Satire

[Marcus Bales]

Bird Flu
Marcus Bales

Bird flu is caused by a virus
That often occurs among birds,
And diseases will sometimes require us
To thin out our flocks and our herds.

Our reasons may sometimes be murky,
Or so bird-brained they do not apply,
But President Bush has bombed Turkey
So all of our children don’t die.

We say that we know it’s a duck
By its look or its walk or its quack;
So Bush, with a jive and a shuck,
Might justify bombing Iraq.

He’ll save us, the Right with the wrong,
His righteousness stays firmly flexed;
And he says, though he may miss their song,
The Canary Islands are next.

[LeahDear]

v good!

Did you write it yourself?

[LeahDear]

Oh yes.. you did write it.. doh.. it says at the top


Baby rabbits with eyes full of pus
And all because of scientific us

-Spike Milligan

[dddrum]

There's all kinds of people on this ball of mud

But we're all made out of the same flesh and blood

All the movers and shakers

All the filthy old bums

We've got one thing in common: opposable thumbs



May I direct your attention to what I have in my hand

It's the greatest invention since cheese in a can

It's a mental extension

Just two inches by six

It's jet black and streamlined and it does all the tricks

(Remote control...)



(Remote control...)



This one controls input from a camera and mic

This one can fast forward past stuff you don't like

This one is the volume

This one is the tone

This one locks all your doors - this one answers your phone



(Remote control) Everybody needs one

(Remote control) Gonna make your life a breeze

(Remote control) Got a button on for every purpose

It's a massive new solution

Plays an elemental role

In this passive revolution

Get your hands on a remote control



Ain't no more commuters to jam up our roads

We've all got computers to lighten our loads

Machine on the counter's baking our daily bread

There's no need to get up

We can clock in from bed



(Remote control) Everybody's doin' it

(Remote control) Turn me on from over there

(Remote control) Let's do lunch on the Internet

It's a simulating feeling

Always quantifies my soul

So boot me up, Scotty

'Cause I think I'm losing my control...



[INSTRUMENTAL BREAK]



Come on and get it - get with the program

This is the future, gonna set you free

With just one button you'll elect a President

Then order a zirconium from QVC



Come on, admit it - it's so exciting

Like science fiction, but it's really true

Put on your visor, get your track ball calibrated

Power up that La-Z-Boy, there's work to do





There are millions of choices in the palm of your hand

From your online cocoon you're in total command

You're a loyal consumer, and you mind what you're told

Though you zap the commercials, you still buy what you're sold



You may feel your intentions are noble and pure

But they're virtual virtues, so you just can't be sure

Do not dwell upon this

Just know that it's true

While you're pushing those buttons

Someone's pushing yours, too



(Remote control) Everybody's got one

(Remote control) Some light up in the dark

(Remote control) I want one that Adjusts Your Attitude

It's not much of a vision

But at least I got a goal

Gonna make my own decisions

Keep your claws off my remote

Control

(Remote control...)



(Remote control...)

[You won't remember any of this...]

(Remote control...)

[It's just a song - on the stereo...]

(Remote control...)

[Go ahead - just flip it off...]



(Remote... remote... control)

[flip it off]




-- © 1996, Sea Street Music

[Marcus Bales]

The Rich Man's Song
(to the tune of “My Bonny Lies Over The Ocean”)

When times aren't so good I feel bearish
Since cash doesn't grow on a tree
I've got to have more or I'll perish
So lower the taxes on me!

Chorus:

Lower, lower
Oh lower the taxes on me, on me
Lower, lower
Oh lower the taxes on me, on me

And when times are good I feel bullish
My cash-flow is making a sea
I feel neither empty nor fullish
So lower the taxes on me!

Chorus

When times are more balanced it's awful
I get just my regular fee
You might think on taxes I'd waffle
But lower the taxes on me!

Chorus

[dddrum]

Hurry, hurry! Don't be missing the excitement of

...ISLAMICON '06!

It approaches the hind end of our rocking and rolling
RAMALAMADANDONG infestival, and there are only a
..few festive days left, yano wumsa'yin, mahomi?

..So what's the turban ado, sugar?? Put on yourself
your most very best tablecloth, light up a camel, and
............don't stop 'til jihad enough!

And don't be forgetting, we...

[Hmm. Excuse me, there's someone at the door. .............Hello?

AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!]

[Marcus Bales]

A Christian is a moral freak,
Repenting every Sunday
What he did throughout the week
And plans again for Monday.

