he poisoned the tylenol
and added a pinch of phenobarbital.
he plans outings 'n shootings,
makes superstars in a flash.
he played Scarlet O' Hara in Gone with the Wind
snuck into the box office and pilfered the cash.
for the Sabine women he ordered the rape,
for Richard Nixon he erased the tapes.
he was Queen for a Day
he worked the street
he was busted for coke
seducing children with sweets.
he bribed the judge.
he ditched his wife,
he disowned his kids
and hid is life.
he excelled in polluting the
Long Island Sound,
he spewed lead in the air
and dioxined the ground.
he stood by the radio, the ghetto blaster,
hot summer night in song,
fleeced the secretaries with three card monte
and cheated at mah jong.
he's like a printer, he's a poet,
he's a priest and a shaman,
said mass at dawn, confessed at noon,
had his confessor silenced by a Mafia goon.
he survived the drought,
left the Great Salt Lake without.
prayed at church
then stole at Woolworth
fixed the numbers, always first.
he was a weaver, a House Speaker,
a banker and deceiver...
he robbed the sweat of an eon of souls,
left the Earth without the ozone.
hit me one more time Charlie,
a billion dollar jackpot or bust,
in Him we trust?
he wrecked the train on New Year's Eve.
he writes his name in blood on leaves...
he robbed the sweat of an eon of souls,
left the Earth without the ozone.
hit me one more time Charlie,
a 368 billion dollar jackpot or bust,
in Him we trust?
Joel S. Cohen July '97 Edition
©1997 Ragged Edge Press, NYC
