Doin' the Aspirational Spellcheck Shimmy

Whence heroes of yore,
like The Right Stuff's Chuck Yigger…?
Who cheers as the U.S.
files climate's hair trigger…?
Why praise for the Christian
but raze for the Uigher…?
Amer'ca!
(At least we no longer say 'xigger.')

Who black-listed Zero Mostel
and Pete Sigger…? 
Who back’d Michelle Bachman…?
Who blog’d "How we dig ‘er!"…?
Who’s cast bags of 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 guzzling
wa-a-a-ay too much ligger…? 
Who claims that the Drumpf 
has no need of a wigger…? 
Amer'ca!
(At least we no longer say 'djigger.')

On steroids, Team USA's cyclists 
proved quigger -- 
though doping'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 bans marijuana
but puffs a big cigger...?
Who boozes by gallon
and never jigger…?
Who flaunts G. I. Joe, 
dissing Eeyore and Tigger…?
Amer'ca!
(At least we no longer say 'thmigger.')

Who "pooh!"s Mendel's pea plants
but still calls him 'Grigger'…?
Thinks H'waii'ns by spaceship came,
not by out-rigger…?
And who doesn’t think
that the Drumpf's an Intriguer…?
Amer'ca!
(At least we no longer say 'houyigger.')

Who digs 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: they've been bought; 
they're not zaggers or ziggers.
Amer'ca!
(At least we no longer say 'tschiggers.')

Extr'ordin'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! 
(High time we no longer said 'mniggers.')

The Execution of the Executive or There Will Be B***d

"Extend your weapon. Draw a
bead.
For justice long denied you'd
bid."
Thus Fortune, in a dream, me
bade.

"He must not live to die in
bed,
who architects so beaucoup
bad.
Injustice must no longer
bide.

A thousand dimples to his
bod
you'll introduce with shot of
bird.
Pretend you're Hoppy (William
Boyd.)"

So spoke Dame Fortune, brazen
bawd.
"You be da trigger, -sman (Om-
bud-),
and do as my predictions 
bode."

Baboom! Baboom! Baboom! Ba-
boom!
Baboom! Baboom! Baboom! Ba-
boom!
Baboom! Baboom! (Nor no one
boo'd.)

A Trio of Tinkertings with Tara in Dactyls or Munnerlyn on My Mind

Gone with the
Wind! Who’s a
mav’rick may
find it pro-
nounced by some
bumpkins as
‘Gone with the
Wynde’ -- as the
phrase is, in
Cole’s Kiss Me
Kate (though there’s
data to
show that show’s
heard mispro-
nounced ‘Kiss Me
Kayta.’)

Perfect per-

formance as
Scarlett by
Vivien
prompts the A-
cademy’s
members to
give V an
Oscar. (In
whiche’er flick
Leigh’s next en-
deavor be,
ought she cry,
“Hungry a-
gain I will
never be!”…?)

Diss’d as a

harlot by
Pinkerton
(varlet!), this
missy play’d
Prissy to
Vivien’s
Scarlett. (This
riddle’s a
riff on one
Thelma, a
starlet who
said of re-
ligion, “Moi…?
Je ne pas
parle it.”)*

     * Referenced is 
Thelma McQueen,

actress and lifelong 
atheist.)

Twigments of My Imagination: Pairs of Alphabet Letters Provide Alliteratively Constrained Environments in Which Celebrities Dare to Dream

AA: Renaissance Art notable dreams of working in the altogether.

Allied 'A's address Titian's 
absurd apparitions. 

Tish dreams (wishes, seems) 
to wave all inhibitions.

BB: Baseball's Berra dreams of visiting the Old Country. But whose...? 

Both 'B's be 'bout Yogi's 
bewildering bogies. 

This game Hall-of-Famer's 
abstaining from hoagies. 
(Indeed, Yogi's feed 
comes from plated pierogies!)

CC: Angel (ret’d, Charley-type) dreams of failing to nix a gambling jinx.

Coupled 'C's conjure Farrah's 
cock'mamie chimeras. 

Ms. Fawcett, mit jaw set, 
hurls snake eyes at Harrah's.

DD: Powerful dream persuades this Capp hottie she's still a looker. 

Duple 'D's display Moonbeam's 
delusional daydreams. 

"Still fine," mulls McSwine. 
"Mine ain't needin' Olay creams."

EE: Poor Bo dreams of future unemployment, envisioning only eternal umbrage.

Echoed 'E's earmark Derek's 
eccentric etherics. 
Both show broad-boob'd Bo 
giving vent to hysterics.

FF: Infamous foreign agent Hari dreams of heading south of the border.

Fellow 'F's finger Mata's 
full-farcical fatas,

wherein (note her grin!) 
wry spies pummel piñatas.

