Nick Sings Dixie

Way down South
In the Land of Cotton
Racism there is kind of rotten.
Oy vey!
Oy vey!
Oy vey!
It's Dixie Land. 


I am so sorry to report that Nick Vanocur has died. He is sorely missed by friends and fans. 

A White Rose for Remembrance

God bless all of the Folks, known and unknown, in uniform and out, who gave their lives for our Democracy. May they rest in Peace and Honor.

Sometimes the work of a photographer is so beautiful that no words can do it justice. So it is with the work of Eddie C. More of his photographs can be found here:

THE YOUNG DEAD SOLDIERS DO NOT SPEAK

Nevertheless, they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?

They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.

They say: We were young. We have died. Remember us.

They say: We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.

They say: We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.

They say: Our deaths are not ours: they are yours, they will mean what you make them.

They say: Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say, it is you who must say this.

We leave you our deaths. Give them their meaning.

We were young, they say. We have died; remember us.

- Archibald MacLeish (1892-1982)

New Doggerel. Cheap and Vicious.

“If you want to get rich from writing, write the sort of thing that's read by persons who move their lips when they're reading to themselves.”
― Don Marquis

Doggerel is cheap, vicious and mighty satisfying. I cannot stop. Delicious.

Georgie Conway Pudding and Pie.
Went on TV and made Trump cry.
Roughed Trump up with a few choice words.
I think we ought to give Trump to the Kurds.
I for one would sigh with relief.
What a terrible Commander in Chief.

Trumpy Trumpster
He's Putin's man.
Sucks Putin's dick
Like no one can.
Putin calls out "Bozhe ty moy!"
I just love my American toy!

RawDog Doggerel in Process with Music

I wrote this because Chatty asked me to. Kentucky Derby Theme. These verses are a work in progress and I will add to them as my Muse allows.

chatty Cherry The Tart • wow, my hubby and I are trying to get a Kentucky Derby boycott going, our first idea was Bye Bye Derby to the tune of bye by birdie, any ideas. I think if the derby was boycotted by enough people, everyone suffers in Kentucky and it will all be Moscow Mitchs fault and his own Kentuckians will vote him the hell out.

chatty Cherry The Tart •
The hub is pretty good too, between us we can come up with a verse or 2. Like get Grim Reaper in like BY BY DERBY, the Grim Repear has to go, maybe a line of him and Toyko Rose (Elaine I know she Chinese. Also we have to get Rand in there somehow. Hub creating hashtag plus a statement on why we're doing it. Thanks Cherry the Tart (love it)

I provide the Songs whose meter I have appropriated. RawDogs like me claim traditional right to be political, vicious and rhythmic only. Well behaved? Good luck. I do not think PP&M will mind. They were Social Justice Warriors.

Super Bowl swaps single-use plastic for aluminum cups at concession stands BY MORGAN GSTALTER

Rhyme scheme of Stewball. Come on RawDogs. Help us out.

Randy Pall is a Senator.

I am sorry he's mine.
He wants my healthcare.
So he can drink wine.

Moscow Mitch is his Buddy.
Sits on his high horse.
Hangs out with them Russians.
The aluminum of course.

Maybe this. But it is awkward. Rhyme scheme and meter of Who Let the Dogs Out is intricate. So one has to nip and tuck.

When the party was nice, the party was bumpin’
Yippie, Yi, Yo
Randy Pall was havin’ a ball.
Hey Yippie, Yi, Yo
Whistleblower came and chapped his dupa.
Now Randy he tattling all over the Mall.

Refrain: Who let the dogs out?
Woof Woof Woof Woof etc.

The President is Very Angry.

I hear that the President is very angry, or, let me be precise: I hear that he is truly bouncing off the walls. - Michael Wolff

Donald Trump has unleashed a stream of furious outbursts over the whistbleblower revelations, just days after House speaker Nancy Pelosi announced an official impeachment inquiry that some believe could yield results as soon as October.

Okay. I have a bit of doggerel for every occasion. I only have one verse. I need more. I will try to add more as the day progresses. But this is a good start. Y'all can help in the comments if you care to do so.

Some hours later...

To the rhythm of This Land Is Your Land.

Bouncing Cheeto
Is having a shit fit.
Get Melania
To give him some tit tit.

I am feeling desperate
Cuz DC is a cesspit.
And Donald Trump
Is such a lackwit.

We can leave town
While he has his ho' down.
Let's use the Prius
So they will not see us.

We need to dump Trump
The swollen fecal lump.
Then we will be free.
Enjoy sweet liberty.

Refrain: Freedom is good for you and me.

Hat tip to Dan Grevy for the desperate rhyme and Claude Jacques Bonhomme for the cesspit rhyme respectively.

.

Ode to Stormy Daniels and Sign of the Month - UPDATE

As Congress prepares to return from recess, House Dems explore three roads to impeachment, one of which includes Stormy Daniels. Dems are preparing a new probe of Trump’s illegal hush money payments, exploring whether or not they are impeachable.

Pu^^y Grabs Back 
by M. de Angelis

I love you, Stormy.
Oh yes, I do-ooh.

I love you, Stormy. 

