Poetry and song and maybe culture

Tuesday, December 16, 2003

Morning verses

There is little to look at now,
sitting on the back stoop
drinking coffee--alone before dawn,
without the company of birds.
Beneath a sickly gray cover of clouds
(sickly because they reflect the gaseous
light of human occupation)
noise carries from the Radnor Yards,
squeals and siren soundings,
couplings and uncouplings all night long,
an orgy of trains.

Kurt Brobeck

Friday, November 21, 2003

CRAZY WORLD by Carol Graduate

We destroy our collections
of grisly offenses.
Bombs, bullets, anthrax disappear
as if they never were.
Rich purple tulips, dazzling daisies,
grain and milk
are exchanged. Everyone
has plenty.
We smile at one another
dissolving confusion, accepting differences.
Aberrant evil and conflicts are resolved
in courts.
We go about our lives
in peace.

Thursday, November 20, 2003

"Banned from Argo" An example of a filk song

(there are a few variations in different versions)
by Leslie Fish

When we pulled into Argo in search of R & R
Our crew set out investigating every joint and bar
We had high expectations of their hospitality
But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we

And we're...banned from Argo, every one
Banned from Argo, just for having a little fun
We spent a jolly shore leave there for just 3 days or 4
But Argo doesn't want us anymore

Our captain's tastes were simple but his methods were complex
He found him with five partners, each of a different world and sex
The shore police were on the way, we had no second chance
We beamed him up in the nick of time in the remnants of his pants


Our engineer would yield to none in putting down the brew
He outdrank 7 space marines and a demolition crew
The navigator didn't win but he outdrank almost all
And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of city hall


Our proper, cool first officer was drugged with something green
And hauled into an alley where he suffered things obscene
He sobered up in sickbay and he's none the worse for wear
Except he somehow taught the bridge computer how to swear


The head nurse disappeared a while in the major [dope] bazaar
Buying an odd green liquid guaranteed to cause Pon-farr.
She came home with no uniform, and an oddly cheerful heart
And a painful way of walking with her feet a yard apart


Our lady of communications won a ship-wide bet
By getting into the planet's main communications net
Now, every time someone calls upon an Argo telescreen
The flesh is there, but the clothes they wear are nowhere to be seen


Our doctor loves humanity, his private life is quiet
The shore police arrested him for inciting whores to riot.
They found him in the city jail, locked on and beamed him free
Intact except for hickies, and 6 kinds of V.D.

(Gee, I wonder why?)

Our helmsman loves exotic plants, and the plants all love him too
He took some down on leave with him, and we wondered what they'd do
Till the planetary governor called and swore upon his life
That a gang of plants entwined his house, and then seduced his wife


A gang of pirates landed and nobody seemed to care
They stomped into the nearest bar to announce that they were there
(We're here!)
Half our crew was busy there and invited them to play
The pirates only looked at us, and turned and ran away


Our crew is Starfleet's finest, and our record is our pride
And when we play we tend to leave a trail a mile wide
We're sorry 'bout the wreckage and the riots and the fuss
At least we're sure that planet won't be quick forgetting us

(I wonder why?)
(Did we do something wrong?)

Saturday, October 11, 2003

A Better Poet Than President

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Oh my, lump in the bed
How I've missed you.

Roses are redder
Bluer am I
Seeing you kissed
by that charming French guy.

The dogs and the cat, they missed you too
Barney's still mad you dropped him, he ate your shoe
The distance, my dear, has been such a barrier
Next time you want an adventure, just land on a carrier.

Added - Dec 30, 2003. This was not by Bush although Laura originally said it was. At this time the author is unknown. Is the whole family addicted to lying?

Bohemian Poet Samuel Menashe

Considering the significant recognition that he has received from other poets, he has remained remarkably unknown. "The public career of Samuel Menashe demonstrates how a serious poet of singular talent, power and originality can be largely overlooked in our literary culture," Mr. Gioia writes.