GG: The uncle in the grisly "Addams Family" sit-com dreams of the confessional.

Gem'ni 'G's...? Glyphs for Fester – he's 
gross with grotesqueries:

all will appall. 
(He'll confess just the less scaries.)

HH: Motown cager Prince dreams of teaching Genealogy 101 at an all-white Detroit high school.

Four Half 'H's hold Tayshaun's 
hairbrain'd “h'llucinashauns.” 

This Piston's insistin,' 
"My sibs...? All ‘Alsashauns’!"

II: Idiot Veep dreams of continuing to suck eggs, goose-type.

Idem: 'I's index thick Dick's 
inane "idee fixe'd" (sic). 

Agreed: When VP'd, 
Cheney zero'd for six. (Sick!)

JJ: Calendar (Jalali-type) maven Omar dreams his poetry's roundly pooh-pooh'd.

Join'd 'J's...? Just O. Khayyam's 
joint jabberwock'd jimjams.

This Persian's "verse-'xcursions"...? 
Per'verse-'ical flim-flams!

KK: Creator of Khingachgook (sic) dreams of failing to employ spell check.

Kinn'd 'K's kindle Cooper's 
kookesque kama rupas. 

Jim's Pathfinder spellbinders...? 
Brimful of bloopers!

LL: Lahore sage dreams of delaying enlightenment for just one more evening.

Let 'L's limn Le Buddha's 
lightheaded laputas. 
Nirvana's anon. For now...? 
Lime-Jello shootahs!

MM: Married Massachusetts man dreams of scoring some illicit sex.

Matching 'M's max'mize Lodge's 
mind's muddl'd mirages. 

Hank Cabot's a Babbett 
ISO "massages." 

NN: Former Network TV doc dreams of chugging rubbing alcohol.

Neighb'rin' 'N's notate Kildare's 
nonsensical nightmares. 

The Doctor is crock'd, sir, 
thus subject to bugbears.

OO: Okuda creature, a Starship Captain, dreams of his Trek series living in reruns...forever.

One two 'O's...? Only Bakula's 
outré oraculas,

airin' Scott's darin' 
re: space-time spectacula's. 

PP: Political cartoonist dreams of getting his best ideas while dreaming.

Pair o' 'P's portrays T. Nast's 
preposterous phantasts. 
They'll fashion his passionate 
Tammany sarcasts.

QQ: 155-mph quick-service ace Andy dreams of illegal drug use.

Queu'd up 'Q's cue A. Roddick's 
"quite qwazy" quixotics. 
So fast we're aghast. 
(Is Rodd usin' narcotics...?)

RR: Toys 'R' Us icon dreams of putting 'base' back in 'customer base.'

Rhymin' 'R's relate Geoffrey's 
rude, radical rev'ries. 

This mascot shows tots 
lots of noir sides Mom ne'er sees!

SS: Cannibal's sado-dream exposes his criminality as largely genetic.

Sim'lar 'S's show Lector's 
sick, stark-ravin' spectres. 
As Hannibal's Nana scrawls: 
"I ♥ dissectors!"

TT: Tour cyclist dreams of enjoying scenic French views.

Two twin'd 'T's trace Sir Lance's 
(tsk tsk!) tomfool trances. 

Our star's worst bete noir’s 
when his next Tour de France is.

UU: Overstuff'd and underfoot Pillsbury mascot fails to curb his ravenous appetite.

Un'form 'U's unveil Doughboy 
in unhinged Utopoi. 

His dream...? Clotted cream...
atop tow'ring gâteau, boy!

VV: Hollywood (and vane) icon Walter weighs the politics of his career-long type casting.

Vis-a-'V's...? Views of Pidgeon's 
vertiginous visions. 

Each movie's to prove he 
won't play Dionysians.

WW: Rudyard's white-man's-burden creation dreams of a primate chorale.

Wedded 'W's wield Kim's 
wild- (-'n'-woolly) -eyed whims

showin' Jungle Guy humm'd to by 
chimps chantin' hymns.

XX: This Caesar, in X-rated dream, dons colorful and pricey designer underwear.

Extra 'X's [x]* Galba's 
xiphoidal xibalbas. 

He fancies he dances 
in dark Marc Chagall bras! 

     * Pronounced 'ex,' as is said when one’s ticking a box. 

YY: Charlemagne's youngish mistress dreams of being sweet-talked...again!

Yikes! Yok'd 'Y's yield up Himiltrude's 
yammerin' yakshatudes,

pha'sms where Chas hums 
flat medieval platitudes. 

ZZ: Ms. Pitts dreams of Oscar's Ernest's mom's dream of...(are you following all this...?)

Zwei 'Z's...? Zut! Don't miss 'em! 
Z-z-zaSu's "zombnamb'lisms"

nail Wilde's prim Miss Prism 
in wild Freudi'nisms!

