There are these apocalyptic turds in
Space
Hurtling toward us
We give them the primetime
Time-slot
Tuesdays after SEX
And inser them with Mercury
Car commercials
Super sexy tanned and slipped
Spaced-super models
Before we all danced on the
Edge of the earth
And sacrificed 26 men in a submarine
Before WWII
We parked our cars on the edge of
The valleys of Mars to have
Sex like Tom Parris
And look half pretty naked in
Overflowing cities commercialized
Rush
Half erect
Our real-estate skyrockets
In between molestations the
Serial killer procreate we
Ejaculate, pollinate,
And play pool in small rooms of
Spain
And pray to the gigantic emptiness
To be sexy and skinny
Like the sticks and lipstick
On the T.V.
The fart expanding in the head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem