. Cardinals. Now...Uryals:

FIRST 
SECIST 
THIRST  
FORRIST 
FIST 
SEXIST 
SEAVEST 

HATEIST  
NICEST 
TENSIST 

     images to come 

November

"The time has come," my Walrus said, 
To vote on, oh, so many things. 
On why sane leadership we need, 
No "Chosen Ones," no "Sir(e)s, no kings. 
On why we need a ballot hook 
To relegate Drumpf to the wings.
   Some Democratic Governors
Are chiefly who we need, 
Whose thoughtful words would cut the crap, 
Whose deeds would stop the bleed -- 
Not long ago the very dough
America would knead. 

   That Drumpf's not on the ballot 

Doesn't let us off the hook.

We need to unelect all creeps 

Who champion this crook. 

A voter choosing not to vote...? 

That choice we cannot brook. 

more to come

Ozzy's Protest Sign For No Kings March

 

Close Encounters Of Three Kinds Not Anticipated By Lewis Carrooll

The Walrus and the Raconteur 
Arranged to view the Furniture 
They purchased for their den. 
   "The desk's okay, 
But I must say,
That playpen ain't no '10.' 
   "It's short two sides!

Its like ne'er hides
The dwarfs we plan to pen." 

Illustration to come

The Ulyad

Sing to me, O Muse, 
but not of Wand'ring Jews,
nor Ulysses, late of Troy,
nor Anchises and his boy. 

Sing of one instead 

who never leaves his bed 
and yet contrives to find 
whole cosmoi -- in his mind. 

A LA-Z-BOY Madgellan 

(please overlook my spellin'),

this poetaster Poe 

is maestro of bon mots. 

Instead of "wine-dark seas," 

he writes of "bathtub gins." 

No "rosy-fingers," please.

Just "one more day begins." 

If "Arma et virum" he'd crow, 

he's just misquoting Cicero. 

When he's heard keening "bean-green boats," 

recall: it's Lear our man misquotes. 

     more to come

Breaking Point...?

You'd think our military'd
say, "you're done"
to boobs who order bombs dropp'd
"just for fun." 

     Who once revered the brave of 

Valley Forge 

now cringe before the madness 

of "King Gorge."

Howard Zinn Wants To Know

"Make America Great Again," 

says Don. 

He then repeats it -- on and on...

...and on. 

He claims he'll make America great 

once more. 

But when exactly was it great 

before...? 

     When it 

55 million First Peoples 

destroy'd...? 

When free 

labor of millions of slaves it enjoy'd...? 

When of 

for-profit prisons it master'd 

the art...? 

When in 

war profiteering it gayly 

took part...?

     (more to come)

The V.A.P. (The Very Agéd Parent)

Indeed, I am the V.A.P. 
I recently turn'd 83.
In hearing class, I scor'd an F. 
Without this pair of aids I'm deaf. 
   Oh, I'm the Agéd P, for sure. 
For ills I've got they've found no cure. 
Although, as optimists have said, 
most Agéds at my age are dead. 

   So: Agéd-wise, what lies in store...? 

Shall I survive till 84...? 

I'll mind my Agéd Ps 'n' Qs 

and pay -- on time! -- my Agéd dues.

Trumporium; or, Defunct Donald's Relic Mart: A Sales Catalogue

Item #68 The Trump Tress

     4" long Steuben glass flute, 

with tiny cap T embossed at base, 

encased in 24-caret gold fittings 

and housing a single strand of 

Drumpf's signature locks. 

(Gold neck chain not included.) 

$1000.00 / 2 for $1500.00 

In CA and NY add 150% tarriff

Cash only / no returns 

Item #46 The Trump Tie

     1"-square fabric swatch clipped 

from Drumpf's signature lengthy red 

neckware, backed with 24-caret gold

safety pin and mounted on cushion 

of gold velour. Makes perfect patriotic MAGA lapel decor. 

$99.99 + $99.00 handling 

Hurry! Only 2 in stock

Item #103 The Trump Sharpie 

     Actual writing implement used by 

POTUS to correct faulty weather maps. 

$200.00 + all applicable sales taxes

Limit 25 per customer / Trump

desiccant pack sold separately 

Sprat Couples

     Verses to come 
Atalanta and Samantha Sprat
Maranatha and Mahatma Sprat
Jehosephat and Cadmus Sprat 
Cathy, Matt and Patty Sprat

More Sprats

Drat them Sprats! 
Take that, you Sprats!

