Baby On BOR: a Cautionary Nonsense Verse Narrative in a Nonsense Election Year

     The poet elects not to include "Baby on Boire" or "Baby on Boyer"

in his petite suite. The editors applaud his circumspection.

My infant son, Uly Poe, Jr.,*

squats atop (An)Drew Ackerman’s head.**

(An occurrence of “Baby on Bore”...?

What's the hour...? Why’s the lad not in bed…?)

     * No relation to the Oulipo is herein suggested

or implied. 

     ** Drew Ackerman, reputedly the most boring

man in the world, hosts the podcast Sleep With Me.

My young man now's abandoning Drew,

le conducteur française his new mount.

(Sacre bleu! C'est une "Baby on Bour."*

His naif please take into account.)

     * French chef d'orchestre Justin Bour.

Zounds! He’s mounted a dead Afrikaner.*

He has clamber'd up Koos de la Rey.*

(An example of “Baby on Boer...?”

Careful, cher! Don’t get carried away!)

     * Famous South African military man.

Damn! That boy's left behind ol' man Koos

for the young Danish physicist Niels.

(What we have here is "Baby on Bohr."

I can only guess how Junior feels.)

 

What rough beast…? Junior’s boarded its back,

as his fingers bleed, clutching its ear.

(Can it be we see “Baby on Boar”...?

That he fails to stay on's my worst fear.)

 

Now dismounted, he's found a new nag,

sporting gold mane 'n' tangerine skin.

(Mush! He ushers in “Baby on Boor.”

Watch out, young 'un! Who knows where it’s been...?)

"B is for 'Broken'"
chemical marker on copy paper,
digitally modified,
by Ulysses Poe, Sr.

Resist! For Reni, Jack and Carl (RIP)

     J. Kerouac's "Pull my daisy..." appears to prefigure 

U. Poe's "...pant your piece...." Defend or disparage...or both.

To you whose spiel'd eclipse the sage...?

Come, post your paw print 'pon the page!

To you who’d preçis joy and grief...?

Come, limn your lines along the leaf!

To you who’d Cuisinart the crown...?

Come, grave your ground – here verb, there noun!

Like Jack insists in Enter Laughing,*

“Always – always! – write it down!”

 

To you who’d peace talk underpin...?

Come, score your scrawl upside a skin!

To you who’d ‘gainst the racists stand...?

Come, stamp your sign across the sand!

To you who’d mum a monster’s maw...?

At Potus pant your piece -- comme ça:

“It’s up to you to Ha-cha-cha..."

as Jack* to Ren* enjoy'd to jaw.

     * In Carl Reiner's semi-autobiographical 

novel Enter Laughing, Jack Gilford plays protagonist 

David Kolowitz's employer Mr. Forman. Delivery 

boy David is portrayed by the wonderful Reni Santoni,

who died earlier this week.

D is for 'Detour' et al.

     And 'doggie,' and surely 'donkey,'

'drudge' and perhaps 'drum,' as well as 

'Daphne odora,' an evergreen shrub 

-- nor don't forget 'distancing.' 

     (But not 'Drumpf.')

 

"D is for 'Detour' et al."
chemical marker on copy paper,
digitally modified,
by Uly Poe

Drumpf's Amygdala Dumps: Several in a Seemingly Ceaseless Series

     "I know words. I have the best words. 

But there's no better word than 'stupid.'"    

                                    -- Donald J. Drumpf

     "Donald, you're not invited to my funeral."

                                    -- John McCain

POTUS's acting White House food taster:

     "Mr. President, your Greek sandwich

has been cover'd in a twin protective casing 

of waxed paper and aluminum foil."

Drumpf:

     "That gyro's been wrapper'd.

I like gyros that DON'T get wrapper'd."

*   *   *   *   *

FBI Director Wray:

     "Mr. President, your attempt to attach 

your name to the legendary LA nightspot has been 

thwarted by a counter offer from a certain

African-American Marxist organization."

Drumpf:

     

     "That Ciro's has been Panther'd.

I like Ciro's that DON'T get Panther'd."

*   *   *   *   *

Head of the Air and Space Museum:

     

     "Mr. President, your vintage Japanese 

warplane has been bulldozed following 

foreclosure by Deutsche Bank.  

Drumpf:
     

     "That Zero’s been tractor'd.

I like Zeros that DON'T get tractor'd.

*   *   *   *   *

Director of the Kennedy Center:
     

     "Mr. President, your youngest son, 

Barron, has cover'd your acting White House 

mime in shaving cream." 

Drumpf:
     

     "That Pierrot’s been lather'd.

I like Pierrots that DON'T get lather'd."

*   *   *   *   *

Fox’s Sean Hannity:

     “Mr. President, your pal Judge Jeanine

has been found mentally deranged and has

would up in a New York State booby hatch.”

Drumpf:

     “That Pirro’s been hatcher’d.

