AE Reiff – prose

 

 FAIRY TALE FRO GROMETS

Now the picture roams to Ms. Pop, huge Art Dame Mighty Zanadu who Belched this Fute and married dad, the father of great Sue.  
        Dad, or G. Mussel Fute, was also called the Moth. He’s also called the Myth. The name’s the same symbol to those consumed.

        Sue should not been  livin’ like she did. What person dared live on Mount Mom? Parts of that mountain hang down. But Sue, she got a short nub.  Word went home. Come to Sue. She is Nation! She is Woman. Come to Suze, allegory fit and gone, parceled out like bone!

It makes you think the man sacks were right when they stuck their heads out of boxes behind the abu da bu dee. Then the ram with horns went aba aabaa who couldn’t reach the phone. Little dogs, little goats, man sacks tied to Damer’s Bumper sang when she drove into town. You got  to know more. They sang:

A – le – gor – y,  jaunty Allegory
Alleygory, come to purify.
I will pluck the Guap,
I will pluck the Turk,
Pluck a Turk,
make a Moo
pluck a leg,
have a rib,
me the chuck,
you the roast,
him who wants
take the back,
hers the front,
allegor, allegot,
O-o-o-oh

There is literally no part of her body safe to approach.

Jaunty Allegory

 Sue Lund Und Print

        Who wouldn’t watch a moo cow bump their yard? One that had all the trim. Éclair Susan was The Great Cow Cream. The logical prototypes marked myth. Earth, what have I done but find it out?

Imagine Sue with smoke and car,
crisply on a cloudy day like soup.
Sue came down at dawn,
yellow tape around her arms.
Crowds gloamed, sunset was cordoned off.

        So far assay the big. She lived like you and me. Go fig! Modifig. FigaMint. Doors widened, foundations reinforced.  Her chair was a two-story bed. Half of her slept above, half below. Her porch was a train crossing. Out of her mouth diesels rumbled night. One wall sagged in the corner of the house. “Room, room,” in the yard a little red phone rang  the caboose. The caboose called the brakeman, the brakeman called the engineer. Subsequent to all of Kansas’ *goats yakking, tell it to the mice who endured. There will be no exceptions to the engineer. This singer burgeoned reality with human brain, the last story of no mouse. That leaves gossip.  

            To?

So? 

        So far to report the gory, dude. They wanted a mouse to speak, a monkey with Down’s Syndrome to plead and dogs with human hands or feet to run. Susan wa’ da big Cahune. Called Great Sue at her demise. I hope it clears the tale. Go fig a pint. It was cause to consume.

        She was personified as “daught,” byproduct of Itself. Sue-LIT! Be down with that when you need a toot. Me mean no deflense me. The thing is song. You can’t have it without. It must be sung: 

Deseminate deglutinate deflocculate defenestrate
debellate de aequitate divaricate ohhhh 

Step Dame

The third party poop, Step Dame Desire, is harder to ascribe. She wa dat foam by chemical wood. She wa da primal urge, her, him uncon. She it consumed, Sue Lit and Und. Take a course to find it out. Look like the H but be the H+ under it.

Big Suz lived in Gingerback–Gingerbrick. Gingerbeck–Why don’t she know what she do? Ubermensch uber alles! From worm to worm. Can a OOk read?  Ooh!

Spinners in spider land can’t hide worm leaders when the chemical plant explodes. Wiedersehen  gods saw it hooked up to the Thorndike machine Abimelech loved to ring. “The ring, the ring,” they chanted as Electric drills were clamped against their teeth. Fire from Abimelech.  Every Jet altered. Ye Gad! You got to think it out. Wash it out, wash it out.  Pop the whim. Oooh!

But Sue no immigrant singin Alloutte. You know that little place spins round where she stops and nobody know? That Glob babe, the Big Treat float, DQ on the lit. Da Glob, as the genome say, after her shirt declared,  SUELIT! Hung down her equator around SueLit she wore a yellow ribbon. Entrants stretched. Now take up the characters one by one.

The Characters

        In Miss SueLit’s Marble Class, Myth was first the publisher, Nuke (NWK), called UND (UndPrint) after his funky garb, when recombinant Egenerate came out. Tote’m!

        He got known as Halfling Talk which romance shortened to T from Turk. T. Turk M he was called, as much as from his weakness for Squawk, the verse, when written out. The text says he walked the park with Fute, which rhymes with NWK, superfluous floof not derm, but equally photogenic LIT,  which implied the filial reference in building of  the nook ( NWK).

        Also though, the Park symbolizes langa itself. We gets to Guapa’s name early. In Saxon the gape or galp called Shhh GGuap Sue, is Continent wifi bubbles, extra-neural cranial caps to ferret out silent talk, EEGs of intended speech, tele-presence snatched to live through.

Und,
Park,
Lit,

Talk,
Gape,
Turk
and Sue 
shape the sonic imprint of this giant ground.

PARK which much indentation swells.
Footprints swamp.
Add rain and meta-smear that drowns,
Then when depressions fill, unmined water stands.
Endangered nouns, the dogs of speech, lick gates of giant Und, but drown.
Track these PUP-PEDS to the pit below,
the severed head is closer than before.
Industry, obesity, belong to Lit and follow Und.

