The New Reality Parody

The New Reality Parody
30 June 2015

Like the bronze giant of Greek fame,
With conquering legs astride the lands;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates stands
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is imprisoned lightening. Proclaim her name
As Mother of Elites. From her raised beacon-hand
Glows a world-wide warning; her wild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Look, ancient lands, at our pomp!” cries she,
Exuding attitude. “Keep your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses working for next-to free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the university graduates to me,
For them I lift my lamp by opportunity’s door!”


The New Colossus
Emma Lazarus, 1849 - 1887

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Reborn Unicorn

Reborn Unicorn
5 March 2015

Once upon a time there was a little Ducky Waddles
Growing up and following his mother around.
He had fun splashing in all the rain puddles.
While swimming in the pond, his joy was unbound.
Poor Ducky Waddles, those activities
Didn’t prepare him for the troubles
Of aging into puberty’s sensitivities
With all its changes and struggles.
His voice dropped and his quack cracked,
And he noticed other oddities carefully.
His crest and tail feathers, as a matter of fact,
Grew much longer and came in very colorfully.
There was an itch on his forehead
Which he rubbed occasionally.
What a total surprise, instead of a blackhead,
A horn grew there functionally.
Ducky Waddles no longer fit as a name
Now that he had a mane, tail and horn.
He chose to announce and proclaim
That he be known as Quackicorn.

Last Tune For Betty June

I got word that a second cousin on my mother's side had passed on.

Last Tune For Betty June
5 August 2012

My twin and I were born
Seven weeks before Betty June.
Her mother was no greenhorn,
BJ was fifth in her commune.
Our mothers socialized together.
It's hard to imagine whether
In school or church without her.
In grade school, as it were,
We lived thru the block
And played Pony Express
Using bikes as livestock.
Each person got to possess
A corner of the block and stand by
Waiting for a fifth to come by
With a pillow standing for
Postal delivery and more.
After graduation all went nomadic,
Living our independent lives
And keeping in touch was sporadic
As we got on with our husbands or wives.
We heard she was on dialysis.
And now she's gone, too soon,
Much too soon in our analysis
So it's bye-bye Betty June.

Mademoiselle Lorielle

Mademoiselle Lorielle

27 February 2012

There's a smile on my face

And joy fills my heart

Because an event took place,

A new life got it's start.

Lorielle was born this afternoon,

A healthy baby girl at full-term.

For her mother it wasn't too soon.

Of that she was loud and firm.

She was tired of being with child. 

Not that the baby was unplanned,

It's just the discomforts piled

Up and inconveniences got out of hand.

Now she can relax and ensure

Her new baby's care and keeping

While dreaming about its future

And drift off to sleeping.

Do-Good Misunderstood

Do-Good Misunderstood
15 February 2012

After the baby girl was baptized,
The four-year-old brother cried
On the way home traumatized.
In the back seat he turned aside.
"What's the matter, my star son?"
Asked the concerned matron.
Johnny sobbed out, "The parson
Said that he hoped the wee one
Would be raised Christian like his
Praying to and praising Jesus,
But the problem with that plan is
I wanted her to stay and please us."

Metamorphosis Process

I took Jack Random’s “All Around You” and rhymed it.

Metamorphosis Process

6 November 2011

When I die, fold me naked, brother,

Into the dark flesh of the earth pile;

No coffin fortress against my mother,

No formaldehyde lip stitching denial 

Of the soft machinery of life’s assault.

Let the gentle sex of the probing root

Trail downward along the white vault

Of my cathedral bones’ strong suit.

Let the holy orgy of the earthy sod

Fill my domed skull with the resurrected

Gentle loving of the worldly clod.

Then each year fold me unprotected

Back into the warm flesh of creation

And I will become the loving planet.

I will spread my spirit on the wind’s reverberation.

I will have eyes of green rose granite.

I will have blood in the splashing sea tides

I will have a consciousness of grass,

And I will have arms under all the hillsides.

Arms vast enough at last, landmass

To hold all my children by the platoon.

From my warm bed I will be the sun's lover

And a magical brother to the moon.

I will trail sidelong and downstream cover

And I will be in the food you consume

Alive in all the fruits that abound,

Awake in the fall of each cherry bloom.

Once dead and in the solid ground, 

Now immaculately starting to leach

I will be there when you’re going

To burst the veiny flesh of a peach.

I will be all around you silently knowing,

This is my body bursting for your sip.

Take, eat and pass me with cants

From hand to hand and lip to perfect lip.

Let my name dissolve with my substance 

But when you drink the blood stew

And eat the smooth flesh of plants,

I will be alive, awake and all around you.