if thoughts were bees
the hives would all be empty
that sit upon their vulturous shoulders
peering out into the desolate sea
they've created in their honeyless lives
with their empty hives
the monsters and bears
have licked the bowl clean
and demand more and more
down you paint your face
before the inflated giants
who radiate with chemical smiles
oily cake is all they serve
at their red born banquets
of which hogs will have none
what they won't sweep under
the rug or waves of the sea
all they've milked of bee pee
they cheer their army of marionettes
into public squares or out their orifice
to overlook what now is naught
so soon the death of bees
the death of thought
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