Do Not Missile Babies

Try to ping instead of ring
don't wake up sons
and daughters
a haughty crowd
at very best
don't need dad.

Love the babies
till the end and more
DNA in there
with the many others
a hit parade of moms

and, of course, my father.  

No one has the money
we're all broke as hell
as is most everyone
missiles eat the Dell.
Arching up there
over clouds a sight
you never see
unless you live

in great lands
Heaven's Doorstep
real estate for free.

Places there are
so close to God
beachfront Amazon
or southern FLA
USA

the pythons were rezoning. 

Until the Cottonmouths
decided they were good
for lunch. 

Python in the morning
the horror now is brunch. 

War is eating families
a moment for the thought
I am a six toed pussy
but at least I know

Do not mist the babies
the future's not for lunch.