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Spaghetti knots

the future prime minister

i am not worried for the future

for there will be a time

when things are so bad and depraved

that the poor will have

no more to eat

than the rich

my only worry is

that when it happens

there will be little meat

and too much fat

for sustenance

*

inspired by Zoe Leonard’s 1992 poem ‘I Want A Dyke For President’:

i want a prime minister who says he can tell it like it is and admit that he rarely tells it like it is. i want a prime minister who was he only after a sex change. i want a prime minister who sometimes still runs around naked in his bra and panties and remembers what it means to what to forget. i want a prime minister who says he isn’t a leader but just a person who worked four jobs to feed three kids, who spent the years 13-16 fighting off an irresistible urge to punch everything, who when she was 19 tried to kill herself with pills and woke up in herself and her waste and wanted something else now that she had been baptized in vomit and piss. i want a prime minister who wasn’t baptized. i want one who hates religions but loves the religious, who has never prayed but who will take prayers when they’re offered. i want a prime minister who drank too much. i want one who accidentally farted in a loud press conference during the talks of invading some country or another and blames it on someone else. his red-faced, swearing-out-loud press secretary, for example. i want a prime minister who doesn’t want to invade some country or another, for there is too much going on already here. i want a prime minister who is exhausted with here. i want a president who wants me to want something in my prime minister. and i want a prime minister who wants something in themselves, something unalterable, unwavering, totally them.

a fart could work, as long as a press secretary is nearby.

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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