Any-
one's sane inven-
tory contains exact-
ly seven hundred and thirty one ax-
felonious monkeys waving hatchet faced playing cards around
as if
they had a good
vocational training
spool of massive yarn bards stacked with fun brain
splatter at their wastefully
toxic
disposal.
Erudite at night verbose by day,
altho', I can't speak for others when I say,
"Shooting fish in a barrel of monkeys
(such primates rate a damn good spanking),
it seems to me, would not be fun at all,
there's no challenge, where's the reward?
It's enough to make an Australian crawl.
And, if Aussies ate nothing but eucalyptus,
as somnolent, lethargic koalas do,
would their breath also smell
as tho' they've been chewing cough drops too?
Do emu wonder why they have wings,
well, can they really have barrels of oil?
As, if it's to be sold or bought, how's it plumbed,
scooped off the top when they're brought to the boil?
And not to knock the fearless quokka,
cute tho' they may be,
the world's happiest animal
is not really smiling at you or even me.
What does the kookaburra have to laugh about
when they're feeling crook,
that Australia's wider than the moon?
Akubra hat's off, that's a fun one for the books.
Boo... meringues are fun, as is surfing thru' tubes,
but, me, I'd be a wombat, who actually do poo cubes!
island green monkeys
follow tourists for food
then run off in fear
The tiger's favorite food are the mischievous jumping
Monkeys, who attack children, women, and the elderly people
Who eat farmers' bananas and apples, and destroy their crops.
The kind, calm, and peaceful monkeys live in peace.
To stave off pecuniary penury
and avoid pangs of hunger
then on his last legs
the cooper when younger
constructed oak casks lock stock and kegs
which he filled full to the gills
with fish fit for shooting
or monkeys for fun
and sold all for cash as non-polluting
Time was when three wise monkeys
lightened the world with their deeds.
One covered his gentle eyes,
barring all evil from sight.
His name was Mizaru
and he taught humanity
the quiet strength of restraint.
Then came the second one..
Kikazaru, his name.
He heard no evil,
hands shielding both ears,
spreading the fragrance of righteousness;
he sat there like a saint.
And then at last Iwazaru arrived,
bearing the bright gift of optimism.
By closing his mouth, he spoke
no evil, no negativity.
So long they guided the world,
casting their soft, wise light.
Then a clever human merged them..
and a strange new device was born:
no see, no hear, no speak.
Holding it, we think we grow wise.
In our pockets, in our purses,
it makes the world so silent..
Mizaru, Kikazaru, Iwazaru reborn,
their wisdom compressed into a soft glowing screen.
Talking Monkeys
They're acting oh so sweet
Talking Monkeys
Then whispers so discreet
Talking Monkeys
They say they can't be beat
Talking Monkeys
Then run on two left feet
Talking Monkeys
Are hungry for a treat
Talking Monkeys
Keep biting all they meet
Talking Monkeys
Are burning crops of wheat
Talking Monkeys
Keep turning up the heat
Talking Monkeys
Make history repeat
Talking Monkeys
Will soon taste their defeat
Talking Monkeys
With nothing left to eat
Talking Monkeys
The San Francisco treat
Soylent Green's on the scene
The line starts from behind
They asked the fox about his witness.
He pointed to his tail.
They asked the dog about his witness.
He pointed to the baboon.
They asked the gorilla about his witness.
He pointed to his rear end.
Tail is tail.
* Six lines poem that has three micro stories; the seventh line is so short conclusion.
The forest path is empty; and
the tourist hubbub mute. Lay’s,
biscuits, banana chips, peanuts…
These monkeys lose the alms
from visitors. Yet they enjoy
the lockdown on the romantic
boughs without sanitizers and
masks. They foresee rain before
it kisses sand. Their infants are
beatific within cuddle and care.
They don’t perforate the roof of
the earth. Genocide and lynching
are unknown to them. Never
destructive, ever-serene, they
live and leave. I must mistrust
the monkey lineage of man.
*Penned during the Covid Lockdown.
First published in The Literary Hatchet.
Tired War,Release the Monkeys
They tried to nail my boot to the floor
No nail puller
My influence won the day
I was the monkey man
Earn the right
I want to ask
Just for a little more time
Growing life growing tree
just to lose it
Can't you see
Life got to be better
Once I lit that cigarette Ocean of tomorrows
Swells
Fasten our belts
There's air escaping This world has a leak
Just before a cats shadow beyond the hill
Against the grayish stucco plastered wall
Fortune of forever
Now its in your face
Fear fear fear
its all coming together
Together
Why I fear completion
Or falling apart
Put your mind in another place
Seeing the sun cut out to shade
I promise to do enough
oxygen enough empty space for you
To have another cigarette
Well I can't say that you suck
Unless I can do better
But even then
I saw monkeys
Hooked up to masks
I wondered who is actually murdering their ass
Well the monkey mysteriously went away
Hope take me away from tragedy
My old friend stayed
Giving death sentences like belonging to some hell bent regime
The trumpets sounded
I let it finish
I faded into forget
it takes courage to have a brain and a heart and not be ruled by either.
alas, the antics of the anointed would embarrass the flying monkeys.
a political expose...."PAY NO ATTENTION TO THOSE BEHIND THE CURTAIN"
put the witch in six inch red heels and we'll all be flying monkeys
Monkeys are colonizers of trees
They are excellent climbers
They have strong muscular arms
And coordination, they're agile
They don't get tired, always moving
Climbing is just natural to them
They have natural strength and quickness
They love to socialize, family oriented
And have sense of community belongingness.
a barrel of laughs
butts a barrel of bullets~
a barrel of oil
***
Where are my flying monkeys, Poindexter?
I woke up with this in my head one day.
It inspired me to draw a painting and smile until noon.
I threw the paint on this, and my feelings got bigger and brighter.
As I add color to my canvases, I feel I am adding hope to myself.
Painting makes every day joyful to me.
"The Barrel of Little Monkeys"
Gorilla warfare took a new turn,
when the children like chimps,
followed the voice of their Overlords;
they adored them once,
but then,
some things
can NEVER be forgiven.
The number like www
drew their parents in first,
and then, what’s worse,
it drew them in,
those little monkeys
out of the barrel,
shotgun
Candide Diderot. ‘24
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