Roly-Poly

Endangered,
becoming radlerified by the dozens,
the pulsating schooner and
soon-to-be beer schnitzel founder matrix
has gotten one step closer to inverting
McGillicuddy’s flounder station ingress.

Something like a flower empowerment extravaganza
for the sake of all that is roly-poly
and nothing much more than that unless
you’re really looking for a tangential crime
to pin on the succulent ape tendril, chilled
(in season between September and July).

I poured myself a Laura Palmer and sprang into action,
working harder–certainly–than any chimp I’d ever seen
(though still a paltry output when compared to our founder
and glorious leader, Ubaldo: Eagle Veterinarian to the Stars).

Typecast

A palletful of organized criminals has just suffered the worst possible fate imaginable–at least from the vantage point of an ordinary human with access to some kind of means (or even just innate privilege). The fate? To be typecast as tycoons when they’d really prefer to just joust about with their bodacious buddies at their weekly jousting outing. Is that too much to ask? The sunflowers sure don’t think so, no sir. No sir, indeed. Just catch up to that vacant laundry (propelled by propane gas) and hand me that cheddar–while we’re young. The cheddar, however, must be somewhat aged (24 months, or best offer). It will complement the sunflower seeds we’ve sown over the past couple months. That, and the red-berry jelly.

Eggheads

Inward-flowing trigonometrists burgle
fine-toothed angle pushers on
the twentieth day of their self-imposed
exile from the land of mathematics.

Nowhere near the crime is there
a scrap of linen, the trademark of the
now oft-emulated original perpetrators.
The copycats don’t seem to mind
perpetuating the need for a police state,
it’s likely that their cheetah-spritzing
skills never allowed them to make it
to the big time, so they fell back on math
and edgy felonies to fill their days.

When will these damn academics learn
that intellectual proficiency negates
the need for flashy feats of daring?
Perhaps the observation of the next
full solar eclipse will convince some
wayward eggheads to stick to the sciences.
For God’s sake, let’s hope that’s the case.

Those Tennis Ball Eyes

I think sticking a shinbone
into the belly of a live lemur
just happens to be one of the cruelest acts
a person can commit. Sure,

there are plenty of crimes
against humanity that could be
considered as somewhat more intense,
but lemurs are primates too. I think

crimes against animals are worse anyway,
because animals don’t know
what any of our justice system means.
If someone is tried for that heinous act,

do you think the lemur knows? No,
of course not. Even if you told
the lemur that you’d bring it closure,
it would just stare up at you with those
tennis ball eyes, unaware of the social context
(or indeed the language you speak).