In his essay Mr. Gioia offers several reasons, especially the brevity of Mr. Menashe's poems, which generally finish within 10 lines. It has not helped that he has been a throwback, preferring not to teach or to work at a literary publication. "He has lived a bohemian life in an age of academic institutionalism," Mr. Gioia observed.

Lines from Tenement Spring

There is a pillow
On the window sill —
Her elbow room —
In the twin window
Enclosed by a grill
Plants in pots bloom
On the window sill

When he arrived on Thompson Street 47 years ago, romantic notions of artistic purity prevailed, still reminiscent of Anatole Broyard's description of the area just after World War II:

"Rents were cheap, restaurants were cheap, and it seemed to me that happiness itself might be cheaply had," Mr. Broyard wrote in "Kafka Was the Rage," his Greenwich Village memoir. "The streets and bars were full of writers and painters and the kind of young men and women who liked to be around them. In Washington Square would-be novelists and poets tossed a football near the fountain, and girls just out of Ivy League colleges looked at the landscape with art history in their eyes."

Mr. Menashe expresses no nostalgia for those bygone days; in some ways he's still living in them. "It's very poetic, the bathtub is in the kitchen," he said ruefully. "But if I had any foresight I'd now be the owner of a proper middle-class apartment."

At a Standstill

That statue, that cast
Of my solitude
Has found its niche
In this kitchen
Where I do not eat
Where the bathtub stands
Upon cat feet —
I did not advance
I cannot retreat

Winter - a war poem

I am entrenched
Against the snow,
Visor lowered
To blunt its blow
I am where I go

Family Silver

That spoon fell out
Of my mother's mouth
Before I was born,
But I was endowed
With a tuning fork

Promised Land

At the edge
Of a world
Beyond my eyes
I know Exile
Is always
Green with hope —
The river
We cannot cross
Flows forever

This continues the occasional great article on poetry in the book section of The New York Times.

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

Send Me to Glory in a Glad Bag
(Don and Mim Carson and Steve Mason)

People tell me that I ought to save my money
So that I could be laid away in style,
In a walnut box with all the fancy trimmin's
Vacuum sealed to keep me fresh a while.

cho. But Send me to Glory in a glad bag.
Don't waste a fancy coffin on my bones.
Just put me out on the curb next Tuesday
Let the sanitation workers bear me home.

I don't need a fancy funeral
Flowers and tears and all that jive
When I'm dead that won't impress me
Just buy me a beer while I'm alive.

There's trouble at the sanitary landfill
It's filling up with permanent debris,
So make my glad bag out of corn not plastic
So it will decompose along with me.

If I should die upon the eve of Christmas
Place my glad bag by the Chistmas tree;
And when the children open all their presents,
The big surprise will be the death of me.

Sell all my worldly possessions
And buy yourself a case or two of Pabst.
Let the empties be my memorial tombstone.
Engrave them with this epitath:

Now it may be that I am not bound for Glory,
But to another place I would not choose;
So if it seems that I'm headed that direction,
An oven bag would be the thing to use.

copyright 1979 by Don & Mim Carlson, Steve Mason
Blue River Valley Publishing Co. (BMI)

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

Downloads of anti-war songs from onegoodmove: Anti-War Songs

Self Evident
Ani di Franco

us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its indian summer breeze
on the day that america
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything i've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and i'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every tv
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour

so here's a toast to all the folks who live in palestine

el salvador

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore
here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of oklahoma city
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
i mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
jeb said he'd deliver florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 george w. bush is not president
#2 america is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz i am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
i've got no room for a lie so verbose
i'm looking out over my whole human family
and i'm raising my glass in a toast

here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
i dream of touring like duke ellington
in my own railroad car
i dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall

and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the new york skyline?!

it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
should be more than pawns
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
baby listen
hear the train?

