Closet Valentine

In Sami’s closet is a little snip from the New York Times that we cut out and saved. It was back when we had the paper delivered to our house and although I couldn’t swear to it, I seem to recall that we paid $2.50 a week for 7-day delivery. So how long ago was that? 20 years? 25 years?

I’m afraid to touch it now. The paper that the poem is printed on is crisp – maybe to the point of disintegrating on contact. However old it is now, the sentiment of love in a mature and long lasting relationship struck a chord with me because we already felt like we had been together forever. Also, there was a little schlepping going on.

My, how the time does fly.

Slowly Coming Around

Truth be told, I had to take to my bed for a day after the election. I’m slowly coming back around. America, this America of low initiative, reduced morals, ridicule and condescension is where we live now. Last night I was killing time by watching Two Broke Girls on TV. One of the roommates walked into the bathroom and surprised the other one, who was busy masturbating with the shower head. Much was made of that, and the references to it continues for several minutes. Who do I complain to about this? Is there anyone else who thinks this contributes to the diminishment of society? Or is this a symptoms of the diminishment that has already happened?

The barn door is hanging open, isn’t it?

I turn for inspiration to Dorothy Parker, a wise-cracking hard case who I think would have understood me if we lived at the same time. Sorry for this alteration of your work, Dorothy but the underlying sentiment is the same for both of us.

Canada bores you;

England is damp;

Singapore canes you;

Mexico – uh oh! cramp!

Gaza isn’t lawful;

Austria is gray;

France smells awful;

You might as well stay.

Sunday Morning Poetry Throw Down – Debate Edition

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before but I’ve been very busy lately! Now my schedule has suddenly cleared up just in time for the Sunday Morning Poetry Throw Down. I’ve missed a lot of news but I’ll try to catch up. Here’s my submission for this week. It’s not very good but I did entertain myself so …

You walked into the debate
Like you were walking onto a markeeb
Your eyes strategically dipped to see your shoes
You sure looked like one big dweeb.

You’re so vain
You probably this vote is about you
You’re so vain
I bet you think this vote is about you
Don’t you – don’t you?

You had us several years ago
We were still in the dark
You said there’s no blue no red just one.
But now you’ve just lost your spark.
You gave away some things for votes
And now you are one and done.

Pop had some dreams- they were clouds in Bill Ayer’s head.
Clouds in Bill Ayer’s head.

You’re so vain
You probably this vote is about you
You’re so vain
I bet you think this vote is about you
Don’t you – don’t you?

Well, I hear you went up to South Korea
And were overheard on a hot mic
When you said you’ll have more flexibility
Because this will be your last reich.
Are you where you should be all the time?
Or are you playing golf?  Or sneaking ’round on the down low?
’round on the down low?

You’re so vain
You probably this vote is about you
You’re so vain
I bet you think this vote is about you
Don’t you – don’t you?

Don’t you?


Now UPDATED with reader submissions from:
  • Joan Of Arrgghh x 2
  • Buttercup Morgenstern
  • honorable mention: terimwal
Hey everybody – it’s the Sunday Morning Poetry Throwdown. Last week readers checked in with an all-time high volume of 3 submissions. Let’s keep it rolling.

So much fodder this week – it’s hard to choose, isn’t it?  The Dancing Vaginas, Chris Matthews completely losing it in a restaurant, a president who doesn’t watch the opposition convention but has to stomp his cyber foot and tweet a rebuttal, dog whistles, the icon of Obama eroding from the base.  I took the easy way out and went with the most obvious candidate for News Item of the Week Century:

