Archive for July 3rd, 2010

By Quasimofo Snyder

“God Save Our Indie-Queen! She ain’t no refried bean!”
I hollered as we beat the flying fuck out of ROY G. BIV
cramming Skittles down his gristmill throat…
“Taste this rainbow, motherfucker!”
…It was an artsy offshoot derived from
male protagonists in a vermilion oxblood novel..
uh huh, ..the one gotcheyed caper where we bought up
the town’s supply of Talking Heads Best-Of’s
and made off with a balled-out floorboard
full of push-up bras and grannie panties,,,,,,,,
like an escape-from homemade flick barging into
Fundamental Baptist Churches where
they speak to and give you the tongue-it ended up on YouPorn.

“Truth be told, some only discover truth when they’re old.”
Zooey mumbled in her eccentric-laywoman magenta droll
…the kind that plugs up leaking dykes with more than sore thumbs…
Along the machiladora grid, the migrant lingerie factory
employees were handed their pink slips
[with black lace] and given winning lottery tickets on the Cerulean
recycled fiber of indecent exposure citations…
Learn to leave our well-done well-enough alone
with its bone or we’ll sick our 8o’s god-child on you,
Mister Docrates!

But ho Luscious! Where’s that knee-slapper toe-tapper
drama action giveaway suspense?
We want only clean dirt for this mix of mud
to get our fill in the azure kiwi turquoise
rightwing leftwing battling a bi-polar bear
with a long queue of porta-potty redneck voting booths
which leave incontestable paper trails
[ut oh, one’s missing..someone used it as a spaceshuttle!].
Do we have time to hash out this hash heesh
in an OpEd Letter to the editor
enflaming the community only after the burn ban is lifted?
The bottom of the totem pole is a good place when
the world goes topsy-turvy, you see.
Though one might imagine it’s hard to potty train
a despot who’s a sexpot.
What trailer park are you from? Again?
…cause a dollar in your box of jukes equals two plays

when 2 plays only equals one song…

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