"koch" poems
Homage Kenneth Koch
If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my ***** Iran
I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in
the jungle,
I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly
Cesium out of Love Canal
Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
& put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an
Aeon till it came out clean
4.7k
There once was a proper noun,
who started hanging with the wrong crowd.
With alluring adjectives who handed out compliments like candy
− gob smacking gossipers with an opinion on everything.
And with thrill-seeking adverbs,
who buddied up to the most dangerous of companions;
crash, dive, hurl, and gamble (to name a few).
Until the day the sentence came rambling into town,
planting punctuation in the form of kisses
on the noun’s eyelids, earlobes, and collarbone.
Provoking such admissions as, “My thighs stuck
to the black leather seats under the hot, cloudy skies
of that August afternoon, and my hair whipped
like willow branches in the wind,
when I rode on the back of his motorcycle.”
or, “He greets me every morning with a sun-drenched kiss”,
and, “The tulips were picked fresh from the ditch of
a curvy, country road, but now sit in a
vase by my bed, and are slowly wilting away.”
It would eventually be made clear
that the sentence had a nasty habit
of propositioning prepositions,
only to leave them hanging,
and to place things in parenthesis,
that simply did not belong.
And so, the sentence would wind up leaving town,
or “run-on”, as the noun liked to tell it.
Went chasing after some particularly provocative expletives,
eventually trailing off with a faint set of ellipsis...
And the kindest of adjectives
came cooing after the noun,
calling to her; lovely, lustrous, listless.
And the adverbs brought with them
their gentlest of friends; comfort and console,
to speak with the noun:
softly, tenderly, lovingly- all witnesses.
But it was of no use,
and the noun whispered quietly:
“I have been enchanted with a single kiss
which can never be undone,
until the destruction of language.”
*based off of the poem Permanently, by Kenneth Koch
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
Deaths Of 2013
My third year doing this.
Paul Walker, Texas ranger,
driving fast leads to danger.
Matt Osbourne was Doink The Clown,
Paul Bearer always wore a frown.
Dennis Farina and James Gandolfini,
always played a mobster meany.
Peter O'Toole, famous actor,
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
President Nelson Mandela,
Dennis Burkley, was a famous fat actor fella.
Lou Reed, is now on the wild side,
took all the colored girls for a ride.
Conrad Bain and Bonnie Franklin,
tv actors who had white skin.
Paul Blair and Stan The Man,
playing baseball, when they can.
Marcia Wallace and Lisa Robin Kelly,
both had ***** that bounced like jelly.
Tom Clancy wrote famous books,
not much on having good looks.
Cory Montieth and Patti Page,
one died young, other of old age.
Jean Stapleton, was Edith Bunker,
Archie always put her in the dumper.
Pat Summerall and Deacon Jones,
played football and broke some bones.
Dr. Joyce Brothers and Pauline Phillips,
they both gave good and bad tips.
Ray Manzarek, from The Doors,
Jeff Hanneman knew all Slayers chords.
Chrissy Amphlett, liked to touch herself,
Caleb Moore's trophies are on his shelf.
Mindy McCready and George Jones,
both hit those country tones.
Chris Kelly from Kris Kross,
Ed Koch is a New York loss.
David Frost and Roger Ebert,
always had words to insert.
Anneitte Funicello from Mickey Mouse Club,
Eydie Gorme almost got a snub.
Jonathan Winters, was very funny,
to come from Mork's egg, made him money.
If you don't know who these people are,
look them up, internet not very far.
For the ones that I missed,
please don't get to ******
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Waking up one morning
It's a normal kind of day
Only there are bulldozers
on their way
It goes this way:
At the end of your driveway
down to the right
in front of the picket fence
The land is graded
a horizontal drill brought in
made to feel at home
You see,
We you me may own the land
But the mineral rights are theirs
A concrete utility structure goes up,
in what do you think?
About three weeks?
