Freak Engine

On the moon, everyone votes
For the skewer. That’s because
On the moon, everyone gets the free tote
With purchase, containment
And a hanky full of votive nails.

In the freight to the moon
Everyone hammers on the walls
Well most everyone, the one guy
Who’s gone nutso-so-zombie
Is making the mall turnips
Scramble back into their brain shells.

Moon squadrons scramble out of caves
Built in the sides of craters. One
Invasion goes smooth as a severed hand.