Sweet Just the Way I Like It

you're a genius she moaned
there can only be so much money in circulation
he replied halfheartedly fingering her abacus
a sickle moon arose sharp as a razor
and they set about creating a dynasty
a master race of thumb sucking idiots
that sprang from the dead at midnight
with howling pretensions of divine right
she was a plump desert highway waitress
brimming with a mile of sunny cleavage
a beckoning oasis of shelter and hope
to every butt sore two lane blacktop trucker
he was a cadre from the Cro Magnon bloc
raised by the Sisters of Inchoate Ire
in a ceaseless ambient din of prayer
a model of pedagogical endurance
a time of war ravaged the land
the Dept. of Antiquities' grip was strong
blind wizards made the oceans boil
mystics buskered the street corners
will work for the contemplation of food
a few actually knew something
but in practice were a bit too bent
by the wind blinded by repetition
to be true in a rigorous mortis sense
nothing to be done except perhaps
another detached from reality orgasm
now that the past was in hot pursuit
but our two leibensborn were clever
smuggled themselves to safety
in wooden crates of radio parts
he picked up the Bardic Hour
on the Fenian Luftwaffe Network
she was wired to the 220 dryer circuit
and streaked through the channels
Gamble for Your Soul followed by
Ladies of Leisure followed by
Nearly Inaudible the game show
which asked the same question
if the picture is perfect is it changeable
this is how they ineluctably became
the enemy of both sides
the rim shots were deafening
but histrionics had worked in the past
most likely defending against death
rather than a better data set
so it is with surface addiction
a searching modern art piece