Miss Miss Cleo, on Zee Zug

[Totenkopf]

Get on the train, the hate train
Ansteigen, bay-be
omar reads the cars
, or charts, zodiac zen
extermination,
at Stalag Quine--
toss some Norma Raes
or parisian aesthete marxist
mao murkers
(and some phundies---xtian, mooslim, joo)
in there too---
Wonder work and power
in the precious
blood of the Reals,
Analyticity parfait--
like the mystery
protocols
that right now
transmit this
signifier

[Lightning Rod]

with his usual crack-head alacrity
he escapes the homeless shelter
that good communists call a tomb
dismantles the Bastille brick by brick
and builds another one in its place

[Totenkopf]

Bad Bastille Boss
De Sade wrote his
epics of humiliation
and filthy phunn
on some smuggled-in
TP---and was hated by
Mob pre-Rev, and Mob
post-Rev, so they say;
perhaps had a nice
Tomb with a view--
a guillotine
on...la Rue---



(aktion on S8? like whoa)

[Lightning Rod]

what pike do we use
to spear our Robespierres?
spinning on a sprung rotisserie
a revolution chopped with angled blade

all disputes should be handled on the tennis court
one love
one love
one love

if not, we'll have to storm the place
marquis and veterinarians
it's what you do with a sick puppy

[Totenkopf]

A Micro-Ode to
the southside femme aka Miss Cleo
who with her sexxxay
phony jamaican voice
scammed countless
low-rent juliets and romeos
starts here:

Logos, cool
aloof usually
alone
nearly always
checkmates Eros,
gangsta
hot, tho' E has a much
finer posse