THE OUTHOUSE TRUMP BUILT
This is the Outhouse Trump built.
This is the lump of egregious dump
That flopped in the Outhouse Trump built.
This is the beetle that loved to Tweetle
And roll the lump of egregious dump
That flopped in the Outhouse Trump built.
This is the Raven that ate up the Beetle
That rolled the lump of egregious dump
Out of the leakage from the sump
That seeped from the Outhouse Trump built.
This is the Mooch that threw up the douche
That drowned the Raven that ate the Beetle
That rolled out the lump of egregious dump
That sweltered and stank in the rusty old tank
That leaked from the Outhouse Trump built.
HELLO, GOODBYE!
Was Scaramucci scary,
Or was he merely moochy?
Alas! He wasn't wary
John Kelly was too touchy,
Considered him quite douchy,
Liked roast beef rare, not sushi,
So, soon as Scaramucci
Got rid of Prince Reince Priebus
And Trump hired two-gun Kelly,
The General said, "Leave us!"
And shot Mooch in the belly.
FIRE AND FURY
"Mark my words, make no more threats
Or you'll be met with fire and fury,"
The Trumpster said to Kim Jong-un,
"And I will be both judge and jury."
CHARLOTTESVILLE, AUGUST 12, 2017
"Hatred, bigotry and violence
Exist on many sides,
And lampshades can be fashioned
From many human hides."
A BAN ON BANNON
"I must abandon Bannon,"
The Trumpeter announced.
"There's now a ban on Bannon --
My best ol' bud is bounced
"Officially," declaimed
The Donald to the world.
"A new ass will be named
And, likely, will be hurled
"Out the White House door
Upon some new occasion.
Scrub old blood off the floor,
For soon a fresh invasion
"Of Nazis, Klansmen, Skinheads
Will be ushered in
To join the bunch of pinheads
And heartless men of tin
"I'm trying to amass.
Bannon was a pussy,
One solitary ass,
Always Kind of wussy.
"But now the nation's White House
Will be well and truly named --
We've no room for a mouse.
We ought to be ashamed
"We didn't lay a ban on
Bannon long ago!
Come on, jump on the wagon,
Turn hard right and let's go!"
TRUMPERY
There's such a word as "trumpery":
"Nonsensical talk or writing,"
But how to rhyme it? Humph(e)ry
Is close, but such inditing
Is just a bit too clumpery --
For my taste, anyway.
It sounds somewhat too frumpery,
A clumsy way to say,
"Go toss it in the dumpery
And let it rot to pieces,
To slimy bits of lumpery
As quick as Hell, bejesus!
"Or feed it to the pumpery
So it can liquefy
And be sucked up by sumpery,
Becoming good and dry."
I'm turning rather grumpery
Dealing with this matter!
Let's have less Forrest Gumpery,
Less nonsense and less natter!
THE ARPAIO SONG
"Arpai-o, Arpai-ai-ai-o
Pardon me, but I'm sendin' you home
Sheriff Arpa-ai-ai-io,
You can' do no wrong, so I'm sendin' you home
"Work all night while though I'm chewin' gum
(Pardon me but he's goin' on home)
I pardoned the sheriff, the criminal bum
(Pardoned him and I let him go home)
"Come, Mr. Fake News mon, call me bananas
(Daylight come and he's goin' on home)
Come, Mr. Fake News mon, call me bananas
(Daylight come an' I let him go home)
"Arpai-o Arpai-ai-ai-o
(Daylight come and he wan' go home)
Day, he say day, he say day, he say day, he say day, he say day
(Daylight come and he wan' go home)
"A beautiful bunch a'ripe banana
(Daylight come and I let him go home)
Call me the deadly black tarantula
(Daylight come and he wan' go home)
"It's six foot, seven foot, eight foot, bunch!
(Daylight come and he wan' go home)
Six foot, seven foot, eight foot, bunch!
(Daylight come and he wan' go home)
"Hey, Arpai-o Arpai-ai-ai-o
(Daylight come and he wan' go home)
Day, he say day, he say day, he say day, he say day, he say day
(Daylight come and he wan' go home)"
From MISS PUSSY'S PARLOR SONGS by Claudette McFang.
Society for Calling a Spade a Spade
Dialects of the Tribe: Postmodern American Poets and Poetry, by Lewis Putnam Turco, Nacogdoches, TX: Stephen F. Austin State University Press, www.tamupress.com, 2012, 336 pp., ISBN 978-1-936205-30-1, paperback.
My ancient friend Pierre Bennerup of Sunny Border Nurseries in Kensington, CT, wrote me recently:
Dear Lew,
As a one time English major like myself, 'I'm sure you're also concerned with the erosion of our great language, especially with respect to these so-called millennials.
I'm therefore forming a new society called, "Let's Call a Spade a Spade." As a poet, wordsmith and avid gardener, I'd like to appoint you as a charter member. Below is a short list of just a few of my concerns:
A spade should not be called a "shovel" as I've heard much too often.
A spading fork should not be called a "pitch fork."
A trowel should not be called a "little shovel."
It also disturbs me that perfectly good words describing garden implements have been co-opted to mean other things. A spade can describe a suit of playing cards. It can also be a racial slur. A "rake" can be someone who visits a bawdy house; a "hoe" is someone who works there.*
This bastardization of our language must be stopped. I hope you'll agree to assist me in this important task.
Best regards to my friend of longest standing,
Pierre.
I replied,
Sure(ly), Pierre,
sign me up, but I'm afraid it's a lost cause; the language is going to change no matter what. However, I do insist upon being a curmudgeon about it.
Lew
From Wesli Court’s Epitaphs for the Poets, by Lewis Turco, Baltimore, MD: BrickHouse Books, (www.BrickHouseBooks.com) 2012, paperback, ISBN: 978-1-938144-01-1:
*R. I. P. EDWIN MARKHAM
March 23, 1852 - March 7, 1940
"Man with a Hoe," his greatest lay,
Means something different today.
September 02, 2017 in Announcements, Commentary, Correspondence, Criticism, Current Affairs, Education, Epitaphs, Literature, News, Punography, Satire | Permalink | Comments (0)
Tags: Language erosion.