by Bruce Bennett

“L’état, c’est moi.” No, Don, that isn’t true.
And now it’s time the State is purged of you.

(last seen with a gator in her pants)

by Gail White

“A Florida woman freed herself from a camel by biting its testicles at the Tiger Truck Stop
in Grosse Tete, [Louisiana]…”
—The Advocate

If you’re cornered by a camel
And you cannot climb the walls,
When the creature settles on you,
You can bite him in the balls.

If you’re looking at a camel,
Do not throw him doggy treats
Then go sneaking under fences
Just to notice what he eats.

Camels justly get offended
When you crawl into their pen,
And the one that’s sitting on you
May not let you up again.

Still, you have the useful knowledge
(Though applying it appalls)
That to get a camel going
You can bite him in the balls.

by Chris O’Carroll

We’re calling today to remind you
How much we have done for Ukraine.
If we had to stop being friendly,
You might soon be feeling the pain.

We want you to do us a favor.
Go dig up some dirt about Joe.
If some politician’s a sleazebag,
That’s something the world needs to know.

by Julia Griffin

“Man who invented labradoodle says it’s his ‘life’s regret'”
—The Guardian

I too have much that I regret—
My posture, temper, snacking,
And other flaws that I forget;
But this I swear is lacking:

The least acquaintance with the new
Geneticist caboodle;
And thus I’ve left unmixed and true
The labrador and poodle.

I may be lazy, panicky,
And something of a meanie,
But don’t attempt to blame on me
The chusky or chiweenie;

I’ve much to be repentant for,
But, though I own great folly,
I’ve never bred a bassador
Or peekapoo or gollie.

And so, St. Peter, in a few:
I’m flaky as a strudel,
But this at least I didn’t do—
Invent the labradoodle.

by Dan Campion

“Neutrino Experiment Reveals (Again) That Something Is Missing from Our Universe”
—LiveScience.com

“Again” is right. Those books we loaned,
The dollars we have spent
On fruitless efforts to look toned,
On vino, and on rent
(Plus keys that simply disappeared)
All obviate the need
To show once more the world’s not geared
To keep our stuff. Indeed,
Evaporation is the rule:
Experiments go poof!
Hard facts and paradigms unspool . . .
Why seek for further proof?

by Nora Jay

“Pope Francis has taken aim at adjectives while giving his views on language to the Vatican communications team, saying: ‘I am allergic to those words’. … [T]he pope took particular aim at the word ‘authentic,’ especially when describing ‘authentic Christians’. ‘We have fallen into the culture of adjectives and adverbs, and we have forgotten the strength of nouns … Why say authentically Christian? It is Christian!’”
—The Guardian

With all the sins the Pope forgives,
He draws the line at adjectives.
The faithful must endure his frowns
If they contaminate their nouns
With fillers like “authentic,” which
Provokes a papal rash, or itch.
“Why add,” he scolds the Vatican,
“‘Authentic’ to plain ‘Christian’?
We have forgotten more is less!
We’ve fallen,” snaps His [- – – -]ness.

by Ian Graham

“Giant planet around tiny star ‘should not exist’”
—BBC

A giant planet’s non-compliance
Shows disrespect for earthly Science.
It’s where it shouldn’t be, this planet.
UNESCO must take steps to ban it.

by Julia Griffin

“Woman discovers Renaissance masterpiece in kitchen:
Christ Mocked, by the 13th-century painter Cimabue, could be worth up to €6m”
—The Guardian

In a French cuisine till lately hung an icon (Christ on gold)
Which has just been viewed and valued and is shortly to be sold.
Long it watched its aged owner stir ragout and tend the grill;
Now it’s locked inside a showroom, dollar-priced at seven mill.

Kitchens now from Tarbes to Arras are sustaining piercing looks.
What a gain for art and beauty! What a turn-up for the cooks!
Cuisiniers and cognoscenti are bilaterally rocked
To conceive above a hotplate Cimabue’s “Jesus Mocked.”

