linted tinmen hustle saints for coffee from the realm of jive
and travel out the bowties of grammar to a land of slang-bait

rapping the towels to divine a rumpus meter shakes the clouds
but flings a whetted penis from inhuman contradictions

stale fidelity pumps the widget's gasoline up at wicca-women
exalted by unbroken juju-chants that itch of cool saliva

voyage longer out of soily power and door-to-door sales
that mock the jism of a lanky lizard spanking hot surrender

peopled angels scrape the heavens in guttural exaltation
hoisting the dice of hell through hokey-pokey ringlets

sup those cubes on rancid rubroot of satan's brother
and bog the Hudson River sans warm sheets or blankets

fizzle ginger tin farts at leftovers of presidents aghast
to foil the morning syrup from its course of snotty danger