Iceman

He is a porcupine Armed with lethal quills You massage his butts Butts from which comes atomic bomb He fumes and shoots himself Apparently a terrorist attack He is a wild domestic bird With a spiky beak that pecks not on faded pupils Eyes of a wild cat His hands bleed with honey He tastes it not He is a scorpion of the plain He stretches his wrinkled tail The tail which is lethal The tail which does not retaliate It only stings his back His face is the mighty warmth of the Sun Warmth that does not melt ice His face grows kales and cabbages he tastes not See stalks of sugarcane on this dry spell Do guard this gezira from the iceman He spits beer and spirits He indulges in them And urinates with his belt His mouth is a heap of tusks Which earns him no sterling pound You iceman with coded language You are the cradle of dismay Your footprints are mass graves You laugh when he removes his trousers And orders it to enter his wallet Are you a wizard? You call him a jackass To cry beer and spirits Before he scavenges on his own carcass Yet you fracture his bones and suck oil You wizard must die of asthma