Today might be,
the happiest of all.
Today may be,
the start of the ball.
Today could be a Sentients dream,
a ceremonial satire.
Set to relax
and dream.
Today could be,
Sapient control.
But did they know,
we rock and we roll.
We’re well around,
we’re saying grace.
we’re loving light,
we are a – Costians delight.
The Jews know,
Their valuations.
Constantly rebalancing,
finding equations.
The Americans know,
they bought the gun.
They should know,
when their time is done.
The Europeans couldn’t care,
They’ve divvy up.
What’s left
with what’s fare.
The Pacific nations,
are having a go.
defining how,
we take this show.
The New Zealanders,
Canadians,
Australians too,
all seem stuck.
Without the adhesive glue.
The South Americans,
all wrangling about.
They’ve got something,
worthy to shout.
The middle east,
if you don’t mind.
Sorted their crap,
into mankind.
But the Costian way,
is not to judge.
Just calculate the dates,
When God is above.
There’s a new star,
covered in shame.
polluted with insanities,
their family has gained.
There’s three wise men,
coming to me.
Sharing their wisdoms,
sharing their tea.
They aren’t called wise,
by their very own mouths.
Its those three wretched wrenches,
touting their wowsers.
With pants and trousers,
dressed to the hilt.
not one hair divided,
their missions they’re tout.
Were to save the land,
repair the ways.
Of the mistakes of past,
and to fix up our gaze.
See what its costing,
see the damn age.
Hear all the screaming,
feel their ramp page.
Discussions of topics,
only first heard.
Did you think wise,
To get undisturbed.
Standing straight,
tight and tall.
crossing nothing,
except to cross over the floor.