Ode to the British Invasion



Ode to the British Invasion


Savor the succulence of Strawberry Fields

The sweetest of the sentiments blooms and builds

The guitar has powers that it wantonly wields

Brothers in their bands are new-age guilds


The clarion call of London lassoed all America

Every beachhead of sands of silica

The tidal waves of sounds blasted the ephemera

Of John Wayne and GI Joe blundering chimera


When Jagger and Jones made swords of songs

That sliced and slew the wars and all their wrongs

Their anthems were banners that always belongs

The bombast and beauty it pulses, prolongs


Lennon and McCartney were the angels of life

Nursing and subverting, making student strife

And every sweet girl wanted to be their wife

And for them I’m my brothers’ true blue knife


They spread a scarlet stain of Ruby and her Tuesdays

Made us roam in routes of uncharted pathways

Against the crass and the coarse it nobly inveighs

It brightens all the drabness of the flannels and grays


The hair was long, the hips humped and thrusted

The Beat was something you adored and trusted

You smoked the herb and were bullied and busted

Your beaten body had the consistency of custard


But Street Fighting Man comes to the rescue

Revolutions rise and devour anew

The Kings and the Cops won’t have a clue

And another invasion is long overdue


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2013



Jewish Food



The women are cooking tsimmis and borscht and chicken soup

Everything simmers over burners

Of gas

The fluids are reduced

The Yiddish is refined

To a pure German core

And the grease at the bottom of the pan

The organic essence of the chicken fat

(Carbon rings, lording it over oxygen and hydrogen atoms, just a couple of reactions away from the hydrogen cyanide of the camps)

Is Indistinguishable from



Copyright, David Gottfried, 2003


Oh, but we can’t be seen in public with David Gottfried, Oh No!




Oh but we can’t be seen in public with David Gottfried, Oh No!


He just lacks the faggotty savoir faire

Of a lovely pansy from Sheridan square

Doesn’t have the queenly flair

Of little boys spoiled, suburban and fair


Raw Jewish brains and no grace

Such a ghastly, revolting disgrace

He doesn’t understand his place

That Brooklyn brute should leave our space


He lacks love for Madonna, our art so fine

Shows called “Cats,” all fem and feline

Cares not for Boutiques and its bounty divine

But in musty old books his booty he’ll pine


Reading Nieztsche and Marx and other strange stuff

It all seems so heavy, without any fluff

His ideas are so wanton and wicked and rough

But we’d still like to see him appear in the buff


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1995

The Doctor’s Office








Bette Davis inhabits Jackie Gleason’s body.

I know this for a fact.

The two of them are alive and well

In the form of my Doctor’s Office Manager.


The big fat mean queen screams:

“Deductible, not now, the doctor’s busy,

no refills, only generic, does your penis

and your balls itch or only your penis”


Drinking coffee in his own special mug

Round brown rings on my medical chart

He is my doctor’s Haldemann and Ehrlichman

A Blond beast to the core.


And I am Vietnam

Blitzed with B-52’s

Strafing my genital jungle

Hairy, raw and red.


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1995

Upon Hearing a Choral Performance at an Episcopal Church






I am Episcopalian

The Queen of the Cotillion

I think I am Chuchillian

I’m Drenched in gold bullion


I’m old money, of course

We sorts nobly discourse

On the stigma and source

Of the Jewish remorse


Why can’t they aspire

To sing in the choir

Till the day they expire

Will they continue to sire


Unwashed swarthy hordes

Fail to sound our high chords

Do not curtsy to our lords

Awaiting Heaven’s rewards


For speech Christian and clipped

Like buttocks quivering and whipped

Measured, mannered – dead as a crypt

Like old German gothic script


Speaking of penmanship, ours is fine

Elegant, stately and feline

Our ideation’s asinine

But stylistically we’re sublime


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1998

Bag Dads and Bag Ladies



Bag Dads and Bag Ladies



Bag Lady

In a crowd

In a shroud

Rather Loud

Shouting Jihad


Bush and Blair

Fighting fair

As they bare

A Mushroom scare


God is Holy

The One and Only

Austere and Stony

A Desert lonely


The world will die

The world will die

The world will die

The world will die


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2002

Inspired by Eisenstein’s “Alexander Nevsky”








Teutonic knight

Titanic night

The Christian Right

Sings “Silent Night”


In Gilded Courts

Guilty cohorts

Those feral sorts

Plan their blood sports


For Jesus Christ

A bible heist

We Jews are sliced

We’re minced and diced


The Yellow Stars

The Babi Yars

Kill Caesars, Czars!

The Germans, Mars!


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1997