Q.C.Humor #12: Remember Planking?

Remember planking?

Then there's always plenty of plankton in the ocean at the beach.

And, of course, don't forget pelicans, so we give you the plankton' pelican--
a post dedicated to punning, poetry, and all manner of lyin' of the innocent sort.

*The term plankton comes from Greek, planktos,
"errant," and leans toward the meaning of "wanderer."

*Pelican is related to to the Greek, pelekys "ax."
-

'Ax' not what this website can do for you but what you can do for this jabberwobblied jungle.;-)
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What did the 3 pelicans say as they flew off from the roof of a Friends' meeting house in North Carolina?

Been there, dung that.;-)
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Heard the story about the 'fun-gal' and the 'fun-guy'?

The couple, Gus and Gal, thought a great way to spend an evening was dining out on mushroom-stuffed cuisine.

"It's a lot of fun,Gus said;-).
-

The Quaker lady in Northwest Yearly Meeting endured her husband's groaning puns, but she had a bone to pick with him when he commented on her accidentally
banging her elbow (the funny bone) on his filing cabinet in their study.

For he laughed and said, That's very 'humerus.'

Anon.

__


Sitting Duck

There in the urban lagoon
You are sitting drunk on Mountain Dew
Gabbled to the long-boarded bar
Waiting for another sotted-shot
To blast
Through your flapped brain,
One more mallard
For the boat-tender


-Daniel Wilcox
First published in Word Riot,
also in Dark Energy,
2009 by Diminuendo Press
__


Clammy Chops

I scooped in one huge mouthful of savory chowder
Swimming with succulent salmon reconnoitering
Wild from Alaska—my taste buds buzzed into singing,
But the stupid phone in the kitchen rang, yanking me.

I dropped my creamy spoon and rushed through the open door--
Wrong number! Frustrated, I slammed down the white thing,
Tended to nagging errands clanging for attention;
But then heard a loud slurp ... slurping 'round the den corner.

Oh, no! I rushed back into the aromatic room
And there crouched Fizzy, our calico, her cream-rootbeer
Mugged head raised, pleased, above the scent-wafted white bowl,
Just "fin-ished"—her pink tongue wiping those smiling chops.

-Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in vox poetica,
also in my book of previously published poems,
selah river, 2012
__


Heard about the Catholic-Mormon couple who had a large family of a dozen kids?

A negative neighbor criticized, "Haven't they heard of family planning?"

But another more philosophical neighbor with a bit of wit said,
"No, but they've heard of family planting!
They been spending lots of nights of sleeping together, dozin';-)"

Anon.
___

"I've traveled all over America," Sam stated.

Anon.
___


Ah, Bird Poop Van

Ah, bird poop van,
there in the far corner of the fast food lot
where wind-blown paper congregates,
and you squat against the curb,

a rusted Ford Econoline home,
spattered with a thousand puked starbursts
of smell on your dull finish,
a metal fadedness of has been.

Your owner in his tourist-trash hat
and long dirty hair hanging to his collar,
squats on the splattered grass,
grizzled before his future demise,
a throwback to Ashbury
where he used to panhandle.

He sits with his wilted wildflower
in her faded jeans splotched with patches,
sipping their mocha coffee on the matted grass
wary for the squad car to cruise by again,
and roust them out of their corner nest
under the gilded arches.

But, oh, you rest and rust so easy–
at least there are no fowl in sight.


-Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in The Bicycle Review,
also in amphibi.us, Dead Snakes, and
selah river
__

No, Eve, I won't touch that apple," he said adamantly.

Anon.
__


The So n' So Argument

A modern couple lives on the seismic line
This of Sam 'n Andrea as in the city, so summered
Of Gardena, you know, Ada-'n Eve-r on, oh so pummed
Their hysterical house divided down geological;

They argue and argue until at the crack of dawn
Displaced tension 'rictors' up through their disjunction,
Until, until...they both shout, bellow so loud, "So,
It's YOUR fault, not mine."


-Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in Media Virus Magazine,
also in selah river
__


"My pet whale has died," Ahab blubbered.

Anon.
__


Gum Up

Notice how ‘theoillogicalies’
Gum up the worded worlds

Stretchnosepuppet the truth
Tongue-twisting

Jaw-chewing, teeth gnawing
It all out of shape
And
Are the ‘dickens-dammed,’
Bubblegummed worst

To remove
From

Undersides of study desks
Or our floored mind


-Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in Poydras Review,
also in Dead Snakes and
selah river
__


"I used to be a pilot," George explained.

Anon.
__


Playing 'Heir' Ball

Our historic cat coughed up
a wadded brown object,
thumb-sized
and yarned...

Ah forget
that long-winding 'tail';
go pell-mell
to your cultural
memory--
what was
your latest
cough-up?



-Daniel Wilcox
First pub. in The Clockwise Cat,
and in Dark Energy, my first book
of previously published poems,
2009 by Diminuendo Press
__


"She tore my valentine in two," said Romeo, halfheartedly.

