How to Vote
Fold an injured pigeon
and hurl it at the fridge.
Allow the bird to stagger
down a sewer
made of spoons.
It’ll vote
inside a phone box
for a leader dressed in Brie.
Beware, little children!
freedom is a hoax
a void of faceless blurs.
Heading South
Satellites are falling
Like frogs
In sand and sweat.
You quote the Psalms
Like Stanley Kubrick
Wearing boxing gloves.
So, choke on your chubby thumbs
Vomit up your pills,
It will take you
Beyond your sickness
To a mind
Heading south.
The sun isn’t yellow it’s chicken,
And it’s so hot
It makes you want to dash
Your skull against the mirror.
Your name is Bob,
Like it always was.