Sunday, May 25, 2003

Putting Clothes Away

Lazy, I lie in bed and watch you bend
Over the drawer, knees apart, your dress
Barely reaching your thighs. I don’t intend
To take you from your work, just caress,
Lightly, your supple calf, but then my hand
Gets notions of its own and when you stop,
A little, noticing, moves on. You stand
Up half annoyed and half about to drop
Every stitch. My fingers undo folds
Of flesh and find the button just inside—
My breath unravels when you press, then hold
My hand away. “You stop it now!” you chide—
“Get up! I told you there was work to do—
We’ll see how that thing fits when we get through.”

Michael Snider

Saturday, May 24, 2003

All up and down
the different aspects of our society,
we had meaningful discussions.
Not only in
the Cabinet Room,
but prior to this
and after this day,
our secretaries,
respective secretaries,
will continue to interact
to create the conditions necessary
for prosperity to reign.

—George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., May 19, 2003
The Poetry of Donald Rumsfeld and other political poems

The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.

—Feb. 12, 2002, Department of Defense news briefing

Glass Box
You know, it's the old glass box at the—
At the gas station,
Where you're using those little things
Trying to pick up the prize,
And you can't find it.

And it's all these arms are going down in there,
And so you keep dropping it
And picking it up again and moving it,

Some of you are probably too young to remember those—
Those glass boxes,

But they used to have them
At all the gas stations
When I was a kid.

—Dec. 6, 2001, Department of Defense news briefing

A Confession
Once in a while,
I'm standing here, doing something.
And I think,
"What in the world am I doing here?"
It's a big surprise.

—May 16, 2001, interview with the New York Times

You're going to be told lots of things.
You get told things every day that don't happen.

It doesn't seem to bother people, they don't—
It's printed in the press.
The world thinks all these things happen.
They never happened.

Everyone's so eager to get the story
Before in fact the story's there
That the world is constantly being fed
Things that haven't happened.

All I can tell you is,
It hasn't happened.
It's going to happen.

—Feb. 28, 2003, Department of Defense briefing

The Digital Revolution
Oh my goodness gracious,
What you can buy off the Internet
In terms of overhead photography!

A trained ape can know an awful lot
Of what is going on in this world,
Just by punching on his mouse
For a relatively modest cost!

—June 9, 2001, following European trip

The Situation
Things will not be necessarily continuous.
The fact that they are something other than perfectly continuous
Ought not to be characterized as a pause.
There will be some things that people will see.
There will be some things that people won't see.
And life goes on.

—Oct. 12, 2001, Department of Defense news briefing

I think what you'll find,
I think what you'll find is,
Whatever it is we do substantively,
There will be near-perfect clarity
As to what it is.

And it will be known,
And it will be known to the Congress,
And it will be known to you,
Probably before we decide it,
But it will be known.

—Feb. 28, 2003, Department of Defense briefing

Slate April 2, 2003

Also other poems

A haiku

Never-ending war
The markets in the toilet
Wonderful job, George

Darien Shulman


We never voted for you
The Court put you in place
And now you've become
A national disgrace
Threatening the world
With your "nucular" arms
A man with no conscience
Who cares not whom he harms
You just crave your oil
Your riches and power
You frighten your people
Then smirk as they cower
You're spoiled and rotten
A rich, arrogant bore
So now live with the fact
That we all preferred Gore

Lisa Harrison

roses are red, violets are blue
i voted for gore
america did too

Oswald Smerk

from the Media Whores Online Collection of Poems submitted after the White House canceled a poetry symposium.

And finally


by Paul Kane and Jeff Pierce

DO not piss me off
face contorted and wrinkled
all hail to the chief

SHOCK and awe today
look over your shoulder punk
can you see the dawn?

NOT for faint hearted
I already answered that
now shoo, all you pests

EH, shrugs Rummy at
Death to America noise
we'll fucku up too

BIG boom boom baby
Baath balls float in Euphrates
eh, shrugs Rummy — next?

