i thought i had a poem... instead i had a conversation,
and a rag doll balled up
to request ******* in elevators,
alongside the chance to see the nest of dr. channard;
there was never a dear love-joy-killing-me-softly-yo-yo
to claim alimony cheques of the satisfied woman...
blah! ha ha ha!
well it comes like a ballooned pair of *******...
why give her the satisfaction of being sidetracked
left on the pavement starving
unlike a greek pagan and more like a question of immorality
like the singer of i.n.x.s.?
i have sanctified my will on that choice like a kamikaze
should the curbing of will come and i be left with
only a spectator sport of choice to “prove a point” bumming it
hungry cold and admiring the success stories of the leftover impermanences
willing for the lost glories of old age, of that age once sanctified
in noble wrinkle and spur of agitation into ***...
but leave the 20 year old man without chance...
and expect holocaust-like loathing! erase the old *******! erase!
my grandfather compared me to a napoleon without a gun...
he said: why didn’t napoleon shoot? no one gave him a gun...
well no one asked for nukes either...
but the third time a nuke dropped all the ***** **** lips started
an ****** of the ****** of the greek god mars
seeing there was no potential to invest in a 100 year war between
the anglos and normans -
so they dropped a nuke... to fake an asteroid...
then started giving out sticks & stones for gladiators’ combat
with einstein being reincarnated as the referee;
and the clowns formed a circus to avoid the technological public:
you embrace anonymity and we embrace the loss of makeup...
crescendo of ha ha... you first... nothing... oh... ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
you were supposed to sport this streetwise anonymity
on the streets on the freeways of digitalised interest...
and here’s us... clowns... clowns without makeup...
and the only pigment allowed being cow manure... and let me tell you...
that’s a pigment more flaky than the wrinkling skin
of invested-in *******, not that i minded the conception
of working girls within a western from the goo’ ol’ days with whiskey...
nuts bolted that tight with the boys in amsterdam
dreaming up all the “girls” from thailand only aiming at
wild eastern: **** **** **** that with a ****. huh?
i told you had a false poker card shuffle with that when testing islam;
i always knew the jews would win the tree that
translated acrobatic splits in the shape of the majority of trees
splitting into a y and yews.