B. Sven Telander
Crimson Lady And The Black Rocket Angel - Poem by B. Sven Telander
The floating women of the Estantalehi Corporation, hovering at dusk
near a small house in a lush treeful place…
A lifetime of delusion consumes the Crimson Lady,
slender lass in a dark crack in Universe City;
her demon is just an angel who had a bad day.
Psycho-spheres may merge perversions into mutual pleasures;
the times those two shared, treasured adventures, on their adored voyage.
What was it when it was where who did?
enhanceable gross overtures and the complexity dance
of mental chess and imagining creationistic systematics,
octopus underlings, crocodile minions, lapping tactics cradle;
Giant spider riders of Hylbryn:
provided introductions, alliances with
the Occasional Men and the Wander Women:
the secret doors across the cities that hid the hundreds of autos
the elevator, the basement, the projector, vast playboard.
Her Black Rocket Angel, a long gone combustion farewell;
starforce reckoning blackest hole beckoning, quantum galaxy
meltdown, jugband extravaganza jamboree;
the visciousness of the deathwishes;
wood worms dine on astral mind, dire signifiers
meet those tongues of eager fire.
The believers all leave.
A con man sets sail,
gaining cash and thralls;
babble on lost papers trails.
The two have gone not a happy day when
the airborne stalkers made a surprise move,
nurturing corruption and mistrust between.
Madame Amazinger, the Thrice Damned, says:
“Wash behind your eyes. For God we lust.”
Doppelgangers near the memory garage,
a panoramic display fractal blossoming resplendent décor,
the mental impediment to un-encumbered
expansive creative expression,
glowering over the growing exponential collection of divergences,
9 billion fluxing parallels [cubed] interlacing and re-configuring,
Yet the Firm in control denies the two.
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