Fourteen Bullets In The Head

Fourteen Bullets In The Head

fourteen bullets in the head
bang bang, you’re dead
strychnine tears fall from my face
ginsburg writing poetry
bush making policy
birdbrain masturbates in the desert
brokow back from baghdad
worse for wear but well traveled
red ooze infiltrates the night
the sycophant of the nocturnal nothingness
slithers round the world
soldiers come back in body bags
like sardines in tins
instead of oil
they float in cherry filled coffins
blood as red as snow white’s ruby red lips
eating holes in the wall of rice pudding
cockroach’s will rule the world
cockroach army in cockroach land

Erika Lutzner