Something Old and Something New
Something Old and Something New
The "old" item appeared a little over eight years ago, and here it turns up again just like a bill collector that won't leave ya alone.
“And Nietzsche, with his theory of eternal recurrence. He said the life we've lived we're gonna live over the same way for eternity. Great. That means I'll have to sit through the Ice Capades again." --Woody Allen
Zombies on Ice
The Zeitgeist’s lately been a blasé mix:
sensual lust chilled with a zesty twist
of fear and morbid curiosity.
The juggernaut rumbling through each zone,
which mesmerized erstwhile lighter souls,
draws zealots from Zurich to Kalamazoo.
Here hosted by our humble civic center–
which taxes built and named for the county czar
(despite bamboozling embezzlement)--
the snaky skaters to our public plaza came.
The crowd, prepared for fright but not for shock,
gasped as a zzzt-zzzt buzzed the collective spine.
Upon their entrance to the frozen floor,
as if just roused from a lazy snooze,
the stars appeared altogether in parts:
here an upward arm, there a shaky leg.
Haphazard moves belied the graceful glaze
as sheer stupor themed the choreography.
Or so it seemed. Meanwhile the denizens
of the mezzanine in the ziggurat above
steered their homage toward spicy pretzels,
their zinfandel kept warm and safe in zarfs.
A sudden subtlety caught strong gaze
as zircon-studded costumes swished a swirl.
Attention switched away from schlock to awe
as silver blades put down a zany waltz,
segueing into steps set to Zydeco,
now solving a rebus puzzle, then a maze
across a zeugma of complexity with
some to zig, others to zag.
At the climactic zenith of the act
all Hell ascended through the icy stage.
With Zen-like detachment backs climbed
up bumps of others, a Ponzi scheme of souls.
Against the bold frieze body parts flew,
but fortunately no one fell.
Whole-handed cheers and roaring claps
sent the zapped-out stars to resume their sleep
upon a stack of z’s and cash, while in advance
of next week’s arrival of the pole-vaulting vampires
(who wowed SRO venues from Vegas to Valdez),
the Zamboni swept up splintered chips
and bits and crystalline shavings--
amid zones of sundries unknown.
The "new" one is somewhat inspired by the news, especially Cable News Talk Shows, but also could have come from the voice of the younger sister in this story.
Let Me Call You Zolotse
I’ve just about had it with loser dudes
like jerks and dorks with poor attitudes
who cash their paychecks ere the ink is dry.
I’m looking for a take-charge kind of guy ----
I want to land an oligarch:
that’s gold to put my trust in.
While Swiss banks keep it in the dark,
into my arms he’ll be “rushin’. “
From my Sugar Daddy oligarch
come diamonds and rubles all for me,
a mansion big as Gorky Park
and a dacha on the Black Sea.
(Not to mention
an election
or a President or two.
It’s true!)
Who cares if he’s a ruthless cur
whose bite is much worse than his bark.
His dough won’t fail to make me purr.
So scare me up an oligarch.
