The Cop stood in the doorway
With his handkerchief held to his nose.
A young white male, the tenant,
had died in this apartment.
This must have happened three days ago at least.
It had taken that long for the smell
To permeate the building;
before someone thought to summon the law.


From the looks of it, another overdose-
Another young victim of a cruel epidemic
That takes the young and leaves the old to grieve.
Those who choose to ride that particular horse
Need rodeo clowns with Nar-Can standing by.


Was it an a accident or a suicide?
Perhaps the M.E. could make the determination;
a fine distinction between blurred lines.
There will be need to notify the next of kin
to claim the corpse and make the final disposition.
Then soon, perhaps next week-

a studio in Williamsburg for rent.

With wild teased hair, bright orange, and wearing shoes too big,
The clown abandoned Ringling to take on a new gig.
He was not content to pay his rent, like others of his “race”,
By acting in the remake of “killer clowns from outer space”
Nor would he do kids’ parties although he is no slouch
at raising fears that will take years to solve upon a couch .

With wild teased hair, a bright red nose and makeup piled on thick,
This clown decamped to Washington to try out his new Shtick.
With Eddie Munster as his pal, new laws he would propose,
that Femes, dressed as Vaginas, would vociferously oppose.
He’d surround himself with Sycophants but will not get too far
as, unlike his former colleagues, they don’t all fit in one car.

The clown claims he can build a wall to keep out one and all,
and he has a herd of Elephants at his beck and call.
He rules our land by fiat, as delay he can’t abide
He is a textbook narcissist with an overweening pride.

Minnesota has Al Franken as a Senator of course
And, back in Roman times, the purple was worn by a horse.
So  one might say that precedents exist for this strange thing;
for a clown to wield a scepter and rule over us as king.

Chewie hasn’t touched his food
I hope he’ll be o.k..
It hasn’t been the same for him
Since Leia passed away.

He’s a melancholy Wookie
as anyone can see.
He mopes around the ship all day
And he’s molting terribly

Twas bad enough when Obi-wan
was struck down by Darth Vader.
But it’s no surprise when an old man dies
That’s expected, now or later.

Our Princess was a force you see
Bringing gales of laughter
which is why we want her here
and not in the hereafter.

He’s a melancholy Wookie
as anyone can see.
He mopes around the ship all day
And he’s molting terribly.


I hope one day we’ll meet again
In Mos Eisley’s Cantina
That gold bikini may not fit
But we’d still be glad to see her.

He was not from these parts; a big city teen.
At Five – Six not imposing, he was barely fourteen.
A big city teen with a bit of a mouth,
which was bad for a black man in the heart of the South.

A warm summer day in an old country store,
The white girl was a looker; that much was sure.
Emmitt Till whistled for he was impressed
With how good that girl looked in that tight fitting dress.

That girl had a husband, a big burly man.
He was a bad man to cross for he rode with the ****.
He and his cousin sought out Emmitt Till.
If a man can die slowly they both swore this one will.

The two held Emmitt captive in an old wooden barn.
They strung him up with barbed wire and broke both of his arms.
They gouged out one eye for the pleasure of pain
Then they dragged out to the river his mortal remains.

His poor mother wept when she saw what they’d done;
How they’d tortured and murdered her beloved son.
She mourned, open casket, and word soon got out
How Black men were killed in the Heart of the South.

The law found Till’s killers and brought them to court.
But the jury was friendly (or else they were bought).
The two killers went free, smiling, down the court steps.
But their sins lit a fire folks here won’t forget.

After Till’s death Civil Rights was the cause
There were marches and protests; the movement changed laws
The ****’s hold would be broken; of that do not doubt,
And, slowly, things changed in the heart of the South.

She was a young girl, just fifteen,
when the wondrous deed was done.
Behold, a ****** had conceived;
It was foretold she’d have a son.

She was promised to an older man,
a joiner of wood, simple and plain.
Many a man might have demurred;
exposing her to the stones of shame.

In his troubled sleep, he had a dream,
revealing all that God had done;
Joseph took Mary to be his wife
As the Roman census had begun.

Mary considered these things in her heart
As the infant grew and thrived.
He was strong in wisdom, kind of heart.
Though Herod pursued Him, the child survived.

Three years he traveled these ancient hills;
In synagogues and Temples, he taught.
Until, betrayed, he was arrested,
and brought before the Roman court.

How hard for Mary to behold
her only son upon a cross.
She heard Him cry out to the sky
and yield His spirit when all seemed lost.

It seemed he was in Satan’s power;
When even gold appeared but dross.
Then Joseph of Arimathea came
to claim His body from the cross.

Hope is a slender reed;
enough to build a dream upon.
She, too, beheld the empty tomb.
The stone removed, the Master gone.

October 12, 1870, the last surrender

There it is again, that old familiar pain.
It is clutching at my chest as I feel my color drain.
I reach my favorite chair and I struggle for each breath.
I place a pill beneath my tongue and just hope for the best.
Ever since Antietam it has hunted me just so.
It is like my old opponent, Grant, an unrelenting foe.
I am approaching Appomattox, my struggle nearly done.
I hear the cheers of boys in Blue for it is they who’ve won.
I could not ask more of the Grey for they had little left.
Now I too am about to fall to this traitor in my breast.

A car crashed into our tree last night, one fatal last mistake.
It was a cooper mini; I never heard the driver brake.
My wife, a nurse, ran to the car, then, sadly, backed away.
“There’s nothing I can do for him. This was his dying day.”
I could see there was a lot of blood; the driver’s chest was crushed.
I got the precinct on my cell. I said-“you need not rush.”
An ambulance came and his corpse was freed;
at the scene  he was pronounced deceased.
I knew he’d had a violent end, but reasoned it was quick at least.
The road was dry and freshly paved and, as per the EMT,
There was no hint of alcohol when they pried him from the tree.

The patrol called for his next of kin, and, as the sun rose in the East,
a woman with her baby came, her face a mask of grief.
Her fiancé was thirty and that night he’d tended bar.
He’d been working lots of overtime to save for their new car.
A baby’s needs are many and often dollars are too few.
I didn’t know how she would cope and somehow make it through
Her face betrayed a fresh concern; I saw her check her phone.
“I had sent my fiancé a text- he was late coming home.”
I knew what time the crash occurred; it had awakened me,
But I was unspecific.” It happened around three.”
She showed me then the text she’d sent that may have caused his end
The time stamped on her text message read “2:31AM”