no chance
before the dust clears
on suicide bombs
the blood wiped off the tile
from this week’s horror show
the victims become talking points
for politicians and demagogues on fluff tv
for shitty poets with writer’s block
and short attention spans
their bloviating creating
enough pure energy
to make small nuclear bombs
that i’d love to have
shoved back into their mouths
before gently pushing
their inflated heads and egos
down deep under
the wine dark
quiet
sea
to burst
and pop
like fart bubbles in a dirty bathtub
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