Wednesday, June 22, 2005
The Body Electric Is Testing Positive
Were Walt Whitman alive today
He'd write a poem designed to say:
The whole world has HIV,
And you don't want to fuck with me.
He'd read his poem on talk TV,
With Geraldo on MSNBC.
Young, black, from Queens, and gay,
You'd know him by what he had to say:
Don't kiss me on the lips! That stuff
Is out! Just jerk me off! E...nough!
He'd tell you how it had to be,
As he read his poem on cable TV.
He'd be "into hip-hop;" Hip
To its links to jazz; Whit
His nickname; Dread
His hair; Frankness his daily bread.
He'd read his poem on MTV
And warn the world it had HIV.
He'd write a poem designed to say:
The whole world has HIV,
And you don't want to fuck with me.
He'd read his poem on talk TV,
With Geraldo on MSNBC.
Young, black, from Queens, and gay,
You'd know him by what he had to say:
Don't kiss me on the lips! That stuff
Is out! Just jerk me off! E...nough!
He'd tell you how it had to be,
As he read his poem on cable TV.
He'd be "into hip-hop;" Hip
To its links to jazz; Whit
His nickname; Dread
His hair; Frankness his daily bread.
He'd read his poem on MTV
And warn the world it had HIV.
