I AM A LITTLE PIANOLA by Dennis Doph

because why? 25

I am a little pianola
Banished long ago to the lumber room
Dust has covered my crazed ziggurat of keys
Once I was an instrument of considerable bloom
Men of all stripes stroked me (and stroked me;
and stroked dose and dese)
I thought their ministrations droll
As they tried to play their mysterious barcarole
One by one they stood in line to choke themselves
On my own prodigious piano roll

It seems only yesterday
My boss notorious Greg Moodmar of exalted fame
Sent me (in my innocence) to gag the superstar
Whose excellence was significant in our game
When Mister Teeth sat thigh to thigh with me
In that eleventh-floor screening room which sealed my fate
Mister Teeth placed his famous choppers
In his bag of tricks which contained some other whoppers
While his lousy movie ran and ran we did some poppers
Only then did I perceive:
I'm more than just another date!

So Mister Teeth gummed me into sexual stardom
All of which both of us thought mighty fine
Then passed me on to his fuckbud Rolandito
Who was nine or ten serious notches up the line
Rolandito used me (used me; used me)
In ways of which I'd never before heard
In Wagner I might have sung the Forest Bird
Screeching my countertenor way though melody
to a diminished third
Teeth and Rolandito banged me
mercilessly doubleganged me
Then I knew what I had become
was just another dirty word

Somehow I managed to extricate myself
Into the deranged world of Allan Cramm
Who shook his tousled brunet locks at me
Pouted how he did not give a damn
Told me of the rich English Sloane Ranger
he planned to marry
Though she's ingenuously manged to "miscarry"
All of Cramm's sperm shoots from Hercules to Harry
In all these bizarre games I was the sensuous stroller
Winging it up Cramm Alley a dicey roller
Being Allan Cramm's infamous little pianola
It was so complexual being metrosexual

So this little pianola morphed
Into a wonder-world of Push and Shove
But! Wonder of Wonders! While all of this
was improbably going on
I managed to find something resembling love
My blue-eyed boy relaxed into something
to agonize the Gods
Teeth and Rolandito and Cramm
and all those other sods
Had to reflect that against all odds
Their little pianola who was so bespoken
was broken

So we have rolled our banged-up old pianna
Over miles and miles of whacked-out sexual plain
Ranging through Sargasso and savanna
Oblivious; impossible to explain
Teeth died of a raging headache otherwise known
as his wife
Rolandito kept polishing his infamous eleven inches
Into the place where it invariably pinches
They buried Rolandito on the Monday dock
On Tuesday and Wednesday they put away his cock
Cramm kept on getting Crammed all his fucking life
And every AM I look into those same blue eyes
And know it doesn't matter if I wane or wax
Because Blue Eyes knows how to play me between the cracks
So:
Check out some other broken-down pianola!
Make tracks!

THE "C" STREET GANG by Dennis Doph

because why? 24

Up above the broad Patomac
Under fluffy District skies
There's a Gang of Happy Fellas
Who love to economize
The economies they practice
Involve fidelity to their wives
And fidelity to their mistresses
Which tends to give them hives

Oh, that "C" Street Gang!
They practice Christianity with a bang
Sing those old hyms like they've never been sung
Lionize the members who are really hung
They sink to their knees
Inspect each other for crablice and fleas
and in this sultry "C" Street palace
They share Viagra and sweet Cialis

When Governor Sanford
also known as Mark
Encountered some sweet Argentinian
in the dark
His "C" Street buddies
all encouraged that spark
And when his wife became
an unbecoming shade of tanager
They all remembered
she was his campaign manager
They reminded Mark
his primary duty was to praise Jesus
...and after that, to severally please US
...then for his poor wife Jenny to propitiate
...only THEN could he rush to Buenos Aires
to palpitate and copulate
Sanford got caught chasing tail
Pretending to hike
that Old Appalachian Trail
While the only trail that made Mark
jump his tracks
Was the tail end of an Argentinian Tampax

Those "C" Street men sank to their knees
Primarily for Jesus Christ to please
Secondarily
For each and every one of them
to prime his sexual tower
Sharing the wealth at "C" Street
is the Path to Power

