Why the wand of suddenly-stopping death strokes the head of a newborn child,
we cannot fathom the depths of the oligarchy (strawberry rainbow).
New to to sin, I take off my slipper and wade into fear,
my eyeball pulsates, and rings, flying at the sound of the bell.
Blue to goof, bluest sea, crashing hard by the empty bars,
A place where sailors used to sing, songs about the sexual lives of camels.
Songs about fucking animals of all kinds, a noahs ark with pay per view slots--
my grandfather rocks in his chair, hearing the sweet water gurgle in the back of his throat,
where the hypocamus meets the tongue, a peaceful canal.
Take this flag as an apology, we know he had it rough,
staying silent all those years must have been tough.
If only we could remember what his father said while drunk and roiling,
we wouldn't have to reconstruct the world at war, in our garden, toiling.
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