Loonier Tunes

Richard Pflum

 

Banners fly high, all the barns are burning, ladders

have been laid against city walls while boiling oil has

been spilled down from glowing ramparts onto faces

of the liberators.  And so Crazy Cat has been let out

of the bag, Mother Weasel eats her young, and Bugs

Bunny has Elmer Fudd's nose between twin barrels

of Elmer's own shotgun.  All the canny medium men

yammer to an admiring bog, for the quarterback has

been killed and the coach is about to send in the tanks.

The kids on the bench are ready to go, defensive unit

will be replaced by offensive unit and vice versa,

though everyone is thoroughly confused except those

newly dead, whose viewpoints are forever simplified.

 

At home before our monitors everyone plays video games,

bright points of color are exploded or eaten by little

green men in armor who everyone agrees are the enemy.

The supermarkets are loaded with exquisitely crafted,

finned instruments, (poisoned birds ready for flight)

and in the overstocked freezing locker, half cleaved

carcasses of men and women hang about from the

butcher's tender hooks, a rich surfeit for everybody.

 

In the zoo rapacious animals pace their cages waiting

for dinner.  When the time comes, cage doors will be

blown open, no one knows for certain in whose direction

they will run.  Meanwhile Porky Pig sizzles on his spit

and kits for self immolation have been provided for

                                 the children.

      Th...  Th...  Th...  That's All Folks. 

 

Copyright 2007 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.

All rights remain the exclusive property of the individual poet and may not be used without their permission.

 

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