Piss Police by Alex Petkov
Beware the piss police – they prance and they pronounce.
Afraid they’ll frisk and seize, you’ll ration every ounce.
It’s proper protocol, you’re prohibited from this.
Beyond the gates of judgement is the nearest you may piss.
Proactive piss police – heads protrude to peek and probe;
They’ll inspect your privates promptly, deeming if they’re up to code.
Packing extra large at least, or you’ll be escorted out.
Only family-sized dicks are at this matinee allowed.
If you need to go, the sniffer dogs will pick the scent and bark,
they’ll alert the fuzz if you perch near the fence the dogs had marked.
Under pretext you’ve trespassed, piss profiling you’ve provoked,
profane terror to the nation, you have been pronounced as woke.
Beware, the piss police may infiltrate the pissing lines.
When the trousers drop, I prickle – bad portents slip down my spine.
Glance the penis of the squat man to the side, ejecting slop –
if it curves to the far-right, might be an undercover cop.
All while those who picture crosses, yelling pitchy at hotels
project, promoting all the waste and filth they’re able to expel.
It’s the type of protest piss police allow to pour the street.
Hold your piss or they will take it, like the world is their en suite.
Should you ponder why policed are those who liberation preach?
Cops pretend like Bob’s a Villain, and the press tries thus to teach.
It may be perceived a problem if you dare exist outside.
Even more so if you point to a proceeding Genocide.
A Petkov (he/him) is a queer immigrant living in the UK. He is a lover of genre fiction,
such as fantasy, sci-fi and satire. As a hobbyist writer, his creative passions span
across both poetry and prose, angst and humour.
