Rabid strictures of puppet crisis cuckold
filthy dew-brow Mr Smith, drawnout
ragged scriptures, depth charge, holy ghost
palpitations and meanders, swan-wrongs,
wrong-songs, forked prong stuck on
lecturn dick chain rounded thong thrum
blam blam hokum gestapo Aleppo bother-
hood who'd lynch species out and out
keep knocking on doors til they get a hit.
Bully boy butt head knock outs gnash
tablet twisted teeth and crouch reloading,
who's shit? Twit twoo! Gas the bleeders,
kickem too, shovel em shaftwise down
the hole to fester in the steaming brown,
gasp and grasp the plug and fail and drown
in children's toys, in hyper boles toilet bowls
stern father's frowns of misty whiskey eyes
four ayes a hundred nays neighing silt
and crusty acrimone alone hanging phone
line hokum hooker hooka holla ho ho!
Certain stinkers Mr Smith won't swalla,
whetha his gullet misters him or not
he's a standard rippling in the breeze,
and jees, Jesus and disciple cronies didn't
have tax rebate repossession lawsuit filing
jack! Baseball bat phonies breathing flicknives
down his neck the whole merry while.
While wiley David's seed was divvying
bread and fish Mr Smith was getting fucked
Royal Imperial Intergalactic anywhichway;
tactical, taxical, personal, shmersonal, blip.
These pen pushing bean counters aint got dick.
It's all real if I say, in my head,
please, I insist, listen! he cried, left
cradling his grey head in an empty office.
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