Sweet Just the Way I Like It

you're a genius she moaned

there can only be so much money in circulation

he replied halfheartedly fingering her abacus

a sickle moon arose sharp as a razor

and they set about creating a dynasty

a master race of thumb sucking idiots

that sprang from the dead at midnight

with howling pretensions of divine right

she was a plump desert highway waitress

brimming with a mile of sunny cleavage

a beckoning oasis of shelter and hope

to every butt sore two lane blacktop trucker

he was a cadre from the Cro Magnon bloc

raised by the Sisters of Inchoate Ire

in a ceaseless ambient din of prayer

a model of pedagogical endurance

a time of war ravaged the land

the Dept. of Antiquities' grip was strong

blind wizards made the oceans boil

mystics buskered the street corners

will work for the contemplation of food

a few actually knew something

but in practice were a bit too bent

by the wind blinded by repetition

to be true in a rigorous mortis sense

nothing to be done except perhaps

another detached from reality orgasm

now that the past was in hot pursuit

but our two leibensborn were clever

smuggled themselves to safety

in wooden crates of radio parts

he picked up the Bardic Hour

on the Fenian Luftwaffe Network

she was wired to the 220 dryer circuit

and streaked through the channels

Gamble for Your Soul followed by

Ladies of Leisure followed by

Nearly Inaudible the game show

which asked the same question

if the picture is perfect is it changeable

this is how they ineluctably became

the enemy of both sides

the rim shots were deafening

but histrionics had worked in the past

most likely defending against death

rather than a better data set

so it is with surface addiction

a searching modern art piece