You get a sauce and a chance comb, though Und endangers all.

Little Dogs Lost make sad the book
compared with what may hap to Halfling and his Dirk
(change the names, protect the innocent, make minds).

Pup Pot incidents from the great cubed furs of Und and Gape call Gorge.
Graduate, confront thy fear, UndPrint’s wife, that AWESOME DAME.

She ate, she ate, when thou knowest this…
thou knowest the final appetite that is.

Flagons waving for the minute seems like government verse.
But Mystery Meth Step Dame kept house for Und and Lit,
however slaughtered them and stored the first remains.
AWK is the appropriate response to this the problem in the Tale.

We ask if it matters to question what she did.
What she did is killed the cow and ate Suelit, both Und and Lit,
that very thing that fed us, Mouse took off epidermis, then the bio-derm. Down, down the transplant those filters rid and freed the mind from oldspellbound boundaries like livers, hearts and spleen. I got a second with Machines and Headless boys without a brain, that is unless we transplant one for fun. Escape, then prison, escape again. You have a hard time counting all the shells.You get a sauce and a chance comb, though Und endangers all.

So call La Belle Dame censorship, and think her pit sides fall om on the Wold.
Macro Pit in all of Lit the worst consumed.
Rising out the pit, Dragon Strike dangiers many lives.
Hungry appetite in kind. That’s the allouttte behind.

diffugient diastomate deponate delaminate

        How dat for feeling pits?
        How deep for prits, verby import swalled, prat amnesty fulfilled, maud gonne?

        Shunt

        While sitting at this Caesar’s fete and romping in the milk,
        SueLit was parceled out with Print which means consumed and ate.
        Add to these ingreedients Bob SHUNT, oblivious from the front, but where else came the fleshy man, the hedon entertained?
        Which dispersal happened when the thigh bone severed knee hung in Damer’s freeze broke in.
        Upward came that flaming head and downward sped most clean. The beak, the claw, the neck, the jaw!  Oh warm delight, delicious jewel.
        Daddy UndPrint and Darling Lit may look like chickens hung from hooks, but hands on boxes down, they took no sausage man, or ham. Full throated candy down!
        Ham is ipod, sausage igod, flash is Gorgon drive.
        Of handmaids and their maidens dressed with hint of daisy hue
        Less was left of Turk than Sue from late besetting Wii
        as Windows swived them down,
        but Turk was taken full three years before.

        I tell strong bodies Und and Lit went broadband over Shunt finery, spoons and silk.
        This information is dispersed in crowds to soothe the lady’s rouge.
        We have to get though to people with allegory unthinkable.
        Shunt means electric wights and people thinking to reproduce.

        But back up the wagon, truck and train,  in the literal, before shunt came,
        little ghostlings, tiptoe nice over green eyed shunt-conveyed ebemouths kept like mastodons in ice.

At first this is right out of ten thousand dungs imported by vice-ridden  past. You think that’s funny but it’s not; who’s not left a record in the pot?
        If that’s all that’s  left, both dung and bone on our home world, then Shunt, the genome frozen in Dame’s home is more devastated when these are stolen.

        Exhumed from the freeze where inland-border of that virtual mind got Shunt,
like Palyatchee with the evidence gone, Damer probably thought she’d live off it a thousand years, gave no thought to dinner disappeared.
        The motto here inclined is that  dragons should recycle where they can.
Such cavernous lack of planning implies appetite might not survive.

        Ultimate E pub Shunt survived. Both torsos live. Vispo, lang po, woe wo, wii fo, combined in one, distributed by Inter-et Alone.
        Do you accept the pun? But it is more.
        Internet, Interet, inter-eat oooh!
        What remains of Und and Lint recombined  as Talk and Gap ( to us, old stew), made E-GENATE.
        So here they come again.
        Recombinant genera of fish and game we know. But what do we call this redigesting Dame’s recombinant carnal craze,  reconsumed as Shunt’s closed loops, solipsists and their troops?
        The frozen remains.
        Exactly what became of Lit after NWK’s demise?

        Put it like this, had Halfling Talk been appetite enough we’d not have had SueLit on Shunt.

Bio. This allegory gets more play among other OOks and @ Histo-Possum Troy Horse Neptune War Roundup.

 

 

AE Reiff. The thoughts and impressions of all kinds of receivers broadcast back. Whether imperfect in themselves or they are imperfect is one, which sees objectively here too obscure, there too facile, here opaque, there commonplace. Meet these imperfections here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About gobbet

gobbet is a literary magazine dedicated to publishing the very best experimental poetry and prose. Intellectual perversity and explorations of dark themes are positively encouraged. We are only interested in work that is progressively experimental. We want to see risks, and we want to see them pay. No previously published work. Prose should not be longer than 1000 words. There are always exceptions. Send 3-5 poems. Include a short bio. Send submissions to gobbetmag@hotmail.co.uk Work will be published every 5-10 days. We also intend to publish anthologies of selected work published in gobbet. We will do our best to reply promptly. Most submissions will receive a decision within a month.
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