Replica Mariupol Amusement Park Satire & Poetry (Draft 2)

The Mariupol Replica Amusement Park Near Azovstal (draft 2)
[The Haunted House Tour (draft 2)]

Certain Russian Oligarchs love
dangerous amusement parks.

The chief always says
if one guest dies accidentally
you attain three with largesse.

The building that I guard and show
is part of a haunted house tour —
scares for a known fee — to
include a haunted mill in lore
at no abhorrent extra cost

I’m a night watchman here
with a healing sore throat, but
it’s my job at my steel works

I work the graveyard shift
that begins at midnight and
people incognito who buy tickets
find scary regrets and woes
for entertainment, lo

although my building is just a
derelict steel plant dump
I still scream for believers
when the ghosts show up
though not everyone sees them.

We sell more tickets when I cry.
It doesn’t actually take a lot of acting skill
because the children often say, oh
they want to see the sun, and
my wife, her Mother, and our precious Mikhaila
spoke about sunshine on a video
in a bunker, a while ago.

Sometimes I recite a psalm
to keep the customers calm,
and away from a mockery
I cajole them into not breaking
the apparition rules:

Never tell them it’s “The Light,”
and not the sun they should seek

Besides seeking the sun,
some children ask
where Mommy is.

It can be a problem when
a Mom comes for her child
and they disappear. Then
there can be a shortage of ghosts.

Sad, but in this exhibit
we must consult
“Putnik’s Manual for
The Promulgation of Accidents in War”

The chief always says
if one customer blows away,
you gain back three.
So an accident happens.
Cruise missiles apparently
can malfunction,
or there’s a strategic cave-in,
it is said.

Since we don’t make steel anymore
all of this is necessary, and
we need a land bridge to
the Devil’s headquarters.

The Amusement Park in Replica Mariupol at The Azovstal Steel Plant

The Haunted House Tour (draft 1)
[this first draft is an outline: I haven’t done rhymes and rhythm yet. It may not be worth finishing.]

Certain Russian Oligarchs love
dangerous amusement parks.

The chief always says
if one customer dies,
you gain back three

The building that I guard and show
is part of a haunted house tour
that includes haunted factories
at no extra charge

I’m a night watchman here
with a sore throat, but
it’s my job.

I work the graveyard shift
that begins at midnight and
people who buy midnight tickets
find it scary

Although my building is just a
derelict steel plant
I still scream when
the ghosts show up
though not everyone sees them.

We sell more tickets when I cry.
It doesn’t actually take a lot of acting skill
because the children often say
they want to see the sun, and
my wife, her Mother, and our precious Mikhaila
said the same thing on a video
a while ago.

Sometimes I tell a story
to keep the customers calm
and cajole them into not
breaking the apparition rules:

Never tell them it’s “The Light,”
and not the sun they should seek

Besides seeking the sun,
some children ask
where Mommy is.

It can be a problem when
a Mom comes for her child
and they disappear. Then
there can be a shortage of ghosts.

Sad, but in this exhibit
we must consult
“Putnik’s Manual for
The Promulgation of Accidents in War”

The chief always says
if one customer dies,
you gain back three.
So an accident happens.
Cruise missiles apparently
can malfunction,
or there’s a strategic cave-in,
it is said.

Since we don’t make steel anymore
all of this is necessary, and
we need a land bridge to
the Devil’s headquarters.

Centaur in Moscow with Missile (Draft 2)

Sometimes diabolical
desperation breeds a need for
science beyond curiosity, a
stunning terror for a leader to grasp
who sees winning as fiendish beauty

In science there can be elegance in
theory before application.

Behold the beauty and he says,
Come ye all to praise Science,
to embrace the vacuum bomb, and
the hypersonic missile of Putnik

Beauty is in the eye of the lover
delusion is in the ear of the hater.

See then of spectacles and of specks:

a gang leader perceives disrespect
like a small particle of pathology;
an autocrat perceives an insult
like a threat to empire.

It is dire to
dis’ a tyrant in a country without brioche
as megalomania is bred a first disease
before bread and butter toast uttermost,
before honey, udder milk, and cheese, because
before truth there is propaganda
(let them eat blue cheese)

Yet ask,
is there a prayer for political science…

Pray tell:
of those bellicose leaders
the porcine ones would
commandeer science for minions
to see and conquer prey
like wolves on deer

In science there can be elegance in
theory before application, like
the je ne sais quoi particle that the
“Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire”
(CERN) produced for scientists, even Russians —

i.e. n.b. (nota bene) disCERN:
poor Dmitri of Mosow University
discoverer of the Piggs Boson,
trying to milk the subject of particles,
was expelled from CERN when
the Higgs Boson instead was declared
less bellicose in a toast to peace

Come ye all to
praise the art of war

Screams, squeals, and barks
are heard in Mosow, and
the son of a sow will soon
be bacon unless he magically
gains horse sense with
a radioactive Centaur elixir
to transform him, and he

unlike Catherine the Great
is successful in
the battle to safely
have sex with a horse.

