chaos.
death.
destruction.
the winds are rich
grains of economical gain blown on the wind
grains,
pieces of remainders of ruined lives;
ripe for reaping
reporters can smile their toothy grins
(pretending they don't love it- or the boost in their ratings)
politicians will preach and smile their equally fake smiles-
heads dancing with sugarplum visions
power hungry to bask in the warmth of the schism
-
politicians and reporters smile
looters loot
as figure heads kisses victims heads in style
oh what a lovely mess it is
so completely human
for a natural disaster

why.
what is the point of all this?
why do humans bother with such useless games
bother with pointless escapades
all we are is glorified beasts
******* between every feast

eat.****.eat.****.eat.****
****.eat.****.eat.
eat.****.
th­e food is rotten to those who hear
the buzzing of flies in rotting flesh
the stench of deep regrets
is sweet to those who forget

why.
what is the point of all this?
why do humans bother with such useless games
bother with pointless escapades
all we are is glorified beasts
half asleep

illusions of grandeur filling our brains
dreams as sweet as the buzzing of flies
why bother?
why?

dreams are fantasy.
nothing more.
what we want,
what would make hearts soar.
waiting for a window or door,
what pleases us to our very core
dreaming too long simply gives you bed sores.

why.
what is the point of all this?
why do humans bother with such useless games
bother with pointless escapades
all we are is glorified beasts

we exist for one simple thing.
babies.
again, again, and again.
All we are is gilded beasts
writhing in a lustful heap

zebra geebra
striped like an amoeba
or maybe like a striped cloth
thrown over a horse
but you don't race zebras
or amoebas
just a horse
but if the horse
had a striped saddle
it'd be a zebra
but not an ameba
but amoebas did evolve into zebras
and horses

Does the bearer know their face is encased in plastic?
a cage of latex and fake hair.

Does the wearer realize what their mask is?
or simply mistake the mask for flesh of theirs?

what happens when you cut the elastic,
expose the real person
under there?

what remains
of the masks life?
who will remain,
when true faces show?

Only one way to know.

Like the moon
making waves in march.
Like the communists of yore
upon sheets.

Red tide.

stalin matches in blots of red
in cotten fields
as ruby waves roll upon sandy fabric beaches

China shaped spot here,
North Korea there,
there is Cuba,
look North Vitnam!

Red tide.

The communists of yore
all fade away
come laundry day.

If cows go moo chickens cluck, therefore if the farmer has eaten chicken eggs, he will cluck,
and if he had a steak dinner, he will clmook...
and yield eggs filled with milk from his ****.

This is why eggs are solely a breakfast food,
while steak is a dinner because mixing the two in one meal only makes the effects worse,
turning a Farmer over time into a milk filled egg.

Note only farmers are affected like this,
since it takes very high levels of exposure to beef and eggs in their raw un-processed forms,
which we don't buy at grocery stores for the above reasons...
First the mutagen's proprieties of the two mixed together must be neutralized.
By filling any crates in which beef are shipped with powdered eggs
and crates of eggs with beef made from a special breed of cow that has been genetically bred to lay eggs,
the hooves and horns go to make that strange astronaut ice cream that you see in gift shops.

Each "netrie-cow cost over 10,000,000 yen each (and you can only pay in yen)
but without them entire crops of beef eggs can be lost.

Oh i forgot... these were pure bred eggs and beef that need to be treated...
Beef eggs are a new advancement of science,
they are normal eggs in every sense but that they moo when you shake them if they have gone bad,
and taste slightly like beef and need no special treatment.

The chicks which hatch from beef eggs grow to be feathered cows which mate with everything in sight,
and usually are killed before they have the chance to grow,
but many a farmer has decided the risk of raising chowkins worth their original flavor and taste,
but many employ steel pant plates to prevent accidents
(since for some reason chowkins Can produce offspring in humen males as well as their own kind...)
The process killing the farmer,
and producing a creature which speaks in only an impenetrable deep southern accent and Farmer slang,
loves milk and grass,
and unable to perform any function in society,
but crops grown by such creatures are noticeably better in taste.

Clmook!
Clmook!
Clmook!
Go get your lifetime supply of cheese?
Please?

It was just a kiss
and now I can’t ****.
Who’d have thought rejections
touch could hurt so much.
Next time, I’ll wear a cup.