Free Cee a Poem You Should Let Your Children Read-Maybe They'Ll Get It

A WORLD WHEREIN WOLVES HAVE BREASTS page 1 If only I could tell you to where it is headed But, my son, the concept is foreign to my mind Were I able to I would forecast a future where nothing is dreaded And the kind of world I will leave behind But I really don’t have a f*cking clue I mean right now this country gulps down gasoline the way I pour vodka into my already diseased liver To the max, man And today I heard a professional something or other predict that pretty soon this world will not only contend with an energy crisis But it will soon to be warring between towns, cities and countries Not only for oil But for water You know, like that overpriced liquid fraud from France fools drink because they think it comes from some secluded spot off the Seine Well, they’re all insane As is the price this planet will one day pay And it’s all yours, my son Yours and everyone You and all the people who better start doing some rational thinking Because, as far as I can tell, this country, like it’s economy, is headed for hell while it’s sinking And sinking fast hour by hour Unless there is some intervention by the higher power an intervention for sleep and sheep And speaking of sheep Beware the shark in sheep’s clothing The Trojan House And the transvestite wolf walking around in grandma’s over-sized panties and firm control bra “My Grandma, what big breasts you have” Page 2 It’s all part of the neurotic Moronic Frenetic Kinetic Cosmic Catastrophic Chaotic Manic And panic stricken globe we were gifted with the one that now stands in jeopardy of too many maladies, not enough cures, and a persistent rash under the armpit of Atlas While people in Iran pay a sixth of what we pay for the gallons of gasoline that Americans abuse with greed and a gargantuan disregard for the future That is, until another fuel burning behemoth that flies the un-friendly skies finds another skyscraper that points the way to heaven And falls all to hell Because of Muslim morons who want to be martyrs It’s the almighty Allah vs. the almighty Dollah So, my son, please don’t ask me what to do Answers are the one thing I am fresh out of It shatters me to think of the world I’ll leave to you But oh, how I wish it were a world quilted by love © 2012…copyright PHREEPOETREE…~free cee!~