I like Pirros that DON’T get hatcher’d.”

*   *   *   *   *

 White House portrait curator:

     “Mr. President, your autographed photo of

former VP Agnew has mysteriously disappeared

from the corridor outside the men’s room.”

Drumpf:

     “That Spiro’s been scratcher’d.

I like Spiros that DON’T get scratcher’d.” 

*   *   *   *   *

VP Pence:

     

     "Mr. President, your painting 

by Señor i Ferra has been mutilated

by Lafayette Park anarchists."

Drumpf:

     

     "That Miro's been fractur'd.

I like Miros that DON'T get fractur'd." 

*   *   *   *   * 

 

First Lady Melania:

     

     "Mr. President, your bust of the famed 

Roman emperor has been reconstituted into 

this sculpture of a former British PM." 

Drumpf:

     

     "That Nero's been Thatcher'd.

I like Neros that DON'T get Thather'd."

*   *   *   *   *

White House Chef: 

     

     "Mr. President, your footlong 

submarine sandwich has risen into the clouds 

and met The Lord in the air."

Drumpf: 

     

"That hero's been raptur'd. 

I like heroes that DON'T get raptur'd." 

*   *   *   *   *

Secy. of State Pompeo:

     

      "Mr. President, the Japanese city of

Hiroshima has been completely destroy'd

by a giant rampaging Dromaeosaurus."

Drumpf:

     

     "That Hiro's been raptor'd.

I like Hiro's that DON'T get raptor'd."

"I like heros that don't get raptur'd!"
graphite pencil on copy paper,
digitally modified,
by Uly Poe

Men of the Cloth: Jean-Michel Basket

     The next sound you hear will be Ella Fitzgerald rolling over in her grave. 

A-tisket, a tasket! Meet Jean-Michel Basket!

(This portrait on pine grasses parrots his style.)

Though art critics mask it, they'll, after all, ask it:

"How's someone who paints this way earn such a pile...?"

"Men of the Cloth: Jean-Michel Basket"
acrylics on disassembled raffia-woven container
mounted on canvas and digitally modified
18" x 24"
by Ulysses Poe

Suffixual "Vid"iocy 'Midst a Season of COVID

     Just a story of a (cow)boy and his (old) gnu.

Picture this incident vivid:

young David, a cowpuncher avid,

to saddle his livid old bovid,

must fervid be, nor know not 'pavid.'

Black Lives Matres: a Fantasia on Founding Mothers of Color

Ida Wells (‘B. Wells,’ some spells)

was dubb’d “race agitator”

because she wrote against the rope,

opposed that segregation trope

then spoke, "Can't cope...? Life's hopeless...? Nope!"

A one-trick pony, she…? No soap!

A Founding Black Lives Mater.

Sojourner Truth, grown long o' tooth,

remain'd a truth curator.

Her swell “Ain’t I a Woman...?” spiel,

one pitch'd with underdoggéd zeal,

urged activists to "keep it real,"

thus making Truth, from head to heel,

a Founding Black Lives Mater.

Harriet Tubman, born enslaved,

heard words from her Creator

(poor gal'd got hit upside the head):

“If thou ain't free, thou’d best be dead.”

Inspired, she slaves to freedom led.

That's why she’s since been styl'd (I've read)

a Founding Black Lives Mater.

Daisy Bates, black hist'ry states,

when but a second-grader,

was told her mother had been kill’d,

her blood by three white rapists spill’d.

But Daisy curbed her hate...to build

a movement, and become a skill’d

(and Founding) Black Lives Mater.

Rude remarks rate Rosa Parks 

a tot. (Tho' not a tater.)

Still, Parks defied bus driver Blake

to take her seat for freedom’s sake.

She sit-ins, too, did undertake.

All this, and more, does Rosa make

a Founding Black Lives Mater.

Famous Hamer, Fannie Lou:

of Jim Crow she’s a hater.

Still, Fannie read and Fannie wrote.

While white folks tried to gag her throat,

she black folks register'd to vote,

did Fannie Lou, a name to note,

a Founding Black Lives Mater.

(More Matres to come: a work in progress.)

Of Souls and Asouls

Callooh, callay! Just yesterday,

I asked, “Of U.S. souls erased

by rogue corona, what’s the toll…?”

     “One hundred fifty thousand lay

defunct,” said they. “Nor none replaced --

all down to one who lacks a soul.”

      (The prefix 'a-' -- as “ah-h-h...” pronounced --

denotes, on English tongues, ‘without,’

nor known be aught to contravene.

     T’will do for him herein denounced.

‘Tis Drumpf! Of that there dwells no doubt.

‘Tis Drumpf the Asoul whom they mean.) 

