Poem #67

I swindle breath in yakuza gangster coolness, harshing brutish heirs.
Then I oaken hand the cinch straps in my starfleet Volkswagen.
Captain, oh captain, oh oh oh oh oh captain.

By nth degrees we are lobbied to brick walls like Spanish fascist smashed poets.
I. &. U.
Dow jonesed, hermetically sealed fates, we are calf imitated in capitalist chap stick horror show rape scenes.
Representatives reprehensible, oil derivative machismo suffers the young to sweat shop wages,
burgle the nearest Kmart you crazy anarchist status symbol superheroes.
You can learn hip by faking it for a long time.

Oh. Captain. Ehn.

Meanwhile my smoke habit has evaporated and all the coolness has warmed.

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