look how i was fed guilt - look at how no one
screamed a care for the candle going out,
that roaming stars were born -
trail blazers i and they - i was fed guilt and
subsequently they were fed hopelessness -
they can joke all they want...
i'll be the one laughing over their graves,
people fear reading poetry because they fear
the hemlock - poetry is a hemlock...
they fear the personal, they really do -
you can write whatever you want when
humanity is lazy, and with times such as these
humanity is really lazy - they had to
create a secondary celebrity, not one built
on merit, but one built on per se -
becoming famous is like getting a free lunch
these days - that backlog of Darwinism has
finally spawned, draw back irrational history to
a dozen men as examples, call them Charlemagne,
Philip Augustus, Cnut (not variant of knot with
u but Ka-Noot), Genghis Kitty Chuckles,
Alexandria and the 5th Harem of Macedonia
named after her - Comrade Mao and chow mein -
Adolf and Hinduism... Erik zee Beetroot und Ashland -
we're criminal - we left the tribunal of heaven's sake
for a while to keep the black'e a sack of potatoes
worthy of a boxing match - and every ******* time
people wanted us to revise our vocabulary - every single
time... ooh racist... ooh anti-feminist... well thank
you Brother Orwell... i'll oysters with that observation...
see you in 20; you know what i dream of?
the wild west... yawning quickly like an Apache
making a war-cry - hand in smoke signals,
pop pop cherry, pop pop cherry drop, pop pop
another whitey gets scalped.
send me to the butchers! seriously, i want to go to
the butchers and the slaughterhouse... they really should
send children to slaughterhouses than to see Mike the Mouse,
otherwise know as Mickey - see the butchering -
i'm in one of those moods where i write because
i have a chance in hell to get a prize,
or that i don't wish to have one in the first place...
or because i'm ******* that this woman once wrote
of ****** liberation in the 1960s, and now she's writing
about glorifying arrange marriages, a jewel franchise -
i could be asking: what do women want?!
but that's still feminism with a ******, the real thing
is all about bogs and frogs and privacy,
knights and slap-stick humour -
                                                         thank you, minus the wife.
20 years on i'll be the one who's supposed to be jealous
that you own a Porsche - and i'll be asking about
the M.O.T. - like the two mattered for my care to ****.
i pay zero tax... you pay how much?! ooh, too-shay
and tooth decay, i swear i told you a pea-sized dollop
of fluoride and job done under 20 seconds...
you doing peppermint ******* with that mouth while
reciting a goodnight story to a child?
you know, before the haemorrhage i was such a decent
person... i know, one of the many boring facts i
claim to be a second birth... a Kentucky fried chicken
gets more sympathy at a vegetarians' conventions than i do...
i'm the criminal worth a spank and a nod of disapproval
with a tut-tut-naughty-naughty wandering of the index finger -
the French ******, the English were playing
rosy-cheek-chequers reminiscent of the Victorian black attire
while the Suez swelled in what became know as
the ****** Monsoon in a f.g.m. ****.
well, if my vocabulary be criminal... i should have been
taught to be illiterate, or at least be taught sign language...
if you don't like it... *******!