Je M'appelle J. Cousteau

I was there at the cattle fair, where

lump fairies swear at glories far be-

yond the fabric that she wears. He said

"Do ya wanna chair?" I'd join him any-

where! A hole in the ground, in this

theatre I found J.C.'s infernal horde--

they caper, they banter, forming human

pyramids, all to please--their infernal

Lord...Whoa! His name is J. Cousteau!!!

A pussy and I know you know!! I know

you know, and there he goes. He goes and

grows, on gