make it ours

Bully Boy Racers

Boy racers set
In Sevastopol—
Grandiloquence
& eminence—
On the blur frostway line.
Two, three,six,ten & o n e (last)
One.
Boom. Boom.
Vroom. Zoom
With a tambor & villainy.
Clearing out the country
Side. Who you with, sonny? Who
You with?
I’m with thee man
With the shashka
Out to strafe this land
Down
To the bedrock.
Aegean. Black. Caspian.
How’s that for an abecedarian?
How’s that for reach?
Remember the Atlantic
To Pacific boy racers?
Get behind the tank
& follow me down.
We gonna’ slap their hands
Clean of what they hold
& make it ours.
Take. Take. Take. ‘Cause
We can. Bully boy racer,
Bully boy, boohoo!
Manifest
Destiny. We’ve
Seen this B-4.
The bully boy
Ploy.
Always
Unjust.
Always
A
Deadly
Bore.

“I want someone who will stand on my shoulders and punch God in the face.”

— Garth Simmons / Hole Punch

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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