Avatar endtroducing

I come from the center of the earth in the language of after death and before birth. The man with the nuclear wallet in his back pocket came closer to Utopia than the supposed 30 billion inhabitants on Planet Earth circa 1939 when 26 billion non-Jews died in an “EAT MY HOLACAUST” when he put it all on red one metaphysical night in Vegas and it came up blacker than the ass of jade earrings worn by the princess of Phnom Penh while the court practiced slam-dunkin' Portuguese generals' colonial skulls into canopic jars made from kabbalistic urns in Bombay by the Zoroastrian diasporadics who became porcelain emperors from the profits of home-grown Earl Moghal tea which was made if you may wonder from the tender stalks of famous comedians' scalps because the Iroquois tribe didn't take to hell the notion that piracy was at its peak in the early 20th Century off Long Island, sounding all too coincidentally similar to an old Richard Harris ballad, cracking on a 78 phono player in the droop bend of the Red leather pantheon bar. Since the year 2323 will be the year of the future the past isn't what it's going to be for all Sinhalese clarinet blowers hopped up on amyl nitrate gang-rapin' the highway from hell to breakfast at the speed of vomiting diamonds or forever hold your peace trains O.J. Love Boat Breakfast Chariots of mired in the mud autobiographically speaking how the shit has no dame to call and say I drug you for the association if the enhancement of mallard rubles, cube steak also has a vision of Siamese phlegm bouncing into limos from Salvation Army Christmas bells autographed by Hans Muslim Andersen. While the balloon full of money floats ever closer to the outwretched palm trees dripping with tabasco floss between your thief and a card face…. The Jack of Plutonium to be precise is towards that elusive garlic bulb necklace around Fela Lugosi's Richard Speckled murder scarf up the feces split into through the capital of Lemuria is Antarctica City with a primate marsupial population of minus 100 below Spiro Agnew of Copperopolis wheel of torture fame catapulted his thyroid blandly upon the ruler of the Wong Dynasty, but Monty Hall wasn't pleased with Pat hijacking that Vanna-American flight to the pituitary gland of Max's Convenience Market or to end-all obtusity radio marti-McGraw due to the lion of Zimbabwe being the only black Russian on the planet, skirt around the muletide, spruce up your glass colon, where a mere comma doesn't stop the bleeding, for an appointment please squat in the street. Quit your grinnin' or drop your linen because the friends at channel eight are watching Westinghouse watch you are the church, I am the steeple open it up and see all the people fighting with margarine moustaches and machete-wielding Moors, who if victorious at the Battle of Tours would've set up a bowling alley in Amsterdam where the freshly beheaded faces would knock down freshly pruned legs, cut above the kneecaps, STRIKE. Three little figs are mine, I eat them all the time, to feel the things I shouldn't, and to flap the wings I couldn't. Do you understand rhythm as it's crawling along your spine? Can you drink Burmese-produced champagne as a dead-again Christian falls from the sky? It's rainin' Satan. Do you understand granite as you grab it with your right hand cuz you fucked up tryin' to fly? If you were a hundred monkeys all rolled into one would you cut your giant tail off or sweep through Wall Street? Crank your soul up about six notches where the sun becomes your tongue. Don't forget to leave me out of your memory, I've had enough of your thoughtless dung. Thunder of wit, tall, etcetera. I ran over my preacher in my Buick Elektra cuz God came down and he talked to me and opened the gates to set me free and I stain then land from sea to shining sea and there once was a man in a bucket, so God put a straw in to suck it, but there also was someone who kicked the bucket and lived to tell God to go FUCK IT.




If you can comprehend polyrythmic murder to the tune of ignorance is bliss,
you know there will never be a critic who will ever be qualified to critique this.




On May 23 2007 14 Views



Avatar nestea_girl

Nestea_girl On 24/05/2007

pero Monty Pasillo no estuvo satisfecho con la palmadita que secuestraba ese vuelo Vanna-Americano a la glándula pituitaria del mercado de la conveniencia del máximo o a extremo-todo marti-McGraw de la radio del obtusity debido al león de Zimbabwe que era el único ruso negro en el planeta, falda alrededor del muletide, picea encima de sus dos puntos de cristal, donde una coma mera no para la sangría, porque una cita se pone en cuclillas por favor en la calle. Pare su grinnin ' o caiga su lino porque los amigos en el canal ocho están mirando el reloj de Westinghouse que usted es la iglesia, soy el steeple abierto él para arriba y vea que toda la gente que lucha con los bigotes de la margarina y machete-que maneja amarra, que si es victorioso en la batalla del would've de los viajes fijaron para arriba un callejón de bowling en Amsterdam (...)XDDDDDpero esto q es?????????????


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Endtroducing On 23/05/2007

<A HREF="http://babelfish.altavista.com/" TARGET=_top>http://babelfish.altavista.com/</A>Pero no te molestes Almu, no tiene sentido ni en inglés xD


Avatar nestea_girl

Nestea_girl On 23/05/2007

no hay ni uno que furule en la red??


Avatar nestea_girl

Nestea_girl On 23/05/2007

lo has exo aposta, verdad?????????????XDDDhala, a buscar un traductor...


Avatar endtroducing

Endtroducing On 23/05/2007

Creo que soy críptico, haha!






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