The groom's call'd 

Mar-a-lago Fats. 

His bride's too slim -- 

so-o-o-o unlike him. 

The pair pull nonstop 

flam and flim. 

Both them Sprats 

love autocrats. 

Both them Sprats 

loathe democrats. 

To prove it, 

she sports golden spats,

while he dons 

nauseating hats. 

His kids...? Their mates, 

though callow brats, 

he feels will 

"make great diplomats." 

And when they're wrestled 

to the mats 

and wind up flattened 

on their prats, 

they'll claim their counterparts 

were "bats,"

then yelp for help

from plutocrats.

My Maslow

     ...air...water...food...

I exhale none but air 

inhaled where...? Dans la mer.  

Plus I bottle fresh water 

in Perth. 
All the 'shrooms I consume 

only bloom in Khartoum.

(Oh, if only I'd known this 

from birth.) 

...more food...

I've had, yes, mix'd success 

with this old apple press. 

It provides me my cider 

and sauce. 

Plus these ground peas I find 

former slaves left behind. 

(Leaves me numb crumbs I stumble  

across.) 

     ...more food...

See my seashore tureen 

made with seaweed I glean...?

(I make salt by the seashore 

as well.)

And, like Winnie-the-Pooh, 

I crave honey. (Don't you...?) 

It's a fondness I don't care 

to quell. 

     ...supportive environment...

The mere smell of a rose 

casts a spell o'er my nose, 

as do odors of clovers and 

lilies. 

Likewise, jasmine and pine 

are great fav'rites of mine. 

(Scent of feet tends to mete me the 

willies.) 

     ...waste...

Full, I urinate south 

of the Amazon's mouth, 

so to irrigate forest and 

flora. 

Deeply buried my shit be

outside Chloride City.

(I can't seem to locate 

Gomorrah.) 

     ...sleep...

Ev'ry nighttime I sleep 

a full eight -- soundly, deep: 

nine's too many but seven's 

too few. 

Sure, I wish I slept more; 

waking life's such a chore. 

How to do so I haven't 

a clew. 

     ...clothes... 

All the clothing I sport's 

sewn from milk cartons (quarts),  

supplemented by trips to 

Goodwill. 

I refuse to wear shoes,

much preferring to choose, 

dusk till dawn, to sit, yawning...

but still. 

     ...shelter...

If unable to find 

a dry cave of some kind,

then I dwell in a shelter 

of hay. 

Or, like Disney's Three Pigs, 

I use twigs to build digs. 

(Sadly, neither keep grey wolves 

at bay.) 

     ...safety... 

Paranoia is not 

the disorder I've got: 

I experience reason'd 

suspicions. 

Which is why I proceed 

getting guns which I need -- 

not to mention defensive 

munitions. 

 

     (a work in progress)

Hierarchies: Materials for My Maslow

Air and breathing X

Water and urination X

Food, defication and waste X

Sleep X 

Clothing X

Shelter X

Environment X

Safety 

Security of Body 

Health 

Family 

Employment 

Resources 

Property toys necessities

     Love and Belonging 

Family 

Meaningful relationships 

Sense of Connection 

     Esteem 

Confidence 

Self esteem 

Respect 

Status 

Smell 

Sight 

Taste 

Hearing 

Touch 

Brain / memory

Books language

Films images

Theatre

Dance 

Music 

Plastic arts 

Exercise

Sports participation 

Hobbies 

Transparency; or, How Did We Read Him...? Let Us Count The Ways.

(At every appearance 

of the word 'read' in 

the verses below --

except the final one -- 

that word should be 

pronounced /red/.)

We read him 

like a failing New York Times 

best-selling book. 
     We read him 

like a bible. (Did he even 

take a look...?)

     We read him 

like a scientific treatise 

sans its math, 

     or a manual 

advising how one curbs 

psychotic wrath.

     We read him 

like a midnight tweetstorm 

listing all his hates. 

     We read him 

like the writs of pardon 

sign'd for MAGA mates. 

     We read him -- 

although he himself 

has never ever read. 

     Now, read him 

like an epitaph: "Hic jacet..." 

('Cuz he's dead.)

Laura Richards Redux

Last Friday, my rhinocerus 

encountered a philocerus. 

Or, rather, some philosopher 

confronted my rhinocepher. 

