I owe the first line to Henny Youngman–maybe. Not sure. I owe others to either/or/couldbe Mel Brooks, Shecky Greene, Myron Cohen, Shelly Berman, Foster Brooks, my brother Harold, my brother Brian, the playground at William C. Jack Elementary School, and who knows who else. I have no clue as to whether this has been done before, but I swear I have no prior knowledge that it has. At least one line is original with me, and I iambic-pentameterized and rhyme-schemed the whole thing, so sue me at your own risk. Sorry about the mild vulgarity. It’s my nature.

You Hear the One About the Sonnet? Rimed!

He hadn’t had a bite for weeks. I bit him.
You say there’s two holes in the ground? Well well.
That tree bark sure smells funny–must be shittim.
Spring sprung, fall fell, and summer? Hot as hell.

The chicken crossed the playground: other slide.
Milan suppository: innuendo.
Hey, Jekyll, you can run, but you can’t Hyde.
Take loud Viagra for diminuendo.

Hey, circumcise me–here’s a half-off coupon.
It’s black, white, red all over–sunburned zebra.
A shirt’s an awful thing to get your soup on.
My checkbook’s always balanced–it’s a Libra.

You stared and got run over? Them’s the brakes, deer.
A Bardic urinal instruction: Shakespeare.

Yesterday I wrote this, based on something that had just happened:

two dog day

we have now dixon the dog
and cookie the cat
and misty the mutant
who plays a cat on tv

six years ago there was a dog named bill
and i thought of him today
because i said to dixon “you are a good/pooch/dog”
exactly the way i used to say it to bill

and i got a chill and a fear that i had betrayed bill
because once i said it only to him
and i had a new pang of loss
but it quickly unpanged and warmed

because i wouldn’t have said “you are a good/pooch/dog”
if i didn’t miss bill
irreplaceable bill
with the waggy tail

and i have missed saying “you are a good/pooch/dog”
and it is good to say it again to a worthy dog
and the things i did with bill remain intact
and bill will always want me to have fun

It got a good reception on Facebook, but I felt there was more to be said, so today I did this:

001

The words to the triple acrostic:

The spirit of Good Dogs will serve us in need
Whenever we’re hurting or face a rough sea
Of heart they have given unfailingly

The theme of this spot-welded image and acrostic poem is that it’s a crying shame when evangelical parasites use deific archetypes to bleed believers dry. It is an old, old message, but it still needs to be told, based on what I saw on certain TV channels when I was working graveyard this year. I hope I have told it in a new, engaging way. I hope also that it is not viewed as a slam against any particular creed–just of the ghouls who use the faith of innocents to further their base ends.

The iambic-septameter double acrostic goes like this:

Decisions made by A will leave B’s dreams unrealized
Incentivizing dalliance so often proves unwise
Suspension of one’s disbelief seems currency for bliss
Propinquity of doom will shrink contentment to a wisp
Upending some unending preconceptions on a dare
Takes chutzpah and carisma and a messianic flair
Alliterative declarations guarantee a yea
Tumultuous extravaganzas untrue a parfait
Inside insane aquaria there’s no need to be koi
Osmundium earth’s rarest when it’s found in an arroyo
Unctilio if left unchecked defrauds the citizen
Sedition-sanctified denial scratches up the lens

002

001

Suppose you sustain a groin injury. Suggestion: STOP Sustaining it. Overrule it! Get in a tub full of hot water saturated with bubble bath powder. Talk your head off about your unreasonable dreams. Soak–and sure as Annie Oakley’s aim, Happiness will visit you. But That’s Not All! SOPH of One Tree Hill will magically arrive–then URSA from Superman II–then a package specified DROP SHIP, direct from the manufacturer–and finally, Bigfoot the YETI herself! (What–you thought she was a he?!) Four words properly thus yield five words, 60% of which referring to beautiful females. For indeed, Ms. Yeti is beautiful. Prepare to die if you tell her she isn’t.

001

A doodle became a roselike flower. One of the leaves refused to be filled in. I pretty much sat back and watched as pretty much everything BUT the albino leaf got filled in. It ended up whimsy, with the punchline of a joke I heard fifty years ago as the last word, and not-whimsy, bringing up the issue of the genetic cards we get dealt.

pigmentlessness
oft afflicts
when the Trickster
interdicts
normalcy
with biobleach
chromosomal
underreach
did it choose to be albino?
it’s a hybrid: elephino.

There’s a poetry interpreter out there who looked at Pablo Neruda’s “Si Tu Me Olvidas” (“If You Forget Me”) and broke it down stanza by stanza, relating the words to Neruda’s European exile and his pursuit of Wife #3 while touring the continent with Wife #2. I owe most of what I know about Neruda so far to a few poems I’ve read, and the blog post about “Si Tu Me Olvidas.” So I don’t feel qualified to acrosticize Neruda; but I did do a portrait with some possibility.

002

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