Poetics and Ruminations

Miss Pussy's Parlor Songs, Part Fourteen

 

 

DONNY IN FIRST GRADE

 

I have a big eraser

In my puffy little hand,

I wish it was a phaser --

I think that would be grand!

 

I'd stand beside a blackboard

With her talky chalky writing,

And I would show my teacher

How, instead of fighting

 

With my meanie classmates,

I'd totally destroy them

With death-rays from my ray gun --

And then I'd chew some boy gum

 

And stick it on the chair-seat

Belonging to my teacher

So she would add it to her skirt

As a stylish teacher feature!

 

 

LOAFING

 

You Puerto Ricans who aren't dead, 

Here's a loaf or two of bread...,

Catch!

 

 

A CORKER

 

My pal's Bob Corker,

He's no New Yorker,

He beats up Donald Trump

And won't crack a smile.

He strips the White House bare,

Says it's "adult day care,"

He thinks The Donald's Forrest Gump.

 

 

IN RE PENCE

 

Let me say a word re Pence:

Perhaps he is a little dense,

But he won't straddle any fence.

When Donald Trump says, "Get thee hence --

If any of those linemen kneel,

Show everybody how you feel

About Our Flag. Make a big deal

And just walk out! We can repeal 

The First Amendment if we make

A monstrous fuss -- a piece of cake!

Tell NFL, 'Jump in the lake,

The news we're making isn't fake...,'

Well, not so much, in any case,

It's all about True Blue, not race

Or tossing goodies to our base

And putting liberals in their place.

Go forth, then, Michael! Common sense

Be damned! Our troops must be intense!

No Hero of the Folk repents!"

Saith Donald Trumpkin in re Pence.

 

 

IQ

 

You say that I’m a moron

And that I have no IQ?

OK, you’re in my cabinet,

But I no longer like you.

 

You may as well go home,

You’re dead at any rate,

I will not listen to you —

Screw the affairs of State.

 

 

THE LIARS CLUB

 

“‘I’m sorry that your husband’s dead,

But he knew what he signed up for.’

That’s what Trump told me,” the widow said.

“Fake news!” He hollered with a roar.

“She’s a liar! They all are!

All those people in that car!”

 

 

NEWS IN GENERAL

 

I am the very model of a modern four-star General,

Except that now I work for Trump I can say things political.

In my opinion Trump can spout things absolutely cynical

To widows of the Fallen -- he can even be quite whimsical

Because he has a sense of humor I would say is typical

Of one who has no common sense but loves to wax, well, critical

In circumstances other folk might understand were pitiful

And didn't call for filling up the Internet with phony news

Or tweets and comments caused by drinking vats and bathtubs full of booze.

 

My name is John F. Kelly, you don't tell four stars what they can do!

I'm Chief-of-Staff to Donald Trump, I'm second to a cockatoo --

I stand up on this dung heap to defend the Flag, Red, White and Blue!

I never sweat, disdain to pee, nor do I ever caca too,

But I stand here defending Trump and crying, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

 

From MISS PUSSY'S PARLOR SONGS by Claudette McFang

MISS PUSSY'S PARLOR SONGS, Part Nine

 

FRITZ AND RITZ

(To the tune of "Bringing in the Sheaves")

 

Putin on the Ritz,

Putin on the Ritz,

He will come rejoicing,

Putin on the Ritz!

 

Putin on the Ritz,

Putin on the Ritz,

Trump will trumpet Putin

Putin on the Ritz!

 

Trump is on the fritz,

Trump is on the fritz,

Trump is out of order --

He is on the fritz!

 

Trump is on the fritz,

Really on the fritz!

Trump takes Putin's orders --

We are having fits!

 

 

TRAVEL BAN.      

 

"Call it anything you wish,

I just want a travel ban

On whatever is Islamish --

Call it anything you wish,

Fowl or animal or fish 

From Iran or from Sudan;

Call it anything you wish

I just want a travel ban."

 

 

TWEETY BIRD

 

Tweetybird, Tweetybird, where would you fare?

"To London, to London - they better beware."

To do what in London with tweets and with flare?

"To fight with a Muslim I'd like to meet there."

To fight with a Muslim? But why would you care?

"This Muslim's a leader, the old city's mayor.

I'd like to confront him down deep in his lair --

I'll poke out his eyeballs and muss up his hair."

Tweetybird, Tweetybird, you wouldn't dare!

"Oh, yes, I would! I'd stare and I'd glare

And then I would give him a poke or a pair!"

But what if he kicked you or kneed you down there

Under your buckle, in your pubic hair?

"He wouldn't dare do that! That wouldn't be fair!"     

 

 

THE BRAZEN TRUMPET

 

I need loyalty, I expect loyalty --

That's because I am royalty.

 

 

TRUMP IN DECLINE

 

I will not come, I will not come

To visit you in the UK

If demonstrations clog the streets

Against me -- that is not okay.

 

I will not come, I will not come

To visit you, Theresa May,

If folks don't welcome me with pomp --

Not tomorrow, not today.

 

I will not come, I will not come

If Brits refuse to shout "Hurray!"

For I am brazen Donald Trump

And if I come trumpets must play!

 

 

CABINETRY

 

"Thank you, thank you, Cabinetry,

For praising my ass off because you love me.

You're right! I AM great! As great as I can be!

You just need to open your eyes and you'll see

Kim Jong and I are the nuts on a tree!"

 

 

TRIO

 

Kim Jong Il and Donald Trump

Learned a lot from Forrest Gump.

 

 

THE RINSE PUBIS SONG

(To the tune of "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," with apologies to the shade of Frank Loesser).