QUAGMIRE, you asked?
speed magic supreme power
complete ass-kicking

AH, billions trillions
sure, we have a lot of them
compassionate death

BIG all knowing grin
consequences, they are sweet
the planet quivers

I love the smell of
cozy smug tv pundits
I proved all so wrong

Wednesday, April 30, 2003

Make the Pie Higher

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It's a world of madmen
And uncertainty
And potential mental losses.

Rarely is the question asked
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the internet
Become more few?
How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.
I know that the human being and the fish
Can coexist.

Families is where our nation finds hope
Where our wings take dream.
Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize society!
Make the pie higher!
Make the pie higher!

A poem made up of Bush quotes.

Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Ode to Those Lost At Sea

Bursting his gravity chains with a full-throat cry,
From his eeled grotto, lunatic, Neptune
Has flung his emerald arms into the sky.
I, afloat with Zephyrous a-billowing the cloth
Am flung into a no-man's land of spray
And crack and hoot amid roiling demons
That twitch our floundering vessel roundabout.
Then, just when that guest of spring winks in,
Helios, calming the waves with an outflung hand,
We rocket off on a mad bedraggled couch,
Our makeshift lifeboat, borne directionless.
What salt-encrusted, green-sea vision is this,
This multitude of disinherit souls
That nest like sea birds all about me?
One speaks: "We are the men Direction scorned
When he handed round charts
Of destiny ... our dooms were preordained
And we've no commerce with those of you
Whose courses from the outset were drawn straight
And whose bloody corpses, goggle-eyed, approach us!
Ah! Now at last they come, the Vegetable Gods...
Piping through, with banners
On which are stitched the humiliation of us all.

By William Ashbless

Saturday, April 26, 2003

'Middle Earth': Is This a Table? No, This Is a Poem

A NY Times review of Henri Cole's ''Middle Earth'', a book of poetry.

Monday, April 14, 2003

Bird suddenly quiet
on his branch — his
Wife glancing at him.

Useless! Useless!
— heavy rain driving
into the sea.

Spring is coming
Yep, all that equipment
for sighs

Beautiful young girls running
up the library steps
with shorts on

The windmills
of Oklahoma look
in every direction.

Jack Kerouac, the poet of inordinate prose, was also a master of haiku, and a master, as always, at deformalizing the formalities of any genre. "Haiku, shmaiku," Kerouac wrote, in a verse that ended, "I can't/understand the intention/of reality." He called haiku "pops," which he defined as "short 3-line pomes." In Kerouac's haiku, now gathered in "Book of Haikus," edited by Regina Weinreich, 17 vanishes as a requirement.

To read these poems is to hear how raucously Kerouac reinvents the genre. Haiku is a poetry of exclusion. Just think, after all, of everything that can't be said in three short lines. And yet Kerouac turns his pops into strange miracles of inclusion.

Two Japanese boys
Inky Dinky Parly Voo.

They sound so easy, so direct. But just try making one.

New York Times - Jack Kerouac's Haiku - VERLYN KLINKENBORG

Wednesday, April 09, 2003

I am the Very Model of a Modern Unitarian
by Christopher Gist Raible

Sung to "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General"
from "Pirates of Penzance".

I am the very model of a modern Unitarian,
Far broader than a Catholic, Hindu, Jew or Presbyterian.
I know the world's religions and can trace their roots historical
From Moses up to Channing, all in order categorical.
I'm very well acquainted, too, with theories theological,
On existential questions I am always wholly logical,
About most any problem I am teeming with a lot of views,
I'm full of fine ideas that should fill our church's empty pews.

(Chorus members:
We're full of fine ideas that should fill our church's empty pews.
We're full of fine ideas that should fill our church's empty pews.
We're full of fine ideas that should fill our church's empty empty pews.)

I quote from Freud and Jung and all the experts psychological.
I'm anti nuke, I don't pollute I'm chastely ecological.
In short, in matters spiritual, ethical, material,
I am the very model of a modern Unitarian.

(Chorus members:
In short, in matters spiritual, ethical, material,
We are the very model of a modern Unitarian.)

