poem: beanpod dance moves

create your own world sez
marky z, a shaky proposition
that, i've schnizzed
the frontal lobes for just
the right egress this
ain't no simple dimes
we're countin, the vesper
queens have a way with you
they gonna badu
your bad ass all over
the governor's school, monmouth's
mighty cooty bag of
jelly bean metaphysics,
a presidential platter of
refried fussball, it ain't
in the midgetary brain waves,
the brian jones of poolside caviar,
i meant to ask
for the proper dinosaur
etiquette, i mean it did
cross my mind,
but that wallowing mist,
the beanpod saccharine
dance moves gave me
eventual pause:
you see the quandary:
we all live down
the dairy lanes,
we cast our visionary
piggie platters before
the gods of
voodoo seismographs, if
it ain't in the shutter,
cher, then it's
in
the shuttin up.