A tyrant named Saddam Hussein,
Immoral and finally slain—
Was better by far
Than Iraq’s evil stars
And should have continued to reign.

Von Clausewitz made it quite plain—
War’s function must not be arcane.
Attacks fueled by vanity
Are simple insanity,
The horror of leaders’ lame brains.
(6/15/14)

Face it! The boundaries of art are forms,
The latest fashions that adorn ideas,
That tweak the eye, the ear, the mind—perform
A magic that turns artists into seers.

Yet, always, artists do project ego
We shape worlds reflecting our obsession
We forget that art is, despite our throes
A formal and aesthetic expression

Thrust your ego if you must, goshdarnit—
Just slick it up—clothe it in a sonnet.
(3/25/14)

Tell me, what is it that we humans want?
Fish, insects, birds and animals, content
With food, with space, with nature’s bounteous flaunt,
Eschew our rage, and angst, our discontent.

Ten thousand feet of living space, toilets
On every floor, an Aston Martin
Parked at the door, a gleaming private jet,
Stuff piled on stuff—luxuries that hearten.

Despite our fulfilled needs, failure to gain
Outrageous wants engenders human pain.
(11/21/13)

Pray this! Buy that! Comfort and save your souls!
The foolishness they peddle is bizarre.
They use plain magic to attain their goals
But charge for access to their repertoire.

Take kaparot—atonement—now on sale,
When sinners, for eighteen bucks, purify,
Load their sins on chickens, when all else fails,
Recite a verse, slit their throats, cleansed! They sigh—

They’ve exercised their bible-based conceits—
Then give poor folks those tainted birds to eat.
(9/26/13)

Then evolution sets in, our comfort
Morphs to chic, and bright fashion looms—in charge!
I understand a well-filled shirt’s report,
Remain transfixed by deep décolletage,

But can’t explain why fashion ran amuck.
Jackets make sense, but why those notched lapels?
Shirts serve, but what’s the point of collars, cuffs?
Why three-inch heels on sexy demoiselles?

But, most of all, I wonder what cockeyed
Putz thought up the most outrageous, useless,
Idiotic, obligated, juiceless,
Weird and stupid fashion quirk: men’s neckties?
(9/14/13)

Ambient temperature, predatory
Skills, food supply, and complex brain cell thrums
Contribute to evolution’s story,
Along with supple opposable thumbs.

Being omnivorous certainly helps.
Innovation parries nature’s changes
That might end our standing, select new whelps
To dominate the earth’s changing ranges.

Though proud our species thrives, fit, perfected,
I wonder why earwax was selected.
(9/8/13)

I’ve never quite understood what “soul” means.
There, tumultuous, underneath the skin,
Empathy and ego ebb, flow, careen
Through consciousness like unleashed yang and yin.

Just where does gratification abide—
In hot sex, wealth, nourishing our egos,
Or in empathic warmth that feeds our pride
When we diminish others’ painful throes?

Remember infantile paralysis?
At eleven, it took Len’s legs away
While in summer camp. Later, on that day,
His mom stared at the iron lung and hissed!

Judge! Which spoke—her ego or empathy,
When she wailed “How could you do this to me”?
(7/27/13)

Good humored, he replied he found me “deft”
(Now there’s a word you don’t see ev’ry day).
Perhaps he meant my poetry had heft,
Was skillful in a sure and easy way.

At eighty-three, my body’s sore, not deft,
So physicality’s not what he meant
Despite my age I’m not yet brain bereft
Though memory is often dark or bent.

Perhaps perceptive, honest and candid,
He simply noticed that I’m right-handed.
(7/13/13)

Well known unwritten protocols insist

On generosity, however mild.

One never growls “Dear friend, please, please desist!

Your hapless, somber verse leaves art defiled.”

The editors (kind, always) never say:

“Your poems just stink—please, please why don’t you quit?

Your fumbling words convey an ass’s bray.”

Their rejects purr “Quite nice, but don’t quite fit.”

My wincing friends respond “My fav’rite lines

Are E and F”—they never say “You bore.”

And recently, one editor opined,

“Two of your verses really struck a chord.”

Which chord? A flared C major CRESCENDO,

Or B flat minor diminuendo?

(6/3/13)

The women
Cover nipples
And vaginas
(Resentfully),
While displaying
Well-oiled bodies.
Their taut butts,
Flexed,
Display a tight crack
Able, in a pinch,
To crack nuts.
(5/28/13)