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April 28, 2014

The Cat

I wonder if the Taser’s a high-tech new age cat.
Snakes out on a wire with a high voltage lash.
Nine tails into one, shoots
Out twenty feet,
shiny sharp barbs,
spear through clothes into meat.

They don’t need a triangle to stand victims to,
case they feel faint before floggin’s through.
Flipping the holster, Wyatt Earp has his way.

Victim’s St Vitus dancing display,
cowers subdued inert on the ground.
Easy picking for handcuffs,
paddy wagon comes round.

The floggers hit hard, with their high voltage lash,
a second stroke causes a crap in the daks,
gun-slingin’ Deputies push their way through the pack,
tase ’em,
arrest ’em,
chucked in the back.

Punishment’s meted out on the spot.
Indelible print on body and mind.
The floggers are in,
flaying their cats,
tase ’em,
tase ’em,
shouts from the pack.

Bloodthirsty buggers
Dingo-ing their prey,
tase-wire arcs out,
barbs connecting the shock.

I wonder if the taser’s a high-tech new age cat,
arced out on a wire with a high voltage lash.


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