Vladimir’s New Book (Draft 2) Rivals Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War”

[From copies of drafts smuggled out in vodka bottles thrown into the Black Sea and picked up by Turkish ships, here is a new draft excerpt from Vlad’s new book to be published after his hoped for final Ukraine annihilation. This new scrap was forensically restored showing several changes from the first draft.]

    Vlad Solntzevich Putnik’s Art of War (Draft 2)
     Chapter 76: The Siege

If a warrior’s leaders can well tolerate the
indignant kerfuffles of useful diplomats, then
a supersonic missile is mightier than a missive
and in the leisurely pace of a useful psychopath,
a siege can be won by targeting children, note

eighteen months old is a good age
for tiny orators to learn to pronounce “bomb,”
and for a pogrom program, to say
“Mommy is dead.”

The slaughter of toddlers is easy:
it only requires strategic distance
and a rebranding of key concepts
to be read as “collateral damage.”

Bombing both schools
and Maternity Hospitals
is a classic maneuver
in this genre, but

remember that propaganda
is mightier than a kernel of truth,
and artillery shelling uncouth
is more effective than shelling
those western peas in a pod

remember propaganda feuds
should be flexible and include
ridicule from false histories, while
projecting blame on the enemy
for a first strike provocation

Always pretend to negotiate
until all buildings are destroyed.

As Tzusvet Luny said,
if there is resistance,
siege from a distance.

If it takes time,
be patient knowing that
nuclear and chemical weapons
are options on the table of crime

Imperial crime is grand.

The journey of a thousand missiles
begins with the first Ukrainian stepy
and in the Black Sea, a long walk
off a short pier should be avoided
until the Emperor’s fleet arrives

Centaur in Mosow With Missile

DisCERNment (Draft A)

In science there can be elegance in
theory before application.

Come ye all to praise Science,
to embrace the vacuum bomb, and
the hyper-sonic missile of Putnik

Beauty is in the eye of the lover
delusion is in the ear of the hater.

See then of spectacles and of specks:

a gang leader perceives disrespect
like a small particle of pathology;
an autocrat perceives an insult
like a threat to empire.

It is dire to
dis’ a tyrant in a country without brioche
as megalomania is bred a first disease
before bread and butter toast uttermost,
before honey, udder milk, and cheese, because
before truth there is propaganda
(let them eat blue cheese)

Yet ask,
is there a prayer for political science…

Pray tell:
of those bellicose leaders
the porcine ones would
commandeer science for minions
to see and conquer prey
like wolves on deer

In science there can be elegance in
theory before application, like
the je ne sais quoi particle that the
“Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire”
(CERN) produced for scientists, even Russians —

i.e. n.b. (nota bene) disCERN:
poor Dmitri of Mosow University
discoverer of the Piggs Boson,
trying to milk the subject of particles,
was expelled from CERN when
the Higgs Boson instead was declared
less bellicose in a toast to peace

Come ye all to
praise the art of war

Screams, squeals, and barks
are heard in Mosow, and
the son of a sow will soon
be bacon unless he magically
gains horse sense with
a radioactive Centaur elixir
to transform him, and he

unlike Catherine the Great
is successful in
the battle to safely
have sex with a horse.

Public Executions & A Firing Squad for Children

The Firing Squad

Beware Ukraine kin
freedom is in jeopardy

Shine light on the seeds of truth
and let freedom grow to glory.

Beware the Machiavellian chutzpah:
Russians have claimed that
Ukrainians are giving rifles to
2-year-old children.

With all ernestness
Moscow says they
have videos showing
children running in the streets
shouting “Dah, dah, ma-ma,” and
shooting innocent Russian peacekeepers.

Speaking of the Devil:
Vladimir Stalinovich Putnik
is not a mere charming rogue,
star of a propaganda movie who
gets an inglorious Oscar
and a Nobel Prize in
the Physics of war

No, he has plans, and
has already completed Part 1.

Part 2 rumored.
For sure, war crimes, but
it’s too late to
stop diplomats
from normalizing evil.

Talk, talk, talk.

