An Apotheosis, or Dutch Palmas

“O, Generation revered

above all others.

O, generation of fictitious

Ofays

I revere you...

You are all so beautiful”

-Imamu Amiri Baraka, Hymn for Lanie Pooh

Still?  Still purse clutched, wallet groped, car door locked ad infinitum, 

toward neurotic borough rendered Anglo-American Primitive? 

What strange fruit betrothed.  Flung against grotesque light. 

Swaggering into room, infernal waltz, down world-mouths, distilled.

 Bravado, a Don Draper sales pitch(but black).  Hopeless'd conjugal, 

mellanoid vexed holy, hurry up with my damned croissants.

Dough leavened for tomorrows' raison debts and yesterday's

cause celebre  licked off stale crumbed  plates.  Nom Nom Nom.  

Semantic condoms worn by latex troubadours and sweet f**k all. 

Before mangled beds of dalliance, or bouquets withered lyrical,

 between jagged a*s crack, ebbed ineffable.  From callused feet

to callous concrete, to ashtrays mocking Freud.  Ugly italicized is still ugly.

There, there, wash down the coitus.  Swallow your Braque tongue,

 bid adieu to Ice Cubes' melting street cred.  Ah,  see how beauteous? 

Biodegradable angels plucking plasticized harps, my nose smeared 

eternal, betwixt Taylor Swift's twat.  Bleeding, look skyward now, 

lest thou miss my gluten-free ascent. 

Reviews

[Aaron the Baron]

This is visceral. The words themselves are violent. I am kind of gobsmacked. I can hear the intensity in which it was written. If only I had such a magnificent mastery over the written word! Such power in these words. This is an absolute pleasure to read.

[Friday]

Tricky read. Very compact in a way and also very interesting. I should come back really and read it again once I've internalised my reading now. Sorry about not expanding on it more.