The Slate

Which Brand Name should we choose, and does it matter?

Turn on the lights and watch the roaches scatter,

such a crass and self-important crowd,

ignorant, belligerent and loud.

As from a clown car they keep streaming,

strident, raving, darkly scheming,

smug and white, convinced they're right,

they all compete to lead the fight.

Line 'em up together, take your pick.

They all add up to zero in my arithmetic.

Whichever one is picked to lead the Wrecking Crew. 

I'm with the other team, the ones they're out to screw.

Wriggle

WRIGGLE

Wriggle, wriggle, little bug

whom I discovered when I dug

an inch or two into the ground

and came upon your teeming town,

workers streaming to and fro

with guards to show them where to go.

Medic squads were on the scene

and crews to keep the hallways clean.

Your mother-queen was in her bed

giving birth while being fed;

attendants scurried 'round her side

wiping clean her swollen hide.

The royal perfumes of command

direct the work of every hand.