Who has seen the president?
Neither I nor you:
But when the economy hangs trembling,
Obama is passing through.
Who has seen the chair?
All of us – you and I:
But when Obama bows down to kings
must we turn a blind eye?
Reader Submissions
Joan Of Argghh
I happen to be tired of being a President.
I happen to enter golf shops and ale houses
punchy, incoherent, like a choomer,
navigating in a water of politics and asses.
The smell of Michelle makes me wail.
I want only a respite of weed or meade.
I want only not to see capitalism or self-reliance,
or merchandise, or coal mines, or oil derricks.
I happen to be tired of my friends and my 23 handicap
and my wife and my shadow.
I happen to be tired of being a President.
Buttercup Morgenstern
Who has seen such greatness
Created from sand?
Who has seen such power
That rules now our land?Who has seen a dictator
Who does as he wishes?
Who has seen a VP
Who plays “Go Fishes”?Who has seen a pResident,
None too nice and none to sharp.
A guy with a smile
Who only seems to harp.Who has seen the intellect
Of the Democrat party?
An empty grin on a head
That’s none too smarty.Dirty Harry, that’s who.
His observations were clever.
He draws a bead on an empty chair,
And asks us to think when we pull that lever.
Joan Of Argghh

Home Run

The RNC, awash in cash
and saved by Private Ryan
major-leagued a boring bash
for insiders who were buying.

From mom n’ pop to Taylor Hicks
the Party lineup paraded there
the gray and oldest of their tricks
with power grabs and helmet-hair

The teleprompted floor rules bagged
the designated hitters
The Paul-bots routed, tongues were wagged:
No delegated splitters!

Bold speeches followed head-to-tail
Like three-ringed pachydermia
Their tones and drones our ears assailed
 to a state of hypnothermia

A mystery guest! Who could it be?
I rouse my sleepy senses
It’s HarryPhiloBillyWales
He’s aiming for the fences!

He swings, he hits, he scores at-bat
the Party now to life returns
A simple hit, a sturdy thwack
Is all it takes to turn the worm.

An empty chair,
An old man’s dare.
A simple twist. . .
. . .all in the wrist.

-Joan Varga

We’re All Soldiers Now

subtitle: The Real Enemy is Time and Gravity


Our regularly scheduled Sunday Morning Poetry Throwdown will not be seen today. In it’s place will be an open discussion about the real war on women.


You know, it’s not just the left-leaning liberal progressive Democrats who want to talk  about the private female businesses in public. Am I not a woman? Do I not have private female business? I do. And I’m going to invite you, you right-leaning conservative traditionalist Republicans, to speculate about them now.

OK, left-leaning liberal progressive Democrat readers are always invited to participate. AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. I love you guys.  As people, not as political bellwethers. But you know, love is love. Love is all you need. And so on.

Issue #1 Armpit hair I’ve come to accept that my armpit hair is not located where it used to be. Okay. WHATEVER.  Even though I was completely unprepared, I understand now that gravity has done its dirty work and moved my “armpits” (as defined by (1.) the place where the hair grows and (2.) the place where you rub your solid deodorant/antiperspirant onto). But here’s the thing – I happened to be admiring myself  me in the bathroom mirror while I was waiting for the shower water to warm up,  as you do. I was considering lathering up and taking a twin bladed swipe at that goddamned single chin hair when I took a look at my armpits. Guess what? My right armpit has far less hair than my left armpit. What is that? Is it a sign of disease? And lady friends, you know what disease I mean. If you haven’t looked at your armpits lately, please do so now for the benefit of this discussion.

Issue #2 At the moment I forgot what it was but I’m sure it will come back to me. Maybe it was the goddamned single chin hair.

The Trail

UPDATE: I see now why  the readers were holding back. I think with submissions like these, listed after my original post, we could have our own Internet Paraodists Association. Allen Sherman Meet-Up, anyone?

3 submissions his week from wyogranny, schmed and rhoda’s cousin


Good morning, poetry lovers – it’s time for the Sunday Morning Poetry Throwdown. We’re picking up steam now – last week we did very well with two reader submissions. As usual, please leave your work in the comments. My offering today is titled “The Candidates”:

Hello Mother! It’s Paul Ryan
Campaign very gratifyin’.
Save the country? Well we’re tryin’!
And they say we’re gonna win not the Hawaiian.

Here’s our drunken uncle Biden:
“On the Amtrak I’ll be ridin
to a hideout ‘cuz I’m appallin’.
When they let me out I’ll get right back to y’all-in’. “

Went to London/Poland’s unknowns
Press corp bellowed like rude trombones.
They’re the lame stream, they’re the bottom
They’ll increase their biased lies once comes the autumn.

