you know the avatar of vishnu
sitting pretty,
pretty calm,
he sat there, lost his hair,
became a bald & fat idol in china
miles away from nepal...
became an idol with that famous waving cat
(maneki-neko): ola ola... hello to you too.
so the avatar of vishnu is sitting
peacfully pretty,
but this avatar of shiva ain't...
he's on a windowsill... head-banging while
the supposed meditation takes place...
he's on to it, the next vogue of mindfulness
and feminism... he's like: **** it...
let the zeppelins in, london on the fork fried,
give us bacon and other assumptions
of king above all beasts.
but at the bus stop i met four would-be ballerinas,
four lolitas nonetheless,
aiming for a party, went into the shop
were asked for i.d., but the look of them
no more than 15...
smoked my cigarette in the umbrella of
the bus shelter... true to feminism got *****,
'can you buy me some *****?'
i don't care about your lies, you don't
have to lie to me,
'but honest, i have a picture,
i'm over the age of consent! look!'
my moral compass is missing on this matter,
plus you're so petite one of your musketeers
gave you away, flesh that never grew to the bone...
'but please! we're going to a party! we can't
go empty handed!'
o.k.
took the 10 quid note and went in,
they wanted a medium sized bottle,
under 10 quid of ***** and 4 women?
no chance. put the note in my wallet
and bought them a 70cl bottle of *****,
3 quid extra so they could, just, shut, up.
apparently there was no party when i handed
them the confidant compliment of uncle...
you know that bit where nietzshce criticised
socrates for engaging in dialectics to create
a rude society? i think not engaging with dialectics
creates rude societies... where children
are above and most opinionated...
and the elderly are below and exposed to sadism:
as england row row rows the boat for an iceberg
to thus sink.
yes, the four of them, happy enough
to be believed to have discovered the *******
and happy enough to have almost lost it.
