as a puppet on strings.

puppet. made of wool. some wood perhaps,
even has some wings ‘n’ things
even has an aileron.

osama bin laden
equated with me, when we all know
i wanted it to be ernie, all the time.

well i’m free as a bird. now.
i like the way i can say certain things,
then just turn on my own words …

what a bastard! they decry.

what a total bastard that guy
and he’s not even dead yet.
deathwish cannot be granted.
‘not good enough to expire still,
you have years left to bore them with.’

life …^. is like a pair of dice.
you get to throw once or twice
depending on the scene.
then you gotta come clean …

preferably with a sanitary wipe.

I saw an epitaph with a single name,
all it said was ‘Bert’, engraved, just ‘Bert’.
What is wrong with being named ‘Bert’?
Why is it such a social issue? Why is Bert

so evil?

Usually poetry has some kind of form or rhyme or meter.
or whatever — but poems about Bert have no such structure.
Bert, an evil entittty, can proceed ‘Willy Nilly’, a song about
whales that he likes to bring up often.

so evil.

Like I say, his gravestone has been carved here for anyone
to come and see (before bedtime for little babies). Like I say,
we used to share an apartment together for ages. Rubber ducky?
We used to have a Rubber Ducky. Where is that now, Bert?

so evil!