(I fear I've mispronounced each word, 

which makes my story sound absurd.)

In any case, my rhino's horn 

harpoon'd the poor philosophorn.

The more he tried to pull it out,

the louder scream'd philosophowt. 

Perhaps I'd best cut short this tale 

of rhinowort and philozale. 

Next time: 

The Octopus 

and the Pocketcomb

Jackels, Coyotes and Trumpotami

Each lifts a leg to take a whiz, 

thus marking stuff each claims is his. 

Each drops his drawers to take a pee.

(That's territoriality.) 

Each lowers trou to take a leak. 

Their wills leave nada to the meek. 

Each wags his weenie, zips his fly... 

...nor never stops to wonder why. 

Room For One More...? Eight Questions

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...? 

Should its foursome of founders

make space...?

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...? 

Would its granite withstand 

one more face...? 

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...? 

Should he soil 

that historical place...? 

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...?

Has the guy no shame  -- 

even a trace...?

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...? 

Would the move be approved 

by his base...? 

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...? 

Maybe Teddy or Abe 

he'd replace...?

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...? 

Should we scratch Tom or George, 

just in case...? 

Is there room on Mt. Rushmore 

for Donald...? 

Can the nation absorb 

more disgrace...? 

Boo Beyond Bunny; or, Jeer Your Own Super Bowl Half Time Entertainment

Attention, MAGA malcontents! 

Here's breaking news for you. 

To all who'd boo Bad Bunny,

here's a bunch more blokes to boo. 

It happens there's a raft of rappers 

waiting in the wings. 

You'll much prefer to jeer them, sir.

(What joy your hatred brings!)

Boo Awful Armadillo. 

Boo Beastly Bandicoot. 

Boo Clueless Capybara.
(Boo Disgusting Dog, to boot.) 

Boo Evil Earwig, Foul Flamingo,  

Ghastly Gekko. (Whew!)

Boo Horrible Hyena. 

(I'm not skipping Gruesome Gnu.) 

Boo Impossible Iguana. 
Boo Kitschy Kinkajou. 

(Were I to skip Jerkwater Jackel, 

what would be your view...?) 

Boo Lousy Lemur, Miserable 

Moose...and so it goes.

Boo No-good Narwhal -- he's the 

dude who sports that gnarly nose. 

Boo Outlaw Otter, Putrid Parrot,

Questionable Quail.

Boo Rotten Rodent, Sullied Snake...

...or is he still in jail...?

Boo Trashy Tadpole, 

Unrepentant Urchin, Vicious Vole.

Boo Wanton Wildebeest -- 

each craven creature lacks a soul. 

Boo Xenolithic Xoloitzcuitli, to be  sure. 

Boo Yellow Yak. 

Boo Z-grade Zack.

I'll NOT Kid Rock endure.

At Home with the Sprats

Drat! The Sprat! 
ErSprats 
Jack's children...? All brats. 
Minnesota Sprats 
Old Possom's Book 
   of Practical Sprats 
Polyunsaturated Sprats 
Sprätzle 

Sprata Morgana 
Spratboy Slim 
Sprate, a Coca- Cola product 

Spratfall 
Sprattipuffs and Thinnifers
Sprat's Domino 
Sprats in the Belfrey 
The Sprat in the Hat 
The Spratzenjammer Kids 
Tortilla Sprat 

White Wine Spratzer

Frivolousity! Or, POTUS the Perpetual Plaintive: An ABC of Defendants in Some Pending Drumpf-Filed Lawsuits

Drumpf sues. 

Drumpf's suing an ape 

who, array'd in a cape, 
tied Drumpf's hands 
to Drumpf's glans 
with electrical tape. 

   Drumpf's suing a bear 

who set fire to Drumpf's hair. 

(When did POTUS 

first notice...? 

"Don, Jr. would stare.")

Drumpf's suing a cow 

who concocted, somehow,

to add lint 

(just a hint) 

into Donald's Kung Pao. 

   Suing, too, a dugong

(though Drumpf knows this is wrong) 

who discuss'd 

with disgust 

how Drumpf's ties are too long. 

Drumpf sues. 

Drumpf's suing an eel 

who Drumpf deem'd 'no big deal' 

when it noted 

(then gloated): 

"Drumpf's hand's never healed." 

    Drumpf's suing a fox 

for the way that beast mocks 

Donald's weight 

and his gait --

how Drumpf back-'n'-forth rocks.

