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Friday, March 11, 2016

Big success Big Letdown OK return

Dizzying tales of cocaine, gambling, and rusted cars
against a backdrop of Honduran heat and chemical formulas
break out to weekend winnings and snarky snomp.
The parameters come off in this wild romp
through enantiodromia and return.

From Nairobi to Miami,
Uzbekistan and back again,
the human touch is pirated, mocked, lauded, undone
before an ultimate reconciliation
of Willendorfian proportions.

Throw in something heartwarming for the older folks--
singing children, patriotic brass: Blockbuster awaits.

Villains ride a curvaceous strike force
of ‘80’s tractor trailers.
There's famous killers in exquisite skyscrapers
headed by a Scando socialist
psycho named Dr. Nytrø

fought by billionaire good guys
eating hibiscus salad and sugared salamander
on top of Chicago.
The heroine has a hotbod
and speaks bureaucracy
as she crushes nemeses to dust.

A man named Garden is involved.
Somebody says You started this thing now you can't stop it.

Midway thru, deadly twists.

You will smell the airbag wires burning down
hit the jackpot in your glands.

--People will be talking about the love scene 
for seconds to come.

--The car crash alone is 10 minutes long.

--Oscar award for sound and for set.


The sequel reads like a trip with Vishnu thru 1970’s Oahu
loaded on uni and psilocybin
but it's 5× too long
and can only be viewed
at 45° angles
in special theaters
for $99.95.

People call it excessive
but what worth viewing is not?

Yes, my son,
the dialogue may be
nothing but stilted

but consider that Garden turns traitor
outraging his fans. Tortures
innocents on the rack.
With explosive urethras
and outstanding propaganda.

Oh, how it flies in the face of applause! 

This time the “heroes” are Shiite
apsaras liberated from a Nigerian prison

by a lovely orange eagle
and the villains are Belgian

environmental terrorist compound

Redemption. Violence. Purification. Bullshit.
The sharkfighting scenes drew rebukes for their explosive exploitation
and became instant media success.

A series of initiatives, parlays, and forums boil down
to an Indy-style car race through landscapes
treacherous as the latest indices, including:

1. castlescape dusted from Assyrian mud flats
2. Monte Carlo, 1947
3. Vietnamese cave jungle in full monsoon

all considered among the most
beautiful film ever seen.

But the flash doesn’t cash and the time lingers on.

Just when you think it's over
the theses get bigger, the problems enmesh

ramifications extend, the conclusion sifts out.

The detective summons a tea ceremony
where a murder is solved

so unconvincingly you'll need your money back to see pt. 3.

Last line: We're human after all 

says it all.

--Won the Razzie.

--Grossed more than the elections

--Or anything in history.

This time they shook the director and the pipeline.

Garden has new costumes!

So what so satisfactory.
Pyrotechnics designed to conjure childhood
instead remind you of  a good day at work.

The real people of this dangerous world
are lauded in a 10-minute medal ceremony 
halfway through. 

Portico and dorsal fins of aircraft—Brazilian models—ridiculous modeling clay montage portrays Cheng Ho’s journey to Africa.

A treasure map on the back of a bathroom stall
leads our heroes to an emerald mine
in the heart of suburbia
where Garden has come home to detox.

America, the poxed plain
turned enlightened feast
on bodies of a conquest
that could not be avoided.

Ironic visits to submarine Venice
and abundant tundra seem to portend
the inevitable goodness of our oily world.

The costumes remember 
Roman galas mixed with alien splendor
and American junk.

I took medicine 2/3 through
so don’t ask me about the final act. 

But romance was destroyed 
and human kindness reinterpreted.
So shut up
and buy the t-shirt. 
Because this is the story of the century.

Moral of the trilogy:

Don't go nuts without coming back.
Trust only your critics
and kill them with their own hands.

Be good
and be gone.

Peace. War. Whatever goes.

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