Detective McGruff Busts the Cartel

Detective McGruff was still recovering

From his time held captive

By the cartel

They kept him tied to a chair

For days on end

And the only water they gave him

Was poured over a chupacabra

Into a sullen bucket

And then offered to him

As his guards sneered and snickered

Theirs were the first throats cut

When McGruff dislocated his paw

So he could slip it out from under the rope

Not tied properly

By these tontos

Who were soon lying in their own blood

As the doggie detective

Made his way through the basement

Of the mansion

Where he was being kept

Upstairs he found a decadent pool party

Where the leader of the cartel

Was hosting his biggest dealers

And a bevy of topless women

Carousing underneath a cheap, plastic waterfall

The women were innocents

Or at least that’s what McGruff

Wanted to believe

So he bided his time

Lapping up water

From a bowl on the floor

Meant for the cartel leader’s pet pitbull

McGruff saw the pitbull

Out of the corner of his eye

Ready to pounce

So he shot him a look

That said--

This isn’t your fight, Asesino

The pitbull, whose actual name

Was Babydoo

Decided to play it safe

And went for a nice piss

On the new carpet

In the cocaine room

McGruff hung back

As servants moved

Throughout the house

Looking to make his move

At a time when he could minimize

The carnage

Finally, the moment arrived…

The staff brought out a cake

A birthday cake

For one of the second-in-commands

And as everyone was singing

McGruff came bounding through the cake

As the screams of the party guests

Was punctured

By the swift whistle

Of bullets

But McGruff was already using

The body of one of the Mexico City dealers

As a shield as he chomped on the hand

Of the main dealer

From Guadalajara

On the other side of the pool

He saw the cartel leader

Surrounded by bodyguards

Making their way

To the nearby helipad

The pup had to move fast

He bounded towards the security circle

His trench coat filling with the air

Now stained with red plasma

And chlorine

When he reached the first security guard

He jammed his magnifying glass

In the man’s eye socket

The second guard

Got whacked in the face

With McGruff’s tail

And then a paw paw

To the gut

That had him doubled over

The third was a former Israeli

Special Forces assassin

But McGruff trained

With Rin Tin Tin

And Lassie

And he fears no man

Three seconds later

The assassin was beheaded

And the leader of the cartel

Was standing in front of a helicopter

Holding a gun on the canine

Telling him not to take

One more step forward

That was when McGruff pounced on him

The bullet missing his snout

By mere inches

And cartel leader went

Into the propellers

His body becoming nothing more

Than shreds of skin

Spilled over the imported grass

McGruff commandeered the helicopter

And flew it over the border

It was just another day

On the job for him

He thought about that moment

Standing over the scattered remains

Of the cartel leader

Taking his time

To light a cigarette

And say

Just before he boarded the copter--

‘Don’t use drugs’

The Pirate Farm

Y’ar I’ll be telling you

I be sick of waking meself

In the morn

To milk the goats

Ya got Peg Leg

Sleeping in

Every dern day

Up in the hayloft

And Silver Dollar

Sayin’ he can’t

Get too close

To the goat

For he be allergic

That leaves me

Doin’ the milkin’

And the tendin’

To the piggies

Because Silver

Says he’s allergic

To da piggies as well

And all the while

Peg Leg’s snorin’ away

And I’ve had

Just about enough of it all

When we three

Agreed

To abandon the sea

And pledge our lives

To running a farm

‘Twas ‘posed to be

Fifty-fifty-fifty

Lo and behold

I’m stuck with two

Of the laziest

Sleepiest

Dirtiest pirates

Ya ever did see

When we was on the boat

Peg Leg said

He couldn’t get the stench off him

Because of the showering facilities

Being less than stellar

‘Twas true then

But what be his excuse now?

Now that we have

A fine shower

And fine soap

And fine towels

That only I seem

To be putting out on the line

To dry

On the weekends

For wouldn’t you know

These lilly-livered scallywags

Can’t seem to be bothered

To do the laundry

Why, if I wasn’t cookin’ up

A hearty stew every night

I doubt we’d even be eatin’

At all

I’ve seen Silver Dollar

Run a sword

Through a man or three

Without thinkin’ twice

About it

But ask him

To butcher one chicken
And suddenly
He’s blubberin’

Like a misty-frost

Callin the winged thing ‘Milton’

And beggin’ me

To cook cabbage for dinner instead

Leave it to me

To pick the weak-hearted ones

When it comes to birdies

And four-hooves

I told Silver Dollar

If the harvest be bad this year

I’m eyein’ that parrot

Sittin’ atop his shoulder

And I won’t hear

Two weeps about it

But I can’t say

The three of us

Don’t have no fun

At night, we sit on the porch

And listen for the ocean

That we know’s

Too far to hear

We tell stories

Of the sea

And stories of the us

That used

To travel it

A man can’t float forever

Soon enough

He needs solid ground

Under his toes

And a horizon

That travels far

And never

Shows you waves

The morning next

You’ll be milkin’

