Meat in the Ground

by Violet Tiara

April 10, 2006

Toasters are boasters
and otters are modest
but the lotto
you bought
was for the wrong
archipelago.

Mangy changers
are deranged,
sez strange
Jessica Lange.

Druids love fluids
but who is
the wiser
the Kaiser?
On rye, sir,
that miser
misspelt Pfizer.

Fuck 'em.

Loosely
my tooth sings
of ribald
rococo.
Yoko
went loco
and toked all
my Midal
in a long bong
from Hong Kong
with tongs
from Longs
and songs
about John's
stained brainbeans
and Charlie Sheen's
love of Ween.

Cancer
is fancier
if called
carcinoma
Oklahoma
has roma
tomatoes
in pails
and bails
without fail
their sails
white sheets
in seas of wheat
and meat
in the ground
where peat
should be found
and backsweat
from the accident
rolled up in
rolling papers
that taper
to a point
of tip.

Milestones

2001: Bogus office psychic Mazie the chicken predicts radical arab terrorists will attack giant silver towers and a military stronghold on Sept. 10th. An angry Red Bagel eventually takes away her predictions column.

Now Hiring

Nanny. Traditional English dress and accent required, none of that rough Brooklyn flower bullshit. Strong musical training and good voice a must. Should be able to rhyme easily, even if only creating nonsensical words in most of songs. We provide spoonfuls of sugar and medicine, as well as company umbrella. Three references needed.

Least Effective SARS Protective Efforts

1.	Stop breathing
2.	Fire handgun blindly at coughs
3.	Smoking deceased SARS victims
4.	Wave hand, say "Don't go in Toronto! Whew!"
5.	Drinking imported Hong Kong bathwater

Nanotech Speckles
Nanotech speckles form freckles electronic, bionic and fair On my face and the space around as sound pleasing sound eeks from the sparkles there in my glittery hair Bear hair, cloned re-zoned to my bald scalp like carpeting the Alps like... (12/12/05)

Sentence
Gonads like nomads of the lowlands in snowpants eat Rolaids with barmaids, says no man to snowman and icicles ride bicycles as rice pickles sing Don Rickles and yellow bellows forth from the fourth porch painted by Enid and Crosby and Mick who,... (11/7/05)

The Sissy
If you call me a prick do I not cry? Bully, thine mouth offends me fuck it Was it not me who kept secret your smoking your out of class without a pass you hi-jinks and ne'er-do-wells? I reach out my hand and you turn it back to smack my own cheeks... (9/26/05)