Macho-Libre

A public domain free verse poem by ABC POOL
Contributors:
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mcscraic
bedpanner
retepk
magdalenaball
pixieguts
.

http://pool.abc.net.au/media/macho-libre
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Macho-Libre.

Becoming fitted planks of clarity.
With clear skies the journey began optimistically.
.
After three hesitant steps I see a cloud. Is this an omen? or an oxymoronic vapour trail brewing shade.
Almost an oxymoronic vapour . . .
just a neighbour burning autumn leaves,
except it is spring and the trimmings greener than lunar fromage smoked like a murray steamer on a day as still as Jupiter's atmosphere on any given day. But ten steps later I picked up the pace .
Things looked clearly obscure, but that's never stopped me, so I rolled a joint en route, and pushed on despite the searing pain that had begun to move its way through my solar plexus.

The mother ship had left and I was stranded on a planet with hot rocks and three of my crew who lay there motionless. Wow all those wed wocks wound me went woosh and burst into a hectic sketic stream of sulphuric smoke causing allergic reaction and sudden waking from that place Either delusional or drunk .
Doctor O'Dribbles said with a snigger ,
"Zap him again when I tell you."
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"O'Dribbles I love you," she said with a wide wet wink and reached for his harmonic stabilizor that whizzed and whirled and suddenly she he said its Zap time Nurse Goody. She he whizzed again and filled the room with disfigurement.

When the purple smoke wafted he and she were one again and the room had disappeared into a rift in space. Another dimension.
But the purple smoke lingered .

The lingering became loitering.
The purple plume hung in the room like a suggestion. The smoke began to take shape.
O'Dribbles took his sizziling silver sizzors and cut the thick smoke then walked back into the fourth dimension.
The fourth dimension took him down a plug hole, or was it a water slide, landing him in a field of purple-petalled sunflowers and black roses.
Where the fish dance merrily on the ceiling .

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The fresh landscape slapped O'Dribbles, half blinded by the glint of scissors, but his heart crept like spiders in joy at the blooms. Dazzled with delerium he dove head first into a crystal pond and oblong ripples shimmered across to the other side where a row boat floated.
He climbed into the rowboat. Above was a roadsign which said "Mare Tranquillitus 20, 000 leagues".

He grabbed the oars and rowed.
Within water lillies a whirlpool went whoosh and for just a while a wild wind whisked the boat around and then the boat was sat down on a mountain top with a few planks of clarity missing .

"Isn't this fun?" asked the jocular bird, singing "Me no Nemo" and other near palindromes from a quivering pendulous goitre. No sooner had the jocular bird sang his song when the quivering pendulous goitre suddenly erupted in a flutter of ten thousand butterflies all coloured blue and sporting light sabres that glowed in the fading light of dawn .

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Gossamers clung to patches of sunlight and spiders sung their songs as they spun soft silken webs to catch the dreams of butterflies and singing birds. Webs of delight sprinkle flying butter patches on a row with a naughty lass, a hearty guffaw.

Sparkles candlelit the sky between beams from moon the naughty lass danced as the ground crumbled and opened up in glowing fissures under her hovering feet. Then she stopped dead in her tracks.
With all that was happening around her, the sparkles, the moonbeams and the fussures at her feet, she asked herself ,
"What happened to O'Dribbles?"

Nurse Goody was she and O'Dribbles was he and both were as one in the purple haze of the sun. Glancing back at the tracks, realization dawned. The sky train arrived and O'Dribbles got on board and in warp time the train pulled into the temple grounds. After exiting the sky train and taking the elevator down to ground he was confronted by a couple of Secpol agents who demanded to see his ID. Where had he left his IDisk?

Then he felt the light pass over him. It made his skin crawl. They were scanning him.
The blindind laser light.
Then the nausea raked him.
"I just want to visit the temple" he said defensively trying to stop himself from being ill. Even the sky was miserable, but the language of liberation filled the mouth. Frustration was repeating on O'Dribbles.
It tasted like chicken but there was something missing. Not enough salt perhaps. The frustration grew . . .

Contributors:
bedpanner
retepk
magdalenaball
mcscraic

pixieguts