Because you sue-ooh. 

I believe you, I do. 

Oh Stormy, I love you.

I just heard this...

Occasionally I write a Poem. Sometimes good and sometimes bad.
As long as the Poem floem,
I am happy and not sad.

I just heard this on the cable tv...

"...the rescue mission was successful.
Twenty three people died."

I thought to myself:
Self, "War is peace."

Then I thought:
I really ought to name this poem
Quotation to the Second Power
...and spoiled the whole reflection...erection...perfection. 

Nick the Feminist Speaks Ex Cathedra

There was a band of GOP whiners
Could not keep their hands off vaginas.
First they tried to de-school them,
Then regulate and rule 'em,
Leaving women with less rights than most minors. 

- Nick Vanocur
sitting at his favorite table in the back

I Feel Better. I Can Recover. Yay!

I feel so well, I leaked a little limerick. No real writing yet but I begin. Where there is a small leak, can a deluge be far behind?

Song for My Hero

There once was a man Avenatti
Whose mien was scarier than Gotti
And whose brains more intense
Make Trump very tense
And Guiliani even more dotty.

Song #2 for My Hero

Avenatti is not from Madras
But his balls must be made out of brass.
In Stormy weather,
They clang together
And sparks burn Michael Cohen in the ass.   

  copyright MDeAngelis

Trolls Inspire Me

The_El_Conquistador

"Hillary said the same damed thing against obama. So suck it." (sic)

SUCK! a poem for our times

Melania sucks it.
Sane woman would say 

'Eww do not phuque it.'
Good woman would need a bucket.
Mean woman would yuck it 

up. Bigly.

 Artist is Sandy Huffaker. See more of his art...

Elegy for Barbara Bush

Never speak ill of the dead,
there's stupidity in that ditty,
for we speak ill of
James Earl Ray and Lee Harvey Oswald
and Jeffrey Dahmer
and Hitler and Mussolini
and Stalin and murderers galore we vilify
and gloat that they are dead
but we are told we must be respectful of the dead
at least that it's not proper
to denigrate one until his/her body is cold
and the body is given time to molder
especially if the body is that of Barbara Bush
because she raised, in her lifetime,
a hundred million dollars for literacy and books
and she loved her brood of children
and she had a love affair with her man
for years uncounted
we must venerate her with our silence
for her life snuffed
but here's what I think about dear BB,
whose words often sounded like they were shot
out of a BB--

Too late,
the damage has been done,
blood courses in the Euphrates and the Tigris
civil wars most uncivil have been earned
and never will be won
as Bush the Younger BB's child
paints his domesticated dogs
the feral dogs of war he unleashed
run amok over the carnage
in the Middle East.
And remember Barbara Bush
it is who famously said after Katrina
that the Houston Astrodome
was an improvement over their homes
for the underprivileged displaced of Louisiana
and now we celebrate this rich and useless Pollyanna
because she's dead,
spare me the praises heaped, the "rest in peace"
and the tears shed.

Usha Nellore

Fragment Furioso

Once you have been sexually assaulted - me at age 7 in the stacks at the dry cleaner - it is like you wear a virtual sign WEIRDOS WELCOME. The Monsters find you. You cannot see them. Monsters can see your sign. They come in disguise - physician, friendly neighbor etc. Even my Mother. Remarkable I live. And I can laugh. And I do.

"Do not tell your Mother." I knew early never to tell my Mother a damn thing. It is 1:02 ante meridian. I am likely to type any damn thing. Note: Maybe this is a serious poem? Nah.

Hymn to Hillz.

Oh Hillz, so puissant.
Bitch Goddess.
She is cleverer than all the rest.
She is fearless and corrupt.
She is THE FEMINAZI.

TRUMP gets served at Nick's Place. For you, Nick. Wish you were here.

There once was a blowhard named Trump

Who went on the political stump.

But the man's evil vision

Led to hair cut derision

And the view his head's up his rump.

- Nick Vanocur

Click for more Meathead Portraits

Filth and Dirt - Censorship and Poetry

Disqus is an internet comment system I use on my blog.

Dear doG, I hate internet censorship with all my heart and soul. Disqus channels' robot censor suspends Charles Bukowski. A Poetry site. He is unacceptable. I wonder if he will ever get out of PENDING. 

I tell you the truth, I cannot live in a world where Bukowski is unacceptable and I cannot use the word SLUT in a bit of Doggerel. I wonder if I will ever get out of PENDING.

Here is my doggy silly transgression:

Suckabee!
He's oozing all over me.
Fat right winger on a spree,
Peddling God for the GOP.

Suckabee!
Calling me 'slut' for a fee,
To takeThe Pill from me,
Peddling shame and eternity.

Suckabee!
Left FUX Snooze TV,
To run for the Presidency
An act of cupidity.

Refrain:
Just ignore the crucifix in the parlor.
Suckabuck sells Jesus for the dollar.

Here is what the great Bukowski is not allowed to say. And he is such a cute old guy. I think he was old when he was young. And he got younger when he got older.

Ultimately, when I think about it, I have been pretty unacceptable at times. When you are bipolar, you tend unacceptable. So take the grain of salt with the whining.

