Behold! The ghosts of malice are meeting
across cross-words; like phalluses greeting,
poised of poison pens by two.
This is a gift from me to you.
I pose my poisoned pen erect on
the chance that a glancing interjection
might more mighty make cross-words
than all the fighting of crossed swords.
Stop the violins! I'm saying,
Hello, Dolly! A llama's spraying
spittle with kibble bits, and peace is
nothing but my Master's thesis.
across cross-words; like phalluses greeting,
poised of poison pens by two.
This is a gift from me to you.
I pose my poisoned pen erect on
the chance that a glancing interjection
might more mighty make cross-words
than all the fighting of crossed swords.
Stop the violins! I'm saying,
Hello, Dolly! A llama's spraying
spittle with kibble bits, and peace is
nothing but my Master's thesis.