[dddrum]

A humanist's adrift at sea
His moral compass bent
Following the fickle whims
Of fifty-one percent

[Marcus Bales]

Christianity

I have a very personal relationship with God,
Who says I´m fundamentally, indubitably flawed;
But not to worry, Jesus has forgiveness, if high rent -
And I can buy redemption at a rate of ten percent.
Oh ten percent, it´s ten percent, yes, ten percent for me:
I get three gods in one when I buy Christianity!
Oh ten percent, it´s ten percent, yes, ten percent for me,
I´m purchasing salvation and my immortality!

[Marcus Bales]

On Some Contemporary American Writers

Their writing employs all the virtues of prose
With no meter, no music, no clef;
Though they pose in black clothes with a rose it still shows
They’re like mutes calling out to the deaf.

But the deaf cannot hear what the mutes cannot call
Though their offer is earnestly made:
They sprawl in their scrawl, and yet all they enthrall
Is no one – they’re not even paid!.

The deaf cannot hear what the mutes cannot speak
Though their voices be wild as the Sidhe --
Though they freak out and shriek for a weekend in Greek,
Asserting they’re free, free, free, free,

The mutes cannot speak what the deaf cannot hear
Though they’ve babbled since free verse began –
They’re sincere, they revere their career, and it’s clear
That they’re doing the best that they can.

[Marcus Bales]

Postmodernism’s Rituals

Postmodernist:
I am the very model of postmodernism’s rituals
My world is made of language reinforced by strong habituals --
There’s nothing really out there, and there’s no one who exists for me –
And any people hearing this are other solipsists for me.
The world is in my head, I don’t believe in physicality;
I brilliantly create it all with magical reality,
Rejecting all experience with mystical depravity –
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.

Chic Chorus:
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.

Postmodernist:
It used to be that science was the tool for every liberal
To use to show that kings and priests were selling mystic gibberal,
But now we want our new-age crystal-gazing fuddy-duddying
Not lectures, labs, experiments, or -- goddess save us! -- studying.

Chic Chorus:
But now we want our new-age crystal-gazing fuddy-duddying
Not lectures, labs, experiments, or -- goddess save us! -- studying.

Postmodernist:
Postmodern art is anything an artist may assert it is;
It isn’t hard to see what kind of formless blowhard blurt it is.
Where nothing’s good or bad there’s only infinite variety:
Your deepest held belief is someone else’s impropriety.
And even that’s not really real, your brain is just achieving it
Through language, fear, and habit, and believing in believing it --
Which means respect the rules of which each local god has sent a list:
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.

Chic Chorus:
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.

Postmodernist:
We don’t distinguish good from bad – we can’t be preferentialist --
And sneer at beauty, justice, truth, and balance as essentialist.
Reality is all made up, and truth’s a triviality,
And science isn’t anything but jumped-up mysticality.

Chic Chorus:
Reality is all made up, and truth’s a triviality,
And science isn’t anything but jumped-up mysticality.

Postmodernist:
When I can claim there’s no there there, it isn’t verifiable –
Which means that any claim that I put forward’s undeniable;
When I can claim that making claims is meaningless is meaningless --
As if to try to sanitize a hospital by cleaning less;
When all I need to do is spout some double talk for victory
By claiming contradiction is itself a contradictory,
When all that science claims is that it’s merely hypothetical
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!

Chic Chorus:
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!

Postmodernist:
And so therefore we’ve cleared away the sciences’ dementedness,
And we are left to celebrate our contentless contentedness:
Our world is made of language reinforced by strong habituals --
We are the very models of postmodernism’s rituals.

Chic Chorus:
Our world is made of language reinforced by strong habituals --
We are the very models of postmodernism’s rituals.

[zero]

Originally Posted by Marcus Bales

Postmodernism’s Rituals

Postmodernist:
I am the very model of postmodernism’s rituals
My world is made of language reinforced by strong habituals --
There’s nothing really out there, and there’s no one who exists for me –
And any people hearing this are other solipsists for me.
The world is in my head, I don’t believe in physicality;
I brilliantly create it all with magical reality,
Rejecting all experience with mystical depravity –
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.

Chic Chorus:
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.
Ignoring Alan Sokal’s twenty-storey test of gravity.

Postmodernist:
It used to be that science was the tool for every liberal
To use to show that kings and priests were selling mystic gibberal,
But now we want our new-age crystal-gazing fuddy-duddying
Not lectures, labs, experiments, or -- goddess save us! -- studying.

Chic Chorus:
But now we want our new-age crystal-gazing fuddy-duddying
Not lectures, labs, experiments, or -- goddess save us! -- studying.

