Energy from the band
Flows down and
Warms its assembled fans
Who've gathered for the show.
The music's ready to go
The greatest rock Star of all
Serenades Its billions, trillions of fans
This great life-rhythm growth-beat
Sets the whole show aglow.

Put THIS in your smoke and pipe it!
His desperate laugh, pitched higher
than a mushroom cloud,
beats on my eardrums for
five miles as I
spelunk the shafts of his retinas
into the glittering crystal caves, where
his brain gallery still displays
dusty paintings from brighter days.
Bacteria cross the desert
his crater-cheeks span,
many die of thirst.
He has no living skin left to feed them,
he, a dead planet, supports them no more.
Toxic waste secretes across his landscape
Pouring from ashen volcanic rises
on his sulfuric armscape.
I drive down the supply ship
with long needle-nose toward the insertion point.
And activate the plunger, one more
massive incoming of the poison fluid-cargo
spreads toxins in his inner atmosphere,
spouting from his underground vein-joint.

Schmaltz "po' a tree"
Words fall from their pens like plastic flowers from a conveyor belt.
"They look like flowers, they feel like flowers;
But smell 'em honey, them ain't real flowers!"
Every word they ink clinks like another zero on their paycheck,
Like another Hallmark card on mass produced store shelves
"And these shelves will last their business a lifetime! Guaranteed!"
And every word you buy
Is another "I love you, dear"
Another "I'm sorry"
They'll never hear, only see
pounded out from the heart
Of another smokestack factory.