I use the latest language; God is never Father or the Lord,
But Ground of Being, Source of Life or almost any other word.
I never pray, I meditate, I'm leary about worshipping.
I serve on 10 committees none of which accomplish anything.
I give to worthy causes and I drive a gas conserving car,
I have good UU principles (although I'm not sure what they are).
I'm open to opinions of profound or broad variety,
Unless they're too conservative or smack of righteous piety.

(Chorus members:
Unless they're too conservative or smack of righteous piety.
Unless they're too conservative or smack of righteous piety.
Unless they're too conservative or smack of righteous pie-piety.)

I formulate agendas and discuss them with the best of 'em,
But don't ask me to implement, we leave that to the rest of 'em.
In short in matters spiritual, ethical, material,
I am the very model of today's religious liberal.

(Chorus members:
In short, in matters spiritual, ethical, material,
We are the very model of today's religious liberal.)

A bit too critical, maybe I can work on the lyrics.
Not all those who pass

In front of the Great Mother's chair

Get past with only a stare.

Some she looks at their hands

To see what sort of savages they were.

-- Gary Snyder

Friday, April 04, 2003

(No Such Thing As) Girls Like That

The woman on the TV set
Is clutching both her great big breasts
And she sure looks like she is having fun
In purple plastic panties
She is writhing she is dancing
And it's plain to see she really turns her on
But this is MTV you know
And that is how the music goes
And all the male guitarists think she's great
They believe that girls like this
Actually do exist
And secretly we all love to gyrate

Well, pardon me but I have never
Done a thing I can remember
That remotely looks like this at all
Except for once at Girl Scout camp
When several bees got in my pants
And one of them flew in my training bra

Maybe these are fantasies
Maybe you have a right to these
Baby I'll just break this gently
There's no such thing as girls like that

The catalogs of lingerie
Come to our houses everyday
With women who have mostly nothing on
My favorite is the one who sits and
Drinks her coffee in her kitchen
Wearing just a silk robe and a thong

Well, let's be real here let's just say
My kitchen any given day
Is not exactly somewhere you seduce
Between the cat hair and the crumbs
Your nakedness might make him numb
And even worse he might begin to puke

And if you're gonna wear a thong
You might just find the cat hair's gone
To places you don't want cat hair to be
And besides you know the facts
A thong just rides right up your ass
And serves no earthly purpose I can see


Lastly I will say to all
The boys who make the Barbie Doll
That I think Barbie's really cute and fun
But if Barbie were a real live chick
Her waist would be 12 inches thick
Her bra-size would be close to 41

So by the age of 53
Those things would be down to her knees
With osteoporosis on the way

So, after having said all that
I'll leave you with this simple fact
My favorite girls are women that
Are not afraid to cry and laugh
And eat some food that's high in fat
Can change your oil, fix your flat
Can say some prayers and blaze a path
And I'll just say on their behalf
There's no such thing as girls like that

Christine Kane from Kathological here at blogspot.

Thursday, April 03, 2003

the words will come back and I'll
write haiku again

J.W. Abbott

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

This ring no other, is made by the elves,
Who'd pawn their own mothers to grab it themselves
Ruler of creeper, mortal, and scallop,
This is a sleeper that packs quite a wallop.
The power almighty rests in this lone ring.
The power, alrighty, for doing your own thing.
If broken or busted, it cannot be remade.
If found , send to Sorhed ( the postage is prepaid)

'Goodbye, Dildo,' Frito said, stifling a sob. 'I wish you were comingwith us.'

'Ah, yes. But I'm too old for that sort of thing now,' said the old boggie, feigning a state of total quadriplegia. 'Anyway, I have a few
small gifts for you,' and he produced a lumpy parcel, which Frito opened somewhat unenthusiastically in view of Dildo's previous
going-away present [the ring]. But the package only contained a short, Revereware sword, a bulletproof vest full of moth holes, and several well-thumbed novellas with titles like Elf Lust and Goblin Girl..."

