and along came war, shooting
that theory all to hell and gone.
but modernism had taken wings,
flying off, defeating history and
modernism became the real thing.
relieve some gas. nothing like
some fine flatulence to brighten
up the place. throw on some gasoline;
watch this place go up in fabulous
flames, reaching outrageous heights,
as we drink ourselves into a most
amazing, blinding stupor one
could ever imagine as their house
burns down around them. ah,
smoke is most glorious of things
to behold and cherish into our
hospital recuperation weeks;
healing our body. but, alas,
ain't much help for our
bewildered meager brains.
would probably be doing that.
and that, friends, enemies and
followers of that far off cult,
is most illegal in most state
of\ affairs, grinding up old poets,
hoping to stop poems like this.
fat chance of that ever happening.
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