Loonier Tunes
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.