while taking out the garbage: i lift the lid and on it, about five white cobweb-weaver spiders... curiosity never leaves... on the inside too, a stash of freshly laid maggots, still awaiting their proper foetal form... good to see a dormant hierarchy not yet played out.*

****-show here, ****-show there,
  ****-show almost always
(certainly now)
  and ****-show almost everywhere
tiresome the politics of ideas
tiresome the ideas of politics -
chit-chattering as freely as sparrows
and then the sinking ship -
and then those enpassioned sparrow
morph into rats and jump
across the pond, from this sinking
ship that europe that has "apparently"
become...
  rebellion here, natural sea-borders
that ease the ****** argument
for the great guillotine to come along
and chop the head of
      self-elected choccie politicians -
autocrats:
                fat sleuths and even fatter
sloths -
       and then across in central europe
they say: your politicians can't
be allowed to elect their own judiciary:
well well, isn't that a bit
odd in choccie's complaint?
   given no one elected them, but there
they sit, nonetheless -
but outside this:
   one the tale of a church segregated
from the state?
                         only one remains after
all: the incy-wincy spider within
the walls of rome...
                         what is going to emerge
well: if the anglos can have their
referendum where the people spoke -
honestly: i don't know -
        ****-show here, ****-show there:
but if we could look at the choccies:
no sore thumb propping his head up:
you could never imagine as many
autocrats in just one place -
               like a swarm of flies
                          on a dog's **** in a park.
apparently not enough "exotica"
          can be alarming, can be hindering,
can be anything but appealing -
   no point mentioning the war
                          in the ukraine then...
where's that butter and cinnamon?
                              i need to blend in.