Humor

In British folklore, the Beast of Bodmin Moor is a phantom feral cat. Bodmin Moor (Cornwall, England) is a hub of horror, with regular sightings and reports of savagely slain livestock. I’ve sensed the sickening lick of fear __At eyes that flicker on the fringe Of felid fierceness—Luna’s leer __Has...

Is this a werewolf’s trick, or witch’s treat? A devil’s joke? Humanity’s defeat? Who would have thought we’d live to see the day When people would freak out to see a face--- A friendly human face---in public places? Mouths and noses never seemed risque Till now: they’re monstrous---threatening---a disgrace. What’s...

  Nothing Ventured an office romance "What more do you want?" he inquired without guile. ---Can it really be true that my feelings don't show?--- She marveled within, and, suppressing a smile, Inventoried the things he appeared not to know: I want more than greetings on alternate Mondays And occasional...

  Now when you get to sixty-five, your memory starts to slip, But when you get to seventy, you have to get a grip. It’s best if you can write things down to put your mind at ease, To stop you losing mobile phones, remote controls and keys. He headed...

  Vocations Always there are things we should be doing; Others, though, are better left unfinished. Also, there are ends well worth pursuing; Likewise, goals that leave a wight diminished. Everybody wants to be successful Launching some sublunary endeavor, Or to be a mild receptive vessel Filled with God’s amazing...

All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise. Originally published by the SCP 9/26/18 Consumer Rights by Cal Wes Ubideer Accountability, transparency, and search control, consumer advocates are fighting Big-Tech's data hold. For far too long consumers have been powerless to fight the Goolag Commie-Tsars and Facebook Social-Fascist might. We have the...

  “Hunter, you’ve disgraced the name of 'Biden.' Your laptop’s in the hands of some porn cop! I’ve told you, as a Biden you’ll be spied on--- Get thee behind me, spawn of dumb Corn Pop!” “Dad, your words don’t pass the Biden smell test--- You’re rankled by my deeds?!...

  “Censorship is to art, as lynching is to justice.” —Henry Louis Gates, Jr. by Caud Sewer Bile Joe’s never spoken to his son about Burisma—No! The New York Post was not supposed to show that it was so. That treasure trove of laptop data wasn’t for our eyes. That...

Retired K-9 When I was young, you kept me in a cage. But as I got a little calmer, older, Sometimes you’d let me ride in the front seat Shotgun, with my paw upon your shoulder. It wasn’t just for toys and treats, you know— Sniffing out drugs and shells,...

What if I do compare you to a rose Or summer’s day or beauty like the night, Or drone of how I’d sit and drink a coke With you instead of viewing every sight This world can give?—the seven wonders are No wonder without you. Or should I count The...

. The Tweeter Strikes Back At midnight, Don was not asleep, and so, he rose to eat and tweet. He ate McD’s; he felt relaxed. He walked around, and then he spat. On Fox, he watched a Democrat who launched a partisan attack. The Dem said, “Donald is a blight”,...

  No Signal, Please Stand By by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei Perhaps the most intriguing thing about the past debate between vice-presidential candidates was its strange fate, that when Vice President Pence spoke, the Chinese censored it: “NO SIGNAL PLEASE STANDBY” was how the Chinese rendered it. The moment Harris,...

  Eternal Apocalypse I’ve managed to escape a coming ice age; A mammoth hasn’t tossed me to my death. I’ve dodged the planet’s ozone-waning end-stage; Our green and pleasant land’s still drawing breath. The polar bears are plentiful and healthy. The ocean hasn’t swallowed coastal homes Of cunning cons who’ve...

  a parody of Tennyson's "The Eagle" Upon the bronze haired statue head Enringed in evening’s smoggy spread She beak-pecks on a littered bread. There, on the gritty concrete lies A pop of corn she greedy spies And down she like a pigeon flies.     Michael Curtis is an...

Reflections of an Aging Moon Great brassy stalks of varicolored horns Blow notes to keep the bees awake at noon. Immersed in gaudy zinnia’s stippled forms, They dance and flit, in homage to the moon. Among the varied shapes and hues, a muse Cavorts in blue-strewn, stuff-crimped marigolds More crimson...

. . At the Supper Table of a Progressive They understood riots and death and what's more, "Adore them all really," and down to the core, So dropping my napkin to grant them the same, I upset their table and rose with my frame, A fine crystal pitcher of water...

  Feeding Time Chickens feed on chicken feed. Birds on birdseed, yes-indeed! Cattle feed on cattle feed, Twitters feed on Twitter feed. People feed on many things, Avocados, onion rings, Water drawn from soda springs, Brussel sprouts and chicken wings. Gen-X, Buster, Baby Boomer, Feed on gossip, news, and rumor....

  There’s no age bar on titivating hair, Apart from putting rouge on wrinkled cheek. A Speaker has the right to looking fair, And prune her brunette hair once in a week. Pandemics come and go, but beauty stays. At eighty, beauty makes a second wave When handsome youngsters leer...

  The Church is Locked on Easter Day a rondeau The Church is locked on Easter Day Despite the stone being rolled away. The Christ awakes to greet the poor But they cannot get through the door To go to holy Mass and pray. Lay folk are told, at home...