Postmodernist:
Postmodern art is anything an artist may assert it is;
It isn’t hard to see what kind of formless blowhard blurt it is.
Where nothing’s good or bad there’s only infinite variety:
Your deepest held belief is someone else’s impropriety.
And even that’s not really real, your brain is just achieving it
Through language, fear, and habit, and believing in believing it --
Which means respect the rules of which each local god has sent a list:
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.

Chic Chorus:
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.
You cannot be postmodern if you’re not a fundamentalist.

Postmodernist:
We don’t distinguish good from bad – we can’t be preferentialist --
And sneer at beauty, justice, truth, and balance as essentialist.
Reality is all made up, and truth’s a triviality,
And science isn’t anything but jumped-up mysticality.

Chic Chorus:
Reality is all made up, and truth’s a triviality,
And science isn’t anything but jumped-up mysticality.

Postmodernist:
When I can claim there’s no there there, it isn’t verifiable –
Which means that any claim that I put forward’s undeniable;
When I can claim that making claims is meaningless is meaningless --
As if to try to sanitize a hospital by cleaning less;
When all I need to do is spout some double talk for victory
By claiming contradiction is itself a contradictory,
When all that science claims is that it’s merely hypothetical
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!

Chic Chorus:
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!
Then heresy is always truth and every truth heretical!

Postmodernist:
And so therefore we’ve cleared away the sciences’ dementedness,
And we are left to celebrate our contentless contentedness:
Our world is made of language reinforced by strong habituals --
We are the very models of postmodernism’s rituals.

Chic Chorus:
Our world is made of language reinforced by strong habituals --
We are the very models of postmodernism’s rituals.

SHUT UP

.

[Marcus Bales]

Poetry Today

"I was almost totally unaware of women poets (besides Dickinson) - despite a lifelong love of poetry - until getting a Master's Degree in English - where I learned about only a handful of women - among them, Louise Gluck, Rita Dove, and Margaret Atwood. A professor whose Phd class I snuck into, thankfully, introduced me to Marianne Moore (whose idea of using syllabics was delightful!) and HD." -- Jeannine Gailey

Poetry is what I love –
I write it, which should show it --
Though I have no awareness of
A modern woman poet.

I've heard of Dickinson, of course,
And someone called Millay,
And Sappho wrote stuff I endorse,
Somewhere far away.

It's all been men except those three
Whose poetry is cool;
I’ve got my undergrad degree --
Now off to graduate school!

[Marcus Bales]

The Fellowship for Putting Stupid Theories into Schools

We’re known by many names across the spectrum left to right
Promoting fear and ostracism, ignorance and blight,
We promise health and happiness in dimly distant days
And ask your current sacrifice to give ourselves a raise.
We don’t get caught because we’ve got new education rules
As one by one we take away our children’s thinking tools
The Fellowship for Putting Stupid Theories into Schools.

It’s awkward when our kids come home with something they have learned
That would have in the good old days have got us staked and burned.
They question blind authority as if that were old hat,
They judge our bland hypocrisy – and we’ll have none of that!
They’ve even said that we should have alternative energy fuels!
But we’ll stop that: we’ll take away their critical thinking tools,
The Fellowship for Putting Stupid Theories into Schools.

Postmodernist, conservative, we’re pretty much on par
We undermine enlightenment embracing the bizarre.
Oh, nothing good will come of it if children learn to think --
They’ll realize we’ve left them at and teetering on the brink.
Our only hope’s to rot their brains and turn them into fools
By teaching tests instead of teaching critical thinking tools.
The Fellowship for Putting Stupid Theories into Schools.

Whenever you have heard a child say something really dumb,
Or seen adults enamored with what art has now become,
Or read about the legislature’s vote to buy a tank
Instead of raising teachers’ pay, it’s us you have to thank –
It isn’t just by accident our citizens are fools --
For we’re the ones who give the zealous ignorant their tools:
The Fellowship for Putting Stupid Theories into Schools.

[Marcus Bales]

Villanelle: Blood
For Dawn Shepler Shimp, who lamented the fact.

Oh where it comes from no one tells --
There's no demand, it's all supply --
There's blood in all my villanelles.

I struggle with it -- deep blue hells
It isn't like I never try! --
Oh where it comes from no one tells.

In spite of therapy or spells,
And whether I am drunk or dry,
There's blood in all my villanelles.

Why couldn't it be boys or bells
Or ocean, mountains, trees, or sky --
Oh where it comes from no one tells.

My editor calls up and yells.
I listen with a little sigh:
There's blood in all my villanelles.

So here’s another one that wells
From who knows what, and who knows why.
Oh where it comes from no one tells:
There's blood in all my villanelles.