Alex Jonz-Joned-Jones, a fine poet of the bardic tradition, is also, despite to spite himself, a fine poet of the Barbie Doll tradition.
Partially because Alex Jonz-Joned-Jones is Texan, a state of oil and where an oil man can get oil,
Of snake oil…
A fine poet of the snake oil, Barbie Doll tradition.
To the screaming beat, the beat of a doll, a cop, a moll, a fop, or a drop of a beach oiled with emoluments, a rad trad, oil of purse, oil of Nard, oil between sands, stones, pebbles, feathers, fish and fur. Clogging, cloying, lubricating– for or in,
Of the plastic tradition.
A Barbie Doll is, literally and literarily, plastic. Even the hair is plastic, or a synthetic fiber close to plastic. Related to plastic, not necessarily plastic, but necessarily synthetic. (Why oh why necessarily?) Plastic — oil– sinks into the fibers, of the Barbie Doll, into the fibers of the bad bardic poet, and as oil sinks into the gills of fish, or into the pebbles or sand of the beach, for poems are of the plastic arts, form engendering, hot, like lava…
It sinks into the words and voice of a Barbie Doll bard.
A love poem to a Barbie Doll, the poem blown up, like a balloon, or a condom, the Barbie herself, compact, snug, not at all snuggly– but smooth, even the synthetic hair is smoooth, smothered smooooth. Blown like a blown?
Oil, moist, moist emolument emulsifier, up from the ground– a ground which had been, undoubtedly, once part of an ocean floor. A Barbie of the beach, perhaps Malibu beach. A Malibu Barbie. A moist baby doll. Wet. The moist baby doll, coming equipped with AI, as, back in the day, when Alex Jonz-Joned-Jones fondled toys, probably cop or soldier, boys o’puppy dog tail not to fondle “dolls”, meaning Barbie. Not interested. A lot of dolls in those days, had a bardic voice. To access it, you pulled a string, which was in their back. There was a plastic loop attached to the string. A finger, inserted into the loop, then a tug. Not necessarily a fondling tug, but a tug.
A voice erupted. Dolls voice?
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