WORD PLAY
Acquire a choir,
Mormon Tabernacle will do,
with its sacred sounds,
Vienna Boys will not,
with it pedophilic overtones.
From axon to dendrite
without a synapse between
as we circle the sun in summersault.
Hark, hark, a quark,
millions of them
orbiting your protons.
The spin is in
as well as out,
unbeknownst to the masses
immobile and seemingly safe
in their too, too solid flesh
as they chant Noel in unison.
Herd melodies are sweet,
but autonomous tunes are sweeter.
No comments:
Post a Comment