"Touch me!, Oh touch me!!!"
Frito's hand reached out and traced the delicate swelling of her elf-breast while the other slowly crept around her tiny flawless waist, crushing her to his barrel chest.

(From the intro, describing a scene that doesn't exist.)

"'Then we must head east,' said Goodgulf gesturing with his wand to where the sun was setting redly in a mass of sea-clouds."

All from Bored of the Rings

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

Optimism is
a learned virtue, rain passes,
fresher flowers grow.


Artist: Tenacious D feat. Wyclef Jean
Song: I'm The Only Gay Eskimo
Rated: 9.6 (71 votes)

Also listed under
Artist: Corky And The Juice Pigs
Song: Eskimo
Rated: 8.8 (12 votes)

I'm the only gay eskimo
I'm the only one I know
I'm the only gay eskimo In my tribe.

I go out seal hunting with my best friend Tarka,
but all I want to do is get into his parka.
I'm the only gay eskimo in my tribe.

Well, me and Nukflukchukbuk, we both like blubber,
but me I've got this crazy fetish for rubber.
I'm the only gay eskimo in my tribe.

I make a wish on the Northern Lights
that I can find a decent pair of whaleskin tights.
I'm the only gay eskimo in my tribe.
And the seals they sing now (seal sounds)

These cold winter nights are taking their toll,
I even get excited when I see the North Pole
See the North Pole.

I'm the only gay eskimo (only gay eskimo)
I'm the only one I know (I'm the only one I know)
I'm the only gay Eskimo in my tribe.

----- optional -----

Now like the Proclaimers would sing it
I'm the only gay eskimo
I'm the only one I know
I'm the only gay eskimo In my tribe.

Like Bob Dylan
I'm the only gay eskimo
I'm the only one I know
I'm the only gay eskimo.

Like Rick Ocasek from The Cars
I'm the only gay eskimo
I'm the only one I know
I'm the only gay eskimo and she used to be mine.

Like Oasis
I'm the only gay eskimo

Like Van Morrison
I'm the only gay eskimo
Well you see me coming around the street I'm a turning... uh
And Jesus Christ fits in there somehow as well.
And the crack was good.

I'm the only gay eskimo (only gay eskimo)
I'm the only one I know (I'm the only one I know)
I'm the only gay eskimo in my tribe.

Saturday, March 01, 2003

(with thanks to Dr. Seuss)

©2002 Doug Goodkin

The Whos down in Whoville liked this country a lot,
But the Grinch in the White House most certainly did not.
He didn't arrive there by the will of the Whos,
But stole the election that he really did lose.
Vowed to "rule from the middle," then installed his regime.
(Did this really happen or is it just a bad dream?)
He didn't listen to voters, just his friends he was pleasin'
Now, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.
It could be his heart wasn't working just right.
It could be, perhaps, that he wasn't too bright.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
Is that both brain and heart were two sizes too small.
In times of great turmoil, this was bad news,
To have a government that ignores its Whos.

But the Whos shrugged their shoulders, went on with their work,
Their duties as citizens so casually did shirk.
They shopped at the mall and watched their T.V.
They drove their gas guzzling big S.U.V.
Oblivious to what was going on in D.C.
Ignoring the threats to democracy.
They read the same papers that ran the same leads,
Reporting what only served corporate needs.
(For the policies affecting the lives of all nations
Were made by the giant U.S. Corporations.)
Big business grew fatter, fed by its own greed,
And by people who shopped for the things they didn't need.

But amidst all the apathy came signs of unrest,
The Whos came to see we were fouling our nest.
And the people who cared for the ideals of this nation
Began to discuss and exchange information.
The things they couldn't read in the corporate-owned news
Of FTAA meetings and CIA coups.
Of drilling for oil and restricting rights.
They published some books, created Websites
Began to write letters and use their e-mail
(Though Homeland Security might send them to jail!)

