Plays' 'For' Plays or A Stupundous ABBBCedarian's Delight -- from PlaysWellWithLetters

A's 'For A Faceful of Dolors.' 
Ad interim, B is ‘for Beto for verse.’
C...? C's ‘for cryin' -- nowt loud nor nowt terse.’
Meantime, D’s 'for Drumpf's fo(u)r-door'd Ford hearse.' 

E is ‘for "End Sick Pathology!"’
And, for now, F's 'fo(u)r fifths gin, fo(u)r fifths Jello.' 
G...? G's ‘forgetting that Carmelo's* yellow 
(for Herr J's** a jolly good fellow!).’

I's 'For it's one, two and three strikes: your routed!' 
while J is 'for Jon's son, the playwright.'
K forklifts forks from the road (makes 'em lay right),' 
and L is ‘for love lost in daylight.’

M is ‘for me, my RC ‘n’ my gal.’
N's ‘for nuns: they are none of the'bove.’ 
O...? O's ‘for once in your life lettuce love.’
Meanwhile, P's ‘for Pete's sake, Guv, don't shove!’

Q is 'For Queen 'n' for Qountry!' 
R is 'for "Rent, sailor! Lease!"'
S is ‘For such is the King Dome of heaven.’*** 
(Shh-h-h-h! T's 'for the secret police.') 

U is ‘For unto us chill'd wrens are born.’
V is 'for very low cost.' 
W's 'For Whom the Bell Tolls. ('Tain't for Frost.)' 
X is 'for Xenofrost, gloss’d.'

Y...? Y's ‘for your ice, a loan.’
Whereas Z is 'Del (Forza) Destino.'
(& is 'for ampersand, naturellino…'
and my last denoumentarino.) 

     * NBA all stars Carmelo Anthony and Julius 
Erving are referenced with Dr. J, misidentified 
here as Herr J  -- see footnote below. 
    ** Not to be confused with Tintin's father 
Herge but referring instead to the personage 
encountered in the stanza following. 
       *** Some critics note a failure of form here, 
while the author considers it the clinamen that 
proves it's cool.

Alliteratively Amplified Magic A-to-Z Ball Answers (Questions Optional)

Q:________________________________________________________?
A: Ask again anon, Aristotle: all answers, as always, are awry and askew.

Q:______________________________________________________________?
A: Before blatantly beginning bothersome badgering, Boethius, better bow briefly. 

Q: __________________________________________________________?
A: Candidly, conditions continue cloudy. Copernicus can’t currently comment.

Q:___________________________________________________________________________?
A: Dubiosity’s definitely done, dispelled! (Does Dr. Descartes doubt? Dammit, Doc! Don't! Dig...?!)

Q: ___________________________________________________________?
A: Enfin, Einstein, energy’s erratic. Every easy explanation ends enigmatically.

Q: ____________________________________________________________________?
A: ‘Fraid frequency’s failing, Fridugisus. Follow-up forthwith -- Friday fortnight, f‘rinstance.

Q: ________________________________________________________?
A: Generally, Galileo, generating gross grilling gets guys' gonads gainsaid.

Q:_____________________________________________________________________________?
A: Holy ho-hum, Herr Heidegger -- haven't honestly heard. (However, heckling hardly helps, huh…?)

Q: _____________________________________________________?
A: Input’s inferior, Isidore. Its interpretation is, I imagine, incomplete.

Q: _________________________________?
A: Jabberwocky’s just jargon, Junger…jamais!

Q: ____________________________ ?
A: Kindly, Kierkegaard, kill kinky koans.

Q: ______________________________________?
A: Ludicrous, Leibniz! Let’s (like) liaise later, laddie.

Q:______________________________________________________________?
A: Merlin...? Maybe Monday. Meantime, Mr. Moue, mark my mouth: “Moo-oo-oot!”

Q:____________________________________________________________________________?
A: Nope. Not now, Nostradamus. Nearer noon…? Nyet! Next November…? Nein! Numquam! (Never!)

Q: ___________________________________?
A: Oracles…? Obscure, Origen. Omens…? Outre.

Q: ________________________________________?
A: Please, Plato: pray put philosophical posers politely.

