The Playhouse of the Star


An intimate bud of the Putinate was I
A tyrant-in-training in the great Russian sty
We practically rutted in the oligarch's bed
Me rubbing his foot while he patted my head 

Now all that seems far  to a reality star 
Those wonderful nights at the weapons bazaar
When we were shootin' with Vlad Putin 
Ate baloney with his cronies 
Playing spanksters with the gangster, and the star,
    -- har, har, har!
We were sharing all things daring 
Stripped banana, do-what, do-what you wanna'
Snort and snort around the samovar,
    hey, hey, hey!

An intimate bud of the Poot-in was I,
More intimate still with his tool, the Big Lie 
I practically stole from his ol' KGB book 
Till he tore out the pages and bugged me -- that crook!

(Refrain:)
When we were shootin' with Vlad Putin 
Ate baloney with his cronies 
Playing spanksters with the gangster, and the star,
    -- har, har, har!
We were sharing all things daring 
Stripped banana, do-what, do-what you wanna'
Snort and snort around the samovar,
    hey, hey, hey!

Then one awful day... Fake-News got the story
The star he turned white, the tale it got gory
Now here is the remake, a version not pretty 
As I spill out my guts to the House's Russian-Infiltration 
    Activities Committee 

So please heed the lesson my experiences they teach: 
if you play too much foot-in...  
    ...with nasty old Putin --
Someday they'll impeach!

Author's Note: This is a parody of a parody, based on the American summer-camp song "The Palace of the Czar," also known as "Shootin' With Rasputin." One version of the lyrics found at: http://www.streetdirectory.com/lyricadvisor/song/ujjclu/shootin_with_rasputin/)


Freedom of the Day


Six wild turkeys in a process 
Each one fatter than the next
Each step thunders, neck-joint thrusting 
Readers from the self-same text

Six fat turkeys walking free  
The last one gives its tail a lurch 
in a sign of holy freedom. Sweet  
Sunday! Have they been to church?

In feathers fancy
fantail sails on open waters
Freedom of the day 





Freedom of the Holiday


We travel far each year  to free this day
That brings home truths unspent  for all to share
The good son and the naughty one  suspend their play 
and put the game aside  and what to wear 
Good conduct reigns a time  as Grandpa reads
Our door we fling for one  who's always there 
For freedom enters soundless  just like the air  
Redeems our love, recalls our soul's true need
And whispers round our circle  to praise an ancient deed 


​


To Know Eternity 
              "What’s freedom for? To know eternity." -- Theodore Roethke

I heard some talk, and the talk was low 
I heard some more, and the words came slow
Three voices thread through a distant room
Three brilliant colors from a single bloom
I heard a voice tell a steady tale 
A ripe remediation of a status quo
When hand met hand lovely years ago

I heard some talk, and the talk was free 
Matching lives on lives, one two three
A voice that rose, and a voice that laughed
A question posed and was answered half
A recollection pulled from an old blue hat 
A murmured reply, 'I never knew that' 
A chorus sang with a wild eclat

I heard a voice with a silver tone  
Melting the ice of the winter gone 
I heard a peal and a bell rang free
A layered song with a harmony 
Its voice the matins, the nones, the prime
I know when souls Sarah's ladder climb
On mothers mothered and their daughter time