oh believe me, i'm dancing a love-joy
dance when your funeral ended, on your grave....
cheese disco... B-52... ooh hey yeah! things
are bewildering enough to be celebrated...
another ******* bites the dust!
a staff has two ends in eastern martial arts...
as it does in western conception
of love, never reaching the billionth
mark... a smack across your *******
orangutan diet of silicone, just to move those
down-syndrome eyes together
i took aim, and... SMACK!
hey presto! George W. Bucks!
some said it looked like
Picasso's impression of Frida Kahlo...
some said i discovered the famous
stone of alchemy...
*******, you have't
even tasted the bile i'm spitting
using the pop-culture covert method;
get you jiggling the jingle bells
for a Christmas choir and a *******'s
suicide worth of sainthood and helium
sweet talk: Bobby Helms:
jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell rock, jingle bell swinging,
jingle bells ring; snowing, and blowing...
******* minds you get the present...
but not the family;
well, take it from a cat and a person concerned
grooming, days after having solidified its presence
in the garden, thistle needles near the ****,
a bit like a grizzly bear with Dr. Dolittle taking out
a myrrh thorn taken from its paw... more meow
than conversation, and all the better for it being so.