Meanwhile a plan made
for Public Executions,
after shelling, of course.

Public executions?
Communication intercepts of a General
seemed to indicate odd events:

“I have my orders, and
now you have yours.

“Assemble the firing squad
in the central square.

“No, don’t worry about America.
They are very busy closing oil wells,
trying to design windmill cars, and dreaming
about super efficient solar-powered jet planes.

“Yes, do it. We don’t dream. We kill.
It’s your job to
assemble the firing squad.

“Soldier, be brave!
We have president Putnik the magnificent,
they have Don Quixote and friends.”

Reports:

The firing squad was assembled.
The condemned were put in their play pens.

They were asked if they had any last words,
or had any last requests. The babies did:

Antin:
“I want my Mommy.”

Galyna:
“Read me a story.”

Boryslav:
“I am two. Sing Happy Birthday.”
Anichka replied with a mispronounced
‘Birthday’ in a song:
“Happy Birffy to you…”

Borysko with crayons:
“Make me a circle”

So the soldiers assembled in a circle
and fired on each other.

Dew in the sunshine
like tears of luck.

But let not myths
become real.
Nowadays
who knows
what might happen
in the dark.

Giving Credence To a Trainwreck Special

The Daylight Special (1)

Um, so guys you’re at the kitchen table
and y’hear the same old news:
the kids’ve been marched to school
y’hear the same old blues
’bout a girl raped in the bathroom
and no report at all to the school board

But you’d dare not complain, guy
’cause you’ll be troubled by the Wreath

Let Diogenes in Daylight,
shine a light on Wreaths
(at democracy’s grave)

Let Diogenes in Daylight,
shine a light on Garlands
(he’s gonna bring us all down)

Let the Daylight Special
shine a Senate light on Wreaths

Let Diogenes in Daylight,
shine an ever lantern light on garlands

Yonder comes the Louddone County School Board
come to extinguish all light, shutdown all sound,
doesn’t know a girl’s been raped, and the parents are loud

Let the Daylight Special
shine a Senate light on Wreaths

Let the Daylight Special
shine a Senate light on beliefs

Let the Daylight Special
take the Wreath to task

Let the Constitution truly
be unmasked.

If you’re ever in Louddon
gee, you’d better be quiet
you’d better not speak now
There, you’d better not speak, Lord
or the Marshall will seize ya
and the guardians will knock you down
and before you know it, guy
whoa, you’ll be sent to jail

Let the Daylight Special
shine a Senate light on beliefs

Let Diogenes in Daylight,
shine a light on Wreaths
(at democracy’s grave)

Let Diogenes in Daylight,
shine a light on garlands
(he’s gonna bring us all down)

Let Diogenes in Daylight,
shine an ever shining light on garlands

Masking of the Child (The Masked Child 2)

Masking of the Child


It had been without din
a glorious start for all
but the tall Brave Child.

Critical morning theory
in Randi’s dreary class
started the day
with a hazy salute:

“We pledge allegiance to the ping pong
of the united oppressed of America, and
to the proletariat for which it stands,
one iniquity
under Jin, with de-funding
and labels for all

Out of many, Randi reigns
” ‘Randi magister e pluribus unum imperare’ “.

Attention! Quiet!
How much is two plus two?
You child, don’t fret!

It is as many as we see these:
Mao, Fidel, Marx, and Xi.

Next!
How does
two plus two equal five?
You in the back, look alive!

It is the quintessence of Marxism.

The Brave Child rose up
poof — sans mask:

Hey Magister,
are you six feet away?

Wha’thuh?
Monster! cover your face!

The Brave Child
stuck out his ten foot
spiked tongue, and
wrung the teacher’s neck

Snow White in tune
took to the front of the room:

Aliens and dwarfs don’t wear masks!

With finesse
they all kissed
and made up

The Masked Child (Draft 1)

The Masked Child

Critical morning
in Randi’s class,
starting the day
with a flag salute:

“We pledge allegiance to the ping pong
of the united oppressed of America, and
to the proletariat for which it stands,
one iniquity
under Jin:

‘ e pluribus unus Randi magister regnat ‘ “.

Attention! Quiet!
How much is two plus two?
You child!

It is as many as
Mao, Fidel, Marx, and Xi.

Next!
How does
two plus two equal five?
You in the back!

It is the quintessence of Marxism.

The Brave Child stood up
removing the mask:

Magister,
Are you six feet away?

The Brave Child
stuck out his ten foot
spiked tongue, and
wrapped it around
the teacher’s neck

Snow White
took to the front of the room:

Aliens and dwarfs don’t wear masks!