Weave a circle round him thrice, __And close your eyes with holy dread, __For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise. —Coleridge, “Kubla Khan” Sam Coleridge smoked opium. Ho hum. If that’s what fueled the fire in his pupils I think Sam would have been a...

  July 4, 2020 A monument falls Rioters have no remorse What happened this fourth?     Summer 2020 Sunny days are here! The beach is ideal and near. It’s Fall already?     Day Dreaming A warm summer day That should be spent at the bay. Not at work...

  London’s Docklands, Pre-Gentrification from a sonnet by Wordsworth Earth has not anything to show more foul Unless it be the same neath fog and rain; But no, for like Rasputin’s reechy mane This horror craves occulting in a cowl: Abandoned buildings, cheek by scabrous jowl, Eyes boarded shut or...

  Losing It He staggered round his living room in stunning disbelief As for the very umpteenth time, he’d gone and lost his teeth. He cried, “They’re in here somewhere, I must search and search” but then He couldn’t find his spectacles so he had to think again. He sat...

  A Cut Above Why shouldn’t Nancy break a lockdown rule To bless us with her chestnut-tress finesse? As Speaker of the House she’d look a ghoul If cameras focused on an un-coiffed mess. They’ve warned us of the ills of manicures, The perils of a perm or tint and...

    There’s lots of riots in the street or so I’ve heard from someone’s tweet; they’re pulling out all of the stops, those young people who fight the cops; I see the photos in the news, the broken windows to peruse; the videos by the headlines show angry mobs...

  I am a cardboard cutout. I sit here in the stands. I do not think. I do not blink. I do not clap my hands. You are a cardboard cutout. You sit there next to me. You do not cheer. You have no fear Of unreality. We are the...

  'I Shall A Mighty Hunter Be!' “I shall a mighty hunter be, The King of Kills, by God’s decree! Savannahs always guarantee a vantage camouflaging me. I’ll lie in wait with sharpened claws … until her keys unlock our doors! My human’s finished many chores, including patronizing stores for...

  The Angels’ Share Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God’s ways to man. — A.E. Housman When whisky’s aged in oaken casks, some ullage Should be expected, for it’s only fair That higher beings...

  Editing with the OED for Rita Bornstein __Like a mental abattoir, the OED, With brumous exactitude, looms over me As my blue pen prunes my cachaemic prose, Decorticating glut in orderly rows. Excessive eikonology, they say, May work for those who love facetiae And frilly essays built of guipure...

  Abracadabra The written word is magical And not just something clerical. You scratch some marks into the sand; I see the marks and understand What you are thinking in your head Without a single word being said. Like channeling or ESP The thought goes straight from you to me....

  My marriage failed (they always do.) Emotionally unequipped To work things out without a script, We didn’t try to talk it through. What do I pay that therapist for? You can’t see what emotions mean Until you get them on the screen. We left them on the studio floor....

  When the wokest of folk virtually convoke In a year of elections and riots and fear, Uncle Joe from the basement the Nanny will stoke. He’ll invoke Ms. Kamala as newscasts evoke, “She’s a centrist!” to mask a career racketeer When the wokest of folk virtually convoke. Will Kamala...

  Madcapfesto We’ll unlock prison gates and let the inmates saunter out. We’ll tear down wall and rule; we’ll sponsor every lug and lout. We’ll overlook drug smuggling and the trafficking of sex. We’ll hike up workers’ taxes to increase the welfare checks. Equality. Equality. We’re proud to make that...

by Joseph S. Salemi The poetic effusions of some people are so incompetent that they cross the line into unexpected humor, and thereby become valuable. Such is the case with the work of William Topaz McGonagall (1825-1902), whose poetry has been kept in print long since his demise—first, as a...

  Hero of Her Heart On February 9, 2007 Sgt. James J. Regan of the 3rd Battalion 75th U.S. Ranger Regiment was killed on active service in Iraq. Some time after the funeral, Sgt. Regan's fiancee Mary McHugh visited his grave in the Arlington National Cemetery where he was buried...

All poems by Bruce Dale Wise The Prisoners in Manacles by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei The prisoners in manacles in western China were just on a day out, stated the Chinese ambassador. The picture shows the people kneeling, shaven, wearing blinds. They’re being led to trains by guards—to trains—relaxing binds....

  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, by Joseph Lange (1783? / 1789?); as viewed by a Philistine Consider Lange’s well-known portrait Of his in-law, a composer: It’s good, we see, but it requires A scrutiny that’s closer. This fellow couldn’t get a job, Or keep one if he got it. Was he...

  Rueing Tattoos When young she was drawn to that skin-art taboo of embellishing flesh with a tattoo or two. Now time’s marching on and gravity’s struck, her sweet chickadee is akin to a duck. And that spry butterfly, as blue as the sky, that graced blissful space at the...

Golden Gloves My father fought in Golden Gloves. Back then The ring was where you slugged your way to hopes. It was no place for fey, aesthetic men— There’s no nuance on canvas, or the ropes. I asked him, Dad, what does it mean to lace Into someone? He smiled,...

  How Monkeys Came to Be adapted from a Palestinian folktale Monkeys and people once were one. For monkeys had from Adam come. As Adam's sons in every way, Those monkeys looked like us today. Yet by mere happenstance was fated That monkeys from us deviated. A woman once in...