Patty cake, Patty cake…
Na ah, Hell no –
this is no time
for nursery rhymes
or stupid little
bullshit games.
We are not here to knead bread –
it was all stolen
long ago
by The Villain,
leaving us
without the means
to make our doughnuts.
There is a baker’s dozen,
along with five aces
from a rigged hand,
shoved down our throat
in the form
of a hollow-point nuclear missile
dreamed up
by the unholy vibrations
of The Chaos State,
supported by all the mindless minions –
the vampires, vultures and leeches –
that serve the wicked system
and are always aiming
to lace their fucking fangs
into my bleeding heart veins
in an effort to get a reaction.
Well, here’s my reaction…
Bah! Bah!
Away!
Get off me!
Homey don’t play that.
I’m not some punk clown
you can walk all over
without expecting
some karmic repercussions
to come back around your way.
Look here –
I dug you a grave.
Twelve feet underground it goes,
twice as deep
as anyone else
has ever been buried,
because, yes,
I really do hate you that much…
with a passionate fervor
that is rivaled only
by the violent love
I feel for all those
within my tribal circles.
This tug-of-war is over.
The center cannot hold?
Good.
Tear it down.
We’ll build a new one.