An Elegy on the Untimely Death of Humpty Dumpty

I weep for poor Ovoidicus—he is dead!
Oh! Weep for poor Ovoidicus, though our tears
Assemble not the body or the head!
And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years
To mourn our loss, rouse circular compeers,
And teach them thine own sorrow! Say: "With me
Died poor Ovoidicus! Till the future dares
Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be
A lesson and a lamp for all eternity."

Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he fell,
From his high perch atop the selfsame wall
Where he was wont to sit and hear the bell
Call Lords and Ladies, horsemen, steeds, and all?
With veiléd eyes wert thou asleep to call
Of destiny to guard that precious egg;
Wert thou oblivious to that hugey ball
That toppled without favor of a leg
Near soft enough—though strong!—to cushion him, I beg?

Lament anew, Cholestra! He has died,
From whole to separated in one drop;
A dozen, dozen pieces of his pride
Scattered about in bits from one great pop
That, shell-shocked, caused his happy heart to stop,
And globoid glory disappear from view,
An erstwhile treasure now fit for a mop,
Or breakfast chef battalion, all in crew,
To add a smorgasbord soufflé to their menu.

Alas! That all we loved of him should be,
But for our grief, as if it had not been;
One deadly fall, and all that’s left to see
Are merest bits of beauty that were him;
A glowing light forever will be dim.
He is made one with Nature. There is heard
His voice in all her music, and the sin
Of mass destruction and the broken word
Are quiet now: Ovoidicus is interred.

by Andrew Sacks

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Andrew Sacks lives in the greater L.A. area, in Fontana. He wears many hats (occasionally at the same time): English professor at two local community colleges and a private university; Rated chess Master; Freelance writer with published works both on the game of chess and various other subjects, primarily at www.chessdryad.com and www.angiesdiary.com; Humorist who is now concentrating on parodies of well-known poems, poets, and poetic styles.


Not Terribly Far from Reno

i wonder what it was like for moses
in his motel room after 40 years
of wandering through the desert
did he get food delivered figs
lox bagels a little palm wine
a formosa for moses ice
maker under the moonlit
heavens with a shower
and shave just like clint
eastwood after having
to watch his back
with eyes over
his head taking
on the whole posse
or just totally dehydrated
and going for the faucet in
the corner and passing out

hold my calls....

by Joseph Reich

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Joseph Reich is still trying to prove he exists and still hasn't and finds as each day dwindles by, rougher and rougher. His books range from poetry to philosophy to cultural studies and as such: A Different Sort Of Distance (Skive Magazine), If I Told You To Jump Off The Brooklyn Bridge (Flutter), Pain Diary: Working Methadone & The Life & Times Of The Man Sawed In Half (Brick Road Poetry), Drugstore Sushi (Thunderclap), The Derivation Of Cowboys & Indians (Fomite), The Housing Market: a comfortable place to jump off the end of the world (Fomite), All My Born Days: the spirit of home movies (Writing Knights), The Hole That Runs Through Utopia (Popcorn).


Up, Slacker, Up!

Up, slacker, up! Have you no shame
That at the whisper of Love's name,
Or Beauty's you no longer raise
Your ready head and stand at gaze.

Poor bombard-captain, sworn to reach
The ravelin and effect a breach—
But now indifferent and you don't know why
So like a possum you pretend to die!

Love may be blind, but Love at least
Rejects the unleavened and seeks the yeast:
Or Beauty wayward, but requires
More staunchness from her favored squires.

Tell me, my witless, whose one boast
Is that you will not be Cupid's whipping post,
When were you made a man who has no part
To perform in Aphrodite's art.

Will many-gifted Beauty come
Begging of you duties just a crumb,
Or Love not ask to drain the cup?
Arise, arise! Up, slacker, up!

by Mark Perry

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Mark Perry and his twin brother spent their formative years at the Georgia State Prison in Reidsville, Georgia, where their father worked and where their family lived inside the guard line. They planned their escape well. Mark's encounters with prisoners prepared him for a career as a criminal lawyer. His brother's study of criminal behavior prepared him for a career as a political science professor who specializes in that subcategory of criminals known as politicians. One thing that Mark finds comforting about growing up at the state prison is that if he gets into serious trouble, he can go home again.


The math major's sex life is strenuous
Though his touch with reality's tenuous.
All he asks is that sex
As a function of x
Be unbounded and piecewise continuous.

by Rick Norwood

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Rick Norwood flunked out of M.I.T. and currently edits a comic book.