My plan’s working! Ask the  bankers!
In my pocket are the anchors.
Got half the country hooked on food stamps
Soon my fuel plan will drive them to kerosene lamps.

Vote them out – get rid of the thugs!
Vote them out – them and their hair plugs!
Otherwise we’re dead – turn the map to red!
I.D. prisoners and the dead.
Vote them out – Biden/Obama!
Vote them out  – reverse the trauma!
Otherwise it’s us run over by that bus.
Getting rid of Reid’s a plus.
Basement dwellers for Obama’s
side will stay home in pajamas.
We can win this behind Romney.
Then we’ll rejoice and  we’ll sing it like a psalm: “Free!”
Reader submissions:


Scary is the word I use to describe
All the feelings I have when I see Obama’s foolish pride
You don’t know how many times I wish Ayre’s never met him
You don’t know how many times I wished the press would vet him
You don’t know how many times I wish that I could
Let him sink into the past where
Scary is a memory far and dim

Oh, I’m beginning to think progressives lost their grip
When this empty suit came up for a vote
Hope and change falling seas from his mighty kingship
They thought he was God, he was our dreamboat
They were freakin’ out of their minds.

I’d say Obamacare, and all of it’s what’s where’s and whys
I’d line up Palosi, Rangel, Reid and a thousand other guys
You said they’d take care of me and all those other lies
When all they wanted was to take my cash, my job
And hasten my demise.

Perish is the word that more than applies
To the hope in my heart each time I realize
That I am not gonna be the one who built my business
That I am not gonna be the one who gets the profits
That I am not gonna be the one who gets to
Choose the way I get my healthcare it’s as
Scary as your Socialist mentors.

Scary is the word I use to describe
All the groveling fashionistas kissing Michelle’s backside
You don’t know how many times I wish I could demote you
There just isn’t any way to sugarcoat you
Even Ayers is sorry he ever ghostwrote you
Into someone who could
Scare everyone as much as you scare me

And we’ll vote you out too
And we’ll vote you out too

Scary is the word



For you! For you! The One is most sincere.
The Fundamental Change he wrought is here!
A polling held four dozen moons ago here
Installed the most benevolent despot.
The hopey-change in place has got a name here:

Tough questions are forbidden ‘till November.
The fawning press lines up to kiss his rear
No sterner tone will show up come December
In Obamalot.

Obamalot! OBAMALOT!
We bought a bright hypnotic star
But in ‘Bamalot, Barakalot!
Charisma’s gone too far.

It seems the jobless rate may never come down
But weekly checks will never disappear
His record reeks of rot.
He’s all they’ve really got
To mesmerize the masses till they cheer Obamalot

Obamalot! OBAMALOT!
The pundits won’t explore his flaws
But in ‘Bamalot, Barakalot!
Their blindness serves the cause

The deficit was caused by the supply-side
The taxes on the rich must be severe.
If we have all forgot
The war our Founders fought
Our kids are doomed to work for China
In Obamalot

[alternate verse that didn't fit into the screenplay...] The aura of Jack Kennedy is sought here.
We fondly think of him upon his yacht.
A cheap façade is clearly all we’ve got here:


Buttercup Morgenstern

Oh tell me tell me, tell me do
Oh gorgeous man with eyes of blue,
Is 1 + 1 really always 2?
Does math work in DC like it does in school?

When I spend more than I could ever earn,
My creditors tell me I’m going to get burned.
But when times are tough in Washington,
Biden says to spend money by the ton!

You’ve got to spend money to keep from going broke,
He tells us straight-faced, no hint of a joke.
Now the rest of the Dems say we can’t stop spending
Or you’ll be cliff-side, dear Ryan, Grandma’s wheelchair upending.

The whole thing’s confusing for one stupid as I
Because I always believed that numbers don’t lie.
But it appears that on this someone’s stretching the truth.
Perhaps the right numbers will add up in the voting booth!