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POEM: lipstick is poison

This is a found poem. A man sat across from me on the subway and said these words exactly in this order. I just set them as a poem. I love New York City.

lipstick is poison

a woman’s pocketbook is a transmitter
she wants to leave the fucking book at your house

and then a government missile
will blow up your house

women are government agents
secret agent man

after 10,000 years, rebel command
will be able to beat back the government

proton torpedoes
the world belongs to us

whoever possesses proton torpedoes
will be able to rule the world with an iron first

women are government agents
secret agent man

Published in My poems New York City Poetry

One Comment

  1. Hmmm…..ranting as poetry? I suppose. Perhaps Glenn Beck would be more palatable if he were interpreted by Rod McKuen.

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