The Woodsman

And so the wolf was chopped in half; Red Riding Hood was glad.

Old Grandma got a new fur coat, which didn't look half bad.

The woodsman, though, was tossed in jail, and there he slowly rotted

While court-appointed lawyers his appeal so slowly plotted.

When finally he saw the judge and members of the jury

He found that they were very fond of creatures dark and furry.

"Endangered species like the wolf" the judge said, passing sentence,

"cannot be trifled with, my friend; you need some stern repentance."

The woodsman spent the next twelve years inside a prison, thinking

Instead of helping Riding Hood he should have gone out drinking.

When at last he was paroled, his axe completely rusted,

He had to go on welfare cuz he was completely busted.

Red Riding Hood, in therapy for lo these many years,

Couldn't help – her doctor bills were steeply in arrears.

The woodsman had to take to crime to fill his empty belly;

He broke into a liquor store and then a kosher deli.

They threw him back in prison and I guess he's still inside,

Howling at the moon when they don't give him a bromide.

Verily, this homily I now must needs deliver:

The only thing that's safe to chop is onions or calf's liver.

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Be Serious!

My father said "Be serious and you will not be poor."

"Crowds will beat a path up to your ever-lovin' door."

" Doesn't matter what you say, how foolish it may be."

"Frown and rub your forehead and they all will bend the knee."

"Never give a chuckle or pretend to crack a smile."

"You'll hoo-doo every government and businessmen beguile!"

"Do not say you're sorry or apologize when wrong."

"Keep your head as hollow as a Chinese temple gong."

"They will name a building or at least a battleship"

"after you, my darling boy, no matter how you slip."

"And then you can retire with a lovely pension plan"

"to teach a class at Harvard as a very wise old man."

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Hand Sanitizer

People used to wash their hands but now there's sanitizer;

People squirt it all around as if it were a geyser.

I guess the school kids drink it cuz it's mostly alcohol.

It leaves your palms all sticky – you could climb up any wall.

Soap & water suit me fine; it's only foolish pride

That makes so many people use expensive germicide.

 

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A Midsummer's Night Dream

In midsummer the fairies come out looking for some fun.

Shakespeare wrote about 'em, with a consequent long run.

Every high school seems to plan performances designed

To make the actors prance around like popinjays refined.

Me, I like my fairies rough and tumble, rather coarse,

Raising roofs aplenty, leaving voices strained and hoarse.

The whole idea of Shakespeare, if you'll let me here opine,

Is Nature on a bender, full of elderberry wine.

Oberon, the fairy king, is fighting with his mate.

A bunch of youths in Athens think that marriage is so great.

Rustic rednecks massacre a play within a play.

Puck is leading mortals very cheerfully astray.

All the plots resolve themselves, which really is a shame –

Since Shakespeare seems to indicate that romance is a game

That's played, like cricket, on and on until nobody cares

while the grave is waiting to end all our love affairs.

Nick Bottom is the only one to understand, alas,

That all the world's a stage but every person is an ass.

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The Newspaper

My paper's getting smaller,

There is less news all the time.

The overseas report could

Now be printed on a dime.

The comics are so minute

You need a microscope.

The Op Ed page is milder

Than the softest laundry soap.

The sports page is generic.

The crossword puzzle's gone.

The Want Ads, too, are shrinking.

The forecast is a con.

Renewing my subscription,

There is a price increase.

I am a modern Argonaut,

Who gets the golden fleece!

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cry wolf

I wish there was a 'death panel' for politicians who

Like to call press conferences and holler out just "Boo!"

Crying wolf is something that they can do all too well.

If false alarms were fishes boy oh boy they sure would smell!

Moderation ain't a thing they're likely to employ;

The sky is always falling, they announce with pompous joy.

I hope The End Is Near for every numskull that alarms

The world with constant blather and their patented snake charms.

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The Tempest

Prospero was a magic guy deposed from some old throne

Who made the spirit Ariel his poesy-spouting drone.

He lived upon an island with his daughter and a creep

Named Caliban who thought with her he possibly might sleep.

Prospero waved his magic wand and Caliban dropped down

Becoming Shakespeare's most annoying and disturbing clown.

Prospero caused a bunch of guys to shipwreck on his isle,

Including his own brother who had stole his throne with guile.

There's lots of monkey business with the butler and boatswain

And Caliban all plotting the whole island to obtain.

Prospero and his brother bury hatchets by the score.

 Miranda, the young daughter, falls in love as an encore.

Prospero breaks his magic staff, poor Ariel releases.

Caliban is left alone, whom no one even teases.

Professors tell us Shakespeare meant this play to symbolize

Colonial oppression, which we surely must despise.

As everyone but Caliban sails off in placid boats

They leave behind a burning pile of yellowing Cliffs Notes.

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sushi

Pardon me if I am pushy

But I do not care for sushi.