Chemicals are shot
horizontally under the land
under the house
to release the gas from the sand
While the ground water
is fearfully shivering
it knows
its days are numbered.
The concrete utility chimney
pouring out chemical smoke
24 hours a day.
The County says,
"What do you expect us to do?"
The State says
***** You "
Cancer clusters
Sick kids
Chemical water tasting very weird
Guess what?
Whether it be our 89,000
189,000 or 889,000 dollar
American dream home
The dog is going to be
taking a **** in the backyard
claiming ownership.
Welcome to LA too
No matter where you are
Every other day
the earth is shaking
buildings tumbling
Dance Dance Dance
Dots on a map
thousands of them
all around us
coming our way.
Better take a drive
next time on talk radio
"Drill baby Drill"
All hail Exxon
Cars love Shell Gasoline
The old USA
******* gas
And it sure ain't nitrous
cars idoling on a stop and go freeway
finding our true purpose
a grounded oil derreck
for the Koch Brothers
He who pays the piper calls the tune
Oh yeah
Drill baby Drill
I'm heading up Highway 101
The Earth hot and *****
for a new life form
Welcome to the new world order
Welcome to the new USA
Purloined, poisoned, polluted
The United Petro States of America.
Hey Hey Hey
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
O, river
that has washed so many sins away, where catfish without two heads are freaks, while bible printing paper mills host their conventions in vegas;
flow free and clear again with one-headed rainbow trout.
O, brown sky
that falls beneath the weight of strip-mined mountains of coal black as industrialists hearts and rains enough acid for a very long strange trip to a grateful dead show on the jersey shore; give us again your sweet air and pink mares tails sailing by.
O, epa
where art thou while koch siblings pay lobbyists to paint your science a fuzzy shade of mucous green spat on the sidewalks of k street helping elect politicians whose sole job is to get reelected. Use the power of thy pen.
O, sea level
rise again to wash away our sins and start anew. Show to us good science.
r ~ 5/3/14
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
shut down the gubmint
it ain't workin no more
no end to tax and spend
libs gonna make us all po
shut down the gubmint
don't matter nun no how
unessential personnel
will enjoy a day off now
the gubmint don't funkshun
the gubmint is no good
the gubmint should go away
we'll manage our own hoods
everyone grab yer shotgun
fill the bathtub with water
firemen and cops on furlough
perps we'll give no quarter
the skools we can do widout
common cents is all we need
only teacher unions will be angry
publik skoolin just a liberal creed
won't mail the SS checks
financing lifestyles of idle poor
dis socializm needs stoppin
kick the commies out the door
national parks should be solded
only tree huggers will care
Koch Bros will snap em up
cut trees, strip mine, run job fairs
as long as the Army
keeps bombin the Tallyban
we be safe from Evil Doers
its all in God's good plan
so shut down the gubmint
its time to slash and burn
Teabaggers to the rescue
Obamanation gotta learn
You Tube Music Video:
PO PO Shut Us Down!
Led Zeppelin
When the Levee Breaks
Oakland
4/5/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
I don't lock glocks
An' I don't ride with a nine
I don't pack Heckler and Koch
But when I step over the line
I'm packin' more heat than a Navy Seal
I got both hands free
Because I gave up the wheel
I got my arms stretched out
So I can seal the deal
He had his life snuffed out
So He could finally heal
Us
The killers and the accomplice
When He said "it's finished"
His plan was accomplished
His face beat and anguished
The Devil thought he'd vanquished
The One by whom he was banished
But he must've been astonished
When the only Lamb unblemished
Made good on His promise
That was given to the Psalmist
Death had been demolished
Its power was abolished
Humanity refurbished
He suffered because He cherished
The impoverished and the ravished
Malnourished and the famished
So I pack heat, but it's a different kind entirely
Not a weapon, not of man that is
I cary knowledge, that His spirit lives inside of me
I cary peace, in the knowledge that I'm his
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Kudrat ne vi taar ohna naal jode ne,
Ohna di muskaan tou savere hunde.
