Hanniballs, Berlusconi and the Pope

He was ordained, the Chosen One

He had come from Carthage with

38,000 infantry, 8,000 cavalry, and 37 war elephants

Like his Grandfather not only did Hanniballs have to face

The extreme cold conditions with men unseasoned to the cold or mountain climbing but

Hanniballs croxxing the Alps

He knew there were 27 Bunga-Bunga girls waiting for him at the border of Menton

Enchanting, seductive Amazon Sirens

Fearless, they were ready to suck the trunk even out of Patraeus' Elephant

But Hanniballs was clever

He devised special crampons that allowed his 37 Elephants to go safely over a high Alpine Pass

He devised giant horse blinds in case his elephants ran into the Bunga Bungas

But Time was running short

Whereas his Grandfather hung l5 years in the Po valley eating truffles 

Hanniballs had to get to Rome fast

Berlusconi was getting elected on a bunch of lies and

The Pope was about to resign; the Vatican Papaless!

Rome would loose all morals

The Bunga Bungas would invade His Holy Quarters

Hurry Hanniballs, Hurry!

Fishwolf Poem

My uncle, who loved to drink tea

acted down and out complaining his head hunter had a 

pea brain                 he was caught red handed

for trying to steal the intimacy from the glory of

elves

And all the papers wrote about it in Geatland.

One day when the breaker of saucers cut himself

during an interview for a job                     

his battle sweat dripped (blood) on the desk

onto the floor of the conference room

he panicked and took to the whale road (sea)

but there was such a thick curtain of smog that he couldn't see the sky candle (sun)

so he lost his way and dove into a pub instead of mounting his horse of the sea (ship)

ordered a Chai latte with cinnamon and learned that the mead hall (pub) was going to close

The emptier of pints had long ago sang their songs

Those were the days when clients could boast of

hardship: seeker of fortunes, the Fort Knox of arms, the mender of bugs

and the healer of cats and dogs.

On a slight ginger buzz my uncle contemplated the joy of birds (feathers)

and the ringing of the needy

Where was a hunter when you needed one? he thought

A battle dance composed itself inside his head

He sipped another Chai latte as he saw a pretty

dwelling ornament (a woman) approach him by his side.

"Are you a ring giver?" she said in a husky voice

"No, I am a simple ghetto serpent" he replied

and with a quick move he danced across the pint plateau (the bar)

pretending to be a dragon with a flexible bone house.

"I am looking for my horse of the sea but

I got lost because the sky candle dipped

behind the curtain of smog

And thou, beauty of the retina, giver of chromosomes, babe of babes

Could you first guide me to the public receptacle of massive trash

As I have a cardboard shoe box to recycle

And as I am an earth walker without a sword's tree (warrior)

I would delight if your perfumed bone house would accompany me."

End of Part I

Cockroaches don't feel pain and neither do football players

Cockroaches don't feel pain. Neither do ticks.
People have been killing roaches, stepping on them, beating 'em with sticks
making them pop under their thumbs as they race up a wall,
pulling out their antennae in the hope that they will
get lost and never find their apartment again
that they will err
cross state lines
get run over on a highway or worse,
drown in a body of water!

Such suffering must be put to an end
and protection for these insects    and other higher
order animals                               is needed.

True, you may be an exterminator reading this piece
watching Monday night football or the Super Bowl and
savoring the painless action of witnessing
other neurons get clobbered
synapses crushed beyond repair
in the name of a Sport that exalts and celebrates the tackle  -however vicious-
between two hefty, jumbo athletes

Nobody is accusing you to understand the pain of a lower order

To empathize with neuro-transmission and consider it like a marriage

However if you continue to put acetic acid on the antennae of roaches

I will still respect you

I will judge based on what I can see (not feel) while
cracking the crusty crab arm that I have disjointed on my plate.

And if you believe that Jane Mansfield

felt nothing at her accident

Due to the devastating head injuries she sustained when her car rammed and slid under a truck
in pre-seat belt full-bodied sedan days

You may have a point 

She undoubtedly suffered more from having her career sidelined because Hollywood got 

tired of big-breasted bombshells and opted for the heady Shirley Maclaines

In the mid-60's Jane graciously slipped away to Las Vegas

Where the booze soothed the hurt

Just as today's footballers

seek the sooth without remembering what it was all about.

I want to be an Academic

     I 

                                                                                 want to be an academic

Let the World sense my Curiosity

Slalom through my passion

I want to show my Command

Unlike Moses

I've got tablets to show

It's more than rigor

Or blow by blow

I want to keep on dialoging 

Inlaying messages

into the ebony of mass transit

I am the A train of Desire

The paradigm of passion

The Aurora of Knowledge

My Eyes ingest 

So much that I need an appendectomy

My stomach recycles and grumbles

Viva Voce

Here I am 

At your door waiting for the rite of passage

On my cell contacts there is Osiris

It's not him I want

Nor Athena

I want You

The plume

The ink that runs from my veins

The racing clattering train

Clear of prejudicial sources

Fractaled yet structured

Producing astounding ethical results

Such as the percentage of salt erosion on disk brakes

In alpine countries 

As opposed to inter-coastal regions

With evidence of mathematical biological sequences

That finally will offer the unanswered musicality of

A broad wavy swath offering consistent and fundamental

Research now available to an audience that considers itself

Erudite if only texting, twittering and facing

Offer the same Stature as the libraries of Alexandria and New York

For this

I 

Demand

Recognition

Friendship Prison

"Why have you not a friend? What Friend Game or Frenemy are you playing?"

