Flu, Flarf, Barf,

Henry’s suffering from the flarf this week,
runny nose, runny ass, runny ideas
about the dolts wearing bolts, we’ve been told.

His doctor says take this, take that, do this, do that,
the bombs go off in the belly of his London,
the tube needs lube, the double-decker, wrinkled pecker.

Keats got off the bus just in time,
the roof flew skywards, the sides
went window-shopping for Twiggy’s skinny legs.

The Beatles played Revolution in Utopia,
Ringo dropped the gee from his name,
small explosions shaped like Rocky Raccoon,

Henry threw up as we speak, threw up Arab math.
Mr. Bones handed him the guitars
Lennon had once played upon, Yoko’s boco,

the oriental mental, scream dental,
and the black smoke rising above the English sky---
there’ll always be an England blowing up!