by S.O. Fasrus
“‘Friends’ of [Kim Kardashian and Kanye West] have allegedly told Star magazine that Kanye has given Kim a ‘twisted’ ultimatum—’plump her rump or don’t let the door hit you on the way out.'”—New Idea
Men don’t make passes
at girls with flat asses—
to be a real cutie
you need a big booty.
Dot Parker opined
thick specs were a no-no,
but nowadays, folks,
it’s big-buns-a-go-go.
by Julia Griffin
“We do not hold preference for any particular style or topic—we simply seek the best poem we can find. Send us work that is blister, that is color, that strikes hot the urge to live and be. We strongly invite poets from all communities. You, & your words, are welcome here.”
—Frontier Poetry, announcing a New Poets competition
Is it blister? Is it color,
Striking hot the urge to be?
Or, by contrast, is it duller
Than a tepid mug of tea?
Is its color hot Venetian
With a dash of desert red,
Or, instead, like tofu quiche: an
Uninspiring shade of shed?
Is it blister? Is it splinter?
Does it master and suffuse?
Is it really more akin to
Some extremely minor bruise?
If it’s blister, ’twill be bliss to
Crown you best of singing birds!
If it’s not, forget it, mister.
You’re not welcome, nor your words.
by Mae Scanlan
“I’d like to buy some applesauce.”
“You need to show me your IDs.”
“I left them home.” “You may be boss,
But I need proofs. Produce them, please.”
“Hey, I’ve got cash. I’d like to go
Play golf. Don’t make this purchase hard.”
“You cannot have it till you show
Your license or a credit card.
Our policy makes perfect sense;
For all I know, you’re Betsy Ross.
Until you show some documents
Forget about your applesauce.”
by Mark Granier
Like it needs another baker refusing to bake
even one, irreligiously gay, cake.
Like it needs more religious liberty gravy.
Like it needs to launch a Religious Liberty Navy.
Like it needs an Attorney General keen to take action
against ‘cultural’ climate change (the planetary one being a distraction).
Like it needs religious cheerleaders to cover their religious knees.
Like it needs a pro-evangelical POTUS who’s the embodiment of sleaze.
Like it needs a Religious Liberty parade
rained on by golden showers of religious lemonade.
Like it needs another state turning religiously red.
Like it needs a religious hole in another religious head.
*”‘Jeff Sessions announces new ‘religious liberty task force.'”—CNN
by Dan Campion
“Reenactment of the Civil War is in decline,
and a crucial battlefield feels the loss..”—The New York Times (Midwest edition)
The feelings of the battlefield are mixed.
It used to feel the tramp of legions. Now,
Much thinner ranks advance with bright blades fixed.
At least they all survive to take a bow.
That other time, those three days in July,
So many boys and men stayed on the ground
It felt oppressive. Thankfully, they lie
Elsewhere today (all those, that is, they found).
It’s sad to feel enthusiasm wane
For reenacting bygone glory’s scenes
With realistic gasps and thrills of pain
And period hardtack and tin canteens.
The field is moved to ask, as feeling fractures,
Who will reenact the reenactors?
by Alex Steelsmith
As Britain considers its exit
while half of the public rejects it,
Theresa may worry,
and be in no hurry
to put all her eggs in one Brexit.
by Julia Griffin
US President Donald Trump tweeted his thanks to North Korean leader Kim Jong Un Thursday, after the possible remains of American war dead killed in the Korean War arrived back on US soil.—CNN
Thank you, Chairman Kim Jong Un,
For keeping of your word:
I like you more than Good Night Moon,
Whatever you have heard.
I’m not at all surprised you took
This action nice and kind;
And let me add how thin you look
When photo’d from behind.
We’re thrilled you’re sending back our dead:
We’re sure beneath each lid
We won’t find something else instead,
The way the British did.
Your letter, too, was kind and nice.
I hope to see you soon
And treat you to an Egg McRice,
Dear Chairman Kim Jong Un.
by David Hedges
My best advice to Michael Cohen: Flee.
