"WHEN THE ASTEROID HITS"
When the asteroid hits
it won't matter
if the
Jews hate the Arabs
or
the Arabs hate the Jews;
it won't matter
if the Sunnis
hate the Shias—
or they hate them back;
it won't matter
which states
are red
or which states
are blue;
Republican,
Democrat,
gay or straight;
rich or poor,
infidel or saint—
and
what about Obamacare?
Hell!
No one will need it
because when the asteroid hits—
we'll all be dead.
END
"A CLICHÉ–RIDDLED BODY"
Pick a dark and deserted street,
pick a wee hour of the night;
look in a doorway,
a locked trunk
or in the tall grass—
and there you might find
a cliché–riddled body;
it could be
a mobster, a bum, a drunk,
a prostitute—
or some sucker
who was in the wrong place
at the wrong time;
but they'll all be
cliché–riddled bodies;
they're—
pushing up daisies,
dead as a doornail,
sleeping with the fishes;
they—
bit the dust,
bought the farm,
cashed in their chips,
kicked the bucket,
croaked,
gave up the ghost;
they—
paid the ultimate price
to ride the pale horse,
and—
no matter who they were—
they're now,
nothing more than—
a cliché–riddled body...
END