Q: ____________________________________________________?
A: Quiet, Quine! Quit querying! Quash queer questions qua quarrels.

Q: _________________________________________?
A: Request roundly rejected, Rousseau. (Right! Really!)

Q: ______________________________________?
A: Sorry, Socrates. Should’a said somethin’ sooner.

Q: ____________________________________________?
A: ‘Tis truly tough to tell, Teilhard. Try this time tomorrow.

Q: ___________________________?
A: Unanswerable, Unamuno…unless…

Q: __________________________?
A: View’s vague, Vico…very! Va-t’en!

Q: ________________________________?
A: Well would we wonder why, Wittgenstein.

Q: __________________________?
A: Xenophon…? Xeno-…XII...XI...X...

Q: _______________________________________________________?
A: Yesterday's yammering, Yockey, yields you your yearned-for “Yessir!s”

Q: ___________________________________?
A: Zeno…? Zeno?! Zzzzzz…zzzz…zz…z...zz...z...

Sonnets from the Porch (For Geese)

I. From “Oh, Hell, Dolly!”

The quality of mercy is not strain’d:
your doll's left knee must surely, Miss, be drain’d,
lest Dolly live to joint discomfort chain’d.

II. From “Christopher Rodney King Saying His Prayers”

Friends, Romans, countrymen: lend me your ears!

I'm loath to shun thee, then tend Eeyore's tears:
Pooh’s, too…? Can't we just get along, my dears…?

III. From “Bill (Not Tell) Mispells 'Marcel’”

Buff'lo Bill's defunct, who used to ride...

"Enough!" goes Will; he thrusts his Proust aside.
"Not Dr. J.,* Marsell (sic): Mr. Hyde!"    

     * Refers to Henry Jekyll not the NBA’s Julius Erving

IV. From “The Accident-Prone Tourist”

Midway on the journey of our life...

skid -- a wrong right turn – and shove your wife,
whose gams they’ll give a gurney. (Troubl'n' strife!)

V. From “Missin’ ‘im A’ready”

Now I lay me down to sleep: I pray,

somehow, some way around this creep I may
detour, and -- dammit! – ditch this dweeb, okay…?

VI. From “Recess or Recession…?”

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita.

Huge debts…? Oh, well: I'm into Kraft Velveeta, 
whose pleth'ra plumps both pockets of my pita.

VII. From “Autumn Hazing”

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower,

of course, with blue-green genes, arrives quite sour.
(Good Lord! Such gunk grows grues'mer by the hour.

VIII. From “‘I's Dead!’ Zone”

It is the bes’ of times; it is the worst...

my biz be: mess with rhymes.It’s dis 'head' first --
then 'ped-', then ‘bread,' then ‘thread,' 'then wed'... (I’m curs’d!)

IX. From “November Song”

Sing, goddess, of Achilles' ru'nous wrath.

"Cape Cod has, Love, grown chilly: do the math!
Hull hath no heat; the Heath, however, hath."

X. From “Gee! O. D., Dammit!”

Because I could not stop for Death, he kind-

ly does. Why should I drop the meth I find…? 
Fee, fie! My fix…? Unfound. Fuck! What a bind!

XI. From “The Raven & the ProdiGuy”

Upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered,
my son -- damn kid! – right here my pile he squander’d.
(Though blitz'd by boys before, till now, not Donder'd.)

XII. From "Leave 'E(l)m Alone!"

Though much I've travell’d in the realms of gold,
as such, I have not shimmird elms this old.
(Dutch Elm Disease...? I wish I'd not been told.)

XIII. From “Semi-Sonnets For Seniors, Verse 90”

Gather rosebuds while ye may, Old Timer!
Her wrath, thou knows, is vile. Ye'd play the rhymer
but dis the Muse: indeed, ye'd nickl' ‘n' dime 'er.

XIV. From “Same Again!”

Do not go gentle into that good night...?

You've got to. An', when gin's this flat, you're right
to've skipp’d the black ‘n’ tans: pour Black & White!

XV. From “Hughie The Hun & The Menagerie”

If you can keep your head when all about you

keep toucans, sheep, rye bread, a mawl...then shout, Hugh...!
(We'd hoped to hear much more from you -- you kraut, you.)

