On Tue, 27 May 2003 19:40:33 -0500 (Central Daylight Time) "Terry Clifton" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> writes:
..[about] a company..
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yeh, the AWACS still search for the big Shah
sniffin' like a Kodiak bear
but he's leanin' way back in a ricksha
fumblin' around for his fare
with his big hand bound up in Greenwich
small hand waving confounded
and the grim reaper's eatin' his sandwich
and Big Ben's rushin' around it
while the traffic cops nab Aristotle
transporting his mind to the zoo
(he'd stuck his head in a bottle
where his neck got stuck in there, too)
the priests stick close as a brother
tighter than the sap in the pines
the platonic laugh of their fathers-in-law
tangled up in their lengthening vines..
the temperature crashed in their sanctuary
and the thermostat climbs in the street
up in the air in the pit of the stomach
the groundRAPIDunderYOURfeet
as the crust of the earth breaks outa the oven
th' water of the flood a flame
outa the dance hall is twistin' a shout
from white snakes venom white rain
as red scorpions mingle with locusts
on the corpses of chicken and eggs
th' sulfurous acids which croak us
like the nicotine sucked from the dregs
like the smokin' pipes of the factories
like drains pipin' sewage to lakes
while th' furnaces down at the foundry's
spew lava through the levies and breaks
while the ordinary vomits spectacular
and the lid blows off the tea kettle
the steam valve screams a vernacular
through the voice box of the melting of metal
the angel of death wants to meet you
in the midst of the clashing and banging
till silence sets in and the world doesn't spin
you are his since you left Jesus hanging
�2003 go
 
 

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