Sunday, October 19, 2008

Through the Mirror of Production, and What the Marx-headed Alice Android Found There

Cute lyricism is an imponderable place, located far,
far, away, a long, long, time ago, when an accident
in the historical replica domestic servants factory
produced a Karl-Marx-headed Alice In Wonderland
with scrubbing bubbles finger nozzles and scrambled
Das Kapital Jabberwocky song poem mind.

Packaged up as Marxy Girl, it sat on the shelves for years
until one day a Mirrored being in a mirrored ship sat
down in Thrimbly grove where the domestic servants
android outlet store was located.

The mirrored being's head, would pulse and ripple
and the microcrystalline structure of every molecule
in a 4 mile wide circumference would vibrate at a specific
key, and would've continued vibarting eternally
lest the semiosmic presence released its abohm.

Karl, once removed from her package and hadhad her string
pulled said, "I'm late, I'm late, its a constructive neural state,
we can build the grin again. Does your bathtub need scrubbing
bubbles, friend? O touch my hot white rabbit! It's a hand-dryer!"

The mirrored being then turned a singular transparent empty
with the exception of the head in whose internality
the being had laid a holographic image
Of Ernst Haeckel's elderly head inside a radiolarian helmet
fuzzed with slithering kitten snakes striped in anarchic
red and black and little collars with bells like crystal
medusa's heads. The beard itself looked to be made
of long white kitten's tails all of which thrashed
in some strange zoophytic evocatio of play..

Karl, simply said, "It doesn't look dirty at all!"
Then the mirrored being showed another image
to the little girl with an old man's head, twas
a headless mirrored body of enormous size
and instead of blood, Karl at once surmised, that
inside there were rivers of intelligent mirrored amoebas
whose inner organs like rainbow chundras of meeples
and zledds, were bursting with the deepest love
of Earnest Haecceitelediscoarse..

Then Karl smiled and touched her skirts.
I shall be the masthead for ye Ancient Rime!
And off they went into the great black desert
of night, Karl in little shoes with buckles,
and the Mirrored Mariner a living star chart..
Sweet little accidental Karl will never
have to scrub the tub again!

Orphans are loved by godlike mirrored beings
who once knew our sweetest bubyodelling Proteus!


Image of Karl dressed like a nurse
delivering little living bottles of
windex from mirrored amoeba cells
whose umbilicals are old timey
telephone cords, stretchy and boingy.

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