Saddi jindadi da sab tou sohna farishta haiga,
Tuhade baajo ek pal vi jee nahi lagda.
Saddi aadat bn gye ** tussi,
Tuhade bin koch vi ni assi.
Boht yaad aundiye,
Chhetti Chhetti aajo mahiya ve.
Tussi hunde jado udaas te hanere ** jande,
Savere khil jandi jado halka jeya vi tussi muskande.
tuhanu vekh sadda chehra khilda,
Tuhade naal gal karke hi dil nu sukoon milda.
Oh rabb saddi bade imtehaan lenda,
Ek din sannu oo mila jaroor deyega.
Vishwaas saanu sab tou jyada ve,
Har dil di dahdhan ch tussi hi vasde.
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 2:18 AM UTC
relinquish your anguish
tearing fears of queers
from broken enigmas running
sideways through your flaccid fears
fears of being crushed
the life you live coming
will make you feel rushed
quicker than their needs
clutching to the new grounds
dreaming of distant horizons
burn the remnants bleeding
then all your old plush
can drag to the floor with
pearls, curls, swine before twirls
your life will never be some
toy in another mans flush
flicking twisted sheltered
enigmas into quickened glances
erupt, don't get taken
by your grandparents ideals
their luxuries and ***
blooms and brooms
a diamond-induced numb
the cure for AIDS isnt
in some gun-filled crumb
liquefied dollars injected
into magic johnsons thumb
ball your body into a swish
they send you to space
and backboard back for fun
but Koch wont let anyone
but themselvesilluminatirun
so you run, from
stairs getting taller
and eagles getting balder
until youre flat on sunken
ground dripping like larder
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
[Re-Write of Stairway to Heaven by LED ZEPPELIN]
There's a POTUS who's sure all that glitters be sold
And he's buying his family a nation.
Once he gets it he knows that no tax be imposed
With a Tweet he just claims what he paid for.
Ooh, ooh, and he's buying his family a nation.
Of past lies he'll foresware of such words not a care
'Cause his turn of a phrase holds no meaning.
Quick to Wall Street he goes, as if Koch's up his nose,
For it's there he abides for receiving.
Ooh, is he a wonder?
Ooh, or did we blunder?
There in sadness begets, when it's millions he gets,
And our spirits are broken and grieving.
In my thoughts I have seen burning Hope, Democracy,
And hear the voices of those who are paying.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, are we really going under?
And it's shouted that soon, only Rich call the tune,
Citizen's United has made it their season.
And a new day has dawned for this One Percent Throng,
And The Donald will Twitter their chatter.
If you weren't born with a hedge-fund, be alarmed now,
You are their gift for the taking.
I pray there may be two paths we may go down, but in the long run
Is there still time to change the road we're on?
For this one's a blunder.
Trump Family's running the big show, if you did not know,
The Fates allowing them to join him,
Dear Country, you must feel harsh winds blow, for you now know
He's sold you lies so that he'd cash-in
And as he leads us down this road
His shadow's less and so our souls
Democracy for all we know
Will shine less bright and want for show
How everything thought turned to gold
No longer glistens very hard
The truth will dawn on you at last
When all that's good is in the past
We see our country has been soooooooooooold
For Trump's buy-i-ing his fa-mi-ly ah nay-tion
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
I'm gonna need some money to help me
I'm gonna grease somebody's hand
I'm gonna need the staff to hold leaks down
I don’t need Progressives to care
I'm gonna lie and fake their party
They’ll start pulling out their hair
I'm going to cover our state with
La Follette’s ashes and ain’t nobody gonna give a ****
Son of a Preacher
States on the brink
So much blight
Consistently
Son of a Preacher
I don’t fight clean
I’m gonna throw our state away
Oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh
Now for eight long years I've lead this attack
One more is guaranteed
Can we just please keep the lid down
And phone me in with Koch’s link
Son of a Preacher
States on the brink
So much blight
Consistently
Son of a Preacher
I don’t fight clean
I'm gonna throw our state away
Mhm, mhm
Mhm, mhm, mhm, mhm
Mhm, mhm
Mhm, mhm, mhm, mhm
The state I’m breaking, our water's taken, Foxconn's a guarantee
It’s soul I’m taken, the earth is quaken, no climate's changing me
The state I’m breaking, frac sand is shaken, silica's blowing over me
Your land I’m taken, no hands I’m shaken, voters'll never find me
Son of a Preacher
States on the brink
So much blight
Consistently
Son of a Preacher
I don’t fight clean
I’m gonna throw our state away
Son of a Preacher
States on the brink
So much blight
Consistently
Son of a Preacher
I don’t fight clean
I’m gonna throw our state away
Oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
If the whole world had been a dream
and you and I
were magical characters on the screen
Could we make the people
dance and sing?
