Like a baby seal, she will be beaten–
and by gulls will her blubber be eaten
on the beach where she lies.
So say some experts, guys.
That’s a deal Trump will not need to sweeten.
Regeneration for a New Generation
Regenerative medicine, of course,
means using all those baby body parts
Planned Parenthood provides. Into the sphere
of benefiting from abortive arts,
the pope has plunged. Let fetal brains and hearts
be given over to the higher goal!
On them let scientists exert their smarts!
What helps the body also helps the soul.
Francis may quibble, yes — but, on the whole,
he’s pleased as sin with progress of this kind.
Look: he has redefined the papal role!
Listen: he has remade the Catholic mind!
I won’t, therefore, permit it to affright me
that Francis likes to chew the fat with “Bite Me.”
Just Another Reproductive Choice
Oh, read the latest teaching, folks, and learn:
previous popes were wrong on everything!
When today’s pope lets heartfelt words take wing,
it’s only your acceptance they should earn.
From his exalted state he can discern
God’s latest firm opinion. Worrying
about staid continuity will bring
no benefit. Your mind should never spurn
as foolishness what looks like foolishness.
Remember that the mirror’s shaded now.
You can’t see clearly, can’t deduce or guess
what’s up. Therefore, you shouldn’t have a cow
over the bullshit Francis dares profess–
though that’s an option he may well allow….
Just the Usual
Things were bad — and then, bam, they got worse?
Consolation became added curse?
Your luck plummeted deep
and then crashed in a heap?
That’s the way of the whole universe.
Have you skewered an idiot? Sure.
But his sense of self-worth will perdure.
He did not understand
your point, keen and well planned.
Although skewered, his ego’s secure.
You have said that you’ll stay up all night–
so I know you’ll sleep long. You say height–
so I’m sure you mean weight.
You say love: you mean hate.
For it’s always the opposite, right?
National Supervillain Day
(for Anna and Ben Hatke)
National Superhero Day: of course,
my first thought, Ben and Anna, was of you–
you in your realm of aureate resource;
you where you do what others cannot do;
you where you serve the good, without a clue
about my twisted kind, our motivations,
the inner agonies we struggle through,
our startling and unsettling transformations!
There is no day in any of the nations
that celebrates transcendent villainy–
and we would only curse such celebrations
in any case. What? Us? There’s only me,
eager now for a new scheme to begin–
except I know you heroes always win!
What? The right to bear arms? Superstition!
We accept no such worn-out condition
on our limitless rule.
We’re too current and cool.
(While we make laws, we buy ammunition.)
Mark of Leadership
He is not just a lame, pudgy nut
who has never known wherefore from what.
He is not a poor reader.
Not at all: he’s our leader!
You can tell by his four-foot-wide butt.