Maybeline Fables

September 1, 2011 § 4 Comments

“well maybe it’s maybeline”  fables
how immortality came to be contained

in a make up-kit
they just make up it
stop by and pay for it.
wearing trademarks like tread marks our
heads our hearts
are lead parts
full of white noise black voids as lights
everybodys just serial numbers scratched off
ethereal slumber
material over spirit–numb to the wonders

a coffin of cacophonous monotonous raunchiest rottenest minced meat for common sense pawned off for condiments not as meant to be as you thought it meant
all them accomplishments cashed in for not-a-cent- conquistadors indifferent to consequence
establishing incompetence on every continent
“calmly pour out of the contents of your consciousness”
Everything so saturated everything so coldly calculated chaos

Im so out of my skull at the moment from all the racket theres no point in trying to find where I left it at the moment
the gotta have its– rabid for rapid tabloid indigestion
don’t ask any questions
about origins or Purpose–don’t dare try to scratch the surface like circus fleas-pleaseee
for fear of being labeled as a conspiracist loon morbid eeyore on the verge of short circuit
its curtains

sex sells egg shells you got less brain cells than the nextel
words are merciless Ivory pedasteled TV in 3D-HD the dream factory
turned nightmare and no one seemed to notice.
hocus pocus gibberish chants floating through the blood stream
from “can’t to can’t”
that means sun up to sun down that means all day and
that means there ain’t no time left inbetween for good old fashioned
self-reflection
and forbid one find something one don’t like about themselves
that’s a sign of some sort of madness and you’ll need a prescription to remedy that

there are walking graveyards that crave you the more if you stray far and you can stay hard-looking
as gargoyles but when you falling off the ledge you just hard-boiled humpty-dumpty eggshell interiors despite the lavish exterior
there are alterior motives all merry in the murial
another scratched off serial number
age old evil awoken from ethereal slumber hittin the snooze button numb to the wonders
I wonder oh I wonder how I come to be under the lumber of a structure half eaten by mechanical termites
auto-cannibals at every turnpike pull your credit card, turn swipe turn swipe turn swipe earn stripes germs spiked in my merchandise the merchant’s dice snake-eyein me down
looking for a Moses staff amongst these serpent mics

certainly time’s flight will smite all limelights
stricken from the record imperial wonders plundered by inevitable wrecking balls.

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