XVI. From “A Magus Among Us”

I must go down to lonely seas again,

nor trust no clown who'll only sneeze (cayenne!) 
whilst foolin' with his foam-fill’d fountain pen.

XVII. From “The Ballade Of Long Lizzie”*

To be or not to be: that be the quest...

Who's she…? Our hottest B-girl -- Liz: the best...! 
Cures common colds, catarrhs...she'll rub your ████ chest! 

     * One of Jack the Rippers canonical five victims. For more

on Liz, cf. "One for the Ripper" below.

XVIII. From “Peegiad, Canto LIX”

Onward half a league, on half a league... Our

swan's (don't laugh) intrigue; our calf's fatigue...
...show'r God's felicidad 'pon Señor Peeg.* 

     * Senor Beeg Peeg, that is, porcine CEO of Hogmalion.com

XIX. From “Wing One For The Ripper”

Is this a dagger which I see before me…? 
I'll "kiss" each hag or witch, banshee or whore -- me,
vile Stride* -- with such a shiv! Who'd dare ignore me…?

     * Elizabeth, one of Jack the Ripper's canonical five victims. 
If it's true she received her nickname "Long Liz" due to her 
height, then it's likely the appellation 'wee' should be heard 
as ironic. For more on Elizabeth, cf. "The Ballad of Long 
Lizzie" above. 

XX. From “Burn, Bubbeh, Burn!”

Whose woods these are I think I know. Her house (side porch),

her goods, her car (a pink Toyota) dowse, then torch 
I would -- with gas I'd burn the lot. (The louse!) Such scorch!

XXI. From “Scarlett's Pimp…? Or Nell's…?”

The quality of mercy is not strain’d...

So, Doll: Let's see yer purse. Mein Gott! 'Tis stain’d...
Yo’ nylons...? To’n! Yo’ 'ho' expression's pain’d!

XXII. From “Gnutopia”

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a state

of panda, cuckoo, gnu and swan create.
(Whose pad's in Silver Spring can well relate.)

XXIII. From “Quiet, Basquiat!”

I saw the best minds of my generation

guffaw as, bless’d with gloves (size ten) and Haitian
snuff boxes, they left my island nation.

XXIV. From “Clothes Whores”

O do you know the muffin man…? In muf-

ti new -- behold! -- Sir Muffin pans such stuff -- 
whilst Madame Muffin just can't get enough.

XXV. From "The Last Letter" 

Let's go then, you and I, when evening's spread.

An O, then U 'n' I, then E. A...? Dead!

When butch'ring vowels, they target first the head.

(a work in progress)

Gonna take a sentimental journey...

Be aware. Stay soft and round. Let go...

Nothing could be finer than to be...

Let's go then, you and I, when evening's spread...

Tommy, Tom the piper's son; he stole...

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved...

Mary, Mary, quite contrary; how...

Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for am-...

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day...?

On either side the river lie long fields...

Of man's first disobed'ence, and the fruit...

I will arise and go to Innisfree...

Drink to me, but only with thine eyes...

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day...

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone...

Had we but world enough, and time, coy la-...

All hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou weren't...

I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats...

Tyger! Tyger! Tyger burning bright...

The boy stood on the burning deck; his feet...

The White Stuff...?

White Album...? Beatles’ escapade.
White belt...? Karate, freshman grade.
White Castle...? Burgers bought by bag.
White dwarf...? Small star whose heat will flag.
White elephant...? Beware of mauling.
White Fang...? Is that Jack's Wild a-calling…?
White gold...? Contains trace manganese.
White House...? Kid Drumpf now keeps the keys.
White ink...? Signs onion skin…? Bizarre!
White joke...? “Three darkies hit a bar…”
White knight...? His song’s called “Ways and Means.”
White lies...? When KKK convenes.
White Man’s...? That Burden’s best laid down.
White noise...? (Comes, too, in pink and brown).
Wite-Out...? ‘Wite’ holds one letter less.
White pages...? List they your address…?
White Queen...? In Carroll and in chess.
White Rhino...? Ganja, more or less.
Black Sox...? ’19, Comiskey Park.
White tiger...? Threaten’d. (Think ‘white shark.’)
White unicorn...? A mythic beast.
White Velvet (cake)...? Take two pans, greased…
Whitewater...? Nearly sunk Slick Will’…
White xenia...? A coral frill.
White yam...? It’s class'd D. rotundata.
White Zinfandel…? Rosé…? Nope! Not a…

Doggerel Days or Calendar Caliente for August 2019, the Hottest August on Record

     (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 
starts 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'... 
("Some 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)
The USA'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, 
my Ode De Hot...?

