20170518

Tyler Pruett



GENESIS KEY

                Suspicious deposits at Muslim purgatory demonize the whet turnstone – Accumulating clay temple rats with twenty-two long rifle rounds – Souls rise to Nirvana on priestly vestments adorning petrified flesh – Aztec female goddess jettisons lucent blood of heretics – Just because you’re better than the devil doesn’t mean you’re good.
                Cretin Luther – Cretin smack – Cretins holler – BALL THE JACK!
                BA opts for the treatments – Drinks beers from his endless supply praying he don’t get vaporized by the shotgun – FALLOUT SHELTER BOY on Slum-de-lum brandishing a plutonium ratchet – The Order Knows Nothing of His Transgressions – Lucretius has since passed from this world – Honor his life with variegated hieroglyphics depicting five powers housed in bloody Hades – They’re all juiced up and ready to go – Yet BA returns to hillbilly hospital and receives shock treatment in return for cases of Coors Light.
                BA blathers, “You boys don’t know nothin about partyin.”
                “Too many want peace and love again.”
                “BA is a good friend of mine,” says T-LUC, “he can get shock treatment any time.”
                BA jibbers all beer trucks in the said universe to tear stars and stripes into long, thin strips – BA balls up the strips and soaks them in gasoline – The Drunks of Cony Hill scream foul – They hover below phosphor clouds like dank minutemen bent on the Athenian night.
                Netherworld empires witness backward inverness blizzards pulling all the tree leaves into spinning vortices above fact farms.
                I SUDDENLY RECALL THAT FACTS DO NOT EXIST.
                A Caledonian apocalypse TRIGGERS Super Jimmy and Moreland Mores into an ill-advised tontine – The dead scattered upon ETERNITY PLAINS pulsing in their caged cells – Jail boats wander past iron breeze afterlives – A pandemonium wind transforms jelly dogs into flying mud – Caramel bursts from a chocolate coating that piles into elaborate structures.
                Much has changed, dear Elektra, since you strode the Caledonian night – His massive mountains of canned beer climbing up into the Neptunian stratospheres – His cities teaming with drunken confusion.
                Elektra witnesses an infrared scan of her tied tubes – With lingerie Braxton hairs drifting through flora in her stomach, expelling blood moors who perish on shadowed Plains of BA – Dirt from whence you arrived – Sleek gravel road from hitherto you depart – Downy masses her naked night on sparkles with the wailing Danny Mingo and freebaser’s folly – Forcing plasma beads to race through pellucid flesh – Propeller bagpipes confer with Doreen’s putrid ghost.
                Jimmy hacks at that bastard diamond mine with a Pict – Fast pellets from window shotgun slam buckshot into myriad fog horns – Grubs inch up tithed packets of powdered shark teeth – Moreland Mores hordes twenty ought legions of poisonous snails – They disembowel Jimmy and leave him on porous volcanic rocks to die … The sharp pencil rips through this sheet of copy.
                Weaver of cult embroiders a bolero to the tune lobotomy – Rockaway beach no more than a spaceship jaunt from Jimmy’s makeshift grave.
                Elektra loves sugar sprinkled on lava contour screams.
                Moreland’s snails get born quintuplets when they’re able – Doctor Cletus buggers up the incision – BA is still drinking forty beers at a time and seems empowered by Jimmy’s unfortunate demise –Cans kick down Slum-de-lum BVLD via hornet telephone wires whistling the precious tome of Cretin Annie – Newspaper JANE begs for information on who killed Jimmy and how? Quetiapine carouselambra.
                The entire BARELS family on Earth reflexively contracts eyeball meningitis – They pass away slowly side-by-side while on an errant roller coaster – All shot dead by an Astrogoth dwarf whose nastiness will go down as the worst in BARELS family history – Asphyxiated in garage while Crown Victoria spits out carbon monoxide – Drowned in a massive mud puddle after suffocating in a pit of quicksand – The whole family arises on the fifth day and are spontaneously reanimated for a time – Bankrupting fast food joint.
