Category Archives: 11/2010

A Turkey By Any Other Name

A Turkey By Any Other Name

Written by Lilith Raymour

You expect me to just sit here
Have opinions shoved down my gullet
Like you shovel mashed potatoes
Into your mouth
During yet another one of your
Thankless
Thanksgiving dinners?

That stance
Is no winner
But if you insist
While we sit
In providing
Your little lectures
Worth less than two bits

You can do
To your own tail
What you did
To your turkey’s

Stuff it
_______________________
©Copyright 2010
Lilith Raymour
all rights reserved

The Fallible God

The Fallible God

(Originally published in the 1973 Fall edition of Windfall.)

Written by Ken Carman

I care more for you
Than you let me be
How strange that my feelings are something
Yet nothing at all

For I am the loner
Even with your millions of friends
and your presence
Still my existence is unimportant to you

The exit signs have all lit up
Yet I refuse to leave
For you linger in my conscience
Entice the air I breath

When I am gone
This person called me
Shall wander down your alleyways of hate
For if my faults were too much for your love
They were too much for anything at all
_______________________________________
©Copyright 1973
Ken Carman
all rights reserved

A “Love” Poem for TSA

A “Love” Poem for TSA

Written by Ye Olde Scribe

Where might they put a bomb?
Can we figure that?
Maybe in a hat
Maybe in their caged cat
Can we gut people who are fat?
Maybe insert something
In what they used when they sat?
No need to be careful where we pat
And to explore where they sat
Let’s train a mini-cam-ed rat!
This is how we keep people as alarmed
As about swine flu or Commies in Nam
Oh, where, oh where next
Might we grope for a bomb?
Is it on your balls
Up your twat?
Do you have WMD
Or just a hard on you’ve got?
Hey America
Maybe next we’ll all fly bare
And if you’re this “easy”
You’ll let TSA stick anything anywhere
_______________________________
©Copyright 2010
Ye Olde Scribe
all rights reserved

Drawing of suspected pat down/patent pending TSA probe device, courtesy BBC and KNS. Or is it the new TSA logo?

A Deceptively Seasonal Poem

A Deceptively Seasonal Poem

Written by Ye Old Scribe

Produced out of an oven
Roasted
In the pits
Of pure Hell
With hate
Crisp on the top
Burnt in the middle
So many pretend
They can defend
The chef
With a mind as toasted
And
As his irrational
Daily
Burnt sacrifice
Offerings

Glen Beck
Turkey
Extraordinaire
____________________________
©Copyright 2010
Ye Olde Scribe
all rights reserved