A Child's Wasteland

To T.S.Elliot

Cummer is the cruelest season

as I see my religion

falling down to my ankles

along with my Scoobie Doo skyvies.

The Lord is not present at the moment

as another Lord prepares

for the invasion of my anus

and pushes forward unceremoniusly

HURRY UP, ELIJAH

TIS GETTING LATE, MY CHILD!

My leftovers try to recover

even years after all that blood

all those cummings

a child's wasteland

untouched by Exra Pound's much editing.

HURRY UP, SWEET ELIJAH

TIS GETTING LATE, SWEET ONE!

If I cannot be Elliot

the least I can do is keep trying

like many rapings

to reach the garden

at the other side of this wasteland.

"Rain, rain

go away

sweet Elijah

wants to play."

HURRY UP, ELIJAH

TIS GETTING LATE MY CHILD!