WRITE A CZECH

Big liars wet their backs 
with the crusty mayonaise at the bottom of the jar, 
And you sit there judging me?

The Breadwinners win the bread,
Crusty in their innocence, have they forgotten that they are slaves?

Rhythmic tattoos crop up on her skin like Big Black leeches, 
So take your tobacco-stained, picket fenced lips,
And attach them slightly to your nearest Korean Grocer, 
That's where the money's at Honey.

Blown over by the apocalytptic ramblings of the latest hip slacker, 
Why does India food always ruin my Khaki pants?

And when your parents were ashamed,
You explained it was all about fame, 
just look at Brandon and Dylan,
Bob, Look at em' go.......

Don't worry about 6 million guilt, Uli, just write a Czech....

{POETRY}