A Newspoet's New Year's Resolution
by Joe Futrelle

This year, I resolve to
write a poem a day about
the news

or at least about
bison.

I resolve to read the
damn newspaper,

including the sports
section and the
bridge column
and monitor the lottery
numbers for patterns;

I resolve to read
between the lines
(also above
inside
through
etc.)

I resolve to write that
letter to the editor.

I resolve to write my
own newspaper.

I resolve to be
news.

---

Fambly planning just isn't fundable
Because those funds just might be fungible
US taxes might replace a portion
Of funds that will then be used for abortion
Or maybe even just talking about it.

But when it comes to domestic services
It's fine to pay proselytizing churches
To feed the poor and stop addiction
And Dubya sees no contradiction
He thinks they just won't talk about it.

---

There was an old VP from DC,
whose heartbeat so needed some defibb.
That a pacemaker he got,
oil-powered 'twas not.
And that made him just a bit queasy.

---

Headlines We'd Like to See
by Anne Bargar

Henry Kissenger Subpoenaed To Testify in Trial of Chilean Dictator;
Extradition Likely, International War Crimes Charges Possible

Dow, Nasdaq Down; Elvis, Rasputin Sightings Up;
"Odd Couple" Spotted At Truck Stops Along I-80

George W. Bush Admits Being 3rd Grade Dropout;
"Fooled you!" Sez Prez

New York Decency Commission Plans Spontaneously Combust In Ring Of Heavenly Fire;
Guiliani Denies Any Possible Divine Intervention In City's Latest Attack on The Arts

River Otter Elected Governor Of Ohio;
Swing "Cuteness Vote" Proves Decisive

Mr. Big Turns 14, Crawls Across Aquarium in Celebration

Sandwich Eats Annoying Restaurant Patron

---

You Never Thanked the Poor
by William Gillespie

dedicated to Che Guevara, Harry Mathews, and Dr. Seuss

A soft life made you hard, you grew a shell
But who's that singing songs outside your door
They're here because you never thanked the poor
The ones who let you live so very well
Go to the door, I hear the bell
Now is your chance to thank the poor
Civilization's compressed core
In Mozambique and Ecuador
In East Timor and Baltimore
The Philippines and Salvador
In Harlem, Watts, and Singapore
Who stitched each shoe you ever wore
Who built your car, who clean your floor
Who stock your food, who run your store
Who guard your prisons, fight your war
So sweaty starving stiff and sore
Whose labor is an awful chore
A torturous, godawful bore
Your pastry chef and stevedore
Your longshoreman and furthermore
Your pastor, proctor, professor
Conductor, author, commodore
Mortician, coroner and more
Are here to hear the words you tell
Them when you hear the words they yell
You never thanked the poor
Who let you live that way
You never thanked the poor
Who let you live that long
You never thanked
The poor who let
You live

---

Carnival Pro Status Quo - a design for direct action
by Paul Kotheimer

Let there be, today,
In every major city
a demonstration by the Status Quo:

A phalanx of bureaucrats,
their faces masked in blank plastic gazes,
their suits pinstriped with the mastheads
of the newspapers of record,
their power ties made from the Yellow Pages,
are accompanied in lockstep
by their military menservants,
their fatigues camoflaged
in a patchwork of hundred-dollar greenbacks
AMEX gold cards, petroleum company logos,
their aviator sunglasses mirroring
the new world order they impose.

Let them march the streets
with placards reading "BLAH BLAH BLAH"
and "violence protects my priveledge"
and "I deserve it."
Let their parade banners
be enormous dollar signs,
and let their sandwich boards read,
"The media will tend the sheep,
Citizens go back to sleep"
--and let them chant the same