I.
I've come to the sad conclusion
that there are people in this world
who don't like me one bit.
I don't wake up over it.
I will not be muffgrumbled or cheesychurled
by their sentimental illusion.
.
If it were up to me (and it ain't)
I'd round up the bullies and the losers
and all the dropouts from think tanks,
and I would distribute indiscreet spanks
to the growing world of monsters and users
and tuck that paint brush with which they paint.
.
They ain't no angels and I ain't no saint,
but I'd tuck that brush with which they paint.
.
II.
We have entered the Hallucination Zone:
Trump is running again as prez
and as if that wasn't enough stress
he's been nominated for the Nobel Peace again.
It's a strange new world wiff such men in't,
three fingers deep in the oil all the time,
unctuous bunctuous false flattery sublime.
f*ck it. Stay home and listen to Peer Gynt.
.
III.
Since the Ken doll, Oppie, and the Barbie doll played
there's been jock strap and panty raids, left and right.
It's an anatomically metaphorically incorrect world;
and every "I," "We" and/or "She" wants to get laid,
wanna talk the new politics and dance all night.
But not every girl wants to be boyed or boy be girled.
.
It's a hoodoo culture back to playing with dolls,
pins and needles, carnival stalls filled with clowns;
quims filled to the brim wiff things what swim --
constellated firmaments, gutter-bound bowling balls,
and bumpin into mates with serious cases of Downs.
The Idiocracy's here and I'm Arthur Gordon Pym.
.
The maelstrom's heavy and I'm down in the swirling sea.
Anatomically correct, for now, but I miss my Barbie.
.
IV.
Aliens have landed and we're all under a spell:
How else to explain some of the weird phenomena?
Trump running again, sure, but Taylor Swift?
Every day I am bing bam boomed and biffed
by her image in the massive streaming media:
today deep fake porns: here comes Pavlov's bell.
.
So tired of it all: may it all go to Hell.
I'll take Smiley Silage anyday. Ring that bell!
.
V.
In Carnal Knowledge the donkeypump's a character.
The movie itself seems to reward Jack Nicholson
for his trouble with sandwiches in Five Easy Pieces,
in which nasty greedy oil dirties everything
and the world's turned rotten, even waitresses
unreasonably won't show tip-worthy servicing.
.
Well, f*ck it, I just want to ditty ditty doo
I ain't gonna let Israel turn me into an easy anti-Jew:
Nope, I'm gonna sit here on my fat couch: ditty ditty doo,
I said: ditty ditty ditty, ditty ditty doo
The f*ckers will never turn me anti-Jew.
(whistling is heard)
.......