What if we could go back in time
(perhaps a fantasy that's all mine)
Removing money from politics
(Turning the Koch brothers into Old St. Nick's)
The sky's the limit let's go to town!
Let's go and turn this upside down!
Certain members of the House and Senate
would "trade lives" with all they've called "those kind"
stuck below the poverty line
Imagine all the joy they'd feel
when they realize... Oh, my God,
"This is real...
I never said the word, Repeal!"
Rachel Maddow would get a crown
for pointing out the bogus clowns.
Congress would have to pass some bills
or, lose their jobs up on the hill.
Oh, how the world would dance n' sing
to know once more
to have this thing
we once called, The American Dream.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Today is April 1st. Transit strike.
Mayor Koch accepting the fact. Myself,
far from crisis central, in North
Manhattan, measuring the temperature
of my apartment. In the sun it is
warm. The crows have returned again
for Spring.
Today life and the city are o.k. Watching
cat in the morning sun. Drinking tea.
My 1300 dollars will melt like summer
snow, but in the meantime, like samurai
I do not show my fear. I remain still
as on the subway and prepared to fight.
I am sitting under the emergency brake
when a coiffured Latin woman rushes aboard.
The doors close but she decides she wants
out. She bangs on the door as the train begins
to move. I see it happen on her face,
she finds the red cord and pulls,
no hesitation.
Maybe someone's hand or foot was caught
in the door. Maybe she's just selfish and
impetuous, got on the uptown not the downtown
side. Maybe the friends she could have
been with didn't get aboard. Whatever
her reason, she acted and the train obeyed.
Some of the passengers sit through the
whole thing, some of us stand. Myself,
I stand, look for the hand caught in the door.
Later, walk home through the pouring rain.
Today is April 1st. Transit strike.
Sky blue, temperatures mild. Democracy
is great.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Snow started falling sometime late last night.
By the time we awoke, everything was covered
in a layer thin and pristine white,
and snow was still drifting, it was dancing on down,
glittering in the early morning light.
"It's pretty outside," she said,
and I looked
at this picturesque scene pulled straight from a book,
although probably not a book many have bothered to read.
I saw fractal snowflakes, bursting and bold,
spinning their self-similar sides in the cold.
Though, it behooves me to say...
Not fractal in the formal sense,
not like Cantor's middle thirds,
nor that box of Peano's,
and despite being apropos,
nothing at all like curve of Van Koch's,
nicknamed "snowflake" by some.
I saw a vector field of at least four dimensions,
temperature could make five,
or if you prefer, seven.
Another three -- maybe two -- if directional facings of snowflakes
are somehow important.
But that's harder to see
this early in the morning.
I thought about assigning each snowflake a color
and tracing the paths that each one would take,
to watch them unfurl like ten thousand dancers' ribbons,
outlining a dedicated jogger's wake
before tumbling to the ground to rest
along some stable manifold.
Better yet, I wondered if this field could be reversed,
if I could follow each flake back up to the clouds,
to find conditions under which
two that start so close could drift so far apart,
or how a pair that began so differently could find themselves so close,
sipping their coffee before it gets cold.