On his faded golden background Christ is standing in a scrum:
Nineteen strangers, arms extended, mark Him out for martyrdom.
Still, it seems a lot of silver. Will this sell for seven mill?
With allowance for inflation, very probably it will.

by Dan Campion

“I just wanted to tell you that your songs never stuck in my throat.”
—Jerry Garcia to Robert Hunter, quoted in the latter’s New York Times obituary

We’re thankful, as their spirits soar
And wry last words evoke them,
One thing The Dead were Grateful for
Was songs that didn’t choke them.

by Julia Griffin

“To mark the release of the Downton Abbey film, the Earl and Countess of Carnarvon have posted their residence of Highclere Castle in Hampshire on the Airbnb booking website.”
—The Guardian

[Contains TV series spoilers]

Good But Not Great. The house was nice,
But not enough to do it twice.
The family was strange. The Earl
Seemed pleasant, and the youngest girl,
But Carson squirmed while serving food,
And Lady Mary acted rude.
Of course, we half expected that,
But not some Turkish diplomat
Finishing up in madam’s bed—
Not just embarrassing but dead.
Enough excitement, so you’d hope!
Then Lady Grantham slipped on soap.
As for old Lady G—the sneer
When Wayne (my husband) asked for beer!
And how she smirked when, over tea,
That nasty footman squeezed his knee!
Still, we liked Mrs. Isobel
(Not Downton class, though—you can tell)
And Mrs. Patmore did her best
With Bolonaise, at our request.
Were there some things we’d change? There were.
We found him pushy, their chauffeur:
He outright whizzed us down that drive!
Overall rating: 3.5.

by Jerome Betts

(David Cameron’s recently published
memoirs use such expressions as “foam-
flecked Faragist,” “bilious,” and “cauldron
of toxicity” in describing his opponents.)

That’s more than just a well-slapped wrist—
Gove as a “foam-flecked Faragist.”
B. Johnson too is booed and hissed
With “Bilious” Cummings, on the list
Of those that Cameron’s now dissed.

The backs they’ve stabbed! The arses kissed!
A country led towards a tryst
With Trump the tweeting egotist!
May polls provide a purging twist—
No toxic Tory will be missed!

by Dan Campion

“Pennsylvanians Combat an Invasion with Their Feet …
‘Kill it!’ a state website blares by way of advice to residents who encounter the [lanternflies].
‘Squash it, smash it … just get rid of it.’”
—The New York Times

Beset by spotted lanternflies
Endowed with no appeal,
The Keystone State’s defense applies
Firm toe tip, instep, heel,
And, at the fatal crunch, relies
On tempered nerves of steel.

by Julia Griffin

“When Milton met Shakespeare: poet’s notes on Bard appear to have been found
Scott-Warren … [points out] the work the annotator did to improve the text of the folio—suggesting corrections and supplying additional material such as the prologue to Romeo and Juliet … ‘The book is absolutely covered with lines in the margin of passages …’ [said Scott-Warren:] ‘they echo with [Milton’s] work …’
One highlighted section in The Tempest is the song: “Come unto these yellow sands, / And then take hands: … [which] is echoed in Milton’s ‘On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity.'”
—The Guardian

Two houses both alike in dignity
—Added, J. Milton, 1623.
Mark, Give him heedful note. Append, “I do.”
Query, The text is foolish. Score it through.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Ring first word. Query: add “new pastures”—borrow?
I have nothing with these words. They are not mine.
Annotate, query, dog-ear, underline.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus. Now the page is curled.
Note: envy not. O that way madness lies.
Add: “solitary way”? A prize! A prize!
Mark, copy. Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands. Mark that. And then take hands.

by Dan Campion

“I read a lot of poetry, and that gives me a wide range of permission to say anything in a song—they’re more twisted than I’ll ever be.”
—the late Ric Ocasek of The Cars, quoted in The New York Times

I hear a lot of pop and rock,
And that gives me a range
Of things that spout and twist and shock
(De Sade might find them strange)
To choose from in my poetry,
If I’d a mind to say them.
But I’m content to leave them be
And let the DJs play them.

by James Hamby

Trump: “This wall is so amazing!
No person can confound it!
Its features beat back any foe—
Unless they walk around it.”