What began as a whisper soon grew to a roar,
These things going on they could no longer ignore.
They started to rise up and fight City Hall
Let their voices be heard, they rose to the call,
To vote, to petition, to gather, dissent,
To question the policies of the "President."

As greed gained in power and power knew no shame
The Whos came together, sang "Not in our name!"
One by one from their sleep and their slumber they woke
The old and the young, all kinds of folk,
The black, brown and white, the gay, bi- and straight,
All united to sing, "Feed our hope, not our hate!
Stop stockpiling weapons and aiming for war!
Stop feeding the rich, start feeding the poor!
Stop storming the deserts to fuel SUV's!
Stop telling us lies on the mainstream T.V.'s!
Stop treating our children as a market to sack!
Stop feeding them Barney, Barbie and Big Mac!
Stop trying to addict them to lifelong consuming,
In a time when severe global warming is looming!
Stop sanctions that are killing the kids in Iraq!
Start dealing with ours that are strung out on crack!"

A mighty sound started to rise and to grow,
"The old way of thinking simply must go!
Enough of God versus Allah, Muslim vs. Jew
With what lies ahead, it simply won't do.
No American dream that cares only for wealth
Ignoring the need for community health.
The rivers and forests are demanding their pay,
If we're to survive, we must walk a new way.
No more excessive and mindless consumption
Let's sharpen our minds and garner our gumption.
For the ideas are simple, but the practice is hard,
And not to be won by a poem on a card.
It needs the ideas and the acts of each Who,
So let's get together and plan what to do!"

And so they all gathered from all 'round the Earth
And from it all came a miraculous birth.
The hearts and the minds of the Whos they did grow
Three sizes to fit what they felt and they know.
While the Grinches they shrank from their hate and their greed,
Bearing the weight of their every foul deed.

From that day onward the standard of wealth,
Was whatever fed the Whos' spiritual health.
They gathered together to revel and feast,
And thanked all who worked to conquer their beast.
For although our story pits Grinches 'gainst Whos,
The true battle lies in what we daily choose.
For inside each Grinch is a tiny small Who,
And inside each Who is a tiny Grinch too.
One thrives on love and one thrives on greed.
Who will win out? It depends who you feed!

Circulating - some with slightly different verses and titles, often listed as anonymous.

Thursday, February 20, 2003

Sunday, February 16, 2003

Mr. Cellophane from Chicago the musical

If someone stood up in a crowd
And raised his voice up way out loud
And waved his arm
And shook his leg
You'd notice him

If someone in a movie show
Yelled "fire in the second row,
This whole place is a powder keg!"
You'd notice him

And even without clucking like a hen
Everyone gets noticed, now and then,
Unless, of course, that personage should
Invisible, inconsequential me!

Mister cellophane
Should have been my name
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there!

I tell ya
Mister cellophane
Should have been my name
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
walk right by me
And never know I'm there. . .

Suppose you was a little cat
Residin' in a person's flat
Who fed you fish and scratched your
You'd notice him

Suppose you was a woman wed
And sleepin' in a double bed beside a man for seven years
You'd notice him

A human being's made of more of that an' air
With all that bulk , you're bound to see
him there

Unless that human bein' next to you
Is unimpressive, undistinguished
You know who. . .

Should have been my name
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
I tell ya
Mister cellophane
Should have been my name
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
Never even know I'm there

Friday, February 07, 2003

Oh, Star Creator
Give us strength and booming guns
We will kill them all.

Neal Pollack's The Maelstrom

Wednesday, January 01, 2003

Betrayed - from the play The Producers

Just like Cain and Abel
You pulled a sneak attack
I thought that we were brothers
Then you stabbed me in the back
Oh boy, I'm so betrayed!

Like Samson and Delilah
Your love began to fade
I'm crying in the hoosegow
You're in Rio getting laid!
Let's face it, I'm betrayed!

Boy, have I been taken
Oy, I'm so forsaken
I should have seen what came to pass
I should have known to watch my ass!

