METRIC

My new line of racist handbags sell really well on the Upper East Side.
They even outsold Monica Lewinsky's.
They feature the odor of a Pakistani cabdriver's cigar 
dunked in vinegar and doudie.
Dick Cheney bought one the other day 
and suddenly he's nominated for Vice President:

Rolling eyelids pecked by the humidity of the week,
10 pound eyebrows, slinking nastily down my face,
Breshnev, I pity your predilection for salmon flavored underwear,
But curse not the wretched urchins who crush your legacy.

There is freedom within, and bondage without,
And trashy little munchkins nibbling on your kneecaps,
And mosquitos drinking from your hips,
And landlords sipping away your time,
And politicans licking up your taxes,
And merry little pharmalogical magicians 
making you find new ways to escape,
And Martha Stewarts showing you new ways 
to trim the fat off of your liver.

Bullshit planted beneath your skull like American History,
Reverse my history to Ellis Island and give me back my name,
Cause I invented the meter, the gram and the liter,
And you robbed with the mere addition of an A and a K.

{POETRY}