Stop the War, I wanna get off
uppity heroes on horses shooting down, heroines shooting up horse
it's a magical animal kingdom by the Seventh Sea
it's a tragical, families Fall
lackadagical, shrugs is all
and now the Russians are bluffing they'll use their nukes
ol' Uncle Sam saying put up your dukes
and you just know there's gonna be
a bigbangboomdiddleyfullwattssmashbiffzangandzowiepizzlefiddleyowl
on the town tonight
Well, the good news, the silver lining is,
Cain's armies have set themselves up pretty
Spam stocks have soared, water's on the rise
Spacious caves are being organized
Mass conversions to Mormonism will be conferred
to easy transit to the Big Loving needed
10 women assigned to each soldier to repopulate the plan
(it's what they meant by multiverses, constellated big bangs, says a man)
et economic growth fat belly knock ups fiscal models of Rand
y pants, George C Scott lickin lips up and down
on newborn babies butts he goes to town
cheeky cowards he'll not withstand, he frown
Well, if it does have to end and we need to start over
millions of years of accumulated knowledge and culture
cavepeople starting out this time with Picasso frameworks
bison posing in the nude
kids tossing buffalo chips like frisbees
hunters gathering hunters
with abstract expressionist smiles
Jeff Bezos in the corner all shy and fragile,
covering his blue planets
neo-cro-mags circling him
2001 ape man at watering hole next to husband and wife sorting out the domestic violence in therapy with foam batons
(Image by John Hawkins) Details DMCA
and as far as the watering hole goes
kinder gentler monkey men
will wisely use foam encounter batons
last used in psychodrama sessions from the 60s
to gently but intently beat the sh*t out of mom,
or vice versa, both beating the sh*t out of Tommy
Boal's theater of the oppressed exercises
with optional primal screams
to drive away, to drive away, to drive away
thirsty paleo-commies
ICBM missile silos will become AirBnB
lifestyle changers, bunks, missile dressed for Christmas
phallic in the offseason, prophylacticked
"the great failure to launch" art installment
the kids will be told to go outside
and bring back buckets of air to convert to a kind of water
for boiling dinner -- red faced lobster screaming soup
faux environmentalists will be lordflypiggied on a spit
it's a recovery for the nuclear family!
no abortions on the political plate now
no one now fuckin with the Tao
Still-standing cathedrals will be become
great examples of period irony, terrible beauty
Corinthian bones, massage parlor lapse apses, Mary on the cross,
instead of Jesus, him all mission aborted, staying on the kool-aid commune
people, who no longer see themselves that way, will gather
in the stinkin pews
to hear the troglodyte bemuse them with bims and boo-hoo-hoos
backwards readings of the Apocalypse in auction speed English
people turned edgy duckrabbit with the More Bad News venal vibe
gargoyles replaced with animists, animists replaced with bongs
Our salty little poet from the theater of cruelty,
with the hairy overburdened heart, opens the shutters of his Nikon
adjusts the F-stop, down by the darkling sea,
where the waves roll in like shapeshifting Annabel Lees,
dregs of drafts of love -- the lees -- we'll never again see.
Reading to himself "Fragen" for free.
All the roiling intertextual bodies dark before him. O, Mother McCree!
.
O stop the war!
Stop the War, I wanna get off
Stop the War, I wanna get off
Stop the War, I wanna get off
O stop the war!
I wanna get off