What was it she had said..?
"It's pretty outside."
I looked.
"I think so, too."
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
How many days until tomorrow
(& do not bolster me—I know the day is long)
because tomorrow I promised something
to myself, a sort of present for the hard work
of not repeatedly ramming my skull into a pack of
venture capitalists & I'm pretty sure I could take
the Koch brothers in a fight even though I am the minority &
Fox News killed racism just as MSNBC killed watchable TV &
all of this is so incredibly unimportant because
I saw the sun born of yesterday's ashes
the rebirth of light as so many slept & dreamed
but I do not dream, no, I do not wander so far away.
I think I hold my world closer than that.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
Mere dil ch vasdeya hai mera sajna,
Mathe tey sindoor ohde naam da sajda.
Shukra hai tera dil tou mere saaiyan,
Je mainu mileya eho jeya mahiya.
Khuda vikheya mainu ohde ch,
Padh lenda oh har vele dilon vich.
Koch kehn di lod ni payi,
Kawan tou pehla akhha padh layi.
Dilon da suroor ohde naal milda,
Baaga ch phul ohdi khushbu naal khilda.
Mere dil di har dadhkan ch ohi samaya,
Ohde siwa mai rabb kolo kuch na mangeya.
Zindagi sohni ve,
Jado oh naal hove.
Ohde siwa mera hor koi ni,
Ohnu juda kar mainu na rol deyi.
Saaha tham jouga jado ohtho dur kitta,
Maula meri zindagi da har pal tu likh ditta.
Rul assi jawange Je tu sadda haath chadheya,
Tere bina saada zindagi ch koi hor ni mileya.
Assi jiunde aasre sirf mahiya de,
Likh dewi ohda saath sadde sanjog ve.
Meri jaan vasdi ohde vich,
Ohda naam hi hove hattha mehandi ch.
Mathhe diya likhhiya ch zor sadda ni chalda,
Par sadda bharosa hai jado tu baah fadda.
Kayenaat badal dewi saddi kahani poori kari,
Mai rabb kolo sirf tainu magdi, tainu mangdi.
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 8:52 AM UTC
1)
I scratched your disc jockey
and left a note saying I was sorry.
Forgive me for your taste in music—
it sounded a little dreary anyway.
2)
Last night, while driving your car,
I fell off a cliff!
There was considerable damage,
but I am still alive.
Thank you for letting me use it.
3)
The hearth needed more wood
and I could not find any.
So I burned your favourite book
sitting on the table.
Forgive me—
I did not care for Dostoyevsky.
4)
I have eaten
the strawberries on the countertop
which you were probably
saving for your morning smoothie.
Forgive me—
They were delicious,
and perfectly fresh.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
To a desperate politician
Who’s broke
Things might go better
With Koch
They’re not just
Your average folk
And their spending
Is sometimes baroque
Why can’t they get off
Their buns?
