Tuesday, April 10, 2012

CHURCH IN A POWER PLANT

After too much glue, your morning toast is non-retractable.
Your leg lopsided in gypsum with sadistic constipation.
In the bathroom, you train your BB gun on the woolly mammoth.

Singing:

Sweets in jars paradizing all power plants /
a new church worms can adorn!”

And maybe on opening day / a dead squirrel can do a striptease!”

It's difficult to get through the day because of the
stepladder's interchangeable rungs; every stranger's language
lends strings to the carnivorous marionette.
It would be pleasant to fuck everything while remaining
invisible. Egg carton kept the Predator invisible while it
was fucking Arnold Schwarzenegger. Egg on toast
on glue, on your scorch.

It would be really great to adapt more smoothly.
Swamp Thing's driftwood appendix moonlit as a flute.
His complex slimy movable parts distracted a group of
Boy Scouts. Well, using this same principle, and borrowing
a little from Jane Fonda's advice to her congregation –
You don't have to be afraid of everything” - I'm going
to go out and do a little distracting of my own, starting
with putting on my fur coat and flashing impressionable 
upstarts at the local Vegan coffee shop.

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