Prose Poem: The World Ran out of Heart.

 

When the world ran out of soap/it ran out of heart/It all happened this year/when the algorithms for/soap manufacturing were /hacked and held for ransom/Nobody/thought it important/enough to pay anything/so the ability to make soap disappeared/Do you know how to make/soap?/No one does/Not even Bill Nye the Science Guy/He tried/ and came up with pink gelatin/Me personally/I ran out of soap/on May 15th/and now smell like a dead carp/I have dirt blisters/and my hair hangs down lankly/like Severus Snape's/Without personal hygiene/the social fabric/becomes rank and filthy/Bulldozers level homeless camps/Old baseball cards are burned in public squares/Every third person/in Vermont/has joined an amateur clown club/Billboards are up with movie spoiler alerts/Hasbro taks over Bitcoin/and turns it into Monopoly money/The FDA bans dill pickles/Not to mention/spelling 'Albuquerque' correctly becomes/mandatory/in order to vote/Me/I've bought an olive press/in Italy/When I get there/I'll lather myself/with olive oil/and then scrape it off/and go lie in the sun/That's how the ancient Greeks kept clean/You can look it up in Ulysses.  

Poetic Odds & Ends.

 

My friends will forgive me when foolish I act/My lust for the spotlight still leaves me no tact/Absolve me, my dear hearts, and let folly slide/if I have embarrassed you with my ill pride. 

Ears are prone 

to itch for praise

so tell your boss

she needs a raise.

If you want

a long long life

never march to

drum and fife.

Stomach rumbles

do remind

that to my flesh

I must be kind.

Ham and eggs

are good for me;

just don't ask an

actuary.

Buttered toast

is very well

but it plays hob

with my lapel.

Why get up

if you can't sleep?

Work from bed

by shearing sheep.

What resembles

pork and beans?

The content of

most magazines.

No use praying

for clean air

when you car's

in disrepair. 

Candidates say

little of note.

They always find

tripe gets the vote. 

Got a call

from Kolkata --

said they were

my alma mata.

Made donation --

now I'm busted.

Goes to show

phones can't be trusted.

Prose Poem: The I.R.S. almost never audits private equity firms, even as whistle-blowers have filed claims alleging illegal tax avoidance.

 While intensive examinations of large multinational companies are common, the I.R.S. rarely conducts detailed audits of private equity firms, according to current and former agency officials.  

(NYT)

So I dropped a dollar bill on the sidewalk/and this guy pounces on it like a cheetah/I said "Hey that's mine!"/He gave me a serene smile before answering/"Mister, this is your lucky day/I'm gonna use your dollar/for a private equity deal/that will knock your socks off/"I don't want my socks knocked off" I told him severely/"I just want my friggin dollar back!"/He paid no attention to my outrage/Instead he gathered a large crowd around him/and began tearing bits off my dollar/and handing them out/to complete strangers/telling them "Give me all your spare change for this bit of bona fide/U.S. currency/and I'll guarantee  twenty percent profit within two weeks"/People were slow to respond at first/but then he added/"And folks, you'll never pay any taxes on the money you make with this deal"/That did the trick/The crowd almost smothered him/giving him quarters and dimes and five dollar bills/even credit cards/He pocketed it all/looking as smug/as a Republican denying the vote to a new minority/When the crowd was gone he told me/"Meet me back at this exact same spot in one week and we'll divvy up the loot"/Then he disappeared in a cloud of brimstone/I was skeptical/but I came back in a week/and by golly/he was right there/with a satchel full of hundred dollar bills/which he handed to me with a wink/then mounted his Tengu/to fly off into the marmalade sunset.

Today's Timerick: An Exposé Has Congress Rethinking How to Tax the Superrich. (NYT)

 A report showing that the richest Americans, including Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk and Warren Buffett, pay almost no taxes has refocused attention on the tax code.

When the worker for her wages finds the taxes burdensome,

and cannot get the ends to meet she may feel mighty glum.

She ought to learn a thing or two from Bezos, Musk, and more --

For the wealthy of our species are more scheming than the poor.

Lazarus the Bible beggar never had a decent meal;

while down the street the cakes and ale for Mr. Dives were very real.

When wealthy Dives at last was took he never lacked for rum and coke --

for the loaded of our species are more blessed than the broke.

At the homeless shelter they are puzzled and made troubled

with how the rich accumulate and have their income doubled

without a bit of toil or moil, just sitting 'round all greedy --

for the upscale of our species are more lazy than the needy.

Stocks and bonds and cyber-coin are juggled with the greatest ease

by the plutocrats and minions, while the beggar's on his knees.

"Someone's got to herd the money" says the robber baron fat --

for the moneyed of our species are more nimble than the flat.

There is no use in complaining that the rich get all the breaks;

that they stay so full of laughter while the poor have but headaches.

For the world is cantilevered to support those with the dough --

Yes, the well-off of our species are more quickened than the slow.

Today's Timerick: T.B. Joshua, Nigerian Celebrity Megachurch Pastor, Dies at 57. (NYT)

 

Mr. Joshua had millions of followers, including top politicians and sports stars. But he was dogged by controversy over his products, his prophecies and events in which church members died.

Where to put a man of God

when he dies a suspect fraud?

Such a problem heaven faced

with a soul that was disgraced.

While on earth this shady cleric

had an aura so mesmeric

that he gathered fans with ease --

 picking ripe fruit off of trees.

They in turn gave him their trust

(and considerable gold dust);

claimed he healed them of their fits,

then dazzled them with all his glitz.

 In the end his sounding brass

worked no miracles, alas;

When his time had come, he went --

no godly intervention sent.

Now he stood before the Throne --

 wretched figure, all alone.

