AN AMERICAN PASTORAL

Poetry Potluck--With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub


Ladies and gentlemen
welcome aboard the SOUL TRAIN 
chuggin 'cross America
and movin on down the line
tha's right...tha's right...


My name is Thaddeus K. Trumbo
and I am your conductor...


We will glide through the beautiful countryside
with stopovers at significant locales
that comprise the tapestry of this great land...


chugga chugga chugga
chugga chugga chugga


First stop: RIPOFF CITY
where all the street signs
are in fine print
and everyday is the last day
of our gigantic warehouse sale
BUY ANY TWIN SIZE MATTRESS
AND PAY ONLY THE QUEEN SIZE PRICE
HURRY...THIS SALE MAY ONLY BE HELD OVER
FOR ONE MORE YEAR!


chugga chugga chugga
chugga chugga chugga




Next stop: WASTED TOWN


Where everyone gathers 
to slurp n burp
down at the ol' Scarf n Barf
(many of them have just come
from Ripoff City to drown their
sorrows)
Wasted Town...
where the motto is: 
Same time
same place
gettin' shitfaced!


chugga chugga chugga


And just down the tracks apiece, ladies and gentlemen, is Wasted Town's sister city: VOMITVILLE...
the capital of clueless teendom
where all the guys 
are flashing hand signs
and all the girls are flashing their boobs
and the beer is cold
direct from our cooler
to the porcelain god 
you will worship at the end of the hall




Ah, what a lovely day to glide
through the countryside
where peace 
and tranquility reside


HEY--OVER THERE...hold it down...you cruisin' for a bruisin' boy...I'll do a RUMSHPRINGA right on yo head...
tha's right...tha's right!


chugga chugga chugga


Next stop:TELLYVILLE


where all the women are patronized
by male script writers 
so they are tough 
and go 'round  kicking
all the men's asses on every cop show
sliding around the corner
squeezing the livin' crap outta that gun
with both hands
and yelling FREEZE!


Meanwhile, down at the local TASTY  Freez
some are still as sweet as before


chugga chugga


Next stop: PROMISE LAND


Not to be confused with the Promised  Land
no no
Here, all the politicians
from mayor on down to dog catcher
keep promising that pie in the sky
just to get reelected
but year after year
the only thing they deliver is
that same old poop soup


YOU HEAR ME OVER THERE???
I'll beat you like a DRUM, boy...
not a snare...a KETTLE!
tha's right...tha's right...


chugga chugga
chugga chugga


NEXT stop:  the village of PC  HEIGHTS


where you WILL apologize
for speakin' your mind
to anyone who has
an axe to grind
and that sensitivity training
for postal workers
is working out fine
but sometimes
you can still detect them seething
behind that counter


chugga chugga chugga
wooowoooo...


Ah...now ladies and gentlemen
we are pulling into WEST ATLANTIS
where the residents, in their thirst
for instant gratification,
have tried to live a lifestyle
well above their means--
and the houses can no longer be seen
because they are all underwater


chugga chugga


Next stop: IMPERIAL VALLEY
Where the powers that be
feel duty bound to meddle
in the affairs of any and all
if it serves their interests
like an  HOA drunk on power
they will occupy your house
and push you around
and any resources you have
might be converted to their own usage
and still they haven't a clue
as to why everybody hates them


chugga chugga 


And now, folks,  a special treat, as we are entering the village of  NOSTALGIA GARDENS
Where every ten years some event from the past
is commemorated with media hype and tributes
even though it no longer has any bearing WHATSOEVER on the present
and even though nobody wants to think about it anymore
we will drag it out again
JUST because it's been ten years
and that's a neat number
(as we speak they are preparing tributes
for the tenth anniversary of Milton Berle biting the big one)


Ah, we SO like to look back
here in the good ol' USA--
as looking ahead is getting
scarier by the minute.


.chugga chugga chugga




Last stop, ladies and germs: DOG TOWN


All passenger must disem...BARK
heh heh


Here in Dogtown,  all the residents have their noses in the air
(they have to) 'cause nobody cleans up after their pets
as the motto is: we wouldn't  stoop that far.
Watch your step folks...watch your step...
those ain't no Jimmy Dean sausages fryin' on the sidewalk...
no no
seems we always steppin' in somethin' STINKY
here in the good ole USA...


Now, I wanna thank you folks
for being such a good-


ALRIGHT--tha's it!  I'm comin' over there to open up
a big can of WHUP ASS on you boy!
Git offa my train...
An' watch yo step...
tha's right...tha's right...

IN MEMORIAM

Poetry Picnic

d'Verse Poets Pub

Everything starts here

in my composition book

just like the ones I never used

for school work

too busy scribbling my subversive poetry

in study hall

a nasty little parody of Beowulf

or The Night Before Christmas

a drunken Santa staggering around

busting up the furniture

always thought drunks were funny

still do

art imitating life

I guess

I was past the days when dad

barely able to stand

took the car out one New Years Eve

and wrecked it

injuring some innocent family members

in the other vehicle

then

somehow getting a ride back home

and taking our other car out

and wrecking it on the same night

the guy was a gas

one day I said this is such B.S.

this idea of school as a full time job

and I vowed to stop taking homework

completely

and made good on it

my last two years of high school

nobody cared

the funniest thing was

they let me graduate

dear old mom and her Second Big Mistake

would be at the beer joints all night

I'd stay up alone on Saturdays

in that isolated farmhouse

watching Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi on late night TV

I wanted to walk like an Egyptian

I could always count on them

to come home fighting

ripping the phone out of the wall

and busting up some furniture

so comical

I'd pass my nasty rhymes around in class

Teach would be up there with his blah blah

my poem circulating up and down

each row of desks

even the girls snickering

and passing it on

and Teach

protector of impressionable minds

intercepting the paper

beginning to read

beginning to laugh out loud

catching himself

face turning red

going on a diatribe about how such trash

was the product of a sick mind

but it was too late

I'd already caught him

in the act

and gool ol' Mom lying there

in a pile of chicken feathers

from a ripped up pillow

and ol' Doc from town would come out

and patch her up

discreetly

it was a small town

and Doc's young daughter

prettiest girl in my Junior High class

asked me out one time

to a roller skating party

it occurred to me much later

that he must have put the kabosh

on that from ever happening again

with the likes of me

and Santa cursed

and flipped them all the finger

as he rode out of sight

after busting up some furniture

of course

always thought drunks were funny

still do

but only funny

if they're funny

and not morose

more points if he's staggering around

with a lampshade on his head

every comic knows

that comedy comes from pain

so please don't stand there

with that look of disdain

and try to change me now