12 Mo' Moes (Unpub)

80: Mo E. Bwayno, 

      the famous Jewish mariachi vihuelist
79: Manny Mo Enjacque, 

      the well-known Jewish auto parts dealer
78: Mo Foyer-Munny, 

      the acclaimed Jewish wholesale distributor

72: Mo “Bull” Holmes, 

      the brilliant Jewish RV magnate
67: Mo Heeckinn, 

      the distinguished last Jewish-Native American (cousin of Mo Hawke)
65: Mo Djoh, 

      the eminent Jewish witch-doctor

59: Mo Lahr, 

      the honored Jewish orthodontic surgeon
58: Mo Larrian-Kurleigh, 

      the outstanding Jewish "Three Stooges" biographer

57: Mo Lassus, 

      the preeminent Jewish sorghum plantation owner

56: Mo LeCule, 

      the recognized Jewish particle physicist
55: Mo Lierre, 

      the renowned Jewish dramaturge
54: Mo ("Luke") Kai, 

      the prominent Jewish leper

The 12 Moes (Unpub)

97: Mo B. S. Tripp, 

      the famous Jewish geometrician
94: Mo B. Dicque, 

      the well-known Jewish second harpoonist
92: Mo (“King”) Byrd, 

      the acclaimed Jewish ornithologist

90: Mo (“Ike”) Canna-d’Wishue, 

      the brilliant Jewish “Goys and Dolls” revival actor/manager
88: Mo Dern, 

      the distinguished Jewish futurist
87: Mo DeRotteau, 

      the eminent Jewish symphony orchestra conductor
 
86: Mo Degli-Annee, 

      the honored Jewish modernist sculptor
85: Mo D’Merrier, 

      the outstanding Jewish party planner
84: Mo ("Dee") Waters, 

      the preeminent Jewish bluesman

83: Mo Dredd, 

      the recognized Jewish Arthurian scholar
82: Mo DeGrasse, 

      the renowned Jewish groundskeeper
81: Mo di Zappa-Randie, 

      the prominent Jewish crime scene investigator

Some Who Lived Here (Unpub)

Some who lived here loved to lav.
Some who lav'd here lived to lave.
Some who laved here loved to leaf.
(Lief, who leaf'd here, lived to loaf.)
Some who loaf'd here loved to luffa.
Some who luffa'd lived to love.
Some who loved here lived to laugh.
None who laugh'd here loved to leave.

My Alphabets (needs finish)

AuroraBorealphabet 
comprises twenty-six
substratospheric oddities:
my Technicolor pics.
 
My Bacchanalphabet delights
in rites of Dionysus: 
I satirize six satyr plays for 'S.'
For 'I,' it’s ISIS. 
 
My chapbook, Chaparralphabet, 
shows six and twenty plants. 
Each blooms in northern Baja,
there its scrubland to enhance. 
 
My so-called Donegalphabet 
commends the Em'rald Isle.
(I wrote, as well, a Dalphabet,
Afghanistani-style.) 
 
My gem-like Emmentalphabet's 
unfurled the world of cheese –
Areeshes trough Zanetti Parmigianos.
(See: no Bries,)
 
I penn'd a FemmeFatal'phabet;
dark ladies shape its theme:  
all Mses who emasculate,
all Mrses who scheme. 
 
On pace to trace a Galphabet
of naughty girls and nice,  
I switch'd my gears: "Should not, my dears, 
Fatal'phabet suffice…?"   

Among my works: Halalphabet.
It features food taboos. 
(OK'd are artichokes and ziti.
Not OK'd is booze.)  

My International'phabet
lists patriotic songs.  
Some ten plus two require kazoo.
(One specs suspended gongs.)  

You might enjoy Joualphabet:
my trips to Montreal  
exposed me to their language blue –
in Quebecoisey drawl.)

My curious Kanalphabet*
portrays the manhole covers  
from Poland’s cities -- twenty-six! –
sage rummaging discovers.
 
