orange-dust devil with a golden
dick, face, and a ruthless ego
seems to set us up and knock us down
easily, and some have the gall still to revel.
you’re safe? hell, take a look around:
four more years of stomachache,
of pushing the little people to the ground,
of all those baseline bastards on the take.
we need more machines that kill fascists.
stop saying “show up” and we’ll tell
you when you can fucking talk again.
we’ve been here goddammit. bury your
baby-boomer bullshit and turn to face
the strange. we need the rock n rollers,
the rebels, the ebullient royal youth;
old fucks know nuthin, much less the truth.
tell you what: get on our level
and we’ll let you keep the dopey clown
smile, your weak-lily lies, your ego…
just don’t interrupt when we make a din
trying to get this country safe for when
all these babies have grown up.
letting the look linger, just half a second too long tells all.
what is love? this is dumb at first site. that’s what I am–
dumb, when this,
the linger-look happens, I get stunned into stupid stupor.
oh, how cute. look what a look does to my verses:
these are sick and sweet, too cute even for me, too adorable
except for the tiniest baby.
babies are bigger today. you can see the ugly ones that may not
grow into something other than homely. I appreciate this
because sometimes I think all I notice is the neat and tight,
the beyond gorgeous. god, the thought frightens me, makes my
heart flutter more than it should,
what with the condition and all.