Hurricane Of The Headless Chicken Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Extreme actions have gotten you defunct,
Sweet lady of wild freedom,
Swinging like a b$tch-swung censer by the hopping
Priest,
First to the left and then to the right:
From the hillbillies to the huckster darkies,
Blowing your nose straight through
The freedom night;
And I have nothing more to say to you:
Grey haired, and quietly scarred, what more could
I say to you to keep you from straying from
My libertarian yard.
As long as I keep myself unmolested I can keep my
Own country in the wild and extravagant
Yard,
Stroking my pink flamingo and cursing the free birds,
Biding my time,
Practicing delayed gratification in the eye of a
Hurricane of the headless chicken.