 

Kiss his ass and pass the deposition,

Kiss his ass and pass the deposition,

Kiss his ass and pass the deposition,

And we'll all go free!

 

Bare his ass and swing into position,

I just love to be a politician!

Kiss his ass, we're all between Perdition

And the deep Blue sea!

 

Yes, the Dork, our President, has said it:

"You have got to give me lots of credit,

For we're all out on a mighty mission

On the Fake News on TV!

 

"All aboard, we ain't a-goin' fishin' --

Kiss my ass and pass the deposition

Ain't it great to be a politician?

You just might go free!"

 

From MISS PUSSY'S PARLOR SONGS by Claudette McFang.

Madeleine Albright (Almost) In Hell

 

THE MADELEINE ALBRIGHT VILLANELLE

By Pedro Poitevin

There is a special place in hell
(a little sad, a little scary)
where chickenhawks and vultures dwell.

Not far from where good Dante fell
some godforsaken February,
there is a special place in hell.

The geysers and volcanos swell.
The lava tarnishes the prairie.
And chickenhawks and vultures dwell

over a crumbling citadel
devoid of prey or adversary.
There is a special place in hell,

just like she told her clientele
before she hit the cemetery.
There, chickenhawks and vultures dwell,

aligned as in a villanelle.
One greets her: “Madam Secretary—
there is a special place in hell
where chickenhawks and vultures dwell.”

CHIMERAS: A MADELEINE ALBRIGHT BLUESANELLE

By Lewis Turco

Madeleine Albright chases chimeras --
She calls them "shimmeras," not "kymeeras,"
And she calls them that in front of cameras

While being interviewed on television.
The interviewer resorts to evasion
Hiding himself behind chimeras

And doesn't correct her pronunciation --
Madeleine thus confuses the nation
Watching her from beyond the cameras.

Madeleine doesn't even shiver
When the camera hears her shimmer:
Madeleine Albright chases chimeras --

She catches colds, but not her shimmers,
She won't be caught in Hell with shivers,
Not in front of TV cameras

With secretary Hillary Clinton,
Not even playing good badminton
Out of range of TV cameras,
For Madeleine Albright chases chimeras.

Form of the Week 40, The Mooseanelle

THE MOOSEANELLE

 

Steven Cornish: Lew - if you detail the form of a moosanelle I will try to write one.

 

Lew Turco: Hmmm, let me think.

 

Cornish: Lew - a question - should the small a and b lines rhyme with the A and B refrain lines?

 

Turco: Yes. The capital letters are refrains:

 

A form invented by Lewis Turco at the request of Steven Cornish.

 

This is the pattern for the MOOSEANELLE:

 

A

a

B

 

C

b

A

 

D

a

B

 

E

b

A

 

F

a

B

 

E

e

B

A

 

 

MOOSEANELLE

 

Last Friday night, down at the Moose Lodge,

as Murray, my moose friend, drove up in his Dodge,

the most troubling sight that I ever saw

 

appeared in that parking lot before my own eyes,

(and I admit the thought of it stuck in my craw)

last Friday night, down at the Moose Lodge.

 

My ex-girlfriend, Mary Moose, sat by his side,

and try as I might, I could not dislodge

the most troubling sight that I ever saw

 

from my mind, when I thought I was long shut

of her. The sight of it was like a sock in the jaw

last Friday night, down at the Moose Lodge.

 

I don’t want to see them stuck in a rut -

his antlers are huge, he wears them like a badge -

the sight would trouble most bulls if they ever saw.

 

From my mind, when I thought I was long shut

of her, it comes back at me like a kick in the nuts -

the most troubling sight that I ever saw

from last Friday night, down at the Moose Lodge.

 

-- Steven Cornish

 

Turco: Well, a good try, Steven. The meters seem a bit dodgy.

 

Cornish: You didn't indicate meter in your scheme for the form!

 

Turco: Read my poem, Steven. Iambic tetrameter or pentameter (one OR the other). If you revise, take your time:

 

MOOSEANELLE

 

The moose in Maine stay mainly in the rain.

They're gentle creatures that do not raise Cain --

They browse among pond scum for tasty leaves

 

That grow upon the riverbed's thick silt

Where it's impossible for them to wilt. 

The moose in Maine stay mainly in the rain

 

Unless it's sunny out, and then they hide

So they will not get sunburn on their hide.

They browse among pond scum for tasty leaves

 

Then hide in shadow so they will not burn

Until the hunters spot them in the fern.

The moose in Maine stay mainly in the rain

 

Until they're brought to barbecue at last

Out on the lawn to take part in repast.

They browse among pond scum for tasty leaves

 

Until they're eaten at a barbecue

Where they will feed a crowd and not a few. 

They browse beneath pond scum for tasty leaves.

If they remain in Maine out in the rain.

n  Lewis Turco

 

REVISED MOOSEANELLE

 

One Friday night, at the Moose Lodge,

some moose friends drive up in a Dodge,

and bugle out this awful news:

 

Turk asks that I fix my mooseanelle

to please his lurking gargolye muse.

On Friday night, at the Moose Lodge,

 

it’s noisy, dark, can’t think to write.

But I will face this irksome charge.

Who bugled out the awful news

 

on Facebook that my poem was flawed?

That same old Turk who paid his dues

most Friday nights. At the Moose Lodge,

 

to prove I’m not some poet fraud

I’d gladly pay out twenty large.

Or better still, bugle awesome news

 

on Facebook, with a poem less flawed.

Let’s hope the readers all are awed,

don’t bugle out more awful news

next Friday night, at the Moose Lodge.

-- Steven Cornish

 

Turco: Magnifique! This gets posted on my blog!

 

Suggested Writing Exercse:

Write a mooseannelle

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