Anon.
___



confused poet

ever hear
of the absent-minded poet
who plunged his teeth
and flossed their toilet?


-Daniel Wilcox
from Dark Energy,
Diminuendo Press
___


"That's no pedigree; it's a mongrel," Tommy muttered.
--

"When I saw the snake, I became very upset and was rattled," said Martha.

Anon.

__


Hugging his Friendly spouse, he whispered into her ear, "I love to camp with you," he said intently.

__

Has planking become an endangered species?

In the Light-hearted,

Daniel Wilcox

But the Cesspool....

Chairman Mao:
"All political power comes from the barrel of a gun."

When you are cast down by negative circumstances, even despair,
"Swing Low"*
to this true story...



The brown filth mucked up
To his shins, over a foot deep,

And buried his calloused and ulcered feet,
As he shoveled the human feces
Out of the reeking prison tank

For 60,000 lost souls where
He had been lowered by smirking guards.

But the cesspool mattered reek of all this?

At least the yellowed pus seeping
From his ankle was hidden
In the dung

But the dark brown stench
Caused an acrid backwash in his mouth.

His hands sweat with offal grime as
He slopped the feces out of his pitted world,

Punished with Red-Guarded re-education
By this fecal matter, revolting

To the norm of all learning from
Mao’s Red Book and Mao's black-teethed mouthings,

Tattooed beyond mental recovery in
The comrades’ dialectical brains.

But the cesspool mattered reek of all this?

Where the obscenities refuse to die
Where so many humans suffocate, confined

To suffering in the waste of others’ feculent ways.
This learned Chinese man, coerced








To live within the dung gate and clean
Sludge of human manure,

Created this fetid sewer into his reverent garden;
The septic tank became a place
of praise,

Ceaseless worship with every slimed shovel,
One hell-gated spiritual oasis.

Yes, the cesspool mattered reek of all this.

His fielded visions, not the Mandarin facts,
Nor the clichés of Western affluence,

But of the order of Elie Wiesel’s prayer
In the effluent night of Bergen-Belsen

Where the excrement of cultural dominance
Floods to its all-time low—ever present–

Where the obscenities refuse to die
And cadaverous worms eat tissued body parts.

To give timeless eternal thanks
Despite the ordures of such polluted nights,

To live in hope while shoveling feces
Or your neighbors’ poisoned ashes

Surrounded and feet deep
In the filth;

Yes, the cesspool mattered reek of all this.

The answer that seems so reeking
Pollyannaish if it weren’t Existential–

A lighted match of faith in that bottomless pit
Of long history’s shit of evil acts,

The complete excrement of mystery;
Then the man ‘crosses’ the tank,

Finally wholly empty,
To be lifted up by a psalm

Of compost and fertilizer
Winging up in the Spirit of Ultimate Truth.

Swing low...

Sweet savored pool of fragrant myrrh
And frankincense.



-Daniel Wilcox

"Swing low..." Negro spiritual

*Factual background from a news article
by Dan Wooding, British journalist,
and Mao: The Unknown Story by Jung Chang
and Jon Haliday
--

First published in
different form in
Liturgical Credo,
then in the poetry
collection, selah river


In the Light which defies the "Ocean of Darkness,"*

Daniel Wilcox


*George Fox

Oh Unholy Night versus the Truth

When one observes the tragic events dominating the news and the way humans constantly argue, distort, violate...it does seem one long unholy night...an ocean of darkness.

But there is another way--

Three Sons Fight

Disking the rock strewn
Objected earth near Bet Shean,
Underneath the Middle Eastern sky
Rows of mean earth riven by the blades,
We cut away our anger, hate, and pride,
Stopping to drink, not from the liquor
Of fanatic corruption but from
The precious water welling up,
Our oasis of Jacob'd sharing,
In this Hanukkah season
Of Christ's mass after
Ramadan.

Allah

We three sons of Abraham,
Muslim, Jew, and Christian,
Fight the true battle
Not each other but
To be found worthy
In compassion
Giving,
And purity--
The true
Submission
To God
Over
All.

Selah



First published in
outwardlink.net,
Knot Middle Eastern Magazine,
and the poetry collection of
selah river


In the Light,

Daniel Wilcox

4-Letter Praise

4-Letter Praise

While the high tech media, low-minded men
Cuss you out
In 4-letters,
Let us sing to you God of All Becoming
Personal
Beyond all temporary selfishness
Exalted
Higher above than the highest high
Lowliest
Born a despised infant in a barn trough
Rejected
A reviled criminal executed and buried
Abandoned
So many tragic events and centuries past
Everlasting
One now present in all beings and things
Indwelling
Finite, erring beings so ever inadequate yet
Ultimate
But not scientifically evident
Incomprehensible
Incarnated in men’s spiritual acts
Compassionate
Giving, peaceful, patient, joyous
True
4-letter
Word--
Love



In the Light,

Daniel Wilcox


First published in The Mindful Word,
and in the 3rd book collection
of published poetry selah river