Back To The Machine Gun - Poem by Charles Bukowski

I awaken about noon and go out to get the mail
in my old torn bathrobe.
I'm hung over
hair down in my eyes
barefoot
gingerly walking on the small sharp rocks
in my path
still afraid of pain behind my four-day beard.

the young housewife next door shakes a rug
out of her window and sees me:
"hello, Hank!"

god damn! it's almost like being shot in the ass
with a .22

"hello," I say
gathering up my Visa card bill, my Pennysaver coupons,
a Dept. of Water and Power past-due notice,
a letter from the mortgage people
plus a demand from the Weed Abatement Department
giving me 30 days to clean up my act.

I mince back again over the small sharp rocks
thinking, maybe I'd better write something tonight,
they all seem
to be closing in.

there's only one way to handle those motherfuckers.

the night harness races will have to wait.

Perfect Days

And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days...

- James Russell Lowell

                                          

                                                                                                                                                            "...dancing up a storm," Kelly says. It's a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. There's a little bit of mist in the distance hanging over the river. But it's a nice time."

This 1846 painting made George Caleb Bingham's career. Known around Missouri primarily as a portrait painter, he went national with The Jolly Flatboatmen with help from an East Coast arts group. Judith Brodie, curator of prints and drawings at the National Gallery, says, "If it weren't for the American Art Union, this painting may never have been painted."

READ MORE HERE...

Memento Mori

Song: “Fear no more the heat o’ the sun” 

Related Poem Content Details

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

(from Cymbeline)

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, 

Nor the furious winter’s rages; 

Thou thy worldly task hast done, 

Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages: 

Golden lads and girls all must, 

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 

Fear no more the frown o’ the great; 

Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke; 

Care no more to clothe and eat; 

To thee the reed is as the oak: 

The scepter, learning, physic, must 

All follow this, and come to dust. 

Fear no more the lightning flash, 

Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone; 

Fear not slander, censure rash; 

Thou hast finished joy and moan: 

All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consign to thee, and come to dust. 

No exorciser harm thee! 

Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 

Ghost unlaid forbear thee! 

Nothing ill come near thee! 

Quiet consummation have; 

And renownèd be thy grave!

I hope they vote as hard as they rap. I hope everybody votes.

I have a great relationship with the blacks. I've always had a great relationship with the blacks.
Robinson, Eugene (18 April 2011), "Donald Trump as GOP hopeful: Take him seriously", The Washington Post, retrieved on 2011-05-07

I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose voters. - Donald Trump

Laziness is a trait in the blacks. ... Black guys counting my money! I hate it. - Donald Trump

"Fuck Trump." Thank you, dat Terance and your friends. I second that emotion. And I am a 73 year old Pink Lady.

Donald Trump Redux at Nick's Place

There once was a blowhard named Trump
Who had a skull as thick as his rump.
But that thing on his head
That we weren't sure was dead
May've been the brains of the bunch.

by Nick Vanocur

Caricature of The Donald from FreakingNews.com. You want to go there for superb photoshop Art. 

SUCK-A-BEE! He is running for President. Lucky us.

Okay. I am awake. I have my coffee and some doggerel in progress. Anybody who wants to help with my song, just chime in and write a verse.

Or fix a line in my lyrics. This poem writing shit is not easy even if it is only doggerel.

Suckabee!
He's oozing all over me.
Fat right winger on a spree,
Peddling God for the GOP.

Suckabee!
Calling me 'slut' for a fee,
To takeThe Pill from me,
Peddling shame and eternity.

Suckabee!
Left FUX Snooze TV,
To run for the Presidency
An act of cupidity.

Refrain:
Just ignore the crucifix in the parlor.
Suckabuck sells Jesus for the dollar. 

I am not taken in by Mike Huckabee's good ole country boy persona. Why do I despise him you may well ask. Barry Goldwater says it best:

On religious issues there can be little or no compromise. There is no position on which people are so immovable as their religious beliefs. There is no more powerful ally one can claim in a debate than Jesus Christ, or God, or Allah, or whatever one calls this supreme being. But like any powerful weapon, the use of God's name on one's behalf should be used sparingly.

The religious factions that are growing throughout our land are not using their religious clout with wisdom. They are trying to force government leaders into following their position 100 percent. If you disagree with these religious groups on a particular moral issue, they complain, they threaten you with a loss of money or votes or both.

I'm frankly sick and tired of the political preachers across this country telling me as a citizen that if I want to be a moral person, I must believe in "A," "B," "C" and "D." Just who do they think they are? And from where do they presume to claim the right to dictate their moral beliefs to me?

And I am even more angry as a legislator who must endure the threats of every religious group who thinks it has some God-granted right to control my vote on every roll call in the Senate. I am warning them today: I will fight them every step of the way if they try to dictate their moral convictions to all Americans in the name of "conservatism."
Speech in the US Senate (16 September 1981)

This poster came from BartCop. You want to go there if you enjoy first rate political barbecue.

Texas Toast at Nick's Place

There once was a man named Perry
Of whom we better be wary.
What he did to our rights
Sure heightened our frights.
A presidency sure would be scary.

- Nick Vanocur