BusRiders Across The Cable For HighWays To Send

My Split-Haired Future,
Nomadic And UnJustified,
A Warring Syndicate Countering Distraction And Uniform,
No Cripple In Hunting As A Sport,
I Could Develop Antlers If Not The Horns For Debate,
And In That Serene Gap Before The Storm Leave The Judge To Cower,
Under Cover Of His Framed Fury Of EyeBrows,
To The Termite-Ingested Gods Of Egyptian HousePets And Crocodile-Shoe'd Waders Of Dramatic Pause,
They Who Let The Devil In... If Only He Be As Suited Through Public Discourse And Hollywood Tragedy...
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As The RedWoods Sap-Out While Being Tapped For Collagen,
Summons Get ReWorded And Shoved Through The Cracks Of BathRoom Windows...
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ManKind Shrivelling And Recedeing UpOn Forceable Suggestion Of That Higher Whore,
One With A Devotion To Public Speaking And To Rare Plumage With Forgiveable Logic To Mass-Suicide,
For Clay Jars AWait On Dusty Displays For Donors And Dog-Sitters...
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Scar-Faced  And Vaulted To UnCover For The Sons Of Geraldo,
They Sweat Mustached In Hubris Broadcasting To A World Less Than Perfect In Attendance,
Mouthing Out The Residuals For The Deaf To Figure Out,
A Search-Light Shineing A Bridge For Souls Across The Lifeless Void,
InTo The ClassRoom For The Dark Ages To Appear Ass-Up,
For Those Of Them With Tickets And Prizes Under Each Seat...
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And For Their Tiny Claws... Clutching Rocky Porous OutCrops In UnderGround Grottos,
Then To The Migrateion... To Conquer And Curve A Flight...
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Towards The Moths As They Do Their Damned Best To Create Hurricanes
AWay From The Fresh Wings Of True Monarchs...
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Who... Much Like Humanity... Are All Truly Dead When ASleep.