YA KNOW?
It’s been one of those days
when the pot calls the kettle Duane.
when the knuckles of contumely
rap the forehead of resolve,
and the weeds of crime strangle
the begonias of ebullience,
when the morning pills scatter
like roaches under light,
when the P.C., jammed in sleep mode,
dreams it’s a machine gun,
and customer service advises
what sounds like “Die, terpsichor cootie!”
when weltschmerz gets the will
in another hammer-lock,
when the starter chortles “nyuk, nyuk, nyuk,”
and AAA plays you a selection of Yani,
and an ear-worm keeps replaying
the Yani on its amplified banjo.
LITTLE-KNOWN ROYAL COGNOMENS
Consider Bruno of Campania,
The Laughing Nipple,
thought a misreading
of “The Lord of Naples,”
and Hubert The Shit-and-Flee
of Wessex, named for his battle
tactics, and Bernard of Silesia,
called The Lonely Gonad
following his near-fatal duel
with Rudolph of Bavaria,
The Winged Parsnip, a tag
of uncertain origin. Then
there’s Ragnar of Kalunborg,
The Filled-with-Edam,
in reference to the only
Norse attempt to mummify,
and Stephan of Provence,
deemed The Reeking Flyspeck
by the conquering Armin of Saxony,
then proclaimed Mightier-
Than-The-Flyspeck. Also noteworthy,
Andre of Toulouse, whose queen,
Simone, The Festooned Eggplant,
dubbed him The Tower
of Nose Hair. Finally, we have
The Lousy Murdering
Dung-Brained Bastard
Whom Everybody
Halfway Sane Wants
To See Eaten By Dogs,
a subtitle too widespread
for sole attribution.
