Mother's in the cellar
and father's on the roof;
they are wearing jackets
that are bulletproof.
Toting guns like cowboys,
they declare with glee
that a new world order
with Trump will come quickly.
They feed us kids on sardines
and powdered milk -- that's all.
And we are drilled each morning
for invasion protocol.
It's getting kind of scary;
I wish the internet
had not made them desire
to own a bayonet!
I've thrown away a sofa;
I've thrown away a sink;
a pair of rusty fire tongs;
a coat that might be mink.
I set 'em on the curbside
to let the scroungers scrounge.
They congregate like barflies
at a cocktail lounge.
I've thought about my in-laws,
and how I wish that they
could also be discarded
on the street and hauled away . . .
Anthony Warner knew lizards from space/were coming to conquer the whole human race/and so he decided to blow up a truck/to show all those reptiles that they'd have bad luck/messing with humans, cuz we are so crazy/we act like the movies of Mr. Scorsese.
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