Teas: a Demi-tasse (A thru M)

     Breathe 
scant more cheerful, few'r as quick, 
none readier than me: 
     I eat fast 
food (who'd not ♥ Happy Meals!). 
I sip Alakra Tea.

     Art's 
Sandwich Shoppe...? I'd best not stop: 
no breakfast break for me. 
     Just 
shortcakes -- two -- wash'd down with 
demi-tasse of Brevah Tea.

     Ma's 
off her nut. Don't scoff: we but 
agree to disagree. 
     There is no 
reason why we two can't try 
lukewarm Çevilla Tea.

     The 
bitch what's in my kitchenette 
(a banjo on her knee): 
     she lip-syncs 
"Dinah," scarfing Dinah's s'mores* 
and downing Dinah's Tea.
     * Some mss show 'dinosaurs'; some, 
'Dinah's sores.' (One 'Dinah Shores.') Does 
each reveal a different but no less true 
nonsensiosity...? Of course, of course.

     Trade 
unions fought. 'Twas dearly bought, 
the tea-break...and the pee-. 
     ‘Taint 
wrong to ask, "How long a task 
to steep Etournah Tea...?"

     Steel'd 
rush-week frats wield cricket bats 
with such sadistic glee, 
     then ask which 
brother dumps how many lumps 
in whose Fra Turna Tea...?

     "Do 
bowels not move...? Brew Grahva, love," 
growls Arthur G to me. 
     Its 
pow'r's for real. Just drink: you'll feel 
the force of Grahva Tea.

     The 
joke about the priest, the rabbi 
and the manatee 
     is printed 
on each bag -- to view each time 
you brew  "Heil, Herr!” A Tea.

     Half-
lives of crime, from time to time, 
may've led to Reading G.* 
     What 
lands Brit pricks -- bang! -- in their nicks...? 
The kick...in Iqua Tea. 
     Be 
Jon** some modish son of god, 
some neo-deity...? 
     His drinkin's 
pass'd the stinkin' stage: 
wa-a-a-a-ay too much Jove E. Allah Tea.
     * Reading Gaol, the period Brit nick.
     ** Jon Bon Jove E Allah, perhaps...?

     Doin' 
martial sports of sundry sorts, 
I soak my judo gi – 
     when 
hot, with puce ju-jitsu juice; 
when not, with Karr (hot!) Tea.
     'Tweren't 
no black buyers, 'cepting Myers,* 
in that CDP.** 
     The 
Levitt shack...? She took it black: 
both town and Levitt Tea.
     * Daisy Myers, hailed as "The Rosa Parks of the 
North," in 1957 became Levittown, PA's first African-
American family when she and her husband purchased 
a home not from Levitt & Sons, who refused to 
sell to African Americans, but from a European-
American family who already owned a home there. 
     ** Census-designated place -- Levittown is 
one such.

     Thom's 
Magic Mount's no tragic fount -- 
unless Hans Castorp's spree 
     does 
symbolize the reckless rise 
of Herr Männ's Straße Tea.

Naughty

Oddity

Paucity

Quality

Reality

Serendipity

Trinity

University

Velocity

Warrantee

eXentricity

Yazoo City 

Zesty 

A Tattle of Ts: Mr. Wishfulthink's Tell-All in re a Trump Abdication

Tintin tells Tutu...Tutu tells Tonto. 
Tonto tells Tito (I’m tellin’ the trut’).
Tito tells Toto...Toto tells Totie. 
Totie tells Tolstoy – who tells Little Toot.

Tintoretto tells Tootsie who tells Tiny Tim 
who tells Tommie 'n' Tuppence who’re tellin' Tartuffe.
Tartuffe's tellin' Tristram who tells Ratatouille 
who tells Tina Turner (for this tale, thin proof).

Ted Turner tells Titus who tells Tia Tabitha. 
Who tells Tess Trueheart…? 'Tis Toni Tennile --
tantamount to catastrophe, Tim Tyler thinks: 
"How shall Tubby the Tuba and Tommy Tune feel...?"

Tut tells the Titans...Tik-Tok tells Tantalus. 
Telling the Toltec...? 'Tis Tristan the Pict,
who is tellin' Tom Tolbert who’s tellin' a tsetse 
who – three times! – tells Trump. (Who then tells us, “I’m licked!”)

