#   A   B   C   D   E   F   G   H   I   J   K   L   M   N   O   P   Q   R   S   T   U   V   W   X   Y   Z  
No More Babies For You
As I raised up
Got up from my seat
On my luxury airline crusier

I walked up the narrow alley
Between the rows of sun-burnt travelers
Old folks with sorry ass peanuts and bearded women
Sunflower hats and greying eyeballs

Seeing the sun glare across the left wing into my iris
And on the right bolts of lightining flashing in my path
Ignitining the flame of my actions
About to become real and in memory

I walked up to her
The flight attendant ahead
In front of the plane near the cock-pit
She stands there as if she awaits my pleasant suprise
She stands in her corporate uniform

I go straight to her
And slam my mother fuckin fist right in her
Deep into her ovaries
Below her chest
Right there
And in my devil language
In my yells of horror
And red glow of death, I yell,
"NO MORE FUCKIN BABIES FOR YOU!!"

Fearless and trembiling in tension
Like a roaring animal full of disease and plague
I take my tough macho bad ass mother fuckin punching baby self
Back to my seat and enjoy my ride
Quietly





 1999 David Greg Harth
99.11.23.01:20:08@296NYC
99.12.02.22:09:45@296NYC