Iambic Ixplosion

“Quite Literally”

by Kristi Woodard

A thumb for a thumb,

A thumb for an knee,

A thumb for every part of me,

Toes to nose,
From left to right,
It’s quite contrite,
A fact,
That would hold me back,

From the click clack,

Clackity thwack of my,

Click clackity,

Thwack,

Clack,

Spoon clacking,

Oh, how humdrum,
It would be
To have not one, not two, not three,
But be,
All thumbs,

Unless I enjoyed the drums,

Then I could drum, drum, drum,

All of my thumbs,

Oh how do now I ever wish,

That I was quite literally all thumbs!

“The Late Unpleasantness  Between the Generations”

by Arthur Heifetz

Hey punk,

You with the ring in his nose

And stapled ear

Who looks like a cross between

The Laughing Cow

And the loser in a fight

With a collating machine,

Watch Out!

With Viagra and Botox

To level the playing field

Your prettiest women

Will succumb to the allure

Of my beach house

And my bloated IRA.

Don’t entertain the thought

I’ll check out early.

In case you haven’t heard,

Forty is the new sixty five.

When I finally expire,

A world-weary Struldbrug

Of a hundred twenty five,

You may pry

A meager inheritance

From my cold, manicured hands

But my burial plot shall occupy

The choicest real estate

With the most exquisite view.

“I Love my Job”

by Audra Ralls

My boss is a psychotic nightmare,
or perhaps it’s menopause.
She’s raving mad, making my life bad.
Each day my soul is ripped by her claws.

Tornado of negativity,
sweeping in on her witch broom,
making my life bad; she’s raving mad!
Crypt keeper, put her back in her tomb!

She bullies us like we’re no-brained kids.
I love my job, her I hate.
She’s raving mad, making my life bad.
Working in Hell is a horrid fate.

“Do this, do that, my overgrown pets.”
Even whispers sound like howls.
Making my life bad, she’s raving mad.
The click of her heels loosens my bowels.

Like a ringmaster, she whips us down.
Every moment we’re afraid.
She’s raving mad, making my life bad.
Maybe it would help if she’d get laid!