That'll Be the Day

'Twill dawn, and soon, 
a day whose noon -- 'tis true! --
sees Athlone Wood 
advance on Yeat's Coole;*
when I, beknownst to few, 
shall bid "Adoo!" -- 
when combs un-tissu'd 
out-zizz my kazoo
and when that dome at Gol Gumbaz** 
shan't do. 
     * In an Irish send-up of the Scottish play 
     ** The mausoleum of Mohammad Adil Shah 
and not to be confused with Golgotha (the Skull)

When Ethan Frome 
abandons red for blue;*
when froths of foam fail -- fie! -- 
to frappe my brew;**
when genome maps may 
make a meme of you,
and home no longer 
lures the Wand'ring Jew...
...when we In Rome 
shall do as Romans do. 
     * The Wharton novel is rife with red items, 
each toting its symbolic load.
     ** "Just a finger of froth as I finish a few," 
whistles the Sarge -- that's Sgt. N. ("Jim") 
Smithe-Magee (the N stands for 'Nonsense') 
from out of this blizzard of f-initialed words.

Yeah, that'll be the day --
you bet your boo! --
Jerome Jerome shall drift downstream 
with two;*
and when 'ein Kaum' to Klauses** 
means "ka-choo!"
When loam's allow'd 
in Chef Pepin's fondue
and mome Red Pandas 
shall outgribe in lieu.***
     * Jerome K. Jerome's best known novel r
emains Three Men in a Boat. 
     ** A colloquialism for Germans in 
Portuguese-speaking countries 
     *** In lieu, i.e., of the mome raths which 
nonsense lovers may have come to expect.

One day when Nome 
shall top a 102*
while "Om...!" alone's 
a way to say "Mon Dieu!"
When po'ms like this 
aren't drafted in the loo
and 'quo'm' stands not for 
'quorum' but for 'Whe-e-ew!'...
...and roamin' 'round the world-wide web's 
all through...** 
     * To date the high temp record in Nome 
is '68's 86 (or was that the other way around); 
but, hey: the climate's changing, isn’t it...? 
     ** Such might well prove disasterous for 
Sarge's poetry.

...'n' Soames takes trips 
and tries a toke or two.*
When tomes place terms like 
'uome' 'n' 'vome' on view --
when 'waume,' 'xome,' 'yeaum' 'n' 'zhome' 
appear per u.**:
yep, that'll be the day, alright, 
when you --
with me, in Rome -- 
shall do as Romans do. 
     * This particular Forsyte, of Saga fame, 
stands as a literary paragon of respectability. 
     ** As per usual, as a matter of course, 
in the common run of things, and so forth...

The A Word & Other Lexemes or Verboten Verbiage Varia

'April' and 'buck' 

One utters the A word
as one’s mates move Mayward.
Admired…? Nope! I fear it's
enmired. (Too much March.)
The B word Tru* hollers –
to guarantee dollars
pols pass stop, at las,' 
on his desk -- shows tru' starch. 
     * Not author Capote but former
Buck-Stopper-in-Chief Harry S.

'Cuckold’ and 'drunkard'

The C word gets mention'd
by nerds ill-intention'd,
the gals of whose pals 
toy with boys on the side.
The D words…? They're said 
when too much liquid bread
lets one's bro into 
haut dipsomania slide.

'Enema' and 'fart' 

The E word shoots shivvers 
up colons, down livers,
for rectal dysfunction's
no man's mug o' tea.
Though not what you think 'er, 
the F word's a stinker
when gas up the ass 
is one's fate -- accompli.

'Green' and 'halitosis'   

The G word, though being 
the new blue to many,
is bann’d in all red states.
(Do you vote in any...?) 
The H word...? They say 
he said she said I've got it.
(I say: Vescere bracis meis*...
or: sod it!)
      * Latin -- and vulgar Latin 
at that – for "Eat my shorts!"

'Injun' and 'jap'

A Native American insult –
the I word.
Down under, it's 'abo' –
though such'd not be my word.
The J word,
in Double-U-Double-U-2,
seem'd acceptable then.
(Oh! The evil men do!)

'Kike' and 'lesbo' 

Down the last ring of hell 
one imagines Herr Ado'ph
pronouncin' the K word...
then laughin' his haid off.
Misogynist man-children
whisper the L word...
then snort...and continue 
itiner'ries hellward.

'More' and 'nothing'

The M word gets mention'd
by Dickens's Twist
(all who do do get more...*
though with slaps on the wrist),
while the N word,*
to die-hard creationists...? Weird!
They insist this world's made 
by some blade in a beard.
     * Oliver famously asks for 
"more, please" as gruel is
served out. 

