When Models Dress Like Ho Chi MInh

The comodification of revolution.
……
When Models Dress Like Ho Chi Minh

The red rag crack of dawn’s arrested
Pagoda bathroom scoured and tested
By Buddha’s police-shaped evening ghouls
Bagging bullets to fill their holes.

Buddha bought a house in France
And every Sunday irons his pants
Because satori don’t mean a thing
When models dress like Ho Chi Minh.

Ho Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh
Don’t he look dapper?
Ho Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh
Here comes the chopper

As fashion kobolds in Gilda-jackets
Intra-clam in junket packets
Razor cream ooze of maddened couples
Pinned together at the nipples.

Why in hell strut toward perfection:
Kills the engine of erection
Satori it don’t mean a thing
When models dress like Ho Chi Minh.

Ho Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh
Those cool pajamas
Ho Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh
Who needs the drama?

Crystal meth and Christo wrappings
Dominatrix tin foil trappings
Swill the money-flavored yogurt
Lounging in your platinum togas

Where’s the Beef-a-Roni honey
Talking pigs eat talking money
Satori it don’t mean a thing
When models dress like Ho Ch Minh

Ho Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh
What a winner
Ho Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh
Get dressed for dinner