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May 25 10 11:43 PM
May 26 10 5:25 PM
May 26 10 5:35 PM
Amishmen ambled / Nude beach near Nurmberg
Grim was their visage / Gormless their Grinning
Grimly grinning / mocking our manners
Feignlings from Lancaster /
in far Pennsylvania.
I seized them / Made of them scrapple
Fed to the swine and / sweet did they find them.
Kann ich dei Pikder nemme / asked I that night
Ambling Amishman / and I asked in Amish
Cunning was I / Canny and cruel
Cunningly creeping / with Speedgraphics camera
Now it is known / Oh Hard was my heart
But hot was the jazz /
and jumping the joint
Rare was the reefer / where laughing I lured them
Good jazz, bologna / and big butted women
Promised I them / and primping they perked up
“Great are the Germans / and Awesome the Amish
We will go watching / the big butted women
We will waste not /
the blessed bologna
The comradely kindred / Amish and German.”
Now sorely my sadness / speciously sighing
Lament I the murder / malicious and mad
Young men of sinew! / useless the eulogy
Somewhere near Lancaster
/ laments an old mother
Asking for surcease / anguish awakened
Mirthless in Millersville / on a miserable morning
An old Amish man / phones his brother the news.
A whippoorwill trills
On a Millersville hill.
Trilling so sadly
As whippoorwills will.
And the breeze it blows madly
Past a forlorn windmill
I can't say just why
But there is a Big Chill.
In a barn there's
a sad horse named Stoltzfus
There's a creek
Full of ignorant crawfish.
A sad bird, a wild wind
And a lonesome clodhopper.
Oh yes, I should've listened
To Dietrich Bonhoeffer!
Meow, meow, meow
I'm sorry but don't ask me right now.
I was mad I was sad... so what else could I do?
I read too damn much.
Damn you, Albert Camus!
As that dreadful
East German, Brecht
Has written one must
Make it strange.
Viewing It all from a new angle
Like this a poem about
A cat writing a poem
By me, Tippy, a little
Meadow Mouse. So
Here goes! What if I?
No, that won't work
Or I could, ah, that's
So done and done.
I know! As soon as
You finish reading
This poem, me, Tippy,
A little meadow mouse
Right now clinging to
The ledge of the Reichstag
As the Red Army advances
Under me will throw myself
Off this horrible building
Down under the treads
Of a Soviet T-34 tank there
To be squished.
This is the cat
You were once the Queen of Saigon
Whore of Tyre and Bitch of Sidon,
But ohhh how I wanted you.
I was once the Prince of Cats and
And I played the tenor sax and ohhh
How my love came through!
But I don't care about your Kings and Queens.
I see how the moonlight leans
And I do too oh honey I do too.
You once made love to Argentina
Paws so slow and eyes so green, ah.
How they wanted you.
But I don't care about your tango dancers
All night stands one night romancers
Ooooh, I just want you.
You once made love to Mahatma Gandhi
Oh, Shiva, you sweet as candy.
What could he do? He wanted you.
But I don't care about your little Gurus
No more wars goody two shoes
Oooh, I just want you.
I called him "Dolph" you called her "Little Eva"
I don't know I can't believe we'll make it through.
What can we do?
But I don't care about the Goddman Fuehrer
And to hell with Eva let's just ignore her.
Oooh we could make two.
That's what we'll do.
Nine Ways of Looking
at an Ocelot
If Hitler had an Ocelot
It really would have meant a lot
He would have been a goshdarn snot
Walking with his Ocelot.
Perhaps would not have gone to pot
For admiring his damn ocelot
Sleeping on his simple cot
The Jew who did
Would not be a Yid
and Hitler would have liked that kid.
For admiring his darn ocelot
Really would have meant a lot.
But he only had a poor old cat.
Did God have a thing to do with that?
If Keats had had an ocelot
He probably would have coughed a lot
But also would have loffed a lot
Calling him “a toff” a lot
Which in Cockney is quite a bon mot
And pleasant for an ocelot.
If Wilde had had an ocelot
He would have stroked its ass a lot.
And uttered more than one bon mot
Embarrassing that ocelot.
If Shakespeare had an ocelot
He’d have writ those plays.
But he did not.
If Orson Welles had had a catamount
He would have gone to Paramount
But he had an ocelot
Which he liked to toss a lot
And which he liked to boss a lot
Which saddened that poor ocelot..
Cleopatra had an ocelot
Which kissed her little asp a lot
Which made Cleopatra gasp a lot
Yearning for that ocelot.
An ocelot had Charlie Mingus
He used to diddle with his dingus.
An Ocelot had Daniel Boone
Which made him sing “Kentucky Moon.”
An ocelot had Steven Foster
Just another for his roster.
Hamlet had an ocelot
Which made the little fellow rot
But he quite liked that little sot.
Alas, I knew that Ocelot.
If Jesus had an ocelot
He would have felt the loss a lot
And descended from the cross and not
Left that little ocelot.
Wittgenstein bereft of is
Watched all that isness whiz.
Forlorn, bereft, you know, because
He knew what a wiz that isness was.
He stayed up night after night
And thought about that.
No light! No light!
Meowed Schroedinger's cat.
A Cat Speaks Out
Just in case you haven't heard
A cat pronounce it I say "Merde!"
Perhaps you should just hear it twice.
Well, very well, this cat says "Scheiss."
Which isn't twice.
Well, sing Goddamn
A forlorn Kitty's what I am.
Alluding to both Pound and Keats
And offering you these kitty treats.
Friend, you have not larks nor linnets
When all it takes is just five minutes
To write a poem just as fine
Omitting that quite awful line
Which makes it, really, somewhat better
And makes this cat say "Donnerwetter!
Is this the promised end or what?
Q.V. Pope on Arbuthnot.
"There is no god. The thought's absurd."
I overheard a little bird.
Tell a worm upon the sod.
The worm replied "There is
Poor little worm! How he would cage her!
"And have you heard of
Please choose God. It's the
The bird agreed "But yet
I can't conceive his vasty
Would have anything to do with
Then ate the worm. And then took flight.
God bless us everyone. Good night.
May 27 10 7:57 AM
May 27 10 2:54 PM
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