                LORD BA suffers many misfortunes in the wake of this mass murder – In 3007 his head fell off and needed to be reattached – In 3030 a rabid tiger ripped his face off and let it sink to the bottom of Cross Hill Lake – In 3011 bestial termites devoured his body into perfectly diced cubes that needed to be sewn back together – Yet BA never raised his hand in violence against another human being.
                All the beers in all the beer trucks throughout the county twang a pewter flavored mouth harp – You see now that BA is the sum effect of many causes – An abandonment – A retribution that hangs lowly upon the Caledonian smog – Those who believe BA can be saved are naïve – The BAREL FAMILY ZOMBIES clear cut old growth forests with their sharp teeth thereby reducing oxygen levels along the Styx river valley – Subsequent GOD LIGHT abandons the family shack via transgression laden viaducts.
                In 3018 BA was completely dismembered in a ruthless home invasion – The chief paramedic sought out occultists to reanimate BA with some gray magic type of spell – They were unsuccessful, yet BA’s ghost returned to human form upon the equinox of nuclear winter – Carrying wall structures divided by left and right political placebos.
                In 3021 BA contracted Gottschalk’s disease, a condition that makes you vomit out your own brains – THIS TEXT DEMONSTRATES THE MOST SUBVERSIVE WRITING.
                Unable to care for the infant, BA’s parents left him at family shack near a bitter cold riverbank – He quickly fell into dark infant schemes – One night BA and his cronies drank so much beer they passed out in an abandoned house – They awoke to blare of sirens and strobing GLARE of police flashlights.
                The BARELS family was subject to more offensive behavior in juvenile – Poisoned by Pluto laden transgression herbicides that cannot hold the halter bottoms of Astrogoth Carnage always lurking on the iron horizon – LORD BA committed to asylum for errant youths and SHIELD MISTRESSES.
                This detention was abusive in many ways, including long periods of solitary confinement – The guards would slip peyote into BA’s coffee – Their bloody faces demure – The eye begins to cry yet has no hands to handle tissues.
                “Lucretius, listen to my call in the afterlife – I am no longer Jimmy Panda – I have grown past these simple bounds – Hear my confession: I killed Lordy Rue and Flapjack with a paneling nail – These limits are my punishment while I wander between my mortal and immortal self.”
                “When I return to the realm of the living I will find the hidden NUCLEAR SHOTGUN and I shall use it to make an inferno of Caledonia – In the meanwhile listen to my plea: USE THE GANGSTERS TO PLACATE BA – It’s your one hope.”
                “Forget the stark insignificance of the planet Neptune – It will heal itself in time – Sacral dances let purple blood by the altar – In luxury you shall remain.”
                “CRETINS GUZZLE chasms of scheming bitches brew on tap.”
                Friesian fornication develops layers of want conniving ten-billion clicks on Flippotron – Crepuscular copper rims dive off the high board into boiling tar pits of god’s love – Jimmy’s contrition amalgamates with his white ass leaving home in favor of varilux teal oranges.
                Remorse – Mortification – Infamy – THE LOT where mendicants swindle the dying Cretins for their chocolate truffles – Motorcades grow glum with disuse – Such is the manner of Slum-de-lum Boulevard when the newsboy reads a newspaper stapled to his palm.
                I don’t like to think about things Elektra talked about in those days – I’ve since come to realize the things she said are useless:
                “Sick, sick, sick, that’s all you ever are.”
                “You look just like my brother.”
                “You need someone to take you to a psychiatrist and I’m not doing it.”
                JIMMY CONCEALS HIS KIND IN A HERMETIC JAR.
                Genesis key.



Tyler Sherwood Pruett is a writer and artist with a special interest in creative nonfiction and indeterminate literary forms. His work has recently appeared in journals such as Otoliths, X-Peri, Zombie Logic Review, and Clockwise Cat. He is the author of A Refutation of Exile published by Red Moon Press, a themed collection of short poems. Tyler studied writing at Johns Hopkins University.
 
 
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