Drumpf's suing a gnu

and its fourth-estate crew 

for reporting  

Drumpf's snorting 

when napping. (It's true.)

     Drumpf's suing a hen 

for purloining a pen 

Donald used. 

(Don's accused 

it of pilfering ten.) 

Drumpf sues. 

Sues, as well, an iguana.

Says Don: "'Cuz I wanna  

deport 

that sad sort 

on a boat to Botswana."

   Drumpf's suing a joey 

for billions, although he 

claims roos 

post 'fake news' --

"...plus they're swishy 'n' showy."

Drumpf's suing these koi

who, once girl-child and boy, 

now prefer

'him' 'n' 'her.' 

(They so-o-o-o-o Donald annoy.)

   Drumpf's suing a lynx 

who insists Drumpf's shit stinks. 

"I've best words

and best turds" -- 

or so Dumpty Drumpf thinks. 

Drumpf sues. 

Drumpf's suing a moose. 

Donald's case, most abstruse, 

claims the beast, 

while deceased, 

voted...twice! "Fraud!! Abuse!!!"

   Drumpf's suing a newt -- 

a most frivolous suit. 

Cash or cheque...? 

What the heck...

just as long as there's loot.

Drumpf's suing these owls. 

When Drumpf spots 'em, he howls: 

"Scumbag birds!"

(Donald's words.) 

"Un-American fowls!"

   Drumpf's suing a parrot.

Drumpf's suit's without merit. 

Drumpf heard 

that the bird 

hates Drumpf's hair: just can't bear it. 

Drumpf sues. 

Drumpf's suing a quail, 

wants to lock her in jail. 

Donald's ICE 

nick'd her...twice, 

but we help'd her make bail.

   Drumpf's suing a rat 

for its tweet "Drumpf's Too Fat!" 

Likes...? It got 

quite a lot -- 

more than Drumpf's tweets begat.

Drumpf's suing a snake, 

though there's little at stake: 

The snake stared; 

Don got scared... 

(The whole case is opaque.)

     Drumpf's suing a tern 

and its second wife, Fern. 

Judge got piss'd: 

case dismissed!

Live 'n' learn. Live 'n' learn. 

Drumpf sues. 

Drumpf's suing an urchin 

arrested while perchin' 

atop 

Drumpf's pro shop. 

For lost balls it was searchin.'

   Drumpf's suing a vole; 

claims the animal stole 

votes by mail. 

Verdict...? Jail 

In some foreign black hole.

Drumpf's suing these whales.

But my 1-to-10 scales 

say the odds 

are their pods 

will make sure the suit fails.

    Drumpf's suing a xyst, 

though his lawyers insist 

that Drumpf's suit's

all but moot, 

as Drumpf's xysts don't exist. 

Drumpf sues. 

Drumpf is suing these yaks 

for their rampant attacks 

on the lunches 

Drumpf munches -- 

Drumpf's fries 'n' Big Macs.

   Drumpf will sue the whole zoo --

which includes me 'n' you 

who dislike 

Drumpf's whole Reich. 

(And, Drumpf notes, we vote blue... 

...so he'll sue.)

Uly Poe Channels Pearl Buck ; or, Coming In On A Wang Lung And A Prayer

There'll dawn one day 

I'll not ignore, 
like none the world's 
e'er seen before. 
'Twill shake the world

unto its core: 
that day the Donald 
breathes no more. 

His mind will've slither'd 

'round the bend. 

No nightly nonsense tweets 

he'll send

nor longer will 

the Trump name trend 

as MAGAmundi

nears its end. 

The sun will rise 

in rose array. 

And I will rise

(as is my way)

to pray what ev'ry 

dawn I pray: 

"Today's the day...?

Today's the day!" 

Look Who's Talking: A Prose Poem in Four Brief Scenes

Exterior. A dusky wood. Night. 
Middle-aged writer Dante Alighieri 

avoids a trio of hungry beasts with 

aid from the Roman poet Virgil. The 

pair argue back and forth as the 

author of the Aeneid finally concedes:

"Let me, let me...oh, alright, then: 

YOU tell it." 

Exterior. A river bank. Day. 

Teenage runaway Huckleberry Finn 

eases a small raft into the swift 

current with the aid of fellow fugitive 

Jim, an adult Negro. The pair argue 

back and forth as Miss Watson's field 

hand finally concedes:

"Let me, let me...oh, alright, then: 

YOU tell it." 

