POWIP Piece of Work In Progress – Former Abode of Dan Collins

Oh, Death! Where Is Thy Lock-Box?

When I was a young man, plowing my daddy's field
Behind a mule, under the unforgiving sun,
Little did I dream that one day I'd invent the internet,
Or that Love Story would be written about me.
Later, George Bush stole the election,
And I grew fat and a beard, teaching somnolent students,
Political science at Princeton, till I
Latched on to this climate holocaust business.

My stupid falcon's not listening to me.
Doesn't it know I'm trying to save its ungrateful ass?

Papier mache-headed puppets march, spoiled children
Wave communist flags, and everywhere the Danish cops
Brandish nightsticks in the falling snow.
Phelim McAleer won't leave me alone.

What rough beast slouches off to Copenhagen to be born?
It looks like a polar bear. Albatross.
Lock-box.

Dan Collins

Dan Collins is a dude who blogs. He used to blog elsewhere. Now he blogs here.

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