Fish that's raw, in seaweed wrapper,

Ought to be flushed down the crapper.

Or fried up with slaw & fries –

That's a sight for hungry eyes!

Give me fish that's good-n-hot,

Not still wriggling when caught.

Of course if I were Japanese

I would say "No lefse please."

 

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and then . . .

After Snow White and her Prince were wedded quite divine,

The dwarves went back a-toiling underground deep in their mine.

Snow White had told them, each one, that she never could forget

How they had nursed her faithfully and she was in their debt.

And so the years, they trickled past, as years are wont to do

Until the dwarves lost all their teeth and could not work – or chew.

Hungry, broke, and dispossessed of all they had acquired

They thought of Snow White's promises and to her place retired.

It was a castle very grand with footmen and gargoyles

And soldiers with fierce battleaxe and Frenchmen with their foils.

A butler looked upon the dwarves and gave a mighty sneer.

He took them to the kitchen for black bread and lukewarm beer.

"We'd like to see Snow White" the dwarves called to the butler's back,

But he made no reply except to say "Enjoy your snack."

Left alone, the dwarves began to wonder what was wrong,

When they heard a voice begin a dainty little song.

A pretty girl, whose raven hair looked so much like Snow White,

Came in and saw the seven dwarves and ran away in fright.

Soon the soldiers of Snow White came crashing in, swords drawing,

And placed the dwarves in durance vile, where filthy crows were cawing.

The judge pronounced his sentence quick – he was a bearded Rooshin.

For scaring Snow White's little girl they would face execution.

But just before the trap was sprung Snow White sent several letters,

Pardoning the seven dwarves but keeping them in fetters.

In the kitchen they now work, boiling lard and flour.

They have yet to see Snow White but sure have felt her power.

An elephant may not forget, but people aren't so firm;

Their memory is fickle, quite unlike the pachyderm.

You might trust their intuition and their sense of charity

But never place your trust in any person's memory.

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The Broom

The broom is pretty ancient,

You could say it is a relic –

Yet it keeps on hanging on,

Just like that old Tom Selleck.

My mother had a couple

And her mother long before

And I think they have discovered

'em upon the ocean floor.

You'd think the vacuum cleaner

Would have made 'em obsolete

But still they come in handy

With the march of dirty feet.

Taken so for granted,

They are never waranteed.

Collecting them as hobby

Would all foolishness exceed.

A poem about the broom

Had better be a bit symbolic,

Otherwise it's wasting time

As just an idle frolic.

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King Lear

A king there was, by name of Lear,

Who sat back on his derry-ear,

and had the strangest sort of craze

to split his kingdom up three ways.

He gave a piece to daughters three

And basked in their false flattery.

Except Cordelia, youngest one;

She didn't think BS was fun

And so, polite, but not effusive,

She found her daddy turn abusive.

He told her she must hit the road,

That foolish, vain, and grim old toad!

But soon old Lear found his mistake

As daughters two and three did make

Him feel unwelcome anywhere

He cared to place his dinnerware.

At last he goes out in the storm—

A lone and dreary tragic form.

His fool goes blithely by his side

But all his jokes are rather snide.

A lot of other stuff occurs

and in the end old Lear abjures

his hasty judgments and repents

and asks Cordelia to come hence.

But she gets murdered by some Duke

or another royal kook.

Old man Lear thus leaves the stage

With nothing but despair and rage.

If I am ever old and rich

I'll throw my kingdom in a ditch

So that my kids can sink or swim

Without my money's evil whim.

Of course, with this economy,

They soon must be supporting me!

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Othello

Othello was a handsome Moor.

He served the Doge of Venice.

Iago was his bosom pal –

Though actually a menace.

Desdemona was the gal

Othello slyly married.

Her father, when he heard the news,

Unconscious out was carried.

Iago didn't like the way

Othello ran the army.

He planted seeds of doubt

Until Othello went quite barmy.

Iago made Othello think

His wife was playing hooky,

And so his reason crumbled

Like a stale & ill-baked cookie.

Othello finished off his wife,

Then found he'd been mistaken.

He tried to fight the coppers off

But couldn't save his bacon.

The world is full of people who

Profess to be quite loyal,

who want to see their betters

in a pot that's set to boil.

So when there's someone telling you

They'll stick with you til death –

Just tell them you're not buying it

And they can save their breath.

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Macbeth

When you go to see Macbeth

You can hardly catch your breath.

Murder, mayhem, and a ghost

Turn the plotline into toast.

There are witches and a wife

Who is handy with a knife.

"Out damn spot!" is the motto

Of this deadly Scotch tomato.

Macbeth can't sleep and so his guests

Are sent to their eternal rests.

By the end, with suicide,

There's blood to fill the River Clyde.

Sometimes I think Stephen King

Must be Shakespeare channeling.

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Hamlet

Hamlet was a strange young man

because his pappy perished

under circumstances grim

that Hamlet always cherished.

