WHERE THINKING'S A CRIME

where thinking's a crime
where erstwhile the revered poet
his golden chime
falls upon audience of sullen withdrawn crowds
most brackish clime
spits ugly
with eyes that blackish shine
you fall back to wondering
in shakey repose
of sickly fearfully collective souls
of souls that huddle in bins
rodently cunning
gnawing and shitting
spread plague with their running
they splash in the sunlight and hurdle your spear
they fall down a bunghole and dissappear