by Paul Lander

It’s so damn wet that
Outside my window I saw
Snorkeling pigeons

by Julia Griffin

After Marie Joussaye

“Judge: Michigan couple must pay son $30,441 for throwing out porn collection
Ruling says parents had no legal right to ‘destroy property that they dislike’ …
David Werking, 43 … lived at his parents’ Grand Haven home for 10 months after a divorce”
—The Guardian

I know I am only a Werking boy,
But I never grudged expense
Until my parents dared destroy
My Juggses, Chics and Gents.
I spent my days from early morn
In corporate employ,
To earn myself the daily porn
I need as a Werking boy.

I belong to the “creeps and weirdos”:
That’s speech we’re used to, true,
Like “pervy specs and beard-Os”:
But steal our porn? We sue.
My parents trashed my merchandise,
Each precious mag and toy,
And now I’m charging them full price,
To keep me a Werking boy.

So when I meet with scornful sneers,
I answer them “Baloney!
To pay this back will take you years:
Blame God and Judge Maloney.
But some day, when I’m resupplied,
I hope you might enjoy
A Penthouse tour with me for guide:
Your own little Werking boy.”

by Jerome Betts

“Andy Murray says his Monday opponent [at the U.S. Open] employs stall tactics too often.”
—The New York Times

An Open contender (yes, Greek)
Took minutes on end for a leak—
A fact Andy M.
Felt forced to condemn
As a sign of bad bathroom technique.

by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

“Ireland under attack from sex-crazed spiders ‘the size of your hand'”
—The Irish Post

September’s when a spider colleen’s mom
Exhorts her nubile daughter to beware—
X-rated movies, not a sweet rom-com,
Could be what spider lads show in their lair!
Red-blooded male arachnids on the prowl,
As August ends, are in a mating war:
Zoologists see all means fair or foul
Employed by sex-crazed Irish males to score! …
Don’t bother spiders on the make tonight—
In Ireland, in your house! They may be dead
Reluctant to attack you, but they’ll bite
If you disturb them mating on your bed!
Soon all the males will die, and when they do,
House spiders will return your house to you!

by Iris Herriot

“US supreme court refuses to block extreme Texas abortion law …
‘In reaching this conclusion, we stress that we do not purport to resolve definitively any jurisdictional
or substantive claim in the applicants’ lawsuit. In particular, this order is not based on any conclusion
about the constitutionality of Texas’s law, and in no way limits other procedurally proper challenges
to the Texas law, including in Texas state courts,” the court said in the unsigned order.”
—The Guardian

We stress that it isn’t our aim
To deny any substantive claim
In the applicants’ suit,
Or their right to dispute
Texas law, if they’re set on the same;

No challenge is hereby confined,
Of a proper-procedural kind;
There can be no illusion
About this conclusion,
And that’s why we’ve left it unsigned.

by Alex Steelsmith

“McDonald’s says it has pulled milkshakes from the menu in all 1,250 of its British restaurants
because of supply problems stemming from a shortage…”
—AP News

“Spotted: Cow at a McDonald’s drive-through in Wisconsin… Jessica Nelson… looked up to see a cow
in the backseat of a Buick sedan three cars ahead of her.”
—AP News

Hi-ho the dairy-o,
fast-food establishments
faced with a shortage of
milkshakes are now

quick to encourage an
improvisational
milk-source alternative:
Bring Your Own Cow.

by Eddie Aderne

“UK judge orders rightwing extremist to read classic literature or face prison”
—The Guardian

“The white supremacist student sentenced to read Austen and Dickens fits a grim pattern”
—The Guardian

Condemned to Pride and Prejudice,
The thug was nothing loath,
Believing (with some grounds for this)
He had a start on both.

This sentence did not win, I guess,
Ubiquitous ovations;
At least it would appear the Press
Had no great expectations.

by Chris O’Carroll

Lavender’s gay. The rainbow, too.
And Ford’s truck hue Performance Blue
Is newly LGBTQ.

That shade of blue looks “very gay”
Some ass online is heard to bray.
Designing minds make campy hay.

Rainbow swooshes meet gold glitter—
Now the truck’s a gayer critter.
Queer wit wins the day on Twitter.

by Nora Jay

“Florida radio host who called himself ‘Mr Anti-Vax’ dies of Covid-19”
—The Guardian

Farewell to Mr Anti-Vax,
Who flexed his freedom to the max;
He ran his mouth and would not mask it.
His speech was free; not so his casket.

by Alex Steelsmith

“Afghan President Ashraf Ghani reportedly fled Kabul with $169 million in cash”
—The Week

Trickery quickery,
Ghani the President
wasn’t suspected of
being a con

till they discovered he’d
opportunistically
grabbed all the cash and was
totally Ghan.

by Brandon Hyer

“Nirvana’s famous naked baby SUES band for child pornography:
Man – now aged 30 – who appeared on iconic cover of 1991 Nevermind album
claims $2.5m damages.”
—Daily Mail

He was wet, he was young, it was sunny.
Decades older, he thinks it’s not funny
That his schnitzel was shown
To buy grunge a new throne
So he’s still swimming after the money.

by Steven Kent

“Roger Federer’s Biggest Legacy? It Might Be His Billion-dollar Brand”
—The New York Times

Oh sure, I love the game, but understand
It’s how I got myself to this tax bracket.
My life’s gone even better than I planned—
I’ve really got a handle on this racket.

by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

Low tide drew pilgrims to the hallowed isle
An abbot, Aidan, founded long ago,
Recruiting souls with missionary guile,
Redeeming those once bound for down below …
Years later, Lindisfarne’s a tourist trap.
Last week it met Walt Disney in disguise,
A garish green and yellow landtrain chap
Named Larry, whose new shuttle enterprise
Dishonoured Lindisfarne—a place of peace,
Tranquillity and awe, not Disney fun,
Riled locals screeched! Their squeaky wheels got grease,
And Larry’s froze, his trial run undone …
It seems that locals still share Aidan’s goal:
No landtrain’s welcome if it has no soul!

by Julia Griffin

It’s time, dear kin, to prove how much
You relatively merit,
For such as August shows me, such
Will be what you inherit.

September’s waiting at the door:
I hear its heavy breathing;
So, if you’d rather not be poor,
Make nice while I’m bequeathing.

Although my main concern’s my soul,
(Assume that a priori),
A will, I find, does cheer the whole
Memento mori story.

by Barbara Loots

Don’t you do my body harm
jabbin’ poison in my arm!

My insides are safe and clean.
Got hydroxychloroquine!

If it’s Covid I’m suspectin’
I can count on ivermectin.

That’ll fix me up, and how!
Stuff deworms a horse or cow.

Fever? Lost my sense of smell?
Trust the Lord’ll make me well.

Nothin’ else that I can do??
Save me in the ICU!!