Cream Scene Carnival

Venispunks

An orgy of unorthodox sound.   

A wondering querlandt silence broken by the sound of footfalls, 

echoes cavorting in the high stairwell 

A winter’s mountain pass massacre of screeching

Stay fresh, appear clean as you do the dirtiest things

Never fatigue, always emerging

Corpulent and wet like divine Venus

A not so tame Maenad de Mileaux

Painted in fresh  presemenal drip 

And old bagged blood.

Riding chrome, a

Nova-99 silicone scale inseminator

A cornucopia of cheap wine and cheaper warts

Wailing and whining words like Wordsworth

HAIL ORGONNE!

Words, our favorite words, smashed 

Up and inhaled like the fine pow-

der of a new neon, electron drug. 

Precisely the kind of drug we need today

A drug that wins elections, confuses convection 

and both overwhelms and dulls 

the sense organs into a peak time, 

twilight fine transmission, broadcast 

straight along the galactic axis 

Radio girls and video boys, wireless gurls 

and thread-bone bois, all the flesh puppets, 

all the toy droids, all of them free flesh and free metal, 

all twitching and dancing, transmitting to each other, 

a wicked spiral, to another, a conspiracy of dance,

Getting high off our own signal, supplied by 

Hale Orgonne

The supple ache and need

Touch is necessary 

Strip off your fake skins and

danse

Ecess-

-Aliens