apply the prejudice like butter
on a piece of whole wheat toast
don't let them hear you stutter
or choose which one you hate the most

in floating through the warm spring air
remember you're a leaf, you're not a man
and let the weak and crippled blindly stare
as you rise and rise without end

there will be war, and more bad poems
and puss from wounds of famine victims
and sockets full of nematode worms
and pools of tears for them to swim in

you are a fat old featherless chicken
roasting in the capitalistic heat of spring
amongst god's righteous famine, you casually thicken
without a hint of longing towards any one ephemeral thing