Before remotes, we changed the channels
Right on the TV.
We got up from the couch to learn
What there was there to see.
When things got modern, we could sit
And use the new remote
To flip from show to show, deciding
Which would get our vote.
But now, we have remotes galore
And I can never tell
Which one to use and so I fiddle
‘Round for quite a spell.
My husband knows the magic trick
To find just what I need.
As long as he’s around
I’ll watch my program, guaranteed.
But at my son’s house, bets are off.
It really gets my goat
That to watch the U.S. Open,
Chances really are remote.
The token coin,
that's been
collecting
dust
since the
Jukebox died.
The ever fading
smiles,
from laughter
at genuine clowns.
The ashen burial sites
echoing today
still alive
in a child's eyes.
A return to innocence,
simpler, protective
days.
Will forever
have relevance
in eyes faded out.
If only we never
forget
how to breathe in
without
disappearing
like a black hat
magic trick.
Donald Trump made nothing so great again
Except his big hair fancy once again,
And the poor old puppeteer of punch lines
Faces a boomerang of mines.
Donald Trump,
Fell into a foreign policy slump.
Forgetting the Strait of Hormuz,
Forced he’s to focus on Hairmuz.
Donald Trump's coiffeur of hair,
Kept his critics in utter despair---
If held together by sheer will power,
Or industrial-grade lacquer?
In Las Vegas Donald Trump
Tried to give the economy a bump.
But no one paid him as much heed
As his massive golden mane did.
Donald Trump’s fuller head of hair
Left media memes in a frozen stare.
The AI-made serum played magic trick,
And his thin thatch turned unto bushy thick.
Donald Trump
Caused rumour mills to take a thespian jump.
And photo shops were suddenly busy
With an over-the-top teased-up medley.
____________________________
Happenings | 13.08.2026 | America, art, humour, political, satire, Clerihew
Oh, peaceful sentinel of green,
With sweeping boughs and leafy screen!
Most trees provide a tranquil shade,
For picnickers in any glade
But you, O Willow, choose to smite,
And pummel passersby all night!
While common willows gently weep,
You cause the very bones to leap!
With one swift swish, you wreck a car,
And launch a Ford into a star.
You care not for a bird or bee,
An equal-opportunity brute tree.
You guard a dark and secret door,
Where furry friends pace on the floor.
A gentle poke upon your bark
Will freeze you silent in the dark,
A magic trick of wood and limb,
To keep your temper rather trim!
So hail the violent, twisted wood!
Misunderstood, yet understood.
The only tree, we must agree,
That strikes right back at botany!
Magic Man, why don’t you sing?
I sing only to please the children after the long spring
Magic Man, why do you smile?
I smile to free myself from the sadness of my exile
Magic Man show me a magic trick?
I cannot, young one, my magic is old as a soggy tunic
Magic Man, why don’t you play?
I had played for years, the playfulness in me has gone astray
Magic Man, why have you changed?
I changed and grew woeful of being doomed
Magic Man, when do you leave?
I cannot leave for I shall stay in misbelieved
Magic Man, why do you cry?
I cry for my lonely soul to be free from this calamity
Magic Man, why are you not free?
I am free, free, as free as a shackled man can be
Sitting on a porch between two flags
I watch a man ride by on a bike,
a box of magic tied to his back.
Should I stop and ask him about it, Dad?
Should I ask God how you are getting along
in heaven without a bicycle? Without me?
Last night I forgot how it was --
the shape of your face, the slant of your nose,
the way you would laugh in the back
of your throat. You had laughed as you agreed
that my observation of rug makers, or scrub jays,
or magic trick artists was from a different
perspective that yours, one you had not
thought of before.
But now, I cannot recall what your perspective
was, as I balance grief and sanity in my old age.
I've forgotten so much since your absence,
so much of what we shared our many years.
But one thing I do recall, as I was only eight.
You said that you believed in a parallel
universe and asked if I could believe it, too.
The sun was warm on my shoulders
as we stood in our small dirt yard.
