XX The jinn

Sineaster times! When you dial nine-eleven,*

those pilots are cackling: »Line double-O seven!

Hell on the way! Yes, we dare! Into heaven!«

Out of the shadows? A new set of wings?

Rot in your cell! Double sentence from sphinx:

»You host that jinn! Make the deepest of links!«

I'm like: 'Hey Jude, let us fly on my carpet.'

Smells like mean spirit. New song on the market!

»Na na na nananana nanana, play nude!

Yep! I feel very frenetic today!

Tomorrow let ferret farts fly where they may.

Cherry-go-round, let us swing all the way.

Wet for my diamonds! I bet for a dime:

Fallen Madonna ain't wasting her time

with poems, with poets. Like licking a lime.

Smut operator. Hell, some like it hot!

Feed 'em with votes! You might heard it (or not):

You bring her followers, she /dot.dot.dot/

makes you smoke pot and play Devil May Cry,

then pulls out her dick. Hell, this chick is a guy!

You ask him, does he have a sister... Nearby?

Maybe with only a minute to spare,

he kisses you gently, caresses your hair.

He says: 'I would rather, you know, just go low!'

First time, I guess. Feeling better. I glow!

A night to remember. We hook up and I...

… patch 'till you catch me! So long and goodbye!«

* Where were you...

XXI The spin

Sineaster times! When you dial nine-eleven,

those passengers crackling on line number seven:

»Hell in the way! Yes, we care! Win or heaven!«

Out in the meadows. A new set of wings.

Out of my shell! Double sentence from sphinx:

»You roast that jinn! Break the weakest of links!«

I'm like: »Interlude. Let us lie on my carpet.«

Smells like keen spirit. New song on the market!

»Na na na nananana nanana, pray dude!

Yep! I feel very poetic today!

Tomorrow let tarock cards fall where they may.

Merry-go-round, let us sing on the way.

Death of my diamonds? I bet for a dime:

la bella donna likes wasting her time

with poems, with poets. Like picking a thyme.

Smooth operator. Well, some like it hot!

Feed 'em with quotes they might heard of or not.

You bring her flowers and she /dot.dot.dot/

talks (and you listen). The devil may fry!

You feel like a dick when she hugs you goodbye.

You ask her, does she have a sister... Nearby?

Maybe with only a minute to spare,

she kisses you gently, caresses your hair.

She says: 'I would rather, you know, just go slow,

third time a yes is still better than no!'

A night to remember. We look up and I...

… thank Angel Mary that I caught her eye!«*

* Hero