This latest tape has turned The Donald blue.
Eyeball to eyeball with reality,
He’s bound to wonder, “What would Putin do?”
by Ian Graham
“A topiarist says he is having to make regular repairs to his hedge due to drunk people pretending to have sex with it. … The hedge, which he has sculpted over the past 40 years, started off as a Greek god but he changed it into a reclining woman at the turn of the millennium.”— BBC News
In the twentieth century, to please the drunks,
I carved Dionysus (without any trunks)
Into my hedge, and there the god lay
Quite undisturbed until one fateful day
A slip of the trimmer on the hardy perennial
Converted him into a female millennial
Which greatly augmented the passing trade
And also the toll of repairs to be made
But to tell you the truth, I have zero regrets
As workloadwise, I have hedged all my bets
For in terms of the topiarist’s sacred arts
Women have easier privet parts.
by Cody Walker
(with apologies to Lewis Carroll)
He thought he saw an Empty Suit
Abandoned on a Table:
He looked again, and found it was
A Genius (“very stable”).
“A ‘Made in Russia’ genius! Snap!
I saw it on the label.”
He thought he saw the word “COLLUSION”
Spelled with just one L:
He looked again, and found it was
High treason? Hard to tell.
“Let’s toss another coin or two
Inside the wishing well.”
He thought he saw a Cage (a Cage!)
Constructed at the border:
He looked again, and found it was
Ivanka. (He ignored her.)
“She’s like an extra extra on the
Set of Law & Order.”
He thought he saw his Country’s Fortunes
Crumble—wait a minute:
He looked again, and found there was
Another way to spin it.
“In eighty years we’ll be cadavers.
Kinda funny, innit?”
by Julia Griffin
—Barefaced cheek: Rubens nudes fall foul of Facebook censors — The Guardian
Farewell, ye nudes of Rubens, all unbodiced,
Each dimple and each pimple, rosy-ripe;
Now Facebook bans all hints of the immodest;
The arts require a purer prototype.
No longer shall we peep in shy rubescence:
Such grossness on the screen is now pre-shunned;
We’re giving up exuberant nubescence,
Eschewing the cherubic rubicund.
Yet cynics claim we’re mere naïfs and newbies;
It’s no square deal, they sneer, but cubic con;
We’re choosing prudish rubrics over rubies,
And heading for a pubic Rubicon.
The Facebook cops (say these) are worse than rubes:
They’re manifested as tremendous boobs.
by Dan Campion
“Birds are dinosaurs. ”—Steve Brusatte, The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs
“[A] farmer spotted the fossils while herding sheep.”—Reuters
They dig each week from arid ground
Another beast, age so profound
It staggers us unused to such
Deep time, who do not venture much
Outside our own sad, savage era
Stained by ink and smeared mascara.
With signs of feathers, colors, wit,
These dinosaurs look custom-fit
To rule ten million years times ten
On Earth, then do it all again.
Instead, a vagrant star took charge,
Upstaging lizards living large.
They slumped off Earth without a word
And left it to the hummingbird.
by Chris O’Carroll
The friendship we build at the summit
Will be such a beautiful thing.
As soon as I get to Helsinki,
I’ll be kneeling to kiss Putin’s ring.
They say his spies hacked our election,
But he’s strong, so I’ll give him a pass.
As soon as I get to Helsinki,
I’ll be kneeling to kiss Putin’s ring.
He’s tough. He’s so full of machismo,
He makes my heart beat double quick.
As soon as I get to Helsinki,
I’ll be kneeling to kiss Putin’s ring.
by Mae Scanlan
President, President, where have you been?
“I’ve been to London to visit the Queen.”
President, President, what did you there?
“I maddened our allies, but what do I care?”
by Joanna Bird
On the streets there’s been much agitation;
There’s frustration and rage in the air.
Could it be anti-Trump protestation?
No! It’s fighting about Build-A-Bear.