     * 'Kanal' is Polish for 'sewer.'
 
In viewing my Lo-Calphabet,
do dieters explore
the benefits of kelp and grits…?
They do. (Seems less is more!)

My MyGalSalphabet corrals

those gals with punk reputes --
tarts, hookers, slags, streetwalkers, hags,
loose women, prostitutes. 

Behold Neanderthalphabet:
ancestral tales it tells --
from Australos through salmon roes
to "...zimple zingle zells." 

Oedipalphabet...

Pastoralphabet...

Quetzalcoatlphabet...

Roncevalle'phabet...

Saturnalphabet...

TajMahalphabet...

UberAll'phabet...

Valhallphabet...

Wallphabet 

X 

Y'allphabet 

Z

From "The Porch o' Geese" (Needs finish)

     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!"
  
     * One 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 docs grant 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…? Don't tell! I'm into Kraft Velveeta,
whose pleth'ra plumps pair’d 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 God! This gunk grows grues'mer by the hour.)
 
     VIII. From “‘The 'I'm Dead!’ Zone”
 
It is the bes’ of times; it is the worst...
my biz be "mess wid 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! (and queer) my pile he squander’d.
(Though Blitz'd I've been 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 winnow'd 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 brew-fill’d fountain pen.
 
     XVII. From “The Ballade Of Long Lizzie”*
 
To be or not to be: that is the quest.
Who's she…? Our hottest B-girl -- Liz: the best...! 
Cures common colds, catarrhs...she'll rub your ████ chest!
 
     * One of the Rippers canonical five victims. 

For more on Liz, cf. "Pin One on 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 “Pin One on 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'll dare ignore me…?
 
     * Elizabeth Stride, one of the Ripper's canonical 

five victims. For more on Elizabeth, cf. "The Ballade of Long

Lizzie" above. 
 
     XX. From “Burn, Bubbe, 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. I live to 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...
Yer nylons...? Torn. Yer whol' expression's pain’d!
 
     XXII. From “Gnutopia”
 
In Xanadu did Kublai Khan a state
of panda, cuckoo, gnu and swan create.
(Who dwells in Lower Hutt 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, many 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 "Here Comes the Judgement" 

Gonna take a sentimental jur-

-y drawn from Quaker men. I'll then, rest sure,

appeal your case, acquittal to secure.   
 
     XXVI. Be aware. Stay soft and round. Let go...
 
     XXVII. Nothing could be finer than to be...
 
     XXVIII. Let's go then, you and I, when evening's spread
 
     XXIX. Tommy, Tom the piper's son; he stole...
 
     XXX. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved...
 
     XXXI. Mary, Mary, quite contrary; how...
 
     XXXII. Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for am-...
 
     XXXIII. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day...?
 
     XXXIV. On either side the river lie long fields...
 
     XXXV. Of man's first disobed'ence, and the fruit...
 
     XXXVI. I will arise and go to Innisfree...
 
     XXXVII. Drink to me, but only with thine eyes...
 
     XXXVIII. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day...
 
     XXXIX. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone...
 
     XLI. Had we but world enough, and time, coy la(y)-...
 
     XLII. All hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou weren't...
 
     XLIII. I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats...
 
     XLIV. Tyger! Tyger! Tyger burning bright...
 
     XLV. The boy stood on the burning deck; his feet...

Mister Speaker (Unpub)

God’s own truth! But, can ya stand ‘er…?
Let’s find out. Meet Speaker Candor!
Artless, frank. (G’won, grab a gander!)
Speaks his mind. (Would Candor pander…?)
Plays it straight. Ain’t no glad-hander.
Tells no lie nor spouts no slander.
Unequiv… No gerrymand'rer!
[Fact: the man’s a salamander.]

