Spinning Top Part II made by Doris Day

Spinning Top Part II made by Doris Day

Doris Day is since nineteen-twenty-eight,
an earless Mickey mouse and a self born, 
Hollywood womb; with two for one sales rates.
Thoughts that she was created, she does scorn;

"never listen to you, male intern Nurse."
"No male doctor, will ever spin my top."
But, as spontaneous seeds this topped Earth's
amino acids keep spinning non-stop.

No foghorned Francis  Bacon zapped the Sea;
then there was Day, Empty Hollywood’s Eve:
She self-designed alphabets; like T.V.
then was night::Birth of a Nation conceived.

July’s summer night, Trojan man then spun;
non parental worlds, without hearing aids.
Know it all wet-dreams of  Liberation,
never swollen from spring break sex, or A.I.D.s.

Spinning tops start  Louis Pasteur—rising,
Barbie dolls see with no P.G. ratings.
Brittle starfish discern, "starry eyes sing,.
3D previews of Doris Day matings.

Entire exoskeletons belly
bumps, like burst zits bellow cigarette smoke:
like Easter Eggs filmed with lipstick jelly;
like red sand castles, whose chimney's choke;

like a let’s play Doctor’ self born sister;
who gets Oscars without two for one sales.
Could Messiah have come, but they missed her?
On her casting couch lay her Prince of Wales.

She is hooked on phonics of a fish, who reads
about growing webbed frog limbs from its fins.
“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” seems
archaic, because of  yoke bearing sins.

“the chicken would have eaten the egg, right?"
like a double zero, two for one sale.
Skin is resurrected, unscarred. So might
bark be given more millenniums to fail?

No, her seed sowing must have an intent,
not just for a throng of newsmen to sprout,
shedding fins into snakeskin, off they went
just for most to die in an ice aged drought.

The rainbow's dew confused hordes of her stars:
With these brittle tops, her projects showed:
Planet of the Apes, to knights in fast cars.
They spun her wheels, "I have a Dream" they rode.

Speechless, self constructed octopus fan
jetted thunder and capitulation.
She told Job and all they were selfish man;
just Bi--sons born from a selfish Nation.

All for not, Hollywood’s clinics sex change
system may line her Sunset Boulevard;
and rule her American Stock Exchange;
Yet, the door to door Jobs still go unmarred