Walgekaaren goes to Hollywood

 

No August leader wants to May-day in September;

Wake me up, when its November, for the Holy Days.

So I could dismember all, who remember to membrain

the Hentai do them stains and gentile.

Encourage equitable representations of spreadsheets

and white fleets behind the moon, in their bleak haven

of “Wreak Craven's” The Wee is on your knees, asking

for a parlaiz vouz espirit!

Hire a white knight to play through all the Life's plights.

Side-notes nodded their empty heads, to be read behind

the red lines of an Iron Curtain – I spy with my Ozbourn

Ultimatum, how Rudolf Spielmann got cancer and mutated...

To Hydra and back again, to fight Cpt. America, who denied

everything, what is to know about the Holocaust. He thought,

that others suffered likewise, thus a closet-nazi!!

The case was closed and went out cold; there there – no beautiful details in there.

“You my heart, you my soul!” “Yo-Ho-Ho and modernist talk-no-jutsu”

Depp out of the nine gates of Hell; Jim Crow escalated for a belated Oz-cur.

“Was möch; ich möch; du möchst. Alles Klar Walge Klaar? The White apple,

who bit a mouth-heel and couldn't spit it too far....

Mocking on Heavens door, as all the Jacobite's are climbing the ladder;

Wass Herret doch Nein, Wer nicht Zei dass Licht. Kein Gedicht – viel leight richt

deschlicht den Wicht du Richst. The old Prophet druncated the youngling,

to bury his old bones, as the altar exploded, with bread and water...

The Night is young on your hips, until your lips weigh heavy like Eli;

on my shoulders I wear parrots to grab a soundbite, and then its Tomorrow.

The next thing, I remember: “Bite my dusty old librum to life, that the Ravens

could escape its folders!” I fold to the last deck of Tarot, checking the balance.

Meneh, Meneh, Lemah Sebahtani, ma bama ba golem šolva.

Not-Israelites trying to speak Her own brew of language

to cosplay Isayah's druncard-tongues. To set sail to Khaz-Modan,

moderate the Aserothian whitewashed tales, of thrown away infant orcs.

Modus Operandi was damned in Mecreverdi, to enlist Giuseppe, for

the Californian Tetris Dream, building Communist Mario Carts;

to handout, that let the R.O.T.T. Out. Who allowed Nagini, to be blown out,

off proportion - “Viper lives matter” Too bad, that car was mute.

Those cars should get seconds, don't they Oz-car? He wasn't as bad as C.A.R.

My furrie's where left into Trunx's old Dragon Ball K.I.T.T. What about it?

E.T. has left the building, while Elvis is rocking the Jail-house Blues brothers.

Could somebody give a rocking chair, to hang in there? In the gallows of Mayhem?

Put the Bling in there... “Noir lives matter” until death do us apart;

retort tojour quell bon heur de jeux endeux detour the Fools Barons Arronian Rhapsody, so cruel; to requiem my farewelled gleams. I gloom for Dr. Doom,

to erect his Presidential Library at the sect of the most High-Antifa celebrant!

My excessive nudity with explicit Conservative pep-talk, alarmed all Left-handed smearmen. Shouts, who recommended to lubricate my aching Spanish shoes

with WelshWiper-Wodka; I hack and slash through my newspapers to find,

like a philosopher hearth-stoned to oblivious martyrs of a ree-poster-boy/girl.

“Who didn't smite the other cheek?” That is here the question. Would the Real Jesus Christ please stand out of the crowd and find Him asap and bring Her Home!

Crawling under my Sofa Creepy V laughing like a hyena against the Northern Lights;

good luck finding any two cents or dimes when the fat bitch ate all the change.

She ate even Obama on the mount of Nobel he went, to make peace offerings.

I'm still venting and circumventing about this Marital problem with this close encounter of the Martian kind. Some aliens beget stranger, than postal on Wounded Knee. Some still remember, what gods to worship on which progressive account...

“I want Everything and Onee in two open palms.” The sword and the steward

shall eat all those broken bones, who wet the blackboard. Some children

should not be taught to laugh at bald men, for the bear is already waiting.

And the Daily Prophet shall go on, while the Skeeter's are writing Sermons.

Rashomon was mouth-washing their hogs and hot-dogs; Judge Dredd

once said: “You might wanna not be caught alive!” to a woman,

and was immediately accused of rape-mongering. It is so hard

to be a Alfa-Cojones-Muchacho to serve the servants of God.

Could it be that Omega is betters than Alfa-Centauri?

Alfa and Omega disputed, could a woman fall in love

with the Devil. Most said nay, but some agreed:

“If God Will Hunting's, it be Good!”