'O-rings' and 'panties' 

It took Richard* to bring up
the O word; he show'd
how, because the things froze,
NASA's Challenger blow'd.
The P word...? On Seinfeld
this shorthand for 'scanties'
proves mentionable. 
(Elaine mentions the _______!)
     * Physicist Feinman

'Quik' and 'dead' 'red' 

Don't mention the Q word
when visiting Hershey:*
they'll soak you in sauce
till you're "beggin' for mershey."
You're suspected of being the R word...?
McCarthy
will ruin your life –
till you're "beggin' for marthy.”
     * In Pennsylvania

'Shit' and 'tit' 

Swung the hammer...and miss'd. 
Hit the thumb: "Ow!" Got piss'd.
Form'd: the agonized fist. 
Now the S word gets hiss'd.
The T word means 'breast,' 
like most mammary monikers:
'chesticles,' 'sweater meat,' 
'hooters,' 'boobs,' 'honkers'... 

'Ubu' and 'vagina' 

'Tis OK if one mentions 
the U word in Art.
Oh, if only we'd see it,*
and take it to heart.
There were days when the V word 
was strictly forbidden.
Then enter'd Eve Ensler. 
Now, nothing stays hidden.
     * E.g., "Ubu Roi," the theater-of-
the-absurd piece by Alfred Jarry.

'Why' and 'XXX')

The W word: that it's 
banned is half lie:
it's both outlawed and urged -- 
do (or don't) question "why...?" 
The X word's avoided 
when dupl'd and tripl'd
in ratings of films -- 
those well penis'd and nippl'd.

'Yoni' and 'zoff' 

The Y word...? In Sanskrit, 
it's eas'ly avoided:
Max Wertheimer didn't, 
but Maslow and Freud did.
Comes, lastly, the Z word; 
suppressed! (Although utter'd
by me,* who well knows 
on which side bosh bread's buttered). 
     * That's why the Z word gets 
mentioned a dozen times in the 
nonsense verse parody "Let's Call 
the Whole Thing 'Zoff'!" which
can be seen elsewhere on this blog.

An ABC...But Whose...?

B, C, D…? Like 'ea' in "freak."
H 'n' A…? Like 'ai' in "Spain."
E, G, P…? Like 'ee' in "geek."
J 'n' K …? Like 'ei' in "reign."

T, V, Z…? Like 'ea' in "speaks."
L, F, N…? Like 'e' in "hex."
I 'n' Y…? Like 'i' in "yikes!"
M, X, S…? Like 'e' in "sex." 

O…? Like 'o' in "overblown."
U 'n' Q…? Like 'ue' in "blue."
R…? Not unlike 'ar' in "fart."
W…? Like "trouble, nu…?” --
tho', why three syllables…? Mon dieu!
I simply have no clue. Do you…?

The Boorrownym: a New Poetic Form

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou:
on sofa bed we snuggle, kleine frau.
Shall purse of silk we make from ear of sow...? 

Come, fill the cup, and in the fire of spring...
(Don't spill! Heads up, you pinhead: wire and string
won't help! First, set aside your teething ring!)

The Cheese Stands Alone (But Not Before Spilling the Beans)

Gautama the Buddha tells Pablo Neruda.
Neruda's narration clues Hebrews in Judah.
Judeans leave word with one very old Gouda.
The Gouda confesses to you.

The Mother of Jesus has words with a rhesus.
The rhesus reports to that chap who makes cheeses.
(What doesn't asphyxiate finally frees us.)
The cheeses reveal it to you. 

The Devil's boy Lucius advises Confucius.
Confucius makes mention to Lyndon LaRouche. (Is
it true that "LaRou," in a sequence of swooshes,
tells you…? Nope: it's roux who tells you!

The Madness of Gardeners

He thought he saw some Greenland ice which once he'd sought to thaw. 
He looked again and found it was a pound of flesh. "Oh, pshaw!
What's come to pass…?" he said. "Alas! I don't know what I saw."

He thought he saw Miss Garland singing, "Why, oh, why can't I…?"
He looked again and found it was reporter Nellie Bly.
Said he, "She'd trip by sailing ship, forgetting houses fly."

He thought he saw a big parade; it seemed to pass him by.
He looked again and found it was the fourteenth of July.
"There, but for me, go I," said he. "Nor care I where...nor why." 

He thought he saw three magi; bearing gifts, they'd travell’d far.
He looked again and found it was four months without an 'r.'
"No oysters fresh to fill my creche...? Then lose the babe and star!"