No fawning congregation now

to treat him like a sacred cow.

The angels waited breathlessly

to hear his ordained destiny.

Justice on her stern behalf

denied him any fatted calf.

But also was the Mercy Seat

set to shred his balance sheet.

The scales remained upon the level,

when suddenly -- up popped the devil!

Smooth as butter he began:

"You cannot want this wretched man."

"Unctuous and scruple free --"

"Surely he belongs to me!"

Next the Hindu gods spoke up --

"He can come back as a pup!"

"Have the mange with lots of pus."

"Surely he belongs to us!"

Zeus, retired long ago:

 "In my day we sure did know"

"what to regally decree --"

"make him into hollow tree!"

So the priest, now full defrocked,

seemed into sure torment locked.

Still the Throne did not vouchsafe

what to do with this poor waif.

Time was frozen in its tracks;

blue moons waned and then did wax.

Then the Voice of Voices spoke,

solving all with one grand stroke:

"You may punish this my child"

"if you've never been defiled."

"If some guile you've ne'er employed,"

"You may cast first asteroid."

Quickly all the frowning stares

vanished into cosmic airs.

And the man -- what's his dispose?

Only can I say:

"God knows."

Today's Timericks: Capitol Police had intelligence indicating an armed invasion weeks before Jan. 6 riot, Senate probe finds. (WaPo)

 

A crystal ball told cops one time/that Washington would see a crime/a riot plotted out with care/But constables did not prepare/and so the looters held full sway/and chased the coppers far away/Such Keystone antics seem to be/our nation's brand new history.  

GOP governors are cutting unemployment aid. Some have ties to businesses that may benefit.  (WaPo)

The GOP gets quite annoyed/with the many unemployed/so their benefits they cut/to avoid a spending glut/Once again it seems to me/Canada's the place to be. 

Airlines have lost or damaged more than 15,000 wheelchairs since late 2018  (WaPo)

Put your wheelchair on a plane/they'll treat it like a daisy chain/scrunch it up or toss away/then they go and let you pay/for a new one with a shrug/those airlines sure are pretty smug!

Today's Timericks: Senate Poised to Pass Huge Industrial Policy Bill to Counter China. (NYT)

 

Uncle Sam is way behind in factory production/So China stays way in the lead, creating quite a ruction/Congress is determined to make factories athletic/Let us hope they pony up, and not go all cosmetic!

WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court on Monday declined to hear a challenge to a federal law that requires only men to register for the military draft.  (NYT)

Who but men would want to register to go to war?/Women have more sense than to desire such a chore/Of course today the sexes are not cut and dried at all/and so the local draft board must create new protocol.

Rome Gets Its First Pizza Vending Machine. Will Romans Bite?  (NYT)

Coffee in a paper cup; a can of pop -- okay/but automatic pizza should not see the light of day/Some things must have loving hands to season and to bake/a pizza pie without such care is just a lifeless fake!

The fourth estate has fallen on hard times, and so PR/has stepped in to reenergize reporters failing star/When you read a story about orange juice supply/you can bet that Tree Ripe has a finger in the pie/So take each story that you read with just a grain of salt/and remember facts are swayed with money by default.

Today's Timericks: Trump and his allies try to rewrite, distort history of pandemic while casting Fauci as public enemy No. 1

 

Historians take note/that those who crave a vote/distort and make up lies/for their historic prize/no politician dares/to narrate his affairs/but as the Holy Grail/or maybe fairy tale.

On Father's Day don't get me/a necktie, por favor/I've got a hundred of 'em/hung from my bedroom door/they're pink and green and yellow/with patterns large and small/they all have one thing common/I really hate 'em all!

Good old Joseph Biden/makes journalists feel free/he's told his people bluntly/to use no sub-pee-nee/to find the finks who tattle/on government mistakes/He'd rather deal upfront with/the consequent headaches. 

I am a cliche poet/transparently mundane/most people see right through it/like unrolled cellophane.

Our butterflies are dying/and the bees have took a dive/the flowers wave alone now/and there's silence at the hive/yet men insist their poisoning/is just a tabloid scheme/and few there are who ever hear/our planet's silent scream.

Today's Timericks: Federal Judge Overturns California’s 32-Year Assault Weapons Ban

 

When you're hunting rabbits you will need an AK-12/and lots and lots of bullets so your trophy you can shelve/Assault weapons are harmless, in the hands of sober folk/Too bad California all it's prudence did revoke!  

The sound of buzzing weed whackers is loud upon the land/the dandelions march apace and take a brazen stand/I gaze upon their yellow haze and contemplate a raid/retiring to hammock, I instead sip lemonade.  

I like to paint the ocean shore/the rippled light and lonely oar/the bathers in their scanty suits/who often look like prostitutes/but as I daub away with zip/I know the whole thing is a gyp/my talents must lie otherwhere/perhaps in pickup truck repair.

Today's Nifties: Being freshly laid jokes by a big piece of ham.

 

Connecting up with old friends is like connecting up with old electronics -- you never know what might blow up.

I wouldn't say my brains are scrambled --they're just postmodern.

Want to make a vegan cry? Just fry some bacon in butter.

My fridge is clean, but my conscience is full of leftovers.

One less tree is one less breath.

Why do the British have such bad teeth? Because their stiff upper lip keeps them from flossing.

What do you get when you cross feathers with beets? Tickled beets.

Her lips were like cherries -- they were pitted.

In my day we didn't have Cancel Culture -- we had Mothers-in-Law.

I knew a lady English teacher who didn't believe in contractions -- until she went into labor.

What sings underwater? Choral.

What's the safest kind of bread? Bagel with lox.

My new exercise program is made up of diddly-squats.

Talk is cheap -- unless your talking to a lawyer.