"D. Drumpf, Asoul"
pencil on copy paper,
digitally modified,
by Ulysses Poe

"Poisson of Interest" Post from the Past #1

      Preface 

     As regular visitors to PlaysWell are aware, the original "Berracuda" couplet appearing in the "Poissons of Interest" series ran as follows:

     "Ask'd to i.d. baseball's Buddha,

     Yanks yell, "Yogi Berracuda!"

     It proved but the work of a moment for friend-of-the blog GR, long an authority on America's national pastime, to conclude that surely it must be famed Cincinnati Reds catcher Johnny Bench who would and should be the more accurate choice as baseball's Buddha, even if understandably non-impartial Yankee fans were the respondents polled. 

     GR's comment, submitted in a nonsense versification featuring a delightful pun on 'Bench' and references to Bench's Reds club and his position as catcher, though somewhat metrically irregular -- a trait issuing, no doubt, from his post-modern approach to poetry -- appeared to encapsulate his conclusion. 

     Red-legged scofflaw 

     Caught red-handed. 

     Johnny Bench Warrant* 

     Soon to be remanded.

     * In a later communication with the editors, GR offered 'Benchmark' as an improving substitution for 'Bench Warrant.' The editors are currently awaiting responses from regular readers of the blog before declaring the substitution official.

     In the meantime, Ulysses Poe, author of the "Poissons of Interest" series, has created an entirely new take on 'Berracuda,' for which see below:  

     Ask'd to i.d. line-caught food, a

     Yank* yells, "Yogi Berracuda!"

     * A later communication from Poe wonders whether 'Basque,' as substituted for 'Yank,' in addition to having the merit of partially rhyming with the 'Ask'd' of the opening line, significantly widens the universe of the couplet -- as well as drawing attention to the noted expertise of Basque fishermen.

"Berracuda"
charcoal pencil on copy paper,
digitally modified,
by the author 

Threespoons

Trumpet great (without disclaimer)

phones a gospel Hall of Famer:

Miles Davis dials Mavis.*

     Moral:

Mavis. Miles. One sulks.** One smiles.

     * Mavis Staples boasts membership

in both the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 

and the Blues Hall of Fame.

     ** Davis was chronically choleric.

Mormons celebrate their dead:

Pioneer Days.*

Princess hit upside the head:

Diane ear pays.

     * On July 24^th Utah celebrates

the founding of Salt Lake City.

 

Poems shared on bathroom tissues: 

Verse on TP.

POTUS air'd some mental issues:

“Person…TV.”

"Daffy Donald" 
colored pencil on illustration board,
digitally modified,
by Ulysses Poe

The 2020 Pepi Katona Anagramadness Pageant & Triennial "Talk Like a Tracy" Competition

     We here at PWWL have tested positive for the Katona virus 

and we don't care who knows it. As Pepi might say, "Draw your 

own conclusions!" (As Pirovitch might comment,"Who did this 

dreadful thing...?") 

Pepi Katona                 Matuschek and Co's former errand boy.

Po' Kate: "I nap!"         Li'l Orphan Katherine does little but sleep these days.

A peak pinot.               A '12 or '14, probably. 

Oink, eat pap!             Plunk your magic... Slurp your lovely swill, Piggy.

Oink ate Pap.              Hog gobbl'd up Daddy.

Kapitän Poe                Commander of the Starship Ulalume.

Nappie OK...? Ta.        My diaper in place...? Thanks.

EPA: not Paki!             One agent is sure she was dink.

I kept a p'ano.            I kept a gu'tar as well, didn't I.

Kent, IA: pop. A.         A certain Mr. A. is the sole inhabitant of Kent, Iowa.

A pinko pate.              Marxist intellectual.

A pinko pâté.              Marxist hors d’oeurvre.

Pa Pio taken.              Italian stigmatist kidnapped. 

Apia knot PE               Samoan “pretzel” calisthenics.

Pepin to a Ka              Letter from Frankish king to a subject's soul. 

Opa! Pink tea!            This stuff's even better than ouzo...well, almost.       

Take no pipa!             You're allow'd a single liuqin, however.       

Aka one Tipp.             The scoundrel uses several aliases.

An okapi, Pet.            It's a kind of antelope, my dear.

Ape a inkpot!             You're already a ebon incorrigible, aren't ya. 

Opiate knap.              Remedy-in-a-rucksack, eh...?

A knot; a pipe.           A gnarl; a corncob.   

"P" Ape ain't ok.        Tho' "O" Ape and "Q" Ape seem perfectly fine. 

A poet; a pink.          Second line of the poem "A bard; a carnation."

Tap on a kepi.            Hi, there, legionnaire! 

A pea pint...? Ok!       I've never tried legume-hopp'd beer before.

Note I Kappa...?         Is the Japanese water demon here...?

Patina poke.              Rust caddy.

No pike tapa.             Lack of fish scale textile.

Appoint Åke.              Surely the best Swede for the job.

Pa’O pink tea.             An acquired taste, even in Mandalay.

A. Pope, I. Kant.         Wise guys.