I feel like Othello
Everything is lost
Leo is Iago
Max is double-crossed!
I'm so dismayed
Did I mention I'm betrayed?

I used to be the king
But now I am the fool
A captain with a ship
A rabbi without a shul!

Now I'm about to go to jail
There's no one who will pay my bail
I have no one who I can cry to
No one I can say goodbye to

My past's a dying ember
But wait...now I remember

How did it begin?
He walked into my office
With his cockamamie scheme
You can make more money
With a flop than with a hit
"We can do it, we can do it"
"I can't do it"
"We can do it!"
"I can't do it!" Goodbye Max!
Lord, I want that money!
I'm back, Max!
"Come on, Leo, we can do it!"

Step one, find the play!
Hello, Mister Liebkind
"Guten Tag, hop clop
"Guten Tag, hop clop"
Adolf Elizabeth Hitler? "Guten Tag, hop clop
"Guten Tag, hop clop!"

Step two, hire the director
"Keep it gay, keep it gay, keep it..."
Two-three, kick, turn, turn, turn, kick, turn

Oooh wah wah woo-woo- wah-wah

Step three, raise the money
"Along came Bialy!"

Step four, hire all the actors
"A wandering minstrel I,
A think of shreds and...
Next! The little wooden boy
Next! That's our Hitler!

"Opening night!"
Good luck, good luck, good luck
Break a leg! I broke my leg!

"Springtime for Hitler and Germany!"
A surprise smash!
"Springtime for Hitler and Germany!
It'll run for years!

"Where did we go right?
Where did we go right?"
Gimme those books
Fat, fat, fatty!
Gimme those books
Books, fat
Books, fat
Books, fat
Books, fat!

Lousy fruit
Kill the actors
You ever eatwith one?!

Then you ran to Rio
And you're safely out of reach
I'm behind these bars
You're banging Ulla on the beach!

Just like Julius Caesar
Was betrayed by Brutus
Who'd think an accountant
Would turn out to be my Judas!
I'm so dismayed
Is this how I'm repaid?
To be...

Love Power - from the movie The Producers

Love power. I'm talking about love power.
The power of a sweet flower is gonna rule the earth.
And there'll be a great rebirth.

Love is a flower that is fine.
When I'm walkin' with my darlin' and we're holding hands,
and life is fine, 'cause she understands.
'A walking down the sunny street
givin' pretty flowers to the people that we meet.

And I give a flower to the big fat cop,
he takes his club and he beats me up.
I give a flower to the garbage man,
he stuffs my girl in the garbage can.
And I give it to the landlord, when the rent comes 'round.
He throws it in the toilet and he flush it down.
It goes into the sewer with the yuck running through her,
And it runs into the river that we drink.
Hey world, you stink!

Ah, man it's later than you think
Girl you got just one more chance.
Come on baby, while I dance.

Love, love power.
I'm talking 'bout love power
The power of a little flower.
You don't think 'bout no little flowers,
Oh no, all you think about is guns.
If everybody in the world today had a flower instead of a gun,
there would be no wars. There would be one big smell-in.
Just the flowers. Hey, man, a flower.
A flower. What you do to my flower, man?
You hurt it, like everything else.
Everything else. Flowers.

Max: That's our Hitler!!!!

Springtime for Hitler - original movie version

Germany was having trouble, what a sad, sad story
Needed a new leader to restore its former glory
Where, Oh where was he? Where could that man be?
We looked around and then we found
The man for you and me.
And now it's..

Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Deutschland is happy and gay
We're marching to a faster pace
Look out, here comes the master race

Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Winter for Poland and France
Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Come on, Germans, go into your dance

I was born in Dusseldorf, and that is why they call me Rolf
Don't be stupid, be a smarty, come and join the Nazi party

Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Goosestep's the new step today
bombs falling from the skies again
Deutschland is on the rise again

Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Uboats are sailing once more

Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Means that soon we'll be going
We've got to be going
You know we'll be going to WAR!

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