Black Comedy

The outsiders and out-of-lucksters keep trucking into trauma,
going off the deep end.
The trauma units are manned with heavily degreed masters of mess you up methodology,
trained to emotionally and mentally muscle those who can’t get it mustered up.
Meanwhile reps from watch your step institutions get ominous eyed and ludicrious ,
blitzkrieg on their breath
blazing psycho paths in Homo sapien land
Coming to knock the potluck out of the picnic.
Conscience knocked unconscious.
In a state that's better to eat you with.

A deadly dumb mental illness.
Spreading faster than aids in Africa and amnesia in Amerika
No known pharmaceutical know to relieve the shrillness of the unfulfilled

Guys in suits of wool and venom,
sucking lemons in closets
Beyond satirical treatment,
They lobby their insane game--- circling the market square.
And from rented trucks,
rolling out the welcome weeder.

Seeming to be a variety of slime,
but with an enigmatic patch, an etching of empathy
flashing occasionally like Las Vegas trimmed on your your Christmas tree.
Overall tho’ , seeming to be of alien orientation,
humbug gone to hell in some 50’s horror flick.
The walking dead lead by an Evil One with an Elvis haircut,
the ones you wanted to see zapped by the ray gun
or or discombobulated in the lab.
They plow through the peripherals promoting the vendetta of fallen angels,
Machiavelli on a stick.
Its function: nab the neuroses and the noses of the disgruntled and noose their funk until functions are finalized in that-old- time-terror blend .

Gestalt without a fault or a release valve, therapy with a theory for everything,
preparing all the unprepared for their Cinderella shift up angst hill,
where they get to bite their bitterness with the bottom feeders.