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Hallway carpet blue and grey, short, knock-off , weekly hotel style this time. No discernable pattern. He oscillates between the clothing worn by – A). A funeral director, B). law office tech, or C) a federal reserve bank employee. Mainly wearing white and khaki. Ricocheting left-angles through turn of the century doorframes, into the space dominated by dreams and sex. Six levels of low occupancy hotel, six levels of low occupancy people. The sign hanging outside speaks volumes of the patrons. Saint Raphael Hotel – affordable and quiet. Climbing up from the ground floor to the top.

He climbs to #605. Tossing his tie on the bed, as soon as entering, he grabs a woman. Squeezes Katya’s ass for good measure. No telling what tomorrow brings. (Good, honest woman that Katya. Holds her head proud on a swiveling pillar of re-enforced porcelain.)

Sheets of energy surge through the enclosed space. She turns with a feigned defiance to shake off those less sure of themselves. Hot surfaces are glowing with perspiration.

-You always come in here and start grabbing me. I am not a doll made of meat waiting around for your pleasure! -

-Aw come on, baby. Maybe it’s the last time I’m able to grab your ass. What about that? Haven’t we learned anything about the uncertainty of mortal existence? Fer cryin’ out loud! It’s the 21^st century!-

-Yes. You are right. You go down to the street and grope one of your dead women, or bankers, or lawyers…, but me… I am a cultured woman of style and intellectualism. I will not be handled like a farm animal.-

-Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.-

HIS LIFE

Wow! I can’t believe the way things are happening around here,…

Guess I have to though, huh?

So….

This it is Hell-o Worldly World

I don’t mind to say or feel or speak my mind in the ways you knew I DO when you roll

out the bed so soft and serene or maybe a chicken box off onto a factory machine

Goodbye to the hellos dreamed up in yellows

Smoke pools & animals

those are more of those good buys

Goodbye intrepid huckster eXXXplorers

living boulevards draped in tissued realities

then some jack jumps up with a whole lotta hair-brained nonsense

making sense inside the skull of modern immoderation

layers of lawyer-ing billiard balls & quite mellow stilettoes intent to rub up on some fellows

who would wish nothing more tender (Love me tender, love me sweet...)

Than slamming themselves, their selves, ourselves, my selves...

RIGID into the Celestial Mother’s electrical outlet

let’s say... for a couple of these turn o’ the millennium generations

to chill out soft & warm for a coupla clicks

betwixt the velvet thighs of Lady Space

‘cause it’s a hard, cold planet, man

when you ain’t got a can to kick and all the dolls are made outta plastique

the chickens say ‘moo’ & the goat sez ‘baa’

& kalifornia carny Arny sez

‘Fuck you asshole.’

Now let me get this straight...

Been working for the lawyers all week

alright... alright... the first coupla days of all week, anyway...

Your proposal suggests that you expect respect by generating neglect...

Uh-Huh.... I see clearly now

but how, i pray thee do tell, free, serene & proud

are you ever to be invited to the party

on the top

with your passion stuck up in butter candy butter flies

& comin’ off like some Mata Hari prostitute

fucked between the pages of a pulpy paperbacked rebellion

the long road is short

so hello goody-bye

but throw some sticks for the translucent threads

you are hoping to

mine

PMPope 7-13-004


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		Enter content here Hallway carpet blue and grey, short, knock-off , weekly hotel style this time. No discernable pattern. He oscillates between the clothing worn by – A). A funeral director, B). law office tech, or C) a federal reserve bank employee. Mainly wearing white and khaki. Ricocheting left-angles through turn of the century doorframes, into the space dominated by dreams and sex. Six levels of low occupancy hotel, six levels of low occupancy people. The sign hanging outside speaks volumes of the patrons. Saint Raphael Hotel – affordable and quiet. Climbing up from the ground floor to the top. He climbs to #605. Tossing his tie on the bed, as soon as entering, he grabs a woman. Squeezes Katya’s ass for good measure. No telling what tomorrow brings. (Good, honest woman that Katya. Holds her head proud on a swiveling pillar of re-enforced porcelain.) Sheets of energy surge through the enclosed space. She turns with a feigned defiance to shake off those less sure of themselves. Hot surfaces are glowing with perspiration. -You always come in here and start grabbing me. I am not a doll made of meat waiting around for your pleasure! - -Aw come on, baby. Maybe it’s the last time I’m able to grab your ass. What about that? Haven’t we learned anything about the uncertainty of mortal existence? Fer cryin’ out loud! It’s the 21^st century!- -Yes. You are right. You go down to the street and grope one of your dead women, or bankers, or lawyers…, but me… I am a cultured woman of style and intellectualism. I will not be handled like a farm animal.- -Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.- HIS LIFE Wow! I can’t believe the way things are happening around here,… Guess I have to though, huh? So…. This it is Hell-o Worldly World I don’t mind to say or feel or speak my mind in the ways you knew I DO when you roll out the bed so soft and serene or maybe a chicken box off onto a factory machine Goodbye to the hellos dreamed up in yellows Smoke pools & animals those are more of those good buys Goodbye intrepid huckster eXXXplorers living boulevards draped in tissued realities then some jack jumps up with a whole lotta hair-brained nonsense making sense inside the skull of modern immoderation layers of lawyer-ing billiard balls & quite mellow stilettoes intent to rub up on some fellows who would wish nothing more tender (Love me tender, love me sweet...) Than slamming themselves, their selves, ourselves, my selves... RIGID into the Celestial Mother’s electrical outlet let’s say... for a couple of these turn o’ the millennium generations to chill out soft & warm for a coupla clicks betwixt the velvet thighs of Lady Space ‘cause it’s a hard, cold planet, man when you ain’t got a can to kick and all the dolls are made outta plastique the chickens say ‘moo’ & the goat sez ‘baa’ & kalifornia carny Arny sez ‘Fuck you asshole.’ Now let me get this straight... Been working for the lawyers all week alright... alright... the first coupla days of all week, anyway... Your proposal suggests that you expect respect by generating neglect... Uh-Huh.... I see clearly now but how, i pray thee do tell, free, serene & proud are you ever to be invited to the party on the top with your passion stuck up in butter candy butter flies & comin’ off like some Mata Hari prostitute fucked between the pages of a pulpy paperbacked rebellion the long road is short so hello goody-bye but throw some sticks for the translucent threads you are hoping to mine PMPope 7-13-004



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				*Secret Site 76* *secreto*



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