The goat again

But at least

As you’re doing it

You can sing a shanty

To yourself

While your two

Lumpy housemates

Slumber

And suddenly

You’ll taste salt

On your tongue

And hear a gull caw

At something approachin’

It hasn’t forgotten you

It’s just lettin’ you

Be

Where

You’ll be

Poetic Cataclysm

My poetry hit him

Before I did

He gave me

Feedback

That sounded

Like backtalk

I don’t know

What he wanted

Me to hear

But I heard

What I didn’t like

And the next thing I knew

The poem

Was a fight

Back at the bar

The two drinks

I didn’t forget to finish

Were waiting for me

To call them up

Hmm…

I don’t know

If it’s right

To tell war stories

During peacetime

I don’t know

If poetry is appropriate

During fictional

Transactions

I don’t know

What I’m supposed to know

But I know

That when a man steps up to you

After you’ve left yourself

Two stanzas back

In two different glasses

With a little silt on the bottom

That the bartender

Told you

Was heartbreak

Seawater

With the sweat

Of a sailor

Then you answer

That man

With a poem

That’s a fight

That’s a close call

That’s call for closing

That’s last call

That’s going to get you

Sent home

With a warning

And the blood

Of a foolish man

On your favorite

Grey

Shirt

Let’s pretend

That happy men

Don’t wind up

With a sick day

In their future

And their day job

Making them feel

Like a big slob

Who can’t keep his fists

To himself

I’ve had my worst days

At night

Debating whether or not

Tv would make me

Feel like I could be

In someone else’s story

And hold off sleep

When sleep keeps me

Believing

That when I wake up

My grey shirt

Will be clean

And I’ll mean it

When I say

I’m okay

I’m okay

I’m okay?

Tomorrow’s going to be hot

And the day after not

But someday after that

I’ll rat myself out

By talking about how

I beat up a guy

And wound up with a black eye

But nobody cried

Because the open mic

Doesn’t like

When you make it

About you

I said my poem

Knowing

I’d leave alone

But on the way out

The guy I punched

Gave me a shout

And asked me

If I needed

Some help

I don’t know

Why I said ‘Yes’

Anybody’s guess, but…

The last day

Of me being that way

Was that night

And, all right,

I guess that’s all

I should say

The Polygamist's Guide to Social Distancing

Hello, is this Town Hall?

Ah blessing

My name is Flowerbud

And I’m calling from the love commune

Down the road

Yes, we’re the ones

Who run the honey farm

Blessings and prosperity to you

And may your orgasms

Languish

Like those who bathe in the sun’s rays

At the height of Leo Season

I had a question

About gathering limits

That I was hoping

You could help me with

You see, here at the commune

We’re all poly

I, myself, am married

To seventeen other

Nomadic souls

Oh, not legally

We’re aware

That bigamy is a crime

Legally I’m only married

To my beloved

Saltpeat

But spiritually

I’m in sixteen other unions

With men, women

And those who choose

Not to categorize

In fact, just yesterday

I became engaged

To Grapevine Saucer

And we consummated our love

For the first time

In the duck pond

Betwixt the compost heap

And the chili pepper patch

But anyhow

You don’t want to hear

About all that

Sentiment

Let’s talk turkey

And I’m not talking about

My third husband Potato Turkey

Or his wife and my second cousin

Rainstorm Turkey Sunrise

I’m talking about

How I can go on living

With all these people

If the town gathering limit

During the pandemic

Is set at less than ten people?

Surely, you don’t expect

Married people

To live apart?

When you made these

Quote un-quote--

Guidelines

Did you think about the fact

That not every family looks

The same?

You have husbands and wives

And wives and husbands

And husbands and husbands

And wives and wives

And a combination

Of seventeen
Husbands and wives

Living on a honey farm

Cavorting in their cornfields

Wearing only body paint

Made from daffodil sap

You can’t ask us

To keep our distance

From each other

While you allow

Other, more quote un-quote

Traditional couples

Do as they please

Why, oh why

Did my wife

Buttercup Bee Sting

Bother building a bed

Big enough for seventeen people

If now we have to limit ourselves

To TEN people?

Once you subtract

The people in charge of

Summoning the Goddesses of Vibration

That’s barely an orgy

I would ask that you raise the limits

On gatherings

Particularly gatherings of love

And harmony

And do it before the solstice

As that’s typically

Our International Conference

For Those Who Get Turned On

By Watching Dew Settle

On the Roof of a Sweathouse

I’d hate to have to cancel

After all, we have to try to keep

As much normalcy as we can

Don’t we?

It’s important

To try and keep things

As routine

As possible