Unplumb'd Menagerie or Don't Know Much About Biology

My sense of the Awhl remains "awhl"fully small.
What is known of the Brylle is, by all accounts, nil.

Me re the Clampoo...? Clueless (i.e., no clue). 
Daily probes of the Droone...? Discontinued last June.

Concerning the Ehrd one hears barely a word.
R&D on the Flopt...? Ex officio: stopp’d.

Shall I shelter a Glannz...? Though I should, I've no plans.
Once endanger’d, the Hyst now's been scratch’d from that list. 

The Ilkh has no ears. (Heaven knows how it hears.)
Sure, I pooh-pooh’d the Jang...once the Fat Lady sang.

This Klangel was born on my voy'ge 'round the Horn.
The Lhugee survives by ingesting its wives.

Asked to mother the Mahnks, I balk'd: "Thanks but no thanks."
How uniquel is the Nyuk...? It’s half dog and half duck.

People visit an Ong – but they don't tarry long. 
It's reported the Phryffe lives in fear for its life.

Have I seen a Qabaz...? Don't talk rot: no one has!
Tweets and blogs 'bout the Rholld...? Evidently on hold.

A life of the Schtook fills one very small book.
One knack of the Tyghte is to hide in plain sight.

The last living Uewe died in 2002.
Yes, the Vardavalette proves a petulant pet.

The Warg "went extinct" once folks noticed it slinked.
The Xanthano can catch the Gingerbread Man. 

This Yergaroo pair intermingles its hair.
The word is: the Zhazent would love to...but doesn't.

'-Ling' Weenies

Aetheling:
heir to a king (not a queen).
Brisling:
a sprat cann'd in oil -- a sardine.

Carling:

Canadian black-label'd beer.
Darling:
my sweetie. (Though meaty, mine’s dear.)

Ealing:

where Mick meets his Rolling Stones mates.
Foundlings:
wee bairns left at rectory gates.

Groundlings:

“the stinkards” who stand in “the yard”
once referr'd to in “Hamlet,” 
as penn’d by “The Bard.”

Howling:

where Cold Comfort Farm sits enisled.
Inkling:
stands drinks at the Eagle and Child.

Jing’ling:
in Anderson’s “Sleigh Ride,” this lyric, 
once heard as nostalgic, 
now's mere atmospheric.

Keelhauling:

punishment meted to tar.
Ling Ling:
“A panda walks into a bar…”

Mayerling:

Rudolph shoots Mary Vetsera.
Nursling:
housed monks in a medieval era.

Ogling:

to stare where her breasts form a V.
Pauling:
proponent of Vitamin C.

Quisling:

his nose turn'd a tattletale brown.
Ringling:
the circus is coming to town!

Shandling:

did stand-up. (I never scor'd tickets.)
Ting-a-Ling:
cover'd by Clovers and Crickets.

Underling:

status – the least in the place.
Veiling:
a fabric of gauze or fine lace.

Whaling:

what Queequeg and Ahab and Ish-
mael slaved at while trailing 
a largish white fish.

Xest Ling:

for milling and drilling. (Who knew?)
Yuengling:
America’s family brew.

Zetterling:

resolute...? Always! Not shy –
with her “act-ling,” “direct-ling” and “lov-ling…” 
(Oh, Mai!)

But now I shan’t linger, 
lest babbling ensue:
lingonberries, linguistics, linguines: 
-lings…nu?

McTraitor Traits

Moscow Mitch. Oh, Moscow Mitch.
Why mime you Mother Russia’s bitch?
A puppet-pawn of pink-putz'd guys?
A pol in thrall to Putin’s pitch?

Who motivates you, Moscow Mitch,

to Duma dig? To demos ditch?
To plump for projects penny-wise
and dollar-wise (and ruble-rich!)?

What stimulates you, Moscow Mitch,

the Congress’s mandated niche
(Prez oversight) to char’cterize
as hoax, as huntings of the witch?

What pow’r's allow'd you, Moscow Mitch,

to scratch your monetary itch?
Who lets you, late, “aluminize”
your state, McConnovonovich?

(More treason to follow: a work in progress)

A Rabbi, A Priest and a Kangaroo Walk Into a Bar: Vocallically Constrained Variations

Kanga, Roo and a bear living under the name of Sanders 
walk into a bar...

An eastern grey named Ken G. Aroostook 
walks into a bar…

A western grey arrested for plucking a rooster* 
walks into a bar…

King Kong, a room freshener salesman and an antilopine 
walk into a bar…

Hans Küng, a roofing sales rep/part-time mohel and a mallee 
walk into a bar…
A rubber ducky, NGA rooftop marksman Uly Poe and a wallaby 
walk into a bar...
     * Not to be confused with Jack Kent's 
comic strip monarch King Aroo.