There was a ghost – or maybe not –

that claimed to be his father

who told the kid his uncle was

the cause of all this bother.

He loved his mom, but she was quick

to marry on the rebound.

She hooked up with said uncle which

suspicious sure could be found.

A councilor and sister were both

sent to early graves.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

turned out to be two knaves.

There is a graveyard scene that most

claim is great classic humor.

I saw it at the Gutherie, and

the humor is just rumor.

There is play within the play –

the actors are not jolly.

Oh, did I mention Hamlet's mom

is Queen amidst this folly?

And so the Uncle is crowned king

and Hamlet thinks it's rotten.

So do I because their speech

has turned my ears to cotton.

The language is archaic, not to

mention downright murky –

they chew upon their syllables

as if they were beef jerky.

Poison swords drop everyone

when we get to Act Three.

No wonder I have never seen

this stuff on my TV.

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Soap Opera

The soap opera remains the same

These many years a-running.

The plot's absurd

And have you heard

The gals are really stunning.

There's intrigue everywhere you turn

And murder and desire.

The acting's ham,

It's all grand slam.

The stakes do but grow higher.

The cliffs they hang the actors on

Would dwarf a few Grand Canyons.

The only ones to watch this stuff

Are dedicated fanyons.

There's more that I could say upon

This vain, disgusting blight.

But if I do not hurry I

might miss The Guiding Light!

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Kitsch-tators

Every tyrannical son of a bitch

Brings out bad artwork that's totally kitsch.

Tropes and vast sunsets and kewpie doll kids;

Artists create it while flipping their lids.

Millions may hunger or sleep in the streets

While momsers in power make statues in fleets.

Their faces are painted in heroic pose –

They boast of fine prisons whose gates never close.

A noose round their neck would be art I'd enjoy,

Woven with lies they all choose to employ.

A firing squad could make music of note,

Aimed at these men who corrupt every vote.

A coffin for dictators is the best course

Of art education that I could endorse.

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It's a Joke, Son.

Rubber chicken, mallet, and a seltzer bottle full;

Such would be the stock-in-trade of clowns, our leg to pull.

But words are all that congress needs to practice all their jokes;

Their hot air tickles everyone – we know it's just a hoax.

 

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Hats Off

Men no longer have to canter

Out to buy a tam o'shanter.

If you lack a lid or bowler

No one shows a bit of choler.

Headpieces are optional –

Chapeaus seem so foptional.

Fact is, if you wear a topper

You have really come a cropper.

Toss the Stetson, ditch the skimmer;

Heads are looking clean and slimmer.

Of course if you are very bald

A baseball cap can be installed.

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The Toothpick

The toothpick gets a bum rap as low class and mundane.

In church it is a faux pas and in court  'twould be insane.

In portraits of the gentry it never is displayed.

To use one at a wedding means your name is so put paid.

But when that strand of spinach is wedged in so very tight,

To smile at your companions sure could wreck their appetite.

And beef that isn't tender or some stringy chicken breasts

Can lodge between your molars as the most unwelcome guests.

I'd rather be a lowbrow than to suffer the delights

Of undigested protein amidst my pearly whites.

So hand me that container, cuz I need to start to pick

At something inexpensive that is holding like a tick.

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Shanks' Mare

The government don't want you driving used cars anymore.

They call it Cash for Clunkers, and it makes me mighty sore.

I haven't got the money for a new car, don't you see –

I do not nibble caviar or sample bits of brie.

I need a clunker but it seems they soon will be extinct.

No one gets to tool around unless they're good and minked.

If I am green it ain't because I want to save the earth

But because I'm awful low when it comes to net worth.

I'd take the bus but lunches cost the same as one-way fare.

I guess my stomach can get used to playing solitaire.

(Thanks a lot Obama for reviving the shanks' mare.)

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The Book

The book is a passenger pigeon,

Once numbered in billions of tomes;

Now it is gone from the school house,

The library and all our homes.

Perhaps there's a prisoner somewhere,

Immured behind bars for a stretch,

Who reads a good book in his spare time

And with the cockroaches plays fetch.

But otherwise media dictates

We gaze at a screen 'til our eyes

Turn grey and become rather flaccid,

Like leftover drive-in French fries.

I guess now the forests will prosper,

Since printing is digital, natch.

And if a short circuit should happen,

We'll have to start over from scratch.

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The Sandwich

Pastrami isn't good for me.

Salami's even worse.

And mayo is the hangman's noose—

So says my doc & nurse.

That slice of cheese could cost me dear,

And pickles are pure salt.

Just try and make a sandwich

Without someone screaming "Halt!"

Dry tuna on a whole wheat bun –

No butter is in sight.

Oh, some may call it "sandwich"

But to me it's more a "fright".

I'm gonna have a reuben

And if I should drop down dead,

At least I can be thankful

For my tasty daily bread.

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