He thought he saw a basketball pass lightly through a hoop. 
He looked again and found it was some Cock-a-leekie soup.
I'll share," said he, "a bowl -- or three – ‘mongst my encounter group."

He thought he saw some Ws becoming Ps and Os.
He looked again and found they were three carrots up his nose.
"Were they," he said, "fresh leeks instead, I'd make a stew of those."

He thought he saw a universe adjacent to his own.
He looked again and found it was a stale un-buttered scone.
"At least," he said, "I'm neither dead nor am I all alone." 

He thought he saw a camel thrust its nose inside his tent.
He looked again and found it was his precious youth, mispent.
He said, "Tut, tut: no worries!" But that isn't what he meant.

He thought he saw the heavens part, revealing golden light:
He looked again and found it was a steaming pile o' shite.
"'Tis plain as hell," he said, "this fell from some enormous height." 

He thought he saw a farewell speech composed in cursive script:
He looked again and found it was a mummy in a crypt.
Said he, "Ol' Till'd* be with us thrill’d – had he been tighter lipp’d."    
     * Till Eulenspiegel, a trickster appearing in German folklore. 

He thought he saw a poker deck without a one-eyed Jack:
He looked again and found it was The Farmers' Almanac.
"What's there, "said he, "shall guarantee I hug the inside track." 

He thought he heard a justice cry, "This court doth stand adjourned":
He harked again and found it wasa crankie* being turned.
Said he," Amend I must the end, or else we'll all get burned!" 
     * A series of images on a panorama roll mounted inside a box and
scrolled across a viewing screen; the images often portray a story. 

He thought he saw a scientist denying climate change:
He looked again and found it was the New York Stock Exchange.
"That Wall Street guys should stoop to lies," said he. "I find that strange." 

He thought he saw the role of Hedwig in "...the Angry Inch":
He looked again and found it was, in fact, Ted Geisel's Grinch.
"Eccentrics both. Still, Seuss," he quoth, "shall suit me -- in a pinch!" 

He thought he saw the comet which had felled the dinosaurs.
He looked again and found it was a recipe for S'mores.
"'Tis clear," said he, "and plain to see that, when it rains, it pours." 

He thought he saw the blaze which burned Old Tucson Studios:
He looked again and found it was a fungus 'twixt his toes.
Said he, "For sure, this force majeure shows: 'When it rains, it po's!'"

He thought he saw his face reflected in a silvered plate:
He looked again and found it was a soaring int'rest rate.
"I'd hoped," said he, "to earn a fee. I fear I’m wa-a-ay too late!" 

He thought he saw -- or, rather, heard -- the music of the spheres:
he looked again and found it was a jury of his peers.
"Each sentence passed," said he, "must last for ten and three score years!" 

He thought he saw an ikura-and-avocado roll:
he looked again and found it was his neighbor's barber pole.
"Such cylinders my wife prefers," said he. "I don't do 'droll'!" 

He thought he saw the Nazarene, his savior Jesus Christ: 
he looked again and found it was a taco, mildly spiced. 
"I must," he said, "distrust this bread: 'tis wildly overpriced!" 

He thought he saw a detainee, one force-fed through a hose:
he looked again and found it was the young Durante's nose.
"'It’s not, I know, Guantanamo," he said, "which none can close!"*
     * Several mss show "...still, thar' she blows!" here. 

He thought he saw a Ghibelline astride a jackalope:
he looked again and found it was Pope Joan without her cope.
Said he, "That Guelf shall hang herself, allowed sufficient rope!" 

He thought he saw Mahatma Gandhi spinning at his wheel:
he looked again and found 'twas a McDonald's Happy Meal.
"I'd s'pposed, said he, "the Chocol'te Sri to’ve proved the better deal!" 

He thought he saw three loaves of wine, two jugs of bread...enow:
he looked again and found it was a priceless purple sow.*
Said he: "Good grief! Are pigs and beef exchanging places now...?"
     * The line alludes to Burgess's wishfully disavowed purple cow.

He thought he saw a UFO with slime-green landing lights:
he looked again and found it was unread Miranda rights.
Said he, "Their stay's for fourteen days...but only thirteen nights!" 

He thought he saw a croque monsieur prepared with Edam cheese:
he looked again and found it was his mother's beard of bees.
"Of late," said he, "I seem to see few forests...and no trees!"    

