Part of a song from Porgy and Bess.

Summer time and the living is easy
Fish are jumping and the cotton is high
Your dad is rich and your mom is so good looking
So hush little baby don't you cry

Hot season is here, humdrum is harmony;
Giddy cod is coming, crop is tall.
Father has money and mother is just divinity;
You sobbing, kid? Enough. You got it all.

A verse-by-verse anagram of a song.

Frente
Safe From You

Read her name to me
Just one young girl and her tragedy following her
Fists and threats
He who forgets they were the world and he is misery
And when she sings her beauty stings
His eyes are like a curse and hers are permanently blue
We can keep her safe from you

Just one drink makes you think how great your friends can be
Wakes up a world where he can't be
But here he comes
Something dumb with loaded fingers and thumbs
She clings to my arms
And I can't give her the strength to live
In the second before the people become a corridor for two
We can keep her safe from you

And in a black back street with the back of your hand
Now we're over understanding
How a guy like you gets born
There's only one of you
We can keep her safe from you

Meyran
To Foe: Suffer!

Who is she?
A teenager carrying her misfortune,
Mentally abused by men.
What happened to their affair? Well, he should know.
On stage she's stunning...
His damned leers, the grey sea in her glances;
Remorse grew? They deterred her foe:
Stay away, you jerk! She's our friend!

Some champagne and your hammered buddies
Can make you forget about him?
He's arriving now, the wrongdoer offensive jerk;
He's about to hurt her.
She seeks my protection,
But that's not within my powers.
Will she learn to defend herself until he'd come to reason?
We'd watch her back. Beg? End being force-sick creep!

Beating her up in a dark alley?
OK, it's very clear now,
That you're one wicked bastard.
Why she hangs around? Unknown.
So, once more, foe: Fuck off, get out, here, now. Bye bye.

A verse-by-verse anagram of a song.

Alanis Morissette
Thank You

How about getting off of these antibiotics
How about stopping eating when I'm filled up
How about them transparent dangling carrots
How about that ever elusive kudo.

Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

How about me I'm blaming you for everything
How about me enjoying the moment for once
How about how good it feels to finally forgive you
How about grieving it all one at a time.

The moment I let go of it was
The moment I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it was
The moment I touched down.

How about no longer being masochistic
How about remembering your divinity
How about unabashedly balling your eyes out
How about not equating death with stopping.

Thank you India
Thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity
Thank you thank you silence.

Mey Kraus
I, Lost In The 'Sonata'

The punk-pop author sang: "Medication's out!" (wow)
Thought of her fat (that mad, insatiable lust for food)
Invisible orange vegetables (what?!)
Wept out: Big recognition - but when?

Her 'thank you' list:
Hindu - OK
Any lunatic reactionary union - OK (hhheyy... you nuts?)
Disenchantment - OK
Any fault - OK
Any result - OK
Quiet - OK

Wrote memo to her Joe: "Why am I finding you guilty? (ego)
Why can't I have a bit of fun? (fun? I'm me!)
Will I absolve you then forget all about it (go woman, go!)
or bemoan (boo-hoo), then get over it?"

"One time I freed something (to hope?)
then it was too much (to commit?)
One time I flew out (off what?)
then landed and jolted (mmmm... tough!)"

Our author went on: "Hurting my own body? Quit it now!
I worship your heavenly being
but I'll blind you without a shame, a boob-baboon-maggot-pig!
A thought: 'Cease' isn't 'Decease'..."

I say, an unusual 'Thank you' inventory (yet again):
Hindu - OK
Any entity's protection - OK
Disenchantment - OK
Null - OK
Any lucidity - OK
Hushhhh... - OK.

The Little Boy and the Old Man
Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

The Tot and the Elder
Olin Foblioso & Billy Foblioso

The tiny tot went: "When I eat I mess up."
The elder replied: "O, that makes two of us."
"I soil myself," went the tot with shame
And the elder added: "O, I do the same."
On the tot told him: "I sob a lot."
"O, not only you," answered gramps to the tot.
"And what's totally bad," the tiny tot told,
"I think mom and dad don't love me at all."
While grandpa simply, pitiably smiled,
then said: "O, I understand, my child." 

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