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Geeezeesus Keeerist Mom!
Never thought I could write these words alone in Calpe

July 15, 2003
The Iranian

Destiny some great deed for future generations to hear silver-gold drifting over the deserted moon old in Webster's dictionary.

Seduced in Spanish black loace over aurora combs lighted candles on the castle hill where the turquiose mosque used to be now a church to mount Jesus covered with white easter lillies.

The black death procession down the narrow cobblestone streets white stucco houses with men coming home for lunch at two turning the key in chirozo doors embracing your cheatin' heart will tell on you under late April geraniums.

Best friends, Spanish families welded together whiff of incense, lace grapevines and black envy at night streaming toward the church doors carrying the dead body of Jesus in a glass sermon martyred candleabras check Calpe crabs with legs wide open.

Never thought I could write these words alone in the corner next to a potted ficus among the lovin' arms of the whole town of Calpe self-effacing again a hiding Persian on both sides of the ecumenical divide having just become evil in the spring air across the Mediterranean.
Better to die glorious near the old castle wall covered with ivy and roses at the bottom Antonio showed me his penis (pene).

Everyone except the black stallion was there. The horses had disappeared above the olive trees winged joining Jesus in heaven. Much lost as the gods deserted the mosque, life is what counts.

Slippery mackerel split open with the backbone removed sprinkled with flour and fried for her wedding pictures at the medevil fair full of show me the way bread with raisens. A rampant hetrosexual Spanish penis roamed the stalls looking for sex marinated in vino, indrscribably delicious.

Petals of the laurel hedge and blue plumbago fell near the sacred olive trees. Weeping, drug-crazed, soberano-sodden. cunt-obsessed I shouted buttare via!- get it out! voice or no voice Spanish heads topped laughably. Was that my destiny?

Dios! Ah ya ya! After prayers on the motorcycle the telephone rang and I was bundled out and shot.

Oh DIOS! Just writing this has set up a terrible craving for Antonio's tormentated penis.
It's Easter.


PENE- &%$·"!?-ESPANA

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By Kristopher Kolumbus




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