Of all the myriad ways humans confuse themselves -
The apocryphal minds
The crooked ape argot
The words that plunder noses in pungent odor
The smells that douse ears with millions of watts
The sounds that arrest sights in diadem glares
The stares that stop all speech -
Of all these, only touch makes me feel those sonic booms
That bloom electric Mogul Atavism
Your Dream is a Libyan Dacoit Avowed
Your dream is a Libyan dacoit avowed,
A cacophony of the venal zenith,
A gift of the mighty wernher von braun
And though cosmic Mesopotamnia has intermiddetly cowed,
And we have slipped through time's jingoist aneoid, still-
Your dream is a libyan dacoit avowed.
And yes acerbic and sentient are the electric storm clouds,
Their existence, mechincal umlauts over your head