BeaBop SST9 Carnival – DRAFT

16 May

Marmalade is the new brown. One half dipped in Marmite. The other rotated in a vat of feathers.  Frantic streams of rainbows popcorn into summer soca. There is a bass urge to screech from the bottom of magnolia-lined lungs. Profane examples of society prefer to jam like berries in Tory blue. I breathe in candy-floss coated chicken and a float whirls by carrying a super-princess wearing steel pan pants, thumping her feet to the rhythm with pride eminating from her waist.  Her beat wakes up deadbeats resting in the ruts between cracked cobble stones. De road marches from The Forest to mirror the sky.  I am greedy for more magnolia clouds.  Around the corner a page is turning again. An eruption spews Nepalese rocks from my chest. As I exhale I m

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