Diatribe IV.
Attack Surrealists of the non-future will not be silent!
We will give you a final peek at your Dead Seas, your Black Air, your
Mutant Still-Borns
Long before the 6 o’clock news!
Cough up your coward’s venue, Surrender the despot walls
Expunge the bankrupt fodder of your Chosen Ones!
The future will hang like a host of still-warm dead rats
Sliced for maximum texture!
The warm red supper of the Bunker Elite!
The sticky red fur goes to the “Movers & Shakers,”
Hungry for the pastry-like overdoes!
Let them reel in delight to the Coked-out notion
That the Enigma of Casserole led by aromas
Sometimes leads to wet dreams
And that’s better than Rat Fur
Recently run-over!
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