I have a bomb on a bus
I have a rag on my head
With my Gucci fanny pack
C4 Allah, I'll make you dead.
Crescent Moon
Black balloon
David's Star
Madagascar.
Half a roofless bus
False teeth in a tree
Baby with a steering wheel
Hula hooping
and then
Yo-Yo.
Then, I will drag my legless
torso with half a head to
McDonalds. For some hot golden fries.
A smokin' happy Marlboro red endin'.
Except, everyone DIES.
Including you, Mohammed,
and the fat sweaty Jews.
All for a star six blue
We earn our stripes
and motherfucking
go stupid, Zebrahead.
For no one's land,
but mother earths.
You all be so much smarter
As soon as you all be dead.
Killing eachother at the picnic.
Goes well with any cheese.
And dark red wine.
Author notes
Written January 2nd, 2004
In a list
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Comments
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I just love reading your poetry. It is so feral and absolute in comparison to the never ending vomit of mush that we are exposed to here on AP. I, at times, find it difficult to fully comprehend, like a wild animal that shun's capture, though that is exactly what makes it so appealing.
In fact, these are characteristics of most writing that I am drawn to. Open ended, it forces me to think about it. bla bla bla.
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intresting concept:
You all be so much smarter
As soon as you all be dead.
Killing eachother at the picnic.
Goes well with any cheese.
And dark red wine.
-
(somebody been watching too much TV news?)
"Killing eachother at the picnic."
Am I at the picnic? Do I want to be?
Can I saunter through in a tight skirt and serve pie (blueberry)?
Maybe that would be helpful.
Or perhaps start tossing water balloons.
Because conflict at a picnic must at all costs be avoided.
More potato salad? -
so sardonic and loverly.
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