Monday, November 9, 2009


Always avoid small talk on the corner, and so
I shall not stink, I walk the water.
God is semen fat attacking the pussy vat.
It's breezy to wear this uniform of World War 3 miracles.

A boyhood quietness about the trigger.
I'm going traveling, I won't be here tomorrow.
Dip in place of me a narrative of anti-apartheid struggles
Rather than a silly white devil sleeping off eighteen beers.

In the fields, birds gather wild honey.
And edible roots toot out of a cow's udder.
And sweet milk streams from the sky.
And wires behave like young lovers

Ready to do without.
I'm going traveling, I'll walk full-circles in a vat.
So I shall have pussy, I fuck the trigger.
Damn, they sure make it feel very French.


Discovering who I am has been a long process, and
I'm still lit.
See the sky consider this some kind of rejection.
When the birds die, I'll dig a grave for them and
Visit and shit;
Assess the soldiers before deployment, take off your
Pants and shoes if you wanna lose it.
Guns galore lick my colon and several places in
My intestines, bladder and spleen.
Satellites hug me like I'm a chubby, bald guy.
Hasn't yet crossed my mind that I'm dangerous.
Call our friends now and urge them to kill their own children.
It's obvious you lust to kiss me.

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