Friday, July 5, 2013

Hey, Hey, Hey.. (Prepare The Easy Chair of Namor, Scuba Griddle, Floating Grillus)

Hey, Theory Fucktoe, your little town, eess not so friendly, anymore, Rap bang Scorpio, We, the Fauves of Inner Earth, Rumgoom, Loomgang, Gonglow.

Up this mornin' / Cheese and Eggs / Doctor Praeger /
Ripe as a House / Ripe as a Son House /
With a little sun of gold dust
trapped in amber

a good place to find the chimerical as an 
algebraic chiral mirror is in 
W.G. Sumner's concept of 
"the aleatory interest"..

"Before the tribunal of nature a man has no more right to life than a rattlesnake; he has no more right to liberty than any wild beast; his right to pursuit of happiness is nothing but a license to maintain the struggle for existence..." —William Graham Sumner

(lured onto the john)
"John Lurie"

the shadows, like a hyperfine bodysuit magnetically curating a proverbial terrace..

It is doubtful this ability to display its redoubtable and promethean proteomics but let thought as a skiff recensor.

It says here that "Pan plays a 'reed-flute' of many coloured woods?" What the hell does that mean?

copula as UFO 
hence, the grotesque primacy 
of an apophatic 

Even after the alliance is formed, space performs,
 a mute, intransigent substance, of fact returd
to force, olmgolumquy, butter un-salmagundy,
totally shaved lion mangina fettucine.

I really don't think it matters what you say anymore,
some of us know you now, as the perhensive sillystring vehicle,
I thought that might take alum, your 'body-lips' spitting directions
out the oracle hole, mint paste pharaohs, awl gawl bumgaut.

I see you little decoration!
Hiding behind direction
won't bring back the nudity
to our town!
Fitness is all velvet
to a teacher of prayerls.

I bend light!
I really don't think I've seen much discussion of the balloon animas
themselves. The people are too busy pretending they are here to notice
when they've been bested by a metaphor of childhood,
and by a priest of absolutely 'delinked sequences' as in "Con"

It's not even the real Virus B-23 anymore, but a kind of boutique analog. They make it in Maquiladoras.. (for quail feathered frogmen, for dove feat jurred agro-bats)
I'm selling U to U, sayeth the BLACK GOAT

"I'm finally starting to understand the way you gentlemen think! Our imagination is like a scimitar, boldly cutting flesh in name of doing something. Sicamour Rectum Pizza taste Radio Abbas Urdity.
Come Lingui, Come Langui, Come Abu the Destroyer."

"My Body is becoming more urgent every day. It's because I am being ignored out in the open here. It's like a hollow glass virus model surrounded by men in violins. Just can't keep the Rolls out!" Stick with Betty White: The Underarmed Deodorant's Adoration.

I do not question it, for it, itself,
is a question.
 I await the bald eagle
in top hat and tails.
(This wan't een my senutree...)