SummitThree (6.12.18) (Unpub)

I. Quick Study (pace Lewis Carroll)  

Despot Dum and Despot Dee

agreed to hold a summit

'cuz desp'rate Dum's approval nums

Dum daren't permit to plummet.

Crows Dum, "Within that first brief min,

if Dee's for real, I'll feel it.

It's splinter’d (The Peninsula):

trust ME! I've chi to heal it."

II. Naming Rights  

"Rocket Man v Racket Man"

The NYT may name it.

"The Day of Reds' Dictato Heads"

Fake News may choose to frame it.

"Summit Samba re: La Bomba": 

Which Post won't defame it…?

Despite which tag, will Drumpf not brag

that he, some way, will game it…?

III. Worst Case

"Some are called but few are chosen":

Jesus said it first.

"Summer cold…? You’re blue! You’re frozen!”:

Mother’s scolding, vers’d.

"Summit call'd to feud o'er Chosun":

Dear! I fear the worst.

On the Road (Unpub)

As I was driving toward St. Ives,
I pass’d a guy with seven wives.
(Imagine what a Hausfrau drives.)
Each “better half” held seven hives...

     each subdivided, using knives.

Each bride had sliced ‘em into fives,
the bees sent fleeing for their lives,
each executing seven dives... 

     (if spook’d, an insect truly strives:

it’s how each at-risk hive survives --
in last analysis, it thrives)
each dive a writhe of seven jives...

     set free, each, from confining gyves.

Gyves, jives, dives, lives,
fives, knives, hives, drives –
plus just one guy -- though seven wives.

So: how few travel’d to St. Ives…?

Stifle Thy Children! (Unpub)

Admonish all thy anklebiters!
Bridle thy bambinos!
Chaperone thy cherubs!
Dominate thy dwarfarinos!
     Educate thy elvervolker!
Fetter fast thy fidgets!
Ground thy gamins! Guard thy gremlins!
Govern all thy gidgets!
     Hog tie all thy half-pints, then
indenture thy infantae!
Jail thy junior jackanapes!
Kibosh thy kiddies, kan’t ye…?
     Lock up – or down – or in -- thy lambkins!
Muzzle up thy moppets!
Nail thy Nips! O’ersee thy offspring!
Playpen – please – thy poppets!
     Quell thy quints! Rein in thy rugrats!
Silence – sh-h-h-hush! -- thy sucklings!
Tailor-tune thy tadpoles
(lest they turn out ugly ducklings)!
     Unfree thy urchins – urgently!
Thy varmints…? Vit! Vamoose!
Wind down thy whippersnappers –
else each “whipper will” run loose.
     Xenoblast thy xiphomorphs! 
Indeed, yoke all thy young!
Fin’lly…ziplock all thy zysters!
If you do, my rhyme I’ll bung.

Film-Flam (Unpub)

     1939 The Wizard of Oz
It’s Oz: the monkeys soar, the wizards roar.
You’re not, young Dot, in Kansas anymore.
 
     1939 Gone with the Wind
More ante-bellum “wham-bam, thank you, ma’am!”
Quite frankly, Yankees just don’t give a damn.
 
     1941 Citizen Kane
What nonsense! “Rosebud!” signifies a sled…?
To wit, Kane’s lit. “Rosé, Bud!”’s what Kane said.
 
     1942 Casablanca
Though famed for Ilsa’s bid, “Again, Sam! Play it!”
the question bides: did Ilsa even say it…? 
 
     1950 All About Eve
A bitter Bette hits the stairs, takes flight:
“Make fast those belts. This bodes a bumpy night.”
 
     1954 On the Waterfront
Steiger’s Chas “The Gent,” while Cobb’s the jerk.
Mauldin’s priest goads Marlon’s brash Young Turk.
And Saint, god knows, as good as goes berserk.
(But who’s that dude who crows, “Let’s go to work!”…?)
 
     1979 Alien
“Aliens!!” cries poor Sigourney’s team.
(‘Tis space. Out here they cannot hear you scream.)