The Red Theater

From the stage of the red theatre our merchants of theatrics and our puppet monsters frown and cry and attempt to slur our poetics, the insult on the muth, the theater boss screams and Melusinange oliy, screams out the name of the band, gang, the french brass in syncopitone, their little fins, feet holding chips under fake theater notes and blocks of eyes where you live and try make a meaning out o' this orgy televisual semaphores and bland marches off the shoulder and alongside the edge of this river. our tribe is feared. My territories expand with every ticket sold, the press with every word encensors the feet of them, armies of my satanic artistry and stalactites off the Christ and banging into the beast of the beats. From the stage our revolution sounds droll, beee, Readers, babes, reader, moles. In the center of the stage the head of the woman. The man waving hand hurls arabic scromits about the faces in the audience and attempts reaching in the mouth with my gloves, malevolence was holding my fingers away from mouths of Melusinal opens. In truth, sher blue, her blue veins and her circular light blue sky area is mixing sense and tongue. I am sorry reader moles, In the every reader the blue theater shouts in explodings. We are life, ami, suis ici, follow-me! The main benevolence in the sound of my Melusinage acted as a cathalyst for the tribe gathering to enorgueil instan-
-tly the workers, me, she, my lucid nights, readers in the red theaters......................Alpha aime le vin. Blue danois et patates bouillies, skin above, shair couverture en laine entre ces festes blougees pas-sa-ta, ma, notre, votre Leur......Celle de dieu