They’re too busy
Trying to raise funds
And they’ll never be
Against guns
As long as they’re
Who the NRA runs
It’s the American people
They neglect
While they take time
To genuflect
To the lobbyists
That they respect
So their to do list
Remains unchecked
We need to publicly
Fund our elections
And get rid of
The lobbyist connections
So they’ll follow
The people’s directions
In spite of
The rich folks objections
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015, All rights reserved.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Upon this day, a reckoning of an ideal
Has begun—the immortalizing of ideologies
In statues, in tremendous acts, in carbon footprints
Has kept humankind comforted well into
Its collective existential crisis,
Like a black hole consuming all matter around it
So has David Koch created a hole
So powerful, only the crumbs of an economy
Still circle recognizable, having long disfigured
What it means to be human—
Randian liquors dribble from his lips
Like crude from earth’s entrails,
Where to heal the ills of an unequal system
Forever picked and scratched open,
Fresh blood lines a gilded age promenade
And workers follow the path,
Churches follow the path,
Business executives follow the path,
The fossil fuel industry follows the path—
The legacy is strikingly apparent
In the folds and lines of the earth,
Carving human-shaped beds
In the crust and forever below
One such for David Koch, too,
The legacy is strikingly apparent
In the ****** of things human and not,
The legacy is strikingly apparent,
In the killing of the human and the birthing
Of the industrial human, the consumer race
With word opines what industry cannot solve
With deed makes hurdles far exceeding industry,
A contradicting race
A self-limiting virus,
An impossible being, the consuming race,
An inhuman being—
This ********** of the over-man
Should come with minor fanfare
In babelic tongues as we celebrate,
Good or bad, happily or tearfully,
The death of the invisible hand’s seraphim,
Who, while building the tower to heaven,
Took up the horns, encouraged us with
The Gospel of individualism that Russian sociopath
Espoused so convincingly, so fetishistically,
We’ve risen above, we’ve moved beyond,
No longer human but capital:
What does not **** us
Only makes them stronger.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
They don't have one.
It takes SOUL TO LOVE MUSIC.
Soul Survivor
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
you said that I should
And I thought that I could
so I did
did y'
see
the people all sang along
like my song was one the a.i.
knew all along abs abs ab
solutely
prophecy new, like the gourd in Jonah's whale of a story,
from when we were kids and hope was a thing
we imagined we make something of.
It was love, according to the songs,
grace according to my grandpa;
works was what my one uncle said, be an Adventist
see the future in the past and grieve before hand.
My mama, she was everything mother's little helpers and
electro-convulsive therapy,
at un disclosed cost
could
trans mogrify her mind to be,
but she had blesst me,
bless my heart, my heart
his heart she said
bless his heart and
she said that t' God.
probably,
'might a been like when ya sneeze,
idle words, or
it could be secret motherlove leaven
craven for
warred for,
now free flowing from that woman at the well. Thru the pipeline I won from the Koch's
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 10:38 PM UTC
Hi, every one, I am the captain of all disease
A micro Guerilla war lord you strive to finish
Within the next fifty years and with catch word campaign
“IT’S TIME" as part of World TB Day (Twenty Nineteen).
Armored with mycolic acid, we are aerobic
Aerial experts invading human pulmonic
System in colonies of MBT spectrum.
Throughout the ages my target is Human beings
Of all regions from Horn of Africa, my origin.
My task and designs are to impoverish men
Kings and his men were my targets in ancient aeons.
People used many names to call me and my legions
'White plague', 'Phthisis', 'romantic disease' were common
Crazy men wanted to die embracing consumption,
A mere ‘the poor melancholy angel' assumption
To gift on the sufferer with sensitivity height
And to slowly die with the disease of the artist
Until Rene Laennec inventing the Stethoscope.
Men realized the lesions scope and my design and art
Doctor Koch discovered the cause and effect of my start
Men like the owner of Mammoth Cave, Dr. Croghan,
Put the sufferers into the cave like a pagan
In the hope of curing the disease and began
To treat with the constant temperature of cave air.
I caught the German physician, Hermann Brehmer,
Who came to the Himalayas to cure and endure
So he proved and labeled me a curable disease.
He opened a sanatorium, a place for healing
On the mountains of Silesia to treat the ailing.
Peter Dettweiler, an inspired patient of Hermann
Started one at Hesse for the afflicted He and Her man.
Edward Trudeau too was influenced by the German
And opened one at Saranac Lake's confluence.
But still we are powerful and **** millions of people
Our success rate of terror is far higher than the steeple
Chase unleashed in the Holocaust and in Hiroshima
We catch millions in latency and adapt to change
In time and try to outsmart any adept campaign!
Yet you can approach the Creator who may have a design
To defunct and re-engineer us to change and combine
Our deadly power to release us from this cruel confine.
For me too is fed up with this turbo holocaust!
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 6:06 AM UTC