Rudolph and Santa, two jolly good friends,
On their own friendship, so much depends.
One day, they both fought,
'Cause someone stole what they'd bought
But soon, they were able to make amends.
Later that day, they caught the thief,
But learning he'd sold their goods caused them grief.
They then informed the police,
Who gave them ten Pounds apiece.
That their kind gesture brought them relief.
While heading back home, that same day,
They both discovered they'd long lost their way,
Because of the beer they'd drunk,
They sat in a blue funk ~
That Santa was drunk no longer hearsay.
What sold was for millions as art so grand,
Was bought for a few cents at a fruit stand--
A fancy mall nor mart,
Nor place of art apart,
Nor was banana taped with swanky band.
But a joke so cruel
In art’s name was this all,
Or call it a crime of a dollar land.
______________________
Happenings |02.12.2024| art, irony, humour
Poet’s note: The banana that was sold for millions as an art piece was purchased at a fruit stand outside Sotheby’s auction house for 35 cents apiece, or 4 for one dollar (purchased for $ 5.2 million by a crypto currency entrepreneur-- who else?). How absurd can things go in this so-called world of art gone crazy for money? The banana seller, one called Shah Alam from Bangladesh, literally cried after knowing this. Yes, a joke it was this all, a cruel one for the poor banana vendor. Artist Cattelan pontificates, ‘Art, by its nature, does not solve problems-- if it did, it would be politics’. Indeed, the banana vendor was stunned and left still poor. See ‘Art going bananas’.
Who knoweth thoust toad
than thoust legless load
be ye first to croak
than thoust frog's now croak.
Frog caught sight of croc
toad cast eyes on site
got six of eight legs
ate frog's two, toad all
Thoust frog apiece lept
thoust toad peace hadst kept
lily pads, frog's faith
toads, bottomless fate.
the puppy arrived at gnome village on his own
he had no briefcase, suitcase, name tag or phone
What do we do with him? Grandpa gnome ask his niece.
We had better play with him, let’s take an hour apiece.
So the villagers took turns playing with the puppy all day.
He was exhausted, but happy, when he went along his way.
That is what you do with puppies, I read it in a book.
The puppy gave the librarian a wave and a fond, sleepy look.
I would like two of those I told the lady of the house.
I was staring at her two mushroom plant holders.
I can pay whatever you want, I told her.
I could tell that she was pleased.
I made them myself, she informed me.
But I am saving them for my children, she acknowledged.
I knew her children pretty well.
I waited for my chance.
After her death I bought them for a quarter apiece
At their garage sale
In Pacifica
I despise that portrait of me.
The likeness ends
with the name.
Yes, Jane Seymour, unbeheaded
Queen of England.
No, not of pinched thin lips
and sharp bird-beak nose.
Those hideous wimples
tented on over plucked foreheads
displaying protruding toad eyes....
I was not the smoldering gypsy beauty
of Anne Boleyn
nor the loud, youthful
excess of everything
Katherine Howard
but look what their beauty cost them:
one head apiece.
I was pretty in my watchful, rich-wombed way.
I carried a King in my devoted belly
and a great love for my cousin-husband,
a fondness for estranged young Mary
and a fervent wish for peace.
I carried the scent of my beloved garden
sweet forsythia
nor the harlot’s stink of
Paris and promiscuity.
I was loathe to undergo
a coronation
I did not want to be Queen
and yet here I am,
the only wife to receive a queen’s funeral
and share a tomb
with the Beheader.
Sir Daddy Leopard had income tax woes, issues that stomped his toes.
He put on his suit, and went to work, saying “this blows!”
His children had asked him for money time and again.
Giving you money for free would be a loss, not a win.
“You need to give them fifteen thou apiece,” said his accountant man.
He thought it would spoil them, especially his lazy daughter Fran.
The IRS is going to get more than your share unless you do,
So Sir Daddy Leopard decided to give money and tried not to be blue.
Fran was thrilled and kept kissing and hugging her dad.
This is more money than I’ve ever had!
He felt much better after that, bragging about what he had done.
The other two children blew theirs on silliness but had lots of fun.
Christmas day seemed to always land on a Sunday, when I was a miss.
Weird, but church is what I always remember every single Christmas
We would wake up too early, and get sent rapidly back to bed.
Our parents took no nonsense from any of us, their rules in lead.
We were told when we could come out, not one minute before.
We did not have seventeen presents, or hundreds of them galore.
