Needle down
Twist around.
Now you’re talking.

Saw whirring
through the bone.
Keep it rocking.

Wrists tied twice
to the stone
Drop it down,
yank the moan.

We’re monsters on safari
In ill-fitting
pin-stripe suits
In ink-stained
dirty collared
dress shirts.

We’ve mastered every combination
And watched down every lane.
We’re pulling up the rear boys
There’ll be a show tonight boys.
For sure.

A single malted whisky
with scotch to rub it down.
Now gather ’round my pretties
we’ll whoop and spin the town.

I’m berserk for all this
Just crazy for the win.
The answers they’re all falling
like manna safely in.

Poem BW or AMW depending.
But copyright must fall to AMW, for being real as day