….up in the attic, packed in a trunk?
Oh no, no, no! He is not in a trunk
The trunk in the attic is filled up with junk
He couldn’t squeeze in with all the tweets and decrees
So where oh where could that naughty Trump be?
…in the marching band where the drums go thump?
Oh no, no, no! He does not make a thump
Or make a trombone play parrump a bump bump
He doesn’t twirl a baton. He doesn’t toot a flute
So where oh where is the man in the suit?
…hiding in a garbage can up in the dump?
Oh no, no, no! He is not in the dump
He does not give the dump the official thumbs up
He’s got friends in high places. He’s got pockets of cash
He has not been tossed with the household trash
…top of the White House ready to jump?
Oh no, no, no! He’s not ready to jump
He’s a mean old leader but he’s nobody’s chump
Look! There he is! Under the palm tree fronds!
Teeing off with Supremacists and QAnons!
Naughty old Trump! How like him to wander!
How much more looking will we have to do, I wonder?
(To be read in the voice of Tony Soprano…)
Zeus – you serious?
It just goes to show it takes a monster to know one
that little piece of shit said his name was No One
he poked out my goddamn eye
when I got a little tight
and then when my friends came and asked who did it
made me look like a goddamn idiot
and all ‘cos I ate his dumb ass crew
which I admit was a pretty shitty thing to do
but c’mon – a little perspective here please
who hasn’t eaten shit when they got the munchies?
one more question
and then that’s it – end of session
sheesh – the same old stuff
don’t you people ever talk to each other?
do we got to say this shit over and over?
according to the books
we cyclops got our singular looks
by trading one eye to see the future
and you gotta have a sense of humour
‘cos all we saw was the date of our death
which as trade-offs go is one gold star meh
The lazy extremes crime bosses go to
when they really don’t want to
whack this person or that
From Al Capone to Hattie the Hat
How a good cigar and a lie down
is preferable to a shoot-out or a showdown.
(Viewer discretion advised in this;
extended scenes of idleness.)
Mount Olympus, NYC
The shuttle gets lost in some cumulo-nimbus
ploughs cone first into Mount Olympus
so the Greek Gods have to relocate for a bit
while NASA rebuilds all the temples and shit
After a great deal of fruitless rental looking
wind up in a brownstone in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn
Work jobs to see how the humans do it
(but need a lot of magic to help them through it)
A farmer gets bitten by a radioactive sheep
so every time he falls asleep
he turns into a Model 8850 John Deere tractor
(which might be a problem for your average actor)
I love my robot and my robot loves me
we complete each other automatically
I know we’ll always be together
I see it in his eyes, how they glow and get bigger
whenever he taps on the bathroom mirror
My mother-in-law knew
a primatologist at the city Zoo
Agnes, a long-time friend who
had a long-term argument
with a professor from a rival department
orangutan vs bonobo
Agnes looked after an orangutan
she said was smarter than
any woman or man
you could mention
in fact, it was her contention
the orangutan was a genius, potentially
Her rival’s proposition?
with the authorities’ permission
between the two
an IQ test at Agnes’ zoo
all the nonsense Agnes was peddling
They set up a test in the compound
a scattering of boxes on the ground
and hanging down
from the bars
a hand of bananas
was the first of the two to go
The professor stood there with his clipboard and timer
the bonobo wanted to climb up there
so he started piling the boxes higher
and in fifteen minutes
had the bananas in his digits
said the professor: ‘Superiority!’
The boxes were put back around the place
the bananas replaced
the professor stood waiting with a smile on his face
the orangutan strolled in
glanced at him
at a box
considering the banana paradox
The orangutan pointed straight at the professor
waggled his finger to invite him closer
climbed him like a human ladder
widened his eyes
grabbed the prize
clapped Agnes – any questions?
Well – there’s one I’d liked to have asked
if so many long, slow years hadn’t passed
and the orangutan finally pointed his last
I don’t understand
why you didn’t take his clever, leathery hand
and lead him
To the edge of a jungle in Borneo, and free him