When John Ensign of Nevada
Senatorial Numero Uno
Decided to reward his campaign manager
Pro Bono
For all those seasons of senatorial storm
and strife
Ensign had designs on his manager's
seductive wife
The "C" Street boys found ways for Ensign
to elude the stork
Just when this handsome Presidential
hopeful had slipped his cork
Though they all admired Cindy
and got off their rocks
Cindy and her husband tried to put Ensign
in a box

At "C" Street they admired Cindy's gams
Paid off her whole family
96 thousand clams
"C" Street stalwart Senator Ted Coburn
verified those checks
Made John send a "Dear Cindy" letter
via FedEx
So he could pursue a great career
with flaming sword
Collectively
They all sink to their knees
to praise the Lord

In the undifferentiated House of Reps
"Chip" Pickering of Missisippi
was above those schleps
Starred Republican skies
Pleased all the guys
with his sharp profile
Caused testosterone Deep down
into their collective bone
To raise some Presidential bile
But then
Some sweet "K" Street lobbyist
caused handsome "Chip"
to morally and sexually lose his grip
The "C" Street Gang collectively murmured,
"Chip Ahoy!"
Rallied behind their horny hairy
Mississippi boy

So all along dark "C" Street
in the deep Patomac night
One hears the collective Call to Jesus to set
these matters right
Sanford may still pursue
his Argentinian bitch
Long as the South Carolina state house
don't get no bait-and-switch
Ensign peeks over one hairy shoulder
and doesn't see his shadder
Sets up for re-election
in forgiving Nevada
While sexy "Chip" still has rug burn
on his dimpled knees
From trying all the "C" Street Gang
to please

So, Reverend Coe
Keep all those horny boys locked
firmly in your Ivory Tower
For strokin', prandially pokin' boys
is the way to D.C. power!
So they kneel severally beneath
the soft Patomac willows
Smoothing the Path to Power
by sharing pecadilloes!

STILL DEAD by Dennis Doph

because why? 23

Why did they insist on making a big deal
Out of that fat Scottish bitch with the golden throat?
There was nothing about her that was For Real
Aretha has plenty of cause to gloat
Because she's the biggest (in every way) black superstar
Because she leaves a huge dent where she sat
Because she really reflects what we were and what we are
Because she insists on wearing that God-damned hat
We can all reflect back on Mella Ella
Sweet dark mango with very little bite
Tone like a bronzed and beautiful cello
A damn fine way to spend the night
Carmen McRae had lots of presence
Plenty above and a lot beneath
Lil Green was the absolute essence
Of a babe with bite and rotten teeth
Little Richard is kind of a hick
With a promise of Pow in his peg leg pants
If you think I'm laying it on kind of thick
You should have watched Bojangles dance
The point of this is: they were all black
All proud of their history and race
All of them had talent and none of them did crack
None of them tried to rearrange their face
So while the dumb-asses are buying souvenir t-shirts
Please reflect on some of the things I've said
Something very spooky is something
to which I say: Nerts.
And Michael Jackson is still dead.

You'd think Jean Harlow was alive and kickin
Norma Shearer really knew how to make those wall eyes pay
Roz Russell was always ready to get another lick in
Doris could never bore us any Day
Marilyn could always give us a helluva boner
With that sweet little voice always out of breath
Jean Arthur met Bill Holden in Arizona
And they scared all of the heterosexuals to death
Rita Hayworth threw her red hair back over her shoulders
Kneeling with her thighs open on George Macready's bed
John Wayne was built like a stack of boulders
....and, oh! In case you realize they are all dead
They are all dead but their essence is with us
Not mushing around in some TV gloamin'
Camus would have imposed the Myth of Sisyphus
On someone who tried to make himself over
to look like Ruth Roman
So beware of bleach creams and pre-pubescent pals
Or of having a talent that simply doesn't resonate
Or of renting out one of your doctor's gals
Or of trying to be anything but the thing you hate

Ella will riff the A Train forever
Sarah Vaughan will slide right up to High C
What they were would escape them never
They never tried to be what they never could be
Because their talents were never found wantin
Their seats are still warm in those Hallowed Halls
They were never addicted to oxycontin
They never tried to grab their non-existent balls
Gene Kelly could dance 'cause he has the training
The state of his testicles was never in doubt
Astaire's star will never be waxing or waning
And at least
Doris finally persuaded Rock Hudson to come out
They were all proud to take what they were and wear it
There was never any question about their sex
But Michael Jackson is like
Monty Python's Dead Parrot
The state of his existence is decidedly:
Ex.