The eyes behind a head inclined reflect a universe

      Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
      Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
      Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
      Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
      Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
      Of ****** tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
      Of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
      Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,

While poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.