Thursday, March 15, 2007

donkey kong blows

donkey kong, donkey kong
dong dong dong
he smokes from his bong (its u)
mucus bugs, long puffssssss
he jumps and thrashes the floor
with his giant foot
cocktail bee buzzing cream
beetlejuice in his nostril hose
he loses his focus ---dumb with his drum---
fuck king come dongi dong
he is fun with his gum
spilling peacock plumes
dream dialogue comic crusts
out of the screen don king
he´d ask the princess for a spin
fingertips on shoeheels
dj-ing the above paradox
of below, so it is: the starry
sand box dong dong dong
sugarbells like boreal dawns
blowing bronze the hills afloat
donkie kong wants to grow,
hamlet too, wants to be king
but he is a hybrid glitch, videotrap
in the vanilla hive, height creep, pixel prick
(so are you) could he scale the matrix
skyline and the companies chairman kick
the machine like a cartoon bloom
a brute that pups over buds golden
monkey shit, bong dongi kong
youre the king of this reefer pee-wee
eventhough you are always angry
have a maui-wawi
and forget about the comic
unrealness of this cosmic play
where it freaks terrible with pain
and gleams only away.

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