With these words from the Warden I stiffly moved through the corridor to serve

Five years in Friendship Prison.

                                               Train taking me to Friendship Jail

I was guilty. I committed Friend Crime. (Less than three friends, the sentence was harsh.)

Doctors said I could be trigger happy.

But when I told the guard in Friendship Prison

My Mate killed his Mom despite having Four Friends and a Best Friend

I got slapped in the face.

The first weeks were tough:

I had to walk in the courtyard for twenty minutes holding hands 

Then my blood pressure was taken and if it was still high I needed to hold hands for another twenty.

My new friend was Bromio.

He waxed a mustache and wore jeans pulled above his flat hips.

When his dog died (which counted half a friend) a Friendship Drone picked him up.

I didn't trust him.

He said he milked cows but his skin was too smooth for my liking.

Once a week I have psychological tests.

I'm shown ink blotches that resemble guns and my blood pressure is checked to see if it goes up.

After two months I was caught for talking about my divorce and gossiping.

Divorce talk is against Code and one gets another year for that.

Gossiping is punished by Friendship Confinement

You have to spend one week in a cell with five Mates

Holding hands and playing games is obligatory

No sex, of course.
And once a day there is the hotdog. The guards hand you a hotdog and each night, with a different Mate, you have to eat it from both sides. No kissing and the cameras are there.

Then I got in more trouble: I made a poster with six guys holding hands with an orange sunset as the backdrop. I unfortunately used the word "teamwork" and that was on the black list.

"Mutual affection, trust, sympathy or empathy would have done it, maybe even gotten me on Friendship Parole or Friendshipbation, whatever, it just didn't happen; wasn't in the cards.

                                    

It's now year six. I've made eight new friends but I have to go through a series of Friend Tests to see if they conform to regulations. I'm feeling good about it. I heard, thanks to this program, the Crime Rate in America has dropped to zero, homicides included! Maybe when I get out I'll apply to become a Friend Police Officer. Or just a dog trainer.

A schoolhouse story

I thought its been a Merry Christmas at Armalite Where I've been working for 15 years
Sure I remember putting together my first Colt AR 14
And thinking My family My wife who
 is an invalid Shot at the age of 22
And my 9 and 10 year old

Now They will eat more than grits
Now They will protect themselves with more than Slingshots

 When I started It was the pistol Grip
 A somewhat simple piece yet without it the trigger would lay dormant
 I tended to to it with passion until I was needed for the collapsable stock
 True I was challenged by complex parts Parts that only went

  Click and Chick 

When the fit was down to the millimeter
It makes a sound Similar to The detachable magazine

 Chaclick

And with that the ears resound with goodness
 After 5 years I got moved up In charge of Grenade launchers
 That year I afforded 33 Christmas Presents without pulling my belt
 A bayonet for Lee made him cry with joy!
A night viewer for Margaret was her best ever toy!
 But this year in a Flash It seems my life has changed
There's talk of suppression Jobs at Armalite are at stake
Some blame it on Newton And that bloody massacre
 Still here in Illinois There is cheer in the air In the marketing department
Now I am In charge of communiqués I wrote:

"ArmaLite will stop processing shipments to customers at noon, Thursday December 20st through January 2nd due to year end inventory. Shipments will resume on January 3rd. ArmaLite will be closed Dec 22nd through Dec 25th for the Christmas Holiday Due to limited supplies of AR10 and M15 magazines quantities will be limited to 2 per customer until further notice"

Was the last one I wrote today and
Then I got my final notice "Thank you for your 15 years of service."

Warlus in Wonderland

Unblemished in her hourglass frame
Whiskers blooming                       The Walrus thought:
Take another oyster-mullusk-steam shell
Wrap my lips over it                    And
suck the vivid contents...             Out!

"Adding a few stones?" said the Rabbit
Its nose sniffing the cold air as he quickly approached Walrus on the beach
Then it blew some smoke out from a walnut pipe
and jiggled its bum
in deep thought down to its tripes

One may say the Moon is lighting the shore
He's given me the go for my gut
With Christmas on the horizon
I'm eating everything from shells to halibut
Thank God for my corset! (Pronounced "corsut")

"But you are lovely, you are!" cheered the Rabbit
(Whose secret desire for blubber made him pant all the faster.)
You move with Grace
Your steps bewilder
And few on this continent have such an appealing, whiskered face!


That is gallant of you, Mr Rabbit
True, I don't take drugs
I despise thugs
My only weakness is my tight laced whalebone accoutrement
That keeps out the bugs

Tell me Mademoiselle Walrus
This is the season of              Cheer
Name any wish for these festive occasions
Any desire that knows no ration
It will be yours

There is one thing now if you propose
Promise not to renege       One never knows
My cousin in Australia a Camel rides every day
Such a present
Is better than a cheese tray!

You shall have you wish! Hooted the Rabbit
Just grant me one promise
He said as he pointed his nose up at hers
You must side-saddle, ignore these latest trends
Any other position will give me the bends.

At those words there was a shift in the sweet, round Walrus eyes
Fire kindled faster in her belly that a 100 oyster dives
In one swift move she seized the Rabbit,
Breaking its neck with its long tusks
She said: "Toot, toot" and arched her bust, walking off into the dusk.