Lobsters & pneumonia (vuvuzuelas at Wembley)

we thought there might be less fishery here
less heat less obsession with margarine
but there are vipers under the toilet seats
and the window panes are covered with soot
there are tarantulas that sneak and spark
nobody said they would be religious
we diligently applied their procedures
wantonly they had opposed a bad governement
like a viper under their toilet seat
they carpooled and rejoiced
every media impingement had thrown them
into voluptuous states as they hollered

we too were asinine and crazy
the palms of our hands were grey with laughter
and nobody believed our diarrhea was old
but through patient testing of the bodies
by preventing our ligaments from being slinky
as the wrong time sullenly leaped from behind us
no more logs were possible
no more feats were accessible
no infrastructure no girly peeks and drinks
there were only ports and piers
fish and gowns
lobsters and pneumonia
frantically prowling on each other
as heroes do

can laughter stab?
can fruit be precise as a tree?
to these and further matters I beseech thee
fructify o indian subcontinent
o quantum snack for the gods
fructify o african and american and bielorussian
we bring you glad tides
we bring you infrastructure of the devil
we prohibit vuvuzelas at wembley
and spark wars in the midst of the world
but our speech does not falter or fail
we brought down haiti with a helicopter
we bought off irak with a guidance missile
we stutter not we strap you
we fling our ways and do not listen
we suck

o (great camerados of the) sweet underworlds
with your internet connections
pulse through digits and plough your corn
wake to the utmost distance
(no pansy I) in the declamations of multitudinary sadness
no other grab than the balls and the ass
no other squeak than the pantry door
no other tree than the ones we plant
as far as the ridge can stretch
and o time will you not fail us
will you stretch the valour into your chest
and leave the armour

and drink if you drink and sail if you sail
and bring the vicinities together
climb the mast
if fury were an other rectangle or circle
but it is a pentagon
you must trim and hatch the edges
make them smooth to touch
fail not
the trough is evil and soft
and nobody has attested to it
without the weariness of flag-covered caskets
and flowers from hell or from duluth
leave the answering machine
to sempiternally ooze into ears
as if time had not lurked forward
when we were sleeping