OOGA-BOOGA

I

As Fred writes, ‘the world will end tomorrow,’
The Earth tucks her balls and drops off
The diving board’s edge but then pops back up
Because it’s a ball of mostly trash and oxygen.

Walking around as penguins
After the end
We won’t remember
How to talk, how to fly

And will deserve it.
Wearing a tuxedo
And buck-naked
At the same time.

Haha!, God’s a bitch–

You drop off a melting glacier,
Try to cup your balls,
But your wings are a stitch
Too short.

AHHHH.

II

You open your mouth
But forget the words
Which were supposed
To roll out of it. ‘Apoca-

poca Poca’ is all that rolls
From your lips out.
Praise Allah,
Praise Buddah,

Praise John the Baptist,
Praise Jesus Christ
And whatever mutation
Of Bearer of Light–

Who took it too far
Into the red zone,
Or just sat down
Doing nothing at all.

III

‘I don’t know where I’m going with this’
Should be written in red
And snuck into the New Testament.
Yes, as I testify–the Hell

We will kindly inherit.
It will hit us like a piece
Of cubism titled “Malaria”
That nobody bought

Because, because, because
We will all be in it. God’s a bitch
And I’m in love–like a penguin
Following his sweetheart off

A glacier.

IV

You open your mouth
And let out a scream
Without the words.