We usually had three or four presents apiece, this was not grandma’s house.
The cookies left out for Santa had been nibbled, as if there had been a mouse.
We tore open the wrapping and got something we never saw coming.
This was before TV showed us what was valuable, or what was slumming.
We liked whatever it was, or at least pretended to like it.
For to do anything else would have caused a huge parental fit.
We thanked our parents, and helped set the breakfast table.
We had to call our great aunts Dorothy and Miss Mable.
To say thank you for the hand-knitted stuff they sent to us.
They loved hearing from us we gave them such a big fuss!
Let me start without an apology
Because you, honey, need not be in apiculture
Every second you bee apiece apiary
As I fall for your rich honey droop apace
Take me to space if you must but never cause apathy
Because you dug in my heart with a never closing aperture
And when in your presence I fumble on words like one with aphasia
Darling the gospel you preach to me makes you an apotheosis of an apostle
Sometimes your therapy I take like you were an apothecary
Or maybe you are but again you make me aplomb
Knowing fully well you're the apostrophe
That omits my imperfections like an apparition
Let me make an appeal
Because if I don't all this might not be applicable
So I appreciate your every applause
As I apprehend
This love you shower me with a posteriori
Orange Crush made us feel grown.
We were kind of older, on our own.
Grape Kool-aide was set aside.
We had cola now, and potatoes, fried.
I remember thinking the fizz made me feel old.
I was all of fifteen; Orange Crush taste was gold.
We were wearing two-pieced swim suits on the beach.
Eating hamburgers too, which cost twenty-five cents apiece.
Want to buy some bunnies? Asked the McSlayper.
This was from a bubble man with a white face.
Not flesh-color, not peach, not pink, white like paper.
I have plenty, I mean so many, it is nearly a disgrace.
So, you have lots of bunnies the bubble man guessed.
Yes, twenty-six hundred and two, McSlayper confessed.
Six more for only a dollar apiece, what do you say?
McSlayper laughed so hard, the bubble man ran swiftly away.
Apiece of heaven
In twenty seven
Falls from the sky
So many will die
Some are left to cry
The world will reel
But it will heal
It needs to be understood
Fire burns all that's wood
For food people will fight
The world looses its light
Forever night
The world changes
Rearranges
Gone is the places we knew
No plants grew
Most animal life
Lost amid the strife
Mankind's darkest hour
No one in power
Dark days ahead
How will the survivers be fed
Confusion runs free
This frightens me
All that I see
A world go's mad
Sad
Struggling to survive
Those still alive
Don't know if I want to be there
So unfair
End of time
End of my rhyme
An age gets caught in brew
Cheers to birthday off worry
Feel alright anew
Time is getting old
But don't grow dream in scurry
Shine your light so bold
Learn to find pure joy
Live a very nice story
That contents enjoy
Picture making life
Shine on positive glory
That records no strife
Could not forget this
Your wish- a reverend sister
Now gone off at ease
Someone has gone miles
To make your broken piece right
By flaming your smiles
How time becomes gay
Eyes shine sun's heat like moon's light
Win it his own way
Keep up your heart's peace
With love that lights your plight's quest
Without been apiece
Happy birthday dear
Grow in God's grace that unrest
Fulfilling career
Till her dreams come true
Growing care for options subdue
As God blesses you
Serenading you with my sincerity
assembling praises in your name
your one glance falls in place
a thousand emotions it resurrects.
Dawn is the new dusk
you pretend and wave it off
but the beauty in it
like an elephant without a tusk.
I wander to find peace
to render apologies apiece
my state of mind eloquent of a mirage
and I stay true to this farce
reality sickens me to the core
bringing redundant conversations to the fore.
Dredging up new barriers
setting up new boundaries.
Parsing life stuck at this juncture
now I run slower
and a lot less hunger
our differences like embers
time smouldered them
now settled beneath the ashes forever
still flickering by power of faith
memories waiting for someone to remember.
His heeded head hits the hot rock so hard
His arms save himself turns the scary prey
He holds not unto the pain to turn card
Glad of what's been achieved though at delay
Many are gleamed moments of near trial
Tailoring outcome; fear and hope apiece
If he couldn't win her heart; mistrial
For love and peace sake, all mess are treat less
Many are times he was been rejected
And never broke-open the veil of his goal
Stronger is inspiration injected
Unlike most pirates words seen a glycol
Man goes through a lot of tease just to woo
Woman also fear love won't turn dark-blue
© 2020
® Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá
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