01-28-2023, 12:08 AM
Mooning the Apocalypse
In the Church of the Divine Cocoanuts
I polish the statues of the silver screened saints
Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Zeppo.
Theirs is a religion without animal crackers
escaping the fallen world of the self-righteous
performing off-hand, wise-cracked miracles
in song and and dance and spurious sermons
ripping the sacred veil into horse feathers.
Groucho woos rich widows with insults
parabolic parables of undisguised comebacks,
Harpo’s silence displays a celestial smile,
chases blonde chorus girls back into heaven
while Chico cheats the angels at pinochle,
trickster and master of an immigrant tongue.
Zeppo plays it straight with love songs
to distract Yahweh from the outrageousness
of their forgiveness for his sins of creation.
This is monkey business to the damned
but duck soup to the delight of the saved.
In the beginning was the password,
and the password was swordfish.
These four horsemen defy the end times
unless they coincide with the joy of laughter.
In the Church of the Divine Cocoanuts
I polish the statues of the silver screened saints
Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Zeppo.
Theirs is a religion without animal crackers
escaping the fallen world of the self-righteous
performing off-hand, wise-cracked miracles
in song and and dance and spurious sermons
ripping the sacred veil into horse feathers.
Groucho woos rich widows with insults
parabolic parables of undisguised comebacks,
Harpo’s silence displays a celestial smile,
chases blonde chorus girls back into heaven
while Chico cheats the angels at pinochle,
trickster and master of an immigrant tongue.
Zeppo plays it straight with love songs
to distract Yahweh from the outrageousness
of their forgiveness for his sins of creation.
This is monkey business to the damned
but duck soup to the delight of the saved.
In the beginning was the password,
and the password was swordfish.
These four horsemen defy the end times
unless they coincide with the joy of laughter.