Interior. The Spouter Inn. Dusk. 

A motley collection of seafarers

surrounds a small table at which 

novice harpoonist Ishmael sits 

opposite an enormous white sperm 

whale. The pair argue back and forth 

as the gigantic leviathan finally 

concedes:

"Let me, let me...oh, alright, then: 

YOU tell it." 

Interior. An upper room. Suppertime. 

Hebrew preacher Jesus of Nazereth 

celebrates a Passover meal with his 

disciples, including future evangelist 

Luke. The pair argue back and forth 

as the Son of God finally concedes:

"Let me, let me...oh, alright, then: 

YOU tell it."

In the Spirit of the Sprats

         (0)

     The Archetype:

      Mother Goose's 

      Jack Sprat 

      & His Wife 

Jack Sprat 
could eat no fat.
His wife*
could eat no lean. 
   And so, betwixt

the two of 'em, 
they lick'd the platter
clean. 

     *In some sources, Jull; 

      in others, Jill.

     The Knockoffs: 

     Nine Songs 

     (Including Their Subjects' 

     Authors & Sources)

     in the Spirit of the Sprats.

          (Explanatory Notes -- 

          Where Deemed Necessary -- 

          Will Be Forthcoming.)

          (1) 

     The Laughing Buddha 

     & the Fasting Buddha 

The Fasting Buddha 

lasts on, you'd-a 

thought, one grain 

of rice.*

   The Laughing Buddha 

binges food. A

virtue...? 

Or a vice...? 

     *This tale, in which Gautama 

survives each day of a fast on but 

a single grain of rice, appears in 

several Indian sources, including 

the Pali Canon. 

          (2) 

     Edwin Abbott Abbott's

     A Line Segment

     & A Sphere 

     (From "Flatland")

Dimensions...? One 

(one's next to none!) 

each "Flatland" Line

has got, 

   whereas each Sphere 

boasts three, we hear -- 

which makes 'em 

tough to spot.* 

     *In each moment it passes 

through a world of two dimensions, 

the three-dimensional sphere 

appears as one or another circular 

section of itself.

          (3) 

     E.C. Segar's 

     Olive Oyl 

     & Bluto 

     (From "Thimble Theatre") 

 

No zaftig goil, 

our Olive Oyl: 

she's trying 

Oprah's diet. 

   Should Bluto choose 

some pounds to lose...? 

Indeed! He needs 

to try it.

          (4) 

     Jackie Gleason's 

     Ralph Kramden 

     & Ed Norton 

     (From "The Honeymooners") 

He drives a bus -- 

Ralph Kramden does. 

Long sitting 

leaves him fat, 

   while Norton's slim. 

What's up with him...? 

No perchin' 

on his prat.

          (5) 

     Hal Roach's 

     Stanley Laurel 

     & Oliver Norville Hardy 

     (From "Way Out West" et al.) 

Mr. Hardy 

(nicknamed "Lardy"): 

broad of butt 

and bust, 

  while breeze, tho' soft, 

lifts Stan aloft -- 

albeit just 

a gust.

          (6)

     Miguel de Cervantes's 

     Don Quixote 

     & Sancho Panza 

Slim horse, slim rider, 

neither wider 

than Quixote's 

lance, 

   whereas Don's chum's

so plump of bum 

he's cursed: 

he'll burst his pants.

          (7) 

     Washington Irving's 

     Ichabod Crane 

     & Baltus Van Tassel 

     (From "The Legend 

     of Sleepy Hollow")

A stick, a rod:

that's Ichabod, 

who scorns 

the dinner bell. 

   Von Tassel, though, 

devours fried dough. 

(Resembles it 

as well.)

          (8) 

     Jean de Brunhoff's 

     Babar the Elephant 

     & the Rich Old Lady 

     (From "Histoire de Babar")

This thin old crone's

but skin 'n' bones, 

while Babar's 

plu-obese.

   That pachyderm 

grows fat 'n' firm 

by scarfin'

sans surcease. 

          (9) 

     Andre Maurois's 

     King Plumpapuff the Patapouf 

     & the King of the Filifers 

     (From "Patapoufs et Filifers")

King Plumpapuff 

can't get enough 

of eat et drink...

...et joie.

   The Filifer 

cries, "Non, monsieur! 

No Crêpes Suzettes 

pour moi."