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2.4k · Aug 2015
Surrealism gone Awry
Bratt M Jones Aug 2015
Surrealism gone Awry


Watch, I open my skull on pneumatic hinges,you must have a hungry compulsion to peer inside and see the steamy tomato soup.
There is a certain blasphemy in believing.
See the dictator swill Avalanche in his mouth.
By decree the narcotics language
of surrealism  states, that in the hierarchy of apples
Those closest to the sun murmur the sweetest, and in dreams the diabolical devil is obliged to meet you, but a committee of angels will arrive with Uzis loaded with enthusiasm... In time!

Surrealism is the proprietor
Of flowers fervently whirling like dervishes until... It is a place where I narrate lovers melting like pennies at the sight of each other, where home appliances long for your touch.

My fetish is my imagination, wild, wild imagination extravagant as your birth child,
Gaudy and beautiful like a coach built  Cadillac by Saoutchick.

Where everything utter is true.

Welcome wide eyed wonder
To my simple things,
Fuel injected heart
Needle and thread
Enameled soul made from a French mind
Small animal pelts and bones for superstition
German precision
With the eye of a Xerox machine.
So one emphatically dream
Emphatically live
Emphatically believe everything uttered is true.
609 · Aug 2015
Theme Muzik
Bratt M Jones Aug 2015
Theme Muzik


Drums beating
Echoing in the Forrest
Like a thousand heart beats
U r Africa
U r America
U r pagan
Traveling legs

Packed into your journey
Whiplashed with kisses
Unfurl your monarch wings
And become a miracle
In those foot falls
Is a testimonial
The story begins
Calligraphy walking
In the desert
Writes upon
Blood of imagination.
Spaceship, ninja, dragon race whip
All the pertinent deaths happen in sequence

Charging the the line of firing assault rifles
Taking on shape is the storm
Sated completed with Kung fu lighting arms
Roiling clouds inside eyes tornados leaping
From lips cussin' in thunder
Take love by force and keep it
*** shaking, ******* on sidewalks
In theme muzick
546 · Aug 2015
Untitled
Bratt M Jones Aug 2015
With audacity. I arrived late at the terminal naked. Skycaps took my diminutive luggages away on skateboards. At the gate I vanished
Then a moment later boarding the jet  without feet. Take off. Is her reaching on tiptoes to kiss me. I'm so high aero plane crawls by like seconds
The descent happens like falling asleep, landing like crashing and leaping awake.
I'm departing the cabin of imagination
down hallways, check in
Pick up baggage
Gone
Approaching exit
So cool
like low riders
A whole universe
Materialize here
Doors automatically
Step back
I'm gone
In fits and terror
I arrived like
Astronauts  
A lover's letter
I'm when pigs fly,
Hell freezes over,
I'm baby Jesus returned
Two guns, fussin &fightin;
I was so gone
That for a moment
I thought I was God!
515 · Aug 2015
No!
Bratt M Jones Aug 2015
No!
No matter the hour, from windows night is smoky lilac.
Every bright spot in the distance a pair of eyes menacing.

They approach innocently enough as if fireflies waltzing. When close, eyes again,  nefarious seeping from shadow, Chucks "murdered out" steel hearts black as death, no, no, I mean black as evil. They cross from one side of an alley to the other silent like dreaming, now into backyard of a house that in the dark appears like a hunch shoulder minion overseeing...
Down the throat of the gangway,
At the mouth of gangway
They appear, hands raising, with cold shiny institutions, take aim, but above barrels opening. Hangs a sign like over a door that reads," leave all hope and dreams behind". I imagine inside this gun mindless, heartless, hopeless, locked behind bars, are children. I know they are there, bullets at the ready, then screaming and thunderous from barrel ablaze, now cooling and destroyed in the street, sea is pooling, rivulets of blood running like a river and then the smoke from the gun's barrel raising dancing fading .
I wrote this because I'm tired.
510 · Aug 2015
Killers
Bratt M Jones Aug 2015
Across a gulf of houses planted in      
rows of streets some abandoned some flooding with life.
I saw him, went straight for my *****
Then he in turn
Shots sang out like call to prayer
Foot chase, car chase, more shots, foot falls, and then
Dead end, reload .357
Pointed at his chest
In anger finger bites trigger- but suddenly gun squirms out of hand
Tumbles to ground
Lying there gun's cylinder disengages
And pops open and five live bullets leap from that *****;
One embeds its self in my foot
" like *******"
One batter Rams forehead
Like a " told you so,
Another impales my heart
Like I'm accused of something horrendous
Last two stab palms like a martyr a messiah and there I died like a constellation.

           It was the day all guns got fed up, said **** it, and revolted.
506 · Aug 2015
Untitled
Bratt M Jones Aug 2015
Loves begins like punched in teeth
What am I saying, once in a while
It starts, helicopter escapes.
No, thus love began in a
Shoot out serval building
Going up suddenly in flames
People running and wailing
Then love down pours a storm
Of hammers. No her kisses
Chainsaws on rampages
It's going to take u straight
Out of a door right into
A clutch of alligators, a
Assembly of Uzis
Cocked and singing
Your arrival
But baby, I'm coming back,
I'm going back in time to
The Moment I saw her, melted
To a bright plastic spot
Right before her eyes.
Have u ever seen a villain
Made of  broken hearts
Construct a terminator
Of this heart a cyborg
Of destruction
Armed electric Gatling gun
I'm coming for that *** Love!!!!!!!!
458 · Aug 2015
Untitled
Bratt M Jones Aug 2015
I'm starting with u
I'm saying a kiss
Is a century
I am saying
Baby u r so *******
Beautiful that perchance
Buildings glance
They'd fall down
A plane zooming
Overhead would
Drop from sky
I'm saying I can't stop
I am a ******
And escape is futile
They've seen the aldermen about it
Plastered every light post
Every business owner's window
Spray painted on the side of
The fire house even scribbled
In the bathroom stall
     Escape is futile
I'm saying I am losing
Touch with the hour
I am saying u r a pile of *******
I'm saying u r a light bulb
Above a chair ur a syringe
In the vein
A push of plunger
And I can literally
Feel the reverberations
Off the walls of the needle
From sirens passing thru
Silhouetted by headlights
Of police cars is me
Running almost out of breath
Straight into arms
I'm saying I see u
behind the wheel
Your lips, mouthing,
Escape is futile
At the same instance
Ripping at seams of my jeans
To escape
I'm saying please arrest
My gun on a rampage
Blowing tops off
Church steeples
Slaying little children
At this hour I'd rest
But I love u

— The End —