Ramblings on a Broken Typewriter #2

turgid ink tossed in a bonfire
of cinnamon delights
caressing crescents
memorized into steak-shaped nuggets
of crispy chicken crisps

only the notion of Barbie
sustains their hopeless
puny dreams of sausage

heaven and hell meet
but are never conquered
by an absurdist play by Andre Breton
or a flaming nostril
expelling Mexicans through its hiatus

blue dawn threw nothingness into the void
but only Captain America
can ride the waves of anthrax narcolepsy
to attain the pure bliss that is Kurt Cobain

plated sheets of pyramids
are the price for admittance into heaven
but Yahweh will also accept MasterCard

stretched out is time on the track
seeing visions of pink AK-47s
torturing the sleep
of all the nations of bacon-eaters

through gin made of dying frogs
and the snout of a blue leopard
the craftsman dwells in an ocean of self-pity
and salad dressing

the centenarian groans
with fantastic sausages of fate
while mud-men of an uneasy dawn
callous through the wreckage
of an Albanian goat giving birth
to dove-headed puppies

reaching through a cascade of human-headed lamas
I seek the pleasures of golden oranges
attached to pangs of death
an emerald bliss that washes over me

like a tornado made of cones
plastic in its nature but full of voluptuous hearts
pain unknown anywhere outside of Buddha-hell

the righteous defaults to god
as a cane of sugar beats Kerberos to death
with its sweetness and lack of armario

me duelen las cabezas de yeux de caracara sientanos

for the heaven is a railroad cutting through
infinite heavens in a gore of heavenly heavens
attach a blind to a blind and no one will care

but the restless dawn of scarlet
bacon is a bacon too many to bacon into bacon
I am the bacon soul

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Ramblings on a Broken Typewriter #1

o fortune,
lying restlessly
on your lilac-scented burgundy throne,
no ruined sheep-bed and urine-soaked scoundrel
to call my own,

the moon shone through
the vermouth soul and gin-imbued heart of
a golden fool
will taunt forever
the cavernous haunts of man’s and woman’s desire,

yearning to be free
but trapped in a glassy cage
through no fault of their own,

the shiftless silver idols
on a torn and tattered shelf
near the endless sea of madness
called the railway hell.

in dreams no one dared to do
what in a fevered irreverent wave of visions
through which vagabonds roam
through depleted hills.

dripping in the hypocrisy of a million innocents,
the cave-bear rides the dragon
through the cloudy sky to valhalla
where the heroes dwell.

home of the beggars
no one will take to home,
in the foggy mist of shroud-encased vermilion gin,
the lady of venus has come to meet
the milk-maids of the bronze-colored moon.

the harp harps melodies
inconceivable in the minds of man
but possible in the silicon brain of our mechanical gods.

sense rendered senseless
through expropriation of meaning
to the hummingbird-headed accountant tourists,

graceful rainbows
deck the halls of the ninja turtles
in their discombobulated soul-seeking quest for a lilac dream.

pig-tails ride on solid-gold phones,
restless.

grey poupon drips a trail
through a rugged forest
as greek gods descend into buddhist hells
to meet their urine-stained coffins of infinite doom.

cows suddenly crouch into tiger-shaped holes
as beams of bees swallow an infinite dawn
capturing the brass and electrons on a far away planet
that cows and antelopes play on.

blue dawn arose from nil,
then into an oblivion of arsenic opium
the magnanimous fools
threw the nickel-dated doves
into a green and yellow flame
raptured into a heaven for sadists.

the railway heaven through hell
for television force feces through a straw
was usurped the queen into a king
for the price of a prince-ling.