   (8/30)
It's hot! So what...?
There's simply "not-“
-thing 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.)

Dump D. Drumpf!

First written in September of 2016 but pertinent all over again

Dump D. Drumpf!
He spat out great gall. 
Dump D. Drumpf!
He shat on us all.
Are Republicans on some
hallucinogen…? 
Will conservative voters
snap out of it…? When…?

Dump D. Drumpf!
His widget's a wall. 
Dump D. Drumpf!
His digits are small. 
He mixes the Kool-Aid
supramicists drink. 
(And what must 
the global community think…?)

Dump D. Drumpf!
Do it now! Do not stall! 
'Twill prove fatal to wait
until late in the Fall: 
He's down with endorsements
from Duke and the Klan. 
So: why does he give the green light…?
'Cuz he can.

Don't Stalk! or The Second-to-Last Resort

If door-bust deal you hope to steal,
best practice: Run...don't walk! 
If neighbor's gate you'd "decorate,"
spray aerosols...don't chalk!
If names you'd slur which end in '-ner,'
shout ‘Hef’! Shout ‘Shat’! Don't ‘Faulk’! 
If Don the Drumpf you wish to dump,
just vote him out! (Don't stalk!) 

To batters who you'd shout "Skiddoo!"
just pitch the ball...don't balk!
If Tonys you would peer review,
vet Blair! Quiz Quinn...don’t “Hawk”!
If Donald's fro you'd overthrow,
to do it, bro, don't talk!
In short, if Drumpt you'd really dump,
just vote him out. (Don't stalk!)

Annus Terribilis or 2017: His First Year in Office

Spawn’d down some dank
Janitorial drain,
embolden’d by bogeymen
Febrile and jumpy,
besmirch’d by the
Marks of the murderer Cain, 
he howls to who'll hear:
"Apres moi, l'Oncle Grumpy."* 
Fowl fluids -- bilge,
Mayonnaise -- flow from twinn’d heads.
To Darwinian laws of the
Jungle he hews
as opponents he
Juliennes, minces 'n' shreds.
His ascendency
Augurs an age of fake news.
It’s severe civil
Sepsis I'm worried about.
Still, should dirges in
Octaves be suffer’d to swell...?
Wa-a-a-a-ay too late for
Novenas; our time's running out:
Ple-e-e-ease! Abort this in-
Decent descent into hell.
     * Though the identity of l’Oncle Grumpy 
remains a mystery, VP Mike Pence seems
the likeliest candidate to assume it.

Five Ws & an H

     “Who do
you few eschew,” muses
Brian Boru. “
     Can one
pander to Gandhi, not
Pandit Nehru…?”

   “What a
slut…so much smut! Nut case --
open-and-shut,” 
     ‘tut!’s Judge
Jeff to Judge Mutt. “But...she
sure does strut, what!”

   “When zen'd
men again pen 'em like
Jean La Fontaine's,” 
     ventures
Alfred Lord Tenn-, “...then I'll 
tender ‘Amen!’s”

     “Where-so-
e’er, fair-haired br’er,” declares
Robespierre,” 
     we dare
bare les derr'erres, we’ll peel
‘ready-to-wear’!”

     “Why de-
cry my dry eye…?” sighs a
fly Buddy Guy, 
     when men
libel his tie. “No vox
populi, I.”

     “How’ll I
“Ciao!” Kung Pao Cow…?” howls a
foul Chairman Mao 
     as a
scowl prowls his brow and he
zips down his trou-. 
     "What al-
lows the Great Tao: a kow-
tow…? Or a bow, 
     now I’ve
left it to Beaver…? What
ails Tony Dow…?”