Hello Dalai

just how amped ARE you with that amphalang on your thang?
and will you be wearing a thong,
showcasing the dingus on your dong?
dude, that shit is heavy.
so tell me, how does it hang?

the abominable rock lobster loch ness minister of defense
is selling a free mandala
of Winnie the Pooh and the Dalai llama (hel-lo, Dalai!)
breedng in captivity
playing hide the solemnity
they're putting every last comma
in the kama sutra singalong
and now I know who put the Brahma in the
Rama llama ding dong ditches
their pooh sticks are getting too big for their britches
behind-the-scenes heavy breathing
like the Wizard of Oz., in lamaze
relax, he's only teething
cuz he pities the faux low caste of les Miz,
doing Prince's greatest bonghits
in a great big hunka junk or smack or frigate,
some kinda ketch-penny pretty kettle of fish and chips shit
--or whatever we can get away with,"
he said with relish
and put some mustard on it, you could hear it sizzle
--Streeeuhhhh!! Yer outta there!!!
oh, but the catcher drops the ball!

...and the kvetcher in the wry
frequently gets highly stylized
(i took the high road,
and you took the bong load--
the onliest way we can see beauty
in this naked lunchlady city)
two roads diverged in a wood
and i, i hit the tree
and that has made all the difference
baby, i can drive my own autonomous carcass
around in a series of circles
in an endless, jerking Heironymous Bosch
and nonsense circus
i will do it anon, and i will do it anonymously
...actually, i'm a city mouse, not an alcoholic's anonymous
it's my party, and i do it eponymously
i'll pry if i want to

I object, your Honor.
This is bad gerontolgy.
This is a man from Wisconsin badgering the witness.

This is Natty Bumpit
preaching from his fictional pulpit

The witness then started singing, your Honor.
--He what?!

Oh shit, am i making you trip?
are things getting jiggy in your jiggly wiggy?
on the fritz, on the blink
on the fritz lang bang boom
am i making you nervous?
are you saying saints preserve us?
i'monna Tyrannasaurus wreck shop
do my T. Rex at the T stop
and leave teeth marks on your Pyrex,
Flame on!!, take a hot hit
of that boom bap hip hop shit
On the fritz the cat tip
i planz to hitz the catnip,
and become so unbearably hip
to the hop skip and a jump
that i stop, drop and roll
with the strut stride stroll
when i hear the trunks bump
to the boom ride role...
not even remotely under control

so indescribably hip to the fritz the cat tip
that i must chase my tale
and rub my whiskers on females
saying word word word WORD to yer mother, baby
someday some way i'll have a night of my own
where only people named nate van til will peform
they will have to hold the phone
and conform to the same subjective norm,
and sleep in the same dorm
and when they go to bedlam
it be the sheerest bunkum
(if they don't hum hokum,
we may have to de-funk 'em)

look what that darn cat left
in his Schrodinger's catbox!
and what's the probability
that he drug it in through the catflap?

...he's had his catnip
and now he's having his catnap