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The river was rainbow stew, the fishes choked and cursed. |
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The thirsty dogs spat fire, rolled in glue, |
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then they burst. The fur balls flying, trees were dying-- |
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dandelions were crippled, bald . . . |
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We saw it all in colour--now we're waiting for the cloud. |
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A mother forcefed baby milk which ticked and bubbled black. |
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She sank it back with plastic pills although it stank . |
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. . seemed thankful. Rolled up in her sack, she won't be back, |
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she won't grow old . . . We saw it all in colour-- |
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now we're waiting for the cloud. And crocodiles were sprouting |
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wings. Dead sheep filled the fields. The children rode on locusts |
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and threw slings at anything that could be killed |
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and eaten raw. No weeping sore, no claws, |
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no balls . . . We saw it all in colour, now we're waiting for the cloud. |
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We're told it could be 15 days, we're busy digging holes . . . |
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The deep ones for the pure, selected--shallow ones for old and |
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sick, the derelicts, the poor, the junkies, criminals, the whores. |
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There's more, there's red and yellow, black and blue. |
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There's me, there's you. (Waiting for the cloud.) |
