"Don't Test Me, Pro," and "Toyi-toyis R Us"

Don’t Test Me, Pro

The outcry of
the
       outrés is                an
       oeuvre
that                    has gone
                                  on
            way
    too                        long.
   To diss my abstract
                        object
                   is               an
                        abject exception
    to
the working       class       action lawsuit
                 by
the demonstrative
       remonstrance
                   dances
                       of evil red, white, and blue beasts that
                                                            rule
      from                                           luxury
                                                            suites.
                                                   Sweet,
                                                                            but
                                                        we’re           not
             going
       to                                               be
                complicit in our
                complaints against chemical
                   restraints. If you  disagree,
               Mr.
                                                         T
                                                       will
                                                          take a
                                                        strike
                                                          3
 
       under a
demurring
    mural in the midst of a               black
     panther        Biden                    speech
     purring                                      street
      theater                                    melee wrapped
            in  a                                filigree
            condom
              of uprising
                       tide
                   learning
                      pod
                       challenged
                       children.
       But              I
        suppose you’ll
          oppose  my inveighing
                             investigation
                            into Michael
                                    Vick
                                     via parvo
                            infected   photobombing
                                                     bloodhound
                           anvils                bought
from
 Timothy
    McVeigh        and                       sold
to
the
 grotesque
 PETA
 Protestant
                                            Provos,
culminating          in a
fulmination of
funky
feta                                                cheese
fuss
from
the violent
   Oval
   Office,
        whilst
               singing                             peace
to
the Middle                                        East
                                                            as
 Ahmadinejad
                                                         blasts
                                                            us
             in
the globalize
       hope
       head. If
                life
      gives you
                lemons,
     squirt ‘em in
    your
      third   eye,
        or
      go
     broke
     being
     woke.

Toyi-toyis R Us

The riot police’s armored vehicles
              prevent
the                      apartheid  suicide of
                                        disobedient
                                transcendentalist
                                               hermits
who don’t have a                    permit
    to           take  up
                             residence
                                  in
the   midst of counter-culture
                     insurgents
                           against
                        capitalist
                        surgeons
who                     dissect
     our                alt-rights
                                      as
we             pray
     to
the reformation
    congregation
      to                   ferment
         revolution
while   horses
                piss
            pollution
                       on
                        Haymarket
                           anarchists
                              against
                           an
                           international
                      army
                           of
                           incontinence.
                       May
the              immaculate virgin
                        vigilante vigils
                            silently   rain
                         on
the hash                    smoke
      clash           of      motorcade
                                       charades
while our
     prayer conference
                         recanting
                          chanting
                          of
                   denouncement
                                   men
                                   march
      to
     Hobby
     Lobby
      to
     loot
the boot camp
                     petition
                leaflets
that              fell
                    from
the David Lynch trees
       to              appease
the injection        of
           opium war
        ships
      into             a
               sublocade
                            of
               sleeping
    dragons
       who
        are      trying
to   have
        a
  romantic
       candlelight
       dinner        of bath   salted
       rubber
       bullets
       while  playing
  possum      and    eating sacred
                    animals  in
        suffrage             chambers
          trying
to                                        send
         letters
to
congress
to
  address
the
    incarceration of
AIDS-riddled
           radical
 cheerleaders
that  ride            on
 cheetahs
to      a critical
       mass   held by St. Peter
          as     he
                                     petitions
the gates             of
                  hell’s
              angels.
        A
       fat-shaming
                maimed
             Vietnam
              vet     who fled
to
Tehran   wearing
 Jesus
     sandals
    was     snagged
        in a scandal
   while    vandalising
the           Vatican
  with  graffiti   in
the           form
             of  a         dog-eared
                                  treaty
that
 he                          extracted
                from
                                     a
                                     good
                                     book
                        burning
   while           standing
                         on
                   a
      heavyweight soap  box
                 whilst
                           trying
to                           purge
                      his
                         sins
                           in
                    a hazmat
                     samizdat
                            zine
                              suit
                                   given
to                      him  
             by   a
not-                                  in-
             my-
         backyard             biting
                                rat
         pack
       attack                  bulldog
               pound         pulpit
                                   racist
                                activist
           wrapped               in
               a
     desecrated                   flag
who
was                               trying
to                                          get
              reparations
without            conscientious
                 taxation.