And so the hairy fat ape raped the
puppet slut-whore hybrid til it fell
limp down the stairs of its
sullen gaze amidst the crowing shit-bird
winding a tourniquet casually about it's wing,
facing the corner,
and letting the misery flow until the
And he waits.
And as blood drips through the infinitessimal cracks and splinters winding in no particular direction
and as he falls, he sees Alice on the way down,
who disappears into a faded pair of breasts
and how queer is it to-day
to have seen breasts without a face
a mess he's sure will splay
The fall ends and he comes to in the factory drudgery letting the dirty condom suffocate the balance
between man and mouse
and so the forclosed house in a barren wasteland of a mindless disarray of mottled thoughts
fettered to the grim door which closes off the rich from the poor
poor from the rich
the smile from the cat
and the face from the breast
and it marches slowly to and fro
swaying side to side
unsure of what the cackling crow
is really trying to find.
The ton of marbles falls onto the head of Johnny Poi
And so he dips his fingers in his loving father's joy...
The lovely crevice
now filled with love
he nurses with a shiver
and the splendor of it all
makes the Queen of England quiver.
The royal subjects know not their fate
but do not hesitate to participate
in the burning of the grass that threatens to
open up the eyes
of what the mill will not compromsie
and so the flour is milled and ground
bleached in love and knowledge
enriched by all the commonalities
so we can go to college
but what the fat cats only know
not all of them for sure
is what we need to truly grow
and stomp upon the sperm.
So spin the record backwards
and listen to the words
they are the truth
what they don't want
the grass they try to burn.
Listen to the meanings of the whacked conspiracies.
They're not as bogus as you think
more fact than make-believe.
And as the shit-bird takes the needle
and drops it to the ground
will the cry of one lone truth told
care to make a sound?