Non-Erotic PoetryBoomer Armageddona liver-spotted claw
will pound a gavel into a
polished desktop mirror,
finally granting Charlie Manson
the parole he so richly
demanded.
Together with
a resurrected Dick Clark,
he leads an army of rejuvenated,
walker-wielding hippy corpses
in a Viagra-induced priapismic frenzy
raping and pillaging their way
through the unsuspecting Gen X and Y
villages, whacking all the (Social
Security reducing) little piggies,
driving the tattered remnants of their families
in a Trail of Tears
to the shores of the Great Lakes,
whose bottoms are already colonized by the
tech-savvy Millennials, their catbird seat
Alamo containing the world's last supply
of potable water and edible fish,
their final communion.
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