Our Magnificent Medicine Chest: Letter A

     "Please to 
fetch me an 'A,'" whimper'd 
"Jim" Smithe-Magee. "Not a
wink for a week! Would I 
waked headache free!" So, 'tis
upstairs I fly to ful-
fill Jim's request: fetch an
'A' -- "Right away!" -- from our 
medicine chest.
    Rests this
chest in our loo; it's un-
usu'lly big. Deep in-
side it we hide the odd 
thingamajig -- one to
do -- Yes! It's true! -- with the 
goal of my quest: to ob-
tain Jim an 'A' from our 
medicine chest.
     But how's
one to be sure it's an 
asp'rin that's meant when on
urgent emergency 
errands one's sent...? I re-
hears'd Jim's instruction as 
lavwards I press'd: "Procure
Jimbo an 'A' from our 
medicine chest..."
     At half-
canter I enter the 
darken'd "pissoir," light the
lamp, eye the chest, note its 
door: "'Tis ajar! Who's ar-
rived here ahead of me, 
plunder'd our nest and made
off with all 'A's from the 
medicine chest...?"
     Gone (or
stolen!): all aardvarks, all 
anvils, all almanacs.
Missing: all air-to-air 
missiles and anoraks...
and all the asp'rins, Jim's 
pressing request. Is there
nowt with initial 'A' 
left in our chest...?
     Then I
spot what proves not an 
apothec'ry's glass but a
fabulous abacus, 
fashion'd of brass. "Any
asp'rins," weigh I, "run, at 
best, second-best to such
abaci kept in our 
medicine chest."
     Then post
haste (if not sooner) I 
hustle, I rush (never
pond'ring who 'twas who'd ne-
glected to flush) out the
door, down the stair, back to 
Smithe-Magee -- lest...Jimbo
not net his need from our 
medicine chest.
     "Oh...that
headache: it split. See...I'm 
no longer tired," says Jim.
"Time now for play -- with the 
'B' that's required. My ob-
session with 'A's...? Just my 
joke; just my jest. What I
now need's a 'B' from our 
medicine chest!"

(More forays to come: a work in progress)

All Mine to Sieve

I ‘A’s and ‘I’s 
(and sometimes ‘Y’s), 
with ‘E’s and ‘O’s 
and ‘U’s...
apace saute 
(with ‘je ne sais’) 
my consonant-
al stews.
‘B’s, ‘C’s, ‘D’s, ‘F’s, 
‘G’s, ‘H’s, ‘J’s, 
‘K’s, ‘L’s. ‘M’s, ‘N’s, 
‘P’s, ‘Q’s...
‘R’s, ‘S’s, ‘T’s, 
‘V’s, ‘X’s, ‘Z’s 
(as well as 
‘W’s)...
supply the parts 
I need as starts 
'n' ends to word 
ragouts.

These Times They Are...Superlative

Now’s the best and worst of times. Indeed, the blest and curs'd of times.
The William Randolph Hearst of I'ms: the best and worst of times.
Now’s the worst and best of times. The empty feather'd nest of times.
The faulty litmus test of limes: the worst and best of times.

Ein Deutches Currywurst of times. The tot'lly unrehears'd of times.
The never reimburs'd of dimes: the best and worst of times.
The second-best (at best) of times. I.e., the anapest of rhymes.
The jester (overdress'd) of mimes: the worst and best of times.

The tots and kids eat first of times. The binged until I burst of times.
My wallet’s gone! Unpurs'd! of dimes: the best and worst of times.
Oyez, de woist 'n' best o' times. The how d’you like my breast...? of times.
Come up and see Mae West sometimes: the worst and best of times.

The craven rave and thirst of times. The durst I...? 'Deed, I durst! of times.
The yet again, coerced of thymes: the best and worst of times.
Quixote’s gloried quest of times. Go West, young man! Go West! of times.
The Halt! You’re und’rarrest! of climes: the worst and best of times.

At freedom’s breast we’re nurs'd of times. The see Amer’ca first! of times.
Once more, my bubble’s burst! of climbs: the best and worst of times.
The uninvited guest of times. The vests remain unpress'd of times.
Is this some kind of jest...? of rhymes: the worst and best of times.

The dead, embalm'd and hears'd of times. The poorly prosed or vers'd of times.
En fin, the Fanny Hurst of primes: the best and worst of times.
The stress'd from being ‘Yes-s-s-s'd’ of times. The get it off your chest of times.
The dead but unconfess'd of crimes. The worst and best of times.

Ein Deutsche 'eben erst' of times. The Bellhop of Amherst of times.
The bought and paid-for jur’st of slimes. the best and worst of times. 
The totally immers'd of times. The ple-e-e-e-e-ease give this a rest! of times. 
The bleedin' best and worst...and best...and worst and best of times.