Act 1
a notarized copy of this testament
is on file with my attorney
in case of my untimely earthing
by the invisible x-ray background
driving another stake through my bleeding heart
but back to our semiotically comatose narrative
The Eel king rips off Bobby's latex facade
at last I have you captive Bandwidth
Eel's eyes narrow a smile edges his mandible
Bobby's eyes gone wide with no exit
prepared to submit to his conspicuous doom
humid vistas from the Matto Grosso
panned luridly before his convulsing eyes
ars pharmacopia little muffin went Eel
the time has come for your loving torment
Bobby was dragged to the Cistern of Woe
by a busload of nuns from Santa Pudenda
and tied into one of Escher's inhibition pretzels
above a pit of staring human eyeballs
Bobby had a plan murky at first
but with a blurred urgency that unveiled
his guardian cosmetician's skin graft
from the last 3 alarm conflagration epic
it had finally healed abused and maligned
tho still on oxygen or was it toxigen
no one knew much less the narrator
too harried by Fate for detail work
but I digress to a distressing degree
Bobby stared into the cesspool of his mind
illumined now by a wan spark of hope
he would gambit judiciously
the ancient and terrible pherome defense
as the squish of rain forest footsteps
and little gasps of manual stimulation
graced with wanton overtones came closer
it was LeMona the Eel King's daughter
a beauty that all the aniline dyes in the jungle
could not extinguish in a waterfall's fog
marched with retinue straight up to Bobby
he was instantly and cleanly detrousered by
her wheezing steam engine of debauchery
within microseconds seconds her tongue
was down his throat to the car park
he heard the bell in her navel ringing
and went limp like a doomed weasel
in the talons of a swooping Mongolian bercut
the Eel King became visibly ill humored
contain your infantile carnality
mischievously insistent pride of my *****
(to be continued)

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon