babble on, John

Spinning rite along, infinity is wound into
a discal wafer, which is wolfed down by
the top-cop, who drives
       round and round and round with
some shark-like mutant pisces mounted on
the death-exhausting rear end of his
ravenous machine.

I heard him say, "Let's send this fellow to
his maker. He will make all wrongs be right".

and left is right and right is wrong - SO WHAT?!

you look not up nor down but round and round
and when you are full-up you plod on down
the vectored [~peopled] road and 
     stuff yourself again!!!

aaaaAAAAAHHHHHH !!!    STOP !!!

we have not changed in tenthousand years  ...
         ( end of this part )


-----------------------------------------------------------

"babble on, John" is kinda in the middle
of a longer poem. I was just now thinking
about capital punishment while watching
"The Life of David Gale".

Sie-sie - Jim