honey primer for the death-lasso
of choice...
here's no... alternative...
for entries into hotel dallas...

      there's all the quick-equipped
miachel frenzied ******
of shovelling all the empty
eggs... limbo embryos speaking
whole, while scribbling
braille in fractions...

on the grand altar of Moloch...
and there's that cue of them
also playing-deaf playing dumb-hard-of
ever being heard:
burn a bra all you like...
i won't be burning a vinyl record
any time sooner than the sooner,
or a now...

here the crumpet solves its
esteem when facing a brawl with
a croissant...
here the ant lifts a mountain in its jaw...
here american head charge
overtakes the sales slipknot records...
here's the first... the last...
here's the lapdance of being reassured
to hear the ec- the ech- the ech-oh-oh-oh-oh!

ever hear the vibration speak
multiple tongues akin to a hydra?!

i'd be worried if they spelled it was:
the wielki lebowsky.. sure as **** a russian
spy... otherwise?
that laid back... dumb pollack...
which is hardly a *******...
              
  i call it bile, i call it acid... i call it...
the sort of populism of darwinism doesn't
like... when your spine stand *****
and you wake up dancing to
what a chinese army square march
of: that lot of the lost abode
of tiananmen square looks like...
when the chimps get the herpies...
and the lions start to turn all fidgety prone
when the affairs of being excited by
that infamous translation of the chase...
suddenly "oops": i.e. become missing...

          who's to become the last
bridge of king solomon's harem... that last
period piece to be the ghost to
the last known location of the gridlock
of last clinging to coal...
are any revision of thios obscure
period ore going to be a matter of choice?!

for the love of my fellow countrymen...
and country...
but only at a distance...
perhaps me better dying from an overdose
of patriotism in that ******* that future
jewel of the ottoman empire that's
become the better part of Istambul...

it's hardly enough to quiet simply...
die...
but who the hell... or has been dying
with the sort of ammo that would
give him or even a her...
the sort of "forever" thinking that would
leave one with epitaphs as
consorts of: the matter... temporal...

right before ol' charlie zee drei...
is about to be my hand of god...
my limbo argentina of lizzy's prized
asset of...
      i want to spend a tenner with
ol' charlie on it...
before i die...
i want charlie on the banknote...
before i feign enough affairs
of concerns as to whether i'm shy...
or not... i want to spend charly's tenner...
i want him to be bound to the escapade
of crown and *****...

i want to see charles throned!
i want to see charles crowned!
****** better not change his name...
i'd call 'im: third chucky the lucky!
he's no george the IX or some richard
the IV.... charles name given...
charles king to govern...
and bright lights the third!

i am waiting... lizzy will not live
long when the prized attache of
the duke of edinburgh solves the riddle:
no... no clones allowed...
locating the prowess of a hardly visible...
then again: who's going to pay for the cure
of not being made subject to the stampede...
that's half the emblem value of a crown?

but the frankenstein is in our grasp!
we can cheat death...
however many more years a dolly of pardon,
the sheep will allow...
how many more years it would take...
for a clone to replicate the psychology
of the host, bearer and the futurism of what's
to be inherited...
besides all that...
the clone would become a michael
jackson?! ******* to the point where...
no harem would suffice?!
ever play playdough with a faking
of immortality - attempting to transcend
individualism with poker / polka dotting
of the grand, grand... bet?

                  i'm currently in the process
of applying ice-cubes for a hard-on of an idea...
look at me... who's who and who's
the falafel flinging arch-ape?
darwinism is an ideology...
a bit like...
                 it's not that it's wrong...
but... it's a thesis... and as a thesis
it's also an idea...
and there's only one way to counter it...
with an idea...
so that there's a currency...
an antithesis for it to come toward
a symbiosis of... in equilibrium...
                    
                   looking up an ape's *******
is pretty much not enough
to state: bertrand russell just roasted
an aristotle...
            in no defence of the greeks...
wasn't a bertrand russell a philosophy historian...
who was... subsequently...
made into a mezzo-soprano...
becoming galvinized by adoration
for wittgenstein:
the genius! will a lion know
of a sunday... should he also roar
to somehow later yawn... and in between
a wednesday and a meow:
concern itself with a concept of friday?!
because it's golgotha
crucifixion "o'clock"?!

     hardly... who's the who of what
will not become the revised glory days
of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth...
or great britain: when the charles dickens
was asked to look inward: ****** himself...
the great of what isle...
the scots living in iceland?!

             or the baggage of U.2.I.R.A.?!
god help us... alcoholics and narcos...
with all that history aids aids it allows...
anonymous anonymous.
   the... anon. anonymous.
     oh; we're here...
                 fidgeting when it comes
to custard creams.... and all that shortcrust
packing!

when ol' charlie lands into my lap...
into my hand of a worth of spending a tenner...
until then... not until...
will i consider calling it a...
an execution in demand for...
being dragged into a cell nicknamed...
the "christine chubbuck lovelorn:
forever the homecoming queen
harem lovelust"...

urban myth: dead-shot to the head...
the decapitated cockroach lives
2 weeks without a head... ah... ah... ha...
it's hardly about being owning a sense
of humour... when all you need
is a reality check...

advent: and a soccer-mum and all those
period pains and
all those many more one direction
fandoms dying pretty in their teens...
here's my voice... morphed into...
burden: to gloat...
never mind the gloating...
but when someone can replace
having to stage staring into a mirror?

call it... dying from a lack
of obstruction from the dimension
of the abstract;
or hotel... coal-founded: florals and the annals
of would be: back to...
without and a with alzheimer'*******br>of: huh?!