A roomful of virgins
Sat before me
Ready for an auction.
The bidding began.
Allies, and other less noticeables
Raised their paddles.
Tensions mounted
As the cannons were sold off,
The arsenals grew with each arm,
The bidders knew
The value of money
Decreases as anger rises.
Truckloads of boots
Emptied into
The streets and homes.
The auctioneer placed
His cap on his head
And left them counting
In the snow.

We believe female circumcision
Is barbaric,
But boys should look like their Dads,
It's traditional, like swinging a dead cat
In a gunney sack over your head.
Yeah, like Dad and I showered together daily?
Should girls augment their ******* to look like Mom.
Should Mom landscape to look like daughter.
Let's bring Granny into the mix.

We believe homelessness to be cruel
And unnecessary.
Why I have one in winter,
And one in summer.
Our dogs have wall-to-wall.
Birds have gilded cages.
They have vents and cardboard.

We believe in fair trade
(Except with countries we don't believe),
To get what others have,
Especially those diamond rings,
Blood stones.

We abhor child labour,
But haven't enough
Money to give Wal-Mart
On Black Friday.

Where do our sympathies lie?
When sympathies lie.

Your art, like yourself
Is better than you think

Why does everybody
run up the stairs
slow down bud
they ain't scary