The Very Best |
If it’s not at the very least The Most, or the Very best, It’s trash, man, in America -- Be it a kitchen knife, a trophy wife Or the best years of your miserable life. Further and more, The best is not yet to come Because tomorrow your Best will be bested; It’s a Better-than-Best-eat-Best world out there, boy And though Better-than-anything, admittedly, Is better than just Best, It’s not nearly as good as Stupendous. That, ma boy, is not even the Worst of it The worst is the opposite of Good, Which nowadays is not Bad, But Not bad, or Pretty good, Two consecutive death sentences, in America -- Where have Fine and Decent and Lovely gone? What gulag have Good-job or Nicely-done Been exiled to? And what inflationary forces can manage to bloat A simple adjective like Excellent into The Ultimate Life-changing Epoch-making halter top, Or the Mouth-watering Drop-dead-gorgeous Chicken nugget? | As you sip your Wicked awesome Once-in-a-life To-die-for Definitive Latté You are not merely annoyed but must detest And abhor that abominable disgusting stroller-Nazi Who took up three parking spots with her monster SUV-size Humvee of a stroller next to you, And that was nothing but the opening credits for The rest of this absolutely horrific worst day Of your life - Ever - Here on earth Or in the hereafter. You think global warming will do us in, Or Al-Qaeda or running out of oil? That’s small change, kiddo, Compared with the real apocalypse Of running out of superlatives When the final showdown, Not between Good and Evil, But between the last worst Worst And the last best Best left standing Will signal the end of words And our return to grunts and sign language. That’s all I have to say. *** |
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Two Deaths
God died this morning
Of boredom;
He had seen everything,
He thought.
Shortly thereafter
The devil killed himself
Laughing
Because he saw it coming.
Of boredom;
He had seen everything,
He thought.
Shortly thereafter
The devil killed himself
Laughing
Because he saw it coming.
Snapshot
You took my breath away --
I could no longer release.
Callisto
Ca - llis - to And the lids of his blind eyes Slowly lift as if in astonishment At the sun’s unexpected warmth That slowly wipes the thoughts dry And returns them To the same old recliner In the same old field That is no longer empty | Callisto -- A distant celestial nymph, An old flame cooled in Jupiter’s orbit. Callisto -- The sweet tingling of her name Still excites his palate |