-- Oh pink bunny That thinks I lost my humanity Don't you know that I sail the sea's Of dreams In a rusted metal bath tub The remains of an incomplete Underwater submarine? Oh yes, you cry out Proclaiming that I am a machine. But, alas, you have not seen The spirit soul That held once the burned coal Of hateful revenge, Set ablaze long ago. Human cyborg plagued With the rushing flood Of emotional toxic blood The waters of past suffering That left the razor blade Cuts of the last crusade Which made the machine That you believe I am Indeed you do hallucenate The psychotic narcissism That is the cursed fate Cast upon the clan Named the black sheep Outcasts of society Confident you are But, you have not traveled far In the oceans of poetry. But still you place yourself As equal to the pirates. Manning battleship cruisers, Equipped with the weapons Needed to slay harlets, With sugar coated titles, And flower metals... The faded memory of hippies. Poem ranker kiddies Daring to stain the devine Writings of artists. You speak of style Yet, all the while There still lies An unfinished pile Of diverse form In your closet of Moth eaten wool clothing: The rags of a peasant Such things realized Are not seen as A battle hardened sailor In fine shape. But are known as Targets, virgin beauties To be raped, their tender lips Taped shut, the maiden heads Left savagely cut.