A Puking Full-Gorged Canker Blossom

I’ve many items to address, though time is wee.
Yet a fell wind blows so we shall see,
whether civilization today is wheeled to its hearse,
or mere links most morose presented in verse.

Ebola, what’s that? The memory doesn’t revive.
It’s mere local spice. No need to deprive,
yourself of a visit. It’s “vibrant and alive!”

Yes quite so, but I worry for the slaves.
Oh, don’t be a faggot you insufferable knave.
You sound like Zuckerburg, that corp/lib twit.
America doesn’t have tech workers! Wasn’t that a hit?

Perhaps mighty Vlad will come to liberate these shores.
Don’t forget the Fergusons when assigning bomber chores.
In the meantime, onto the cobweb I will catapult hate.
For our NSA friends, peering through Windows 8.

Maybe I will decamp–Flint sounds like the place.
Camden is just too dangerous–but I don’t see race.
We’re all really the same–except when we’re not.
Poor Hartford hasn’t enough whites to even tell them to rot.

Though one shouldn’t worry overmuch about aspirations in life.
You is what you is–and getting nothing but strife.
And with more criminal oppressed alighting each day,
republicans shun conservatives for fear of what they might say.

And the dementia doesn’t cease on this side of the pond.
Fat gypsies shear the British–with dupes’ pounds they abscond.
And now even Sikhs are supremacist white!
And “Germans” off to jihad, no liberals contrite
For the defecation they have buried the West within.
To their David Ruenzels, we play the violin.


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