If I knew a magic trick to change the world
to make people kinder and softer
Bullying and fat would both be obsolete words
No one would know what they meant any more
because the world would only be kind
lazy bones, bound in poverty’s grip
in a garden, where hesitation weeds grow~
filled with s t r a n g l e d d e l i c a c i e s…
a recipe of wisdom, never tasted
couched like a fly in an endless stupor…
abandoned in a ship, lost in the doldrums~
in a dark tunnel, where
echoes slowly f a d i n g
doomed to sail a sinking ship with no lifeboat
yet your arms can still push a boulder uphill~
so put your shoulder to the wheel...
never stop, reach the mountain's peak
sharpen the saw, dig for gold, tame white horses~
while sweat streams down your brow
for once you're interred in a grave
with nothing to illuminate the darkness
mountain of your strength will only enrich the grains of sand...
and fork in the road will give you no direction to choose
you'll just be lost in the maze...
like a deer in a headlight
as confused as a dog watching a magic trick
Two-Storey House
One’s two-storey house on
Oak Street in
Elmwood
appeared after a
very rude and
unpleasant conjurer carried out a
magic trick.
What happens when someone falls out of love?
Is there a single, frozen in amber, sanctimonious moment when
you decide you’re too good for whomever - the falling-out moment
- where imperfections are revealed like a magic trick?
“Huh,” you find yourself saying, “Weren’t you cuter, half-an-hour ago?
Or is it a slow, drip, drip, drip Chinese-water-torture-like seepage?
Maybe breakups are written in the stars, you know, Mercury drifts into
retrograde and suddenly there’s empty air where your lover used to be.
I’m not in a breakup, but I like to be prepared - these are just questions.
like
Isn’t every male whale a sperm whale?
.
.
A song for this:
If I Didn't Have You (Live) by Tim Minchin
az the magic trick
her sweet
appearz again
whilst my
exits the bathe
and again
nope no
warning smoke signalz
if there were the
puff uv shhmoke
'twould be the
poof
yup
the sweetest
poof
'cauze her petite
with the cute
movez
In hern pumps
it soundz like
tap tap
poof
poof
tap
tap
tap
and az alwayz
snap
and back to
poof poof
poof poof
the cutest glide in her
shhmock
poof
top mine
boon'd
*booned
1. : something asked or granted as a favor.
2. : something pleasant or helpful that comes
at just the right time : blessing ["boon'd".]
“Give them back! Give my tears back, right now—with interest!!”
—Natsuki Takaya
She wrote her marine a letter, hopeful, bright
loved with her kisses and perfume. In sight,
the postman circles ‘round. Expectantly, she
hurries to the wooden box, near the Pear tree.
Spring is in the air with robins mating, daffodils
in potent bloom and the sudden goosebump’ chills.
Sarah shuts her bedroom door, pounces on bed,
allows steam to open the envelope, read what’s said.
“Dear Sarah, soon I go into the fight, I will write more
later, after the attack. Kiss kiss, x x, hug hug score.”
Later he continues with blood, sweat and tears.
Incoherently, blots - black and blue, slide down. Fears
march up and down her spine. Vietnam’s magic trick
was to steal her joy and love. America’s turning quick -
long ere, a neighbor, fathomed regress from her guy,
which would rip the torrential tearful cloud of her eye.
A magic trick
I'd often feared
You were there
Then disappeared
No rabbit pulled
From empty hat
No cute tulips
Or polished chat
I'd rather
I was cut in two
Than have to deal
With missing you
Somtimes the face mask is just a face mask.
Often the face masks matures
showing the life-roads that a person has chosen,
for good or worse.
Always forgiveness has no mask.
Sometimes beauty hides an ugliness,
more often ugliness hides the beauty.
Mostly, a homily face veils the light of God.
Appearance and perception are a magic trick,
not of any mask
but of those who judge it.
A mask cannot hide the perfection
from those who have taken off
their own masks.
OBFUSCATION
Many when unsure, may hide their opinion
Buried within words and deflective phrases
But if lacking sense then it’s for the crazies
Yet outright lying holds little dominion
In terms of status, they’re merely a minion
And missing the point in so many cases
Thinking all tobacco is Virginian
But despite their playing such a magic trick
Those in the know can easily see right through
There’s not that many who are really that thick
But in some positions one has to be quick
And only maintaining a clear head will do
As obfuscation does make many feel sick
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