Passing: a Fancy

A Sikh and a sheik and a shaman
walk into Moe’s Tavern. “How common
is the Northern white rhino?”
asks Moe. “How should I know?”
the Sikh pleads with pique. “I’m no Brahmin.”

So Szyslak addresses the sheik.

“Is the white rhino scarce? What’s your take?”
“It’s well known that they are,”
states the sheik, “although fa-a-a-ar
more endangered’s the pink-headed drake.”

In the meantime, a consequence weird

prompts a shrug and a tug of my beard.
Both the Sikh and the sheik –
as is Moe, for Lord’s sake,
and his tavern: they’re all disappear’d.

I Get 'Em Confused

Barney Frank and Bernie Sanders.
One’s a crank and one meanders.
Both loathe drama – Shaw’s, Menender’s.
Bernie Frank and Barney Sanders.

Barnie Fracken; Burney Sand.

The one burns bright; the other’s bland.
And both (please don’t misunderstand)
are li’ble to get out of hand.

Sandor Frankel; Barnhard Burns.

One backs burial in urns
and plumps for stuff the other spurns.
Both would teach, though neither learns.

Sandy "Frank" Byrne, barberer --

in former life an arborer,
though now of thieves a harborer --
believes that sandstone's far from fur. 

Pebbles Flintstone; Edward Carnes.

One unravels; t’other darns –
and neither gathers into barns.
(But aren't you sick 'n' tired of yarns…?)

Hyram & Lowell

Hyram’s aceing a test. Lowell’s testing an ace.
He runs fliers he tries through a three-legged race.
Hyram’s booking the cooks. Lowell’s cooking the books
His report’s deem'd ill- (-egible, -egal) – by crooks!
Hyram’s counting the dogs. Lowell’s dogging the Count.
He tracks vampires and ghouls on his Lipizzan mount.

Hyram’s ducking a plane. Lowell’s planing a duck.

First he peels off its eider, bypassing the chuck.
Hyram ends with a bang. Lowell’s bang’d up the end
of a Volkswagen Beetle he bought off a friend.
Hyram’s flying the coop. Lowell coops up the flies
he extracts from an octogenarian’s eyes.

Hyram’s guarding the eggs. Lowell’s egging the guard

who requested his papers at new Scotland Yard.
Hyram’s holding the line. Lowell’s lining the hold
of his cheese-laden ship, thereby stemming the mould.
Hyram’s inking the press. Lowell’s pressing the ink.
His gall’s wrung from squashed octopi. (Why do you think?)

Hyram’s judging a paste. Lowell’s pasting a judge

with a nickel-filled condom. (He will hold a grudge.)
Hyram’s junking a post. Lowell’s posting his junk.
Look who’s liked him on Facebook! (The man is no monk.)
Hyram’s kneading the bread. Lowell’s breading his knee.
(He dusts elbows with cake crumbs as well. He’s too twee.)

Hyram’s leaving his post. Lowell’s posting his leaves,

fronds he mails to a pen pal for stems he receives.
Hyram’s milking the bees. Lowell’s “being the milk.”
(He admires Stanislavski and folk of that ilk.)
Hyram’s nursing his paw. Lowell’s pawing his nurse.
(Once she’s emptied his bed pan he’ll rifle her purse.)

Hyram orders the plaice. Lowell places an order

for heuvos rancheros at South o’ the Border.
Hyram’s pumping the iron. Lowell’s ironing the pump.
When sufficiently flat, it’s removed to the dump.
Hyram’s queering the deal. Lowell’s dealing the queer
nowt but deuces and treys. (Himself? Aces, I fear.)

Hyram’s running a race. Lowell’s racing the runs.

Will he get to the loo before soiling his buns?
Hyram’s salting a wound. Lowell’s wounding a salt –
jabbing jolly Jack Tar, though ‘twas nowt Jackie’s fault.
Hyram’s tying the knot. Lowell’s knotting the tie
he employs to destroy kittens. (Turn a blind eye!)

Hyram utters a note. Lowell’s noting an udder:

“Your sow’s teat’s too huge!” Lowell’s o’erheard to mutter.
Hyram’s voting for change. Lowell’s changing his vote.
He’s electing the train with a gravy-fill’d boat.
Hyram’s wining his date. Lowell’s dating his wine.

He pretends to pour Dom Perignon ’89.

Hyram x-rays the loo. Lowell loses the x-ray

revealing what dinosaur elbows and necks weigh.
Hyram’s yanking your chain. Lowell’s chaining your Yank.
(As to which state your Yank’s from I’m drawing a blank.)
Hyram zones through a play. Lowell plays through a zone.
(Once his dribble improves, he’ll be fa-a-a-ar better known.)