I've come down from the tabulating Mount,
Mounted are my horns, tremulous my touch;
The internet Loves of which I've lost count
Twitch in memory a little too much.
Rail on, Demented One, the last boat has sailed;
Knotted underwear in mouth, at all you quail.
I converse with the Reaper, your number’s up;
Put your brittle dentures in a starry cup.
Your words, like mine, shall be legendary song
Remembered by those who snort from bold bongs.
You may well jest, but my legacy is made
From psychedelic bubbles, tart lemonade.
My time is at hand, omens shade the shades;
I'll stake bets on passing 'hos with French braids.
Roll up the carpet, I'm blowing this pop stand.
Let the ‘poet’ soothe with piteous gland.