My migraine asks the Chicken why
The Walrus crossed the Rubicon.
“To meet the Carpenter,” replies
The Romaine lettuce Brutus knifed
Into the Caesar’s salad bowl.
“But kings partake of cabbages,”
The chicken’s noting from the coup,
Forgetting once the falling sky,
The mistranslated Carpenter
Is propping on his Cross to bear.
The red sea pumping to my head
Is splitting down the middle path
The OG listicler had shown
To faithful friends and sociopaths.

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