If your birthday’s in August,
Your horoscope sign
Might turn out to be Leo
And that would be fine.
But that isn’t at all
What this poem is about,
For my LEO at breakfast,
Without any doubt,
Really jazzed up my morning
And if you’ve no clue
What I’m talking about,
I’ll explain it to you.
There’s an acronym here
And the L is for lox,
Which is salmon that’s cured,
Found in most deli stocks.
Now the E is for eggs,
Scrambled just to my taste
And the O is for onions,
Sautéed without haste.
Not all people will like this,
I’m not gonna lie,
But if it’s on the menu,
Please give it a try.
It is the lairiest of epochs
Ignore slop do a pop vox
Chock a block with shocks
But the scariest of tik toks
Snapping like hungry crocs
Another spate of hate docks
Photos that everyone clocks
Those ones who girls mocks
Are as deadly as small pox
Aren't all as strong as an ox
Shaking from online knocks
Drowning in instasham lochs
Stinks like young men's socks
Mistaking that a cure’s botox
Crowning a theory I defrocks
That faking makes you a fox
Solution sells comes out a box
Lies stir fries in corporate woks
Smells fishy like out of date lox
Why jog cheat the elite flocks
Fatty injections vanity smocks
As the poor everything hocks
Pharma firm flogs all its stocks
Not just peahens also peacocks
Androids on steroids rippled jocks
Muscle bound like the Springboks
Why are so many blokes.. cocks?
How about all go on a long detox
Take note your boat you’re the cox
Winner is the inner you which rocks
Fashion rations compassion is bollox!
Frigid temperatures filled the square
Rigid opponents chilled the air
Deriding him a radical socialist
Unbridling the race to get him off a ballot list
The city was arm in arm, in protest daily
Whites, Blacks, Arab and Israeli
and what came up to all’s surprise
Mayor elect—Mamdani’s rise
Along came the 112th Mayor elect
Strong spent are the people who'd select
Lines stretched around doters
Awaiting hours were his voters
Indulges in a city reborn it’s bagels and lox
Sworn in over the subway station docks
Hand upon Islam’s holy text
A marvel of a man who’ll govern next
Swearing words of conviction and not of pity
I swear, to bolster and defend this dynamic city
Mayor Mamdani
promises New York City ~
a hopeful journey
New Year's Day
1/1/26
On Christmas, many people eat
The feast of seven fishes,
With salted cod and smelts and eel
Among the many dishes.
There also might be shrimp and calamari,
Clams and mussels,
Prepared by Mom or Nonna
Who, for hours, sweats and bustles.
But as a Jew, I might partake
Of fishes of my own,
The kind that every New York
Bagel lover’s ever known –
There’s sturgeon, whitefish, sable,
Plus baked salmon and some Nova
And belly lox, depending on
The people coming ovah.
To make it seven, you could add
Some herring made with wine
Or cream sauce, or some mackerel;
They all would work out fine.
No matter what your fishes are,
To those who celebrate,
Have a very Merry Christmas day
And Gey Gezunteheyt!* (pronounced Gay Guzzinta Hayt)
*Go in good health (in Yiddish)
Once Upon A
Tyyiyime...
TIME
There/They're/Their
Were 3 Bare-Bare-Bares...
BARE-Assed Stupidity,
BARE Necessities,
And Honey Bear, I'm BAREly Alive.
***
ONE OF THEM LIKES EVERYTHING
TOO HOT!!!
-Gray Squirrel
09-29-2025
Dress up this tasty circular bread
with cream cheese, lox, or veggie spread.
A pumpernickel choice with marmalade jelly, just cried out to my empty belly.
There are too many people in this waiting line!
I arrived at 7:00 and it's quarter past 9:00!
I call out with a soft french shout,
"Quel est le problem?"
What's the wait all about?
"Le beignet......" "S'il vous plait." My bagel please, today!
Crunchy grapes, fragrant brie, so many toppings, too many to see.
These warm fine spreads will soon decorate my plate.
I would save some for you, but I just can’t wait.
My morning coffee just cried out , "Where is my companion? I might pass out"
Can you guess the treat of which I speak?
It’s a favorite of many, but not unique.
Round as a penny, near the size of your hand,
it’s MY savory BAGEL and just plain grand!
Bon appetit !
My son Jacob, he follows traditions
Religious, he has certain ambitions
He prays to God three times a day
I think he even knows what to say
Straight as an arrow, and square as a box
Jacob took a liking to bagels and lox
Sister snitched: Jacob prays right before he eats
~ that I don't slip a slice of pork in his daily treat
Whatever happened to breakfast, lamented French Toast
People love me, gushing with syrup, I used to boast
But now my brand is flat as a pancake
~ as popular as a post-Halloween ghost
A dozen eggs beat back tears as they sat in a box
while patrons flocked toward the cream cheese and lox
Once a staple of a sound start to the day
~ now bagels and doughnuts hold sway
There there's whole milk and butter
lovingly culled from Betsy's best utter
Given way to that nebbish 'skim milk' and oily margarine
~ at their pale appearance I just shudder
But at least I pack my children a solid lunch ~
Peanut butter sandwich, corn chips, and twinkies to munch
Lady Melanie with silver locks
Loved her bonbons, bagels, and graved lox.
