the irish call this a well established word salad,
half of them are qualified psychiatrists,
because they think language
ought to be an arithmetic rubric understood
well enough for manual labour arguments to take
the populace numbers off their backs of via
ennobled ****-fiddlers taking the entitlements
of prince or king be left holy
so that the politicians can ******* with power
and powder and vote... i veto my democratic right
of vote... i veto it! you sign your name with an X,
you vote with an X... you educate yourself
in order to be debased with only an X...
**** your X... many st. andrews in the english parliament!
you think you'll make me an "illiterate" person
voting? the vanity of the fallen armies for my literate
signature signed as once demandingly categorised:
illiterate. to hell with democracy's booth!*

and when drinking defeats me
i truly serve
a sobering-up programme
that has a life-span of a day
and a female companion
that's worse than a canine *****
barking: howl howl hoof woof!;
i too wish... i wish i wish i wish....
i never had... and that serpentine
labyrinth with me the Minotaur
for an exercise of ****** doesn't help;
and yet the cat in my bed, calm, snoozes.