The shoreline was cluttered with stones.

With each retreating wave,  the mass of rounded forms
clicking and clacking,
would rise in thunderous applause...

Pleased  no doubt that someone paused to take notice.

Wandering passed,
Passed wandering.

Passed the prunes of my tarantula garden.

Boat orange and lemon splatter the legs of the beast.

Clean claws,
Injection complete.

Random attacks the sweet order of thought.

Hover sweet Heather, over the clover, under the thunder of the insect dragon.
Heal sweet Heather, heal the hurt, remove the dirt from my beer sausage; from my wretched, twisted and demented circuitry.

"Bring me my hot dog" my dear Debbie moans.
Morbid sighs, silken thighs, conceal the African butterfly.

"Buffy, Buffy , roughy toughy" the bit*h barks to her demanding dog friend.
"Buffy,Buffy, I've had enoughy!"

Painted lips, spill over hospital white. Chunks and hunks. Flotsam and jetsam of yesterdays lunch.

"Shaddap Shaddap!" her gray head shakes, quivers and quakes, dispelling myths of flying flakes.
Dispersing moths, displaying snakes.

I am sounding my song.
It is a somber song.

Yet sprinkled with colors,
Hopeful colors.

Like the sparkling shards of pure color.
Refracted by the hexagonal prisms of the
Early morning Siberian snow.

Each, elegant, crystalline, fragile in hue.
Each imbued with its own vision of hope.
Hope of redemption by extreme unction.

I have been exiled.

I am penitent.
I am content.
No privileged!
To gaze up transfixed,
By the gleaming brass ring.

And the jangle of my jailers bright keys,
And the jangle of electroplated keys.
And the scintillating tinkling of the keys.

Never shall I wade,
Never shall I slip.
Into the depths,
Into the ooze.
Into the warm anesthetic flow of self ingratiation,
of fetid tumescent narcissism.

Nor shall I venture into the arenas;
Into those meat-rending chambers of razor- tongued, blunt- brained image brokers.
Rather that the screeching, grunting warthogs and  jackals of the underworld
should feast upon my stinking flesh.

Blithering,
yes blithering.
I am exhumed from the tangled morass
of mundane delusions.
Sweetly I am kissed by the ego-alien.

Megalomaniac !

So twist me gently,
oh my thrashing whip master.
And twist me again.

Morbid!
Morbid!

Slowly, the morbid dragon coaxes its slow but
precise ambulatory apparatus.

Deep from within the primal mind,
We all exude marvelous exhortations, excretions and exhibitions.

Yet as his glassy, languid, beaded eyes
fix upon our hapless hero,

So is our innocence consumed.