Curmudgeon geezers viewed her a fox,
But she loved them less than chicken pox.
Melanie kept free as best she could.
She allowed no time for coquetry
Or Penelope-style stitchery.
But three bores persistence understood.
Trini, a jet jockey CEO
Lived his life allegro con brio.
As his lovely red Lamborghini,
His love raced too fast for Melanie.
Claude, a failed nebulous maunderer,
Gossip, post-modern philosopher
Believed everything in life was free,
Which made sweet Mellie his property.
Her third paramour drove flat-bed trucks.
When Bo misspoke, he would say “Aw shucks!”
And then, hands on, wordlessly switch gears.
She cast him off leaving him in tears.
Single she may wait until too late,
For a blissful bridal altar state.
Should her three bores e'er face a hot date
At least she shall stand at heaven’s gate.
Coffee shops bloom into aroma.
New York City
spew on the sidewalk.
This day Lord if you care;
in the timpani of each mind
thunder your long bong songs.
Bless the rats in their
dank hid-ey-holes
bless the thrice gnawed pizza.
Thunder sweetly
in the pidgins throat,
forgive us our lox & bagels
and let the dawn excavate us
from the weed soaked
down-town funk.
Lord, if you care
and if that `care'
is You in us
then let the Big Apple
be newborn
and not maggoty.
Not a place of filth
and fading beauty,
but each of us
a lamp in a city of lights,
and dear Lord,
please turn us on.
Whoever came up with the bagel
was a right-smart clever fellow
His brainstorm surely ranks up there
with taste treats like pudding and jello
For I'd never put toppings on pudding
like lox, tomatoes or cream cheese
And who would think of serving jello
with an assortment of delicacies
So, a doff of the cap and three cheers
for that purely anonymous soul
the centerpiece of whose discovery
was quite an ace in the hole
There was a store in Brooklyn selling
Food we’d often crave.
The owners were a couple
Known to all as Ruth and Dave.
On weekends I was sent there
Walking just a few short blocks
To buy bagels, cream cheese, whitefish
And some thin-sliced salty lox.
At times there was baked salmon
And if my mom had the urge,
On chocolate-covered jells
And graham crackers we would splurge.
It wasn’t every week we’d get
Those yummy foods to eat.
We knew a trip to Ruth and Dave’s
Was for a special treat.
So many years have passed I’m sure
That Ruth and Dave are dead,
But I can see them smiling,
She with braids piled on her head.
Call it as it is!
Not mistaken.
Not uninformed –
They just don't care!
Death in record numbers
at our Southern Border;
Death in the streets
of large cities from
Fentanyl...They just
don't care! Mask-less
getting her hair done;
at the seaside with
his obedient dog, steak
for him and Kibbles
for the population. She
parties in Florida,
while the streets of New
York are rapidly becoming
an uninhabitable sewer –
Even pigeons, rats and
roaches objecting to
piles of feces on sidewalks,
along curbs, obstructing
their normal foraging, healthier
diets of tossed pizza, bagels
and imported lox – They just don't
care! Using God and religion
as a prop, to control the naive
masses, while they get richer,
sitting ever higher on their
imagined Royal Asses. Already
card-caring Mammon's. They
just don't care! Obsessed
with Pursuit-of-power –
badly in need of a soul-cleansing
shower – the Devil Delighted,
fiery-plans for each selfish-hide --
advance reservations on a
Subterranean Ride –
Among these wonderful flowers,
I could sit here for many hours,
winding vines among the bowers;
they have power, they have power.
I will watch family of doves,
with their little ones high above,
just above me and these foxgloves;
those babes above, those babes above.
Such gentle joys that met my eyes,
something quite small I did surmise,
gave me a wonderful surprise;
such creatures wise, such creatures wise.
It was a fairy on a fox,
I dropped my bagel and my lox,
they walked out of my garden rocks;
oh what a shock, oh what a shock!
She said Foxglove is good for hearts?
this information she imparts,
used in the medicinal arts;
then they depart, then they depart.
Samuel P. Jingo was destined to be the king of kings
The color of a skunk or dairy cow, we called him Jings.
He kept saying he did not mean to pull the sword from the stone.
It was an accident, something he had done, all alone.
The town would not hear of anyone else having the honor.
Although the reindeer wanted the crown, especially Donner.
Jings was worried, and kept saying that he needed a sign.
He is full of integrity and honesty, this cousin of mine.
The day of the coronation God sent cherubs from heaven.
They brought in some treats, some lox, bagels and leaven.
We know you have been selected and by the very best.
They said as they helped Samuel P. Jingo get dressed.
This was the sign my cousin had been waiting for.
He put on that crown and he strutted out the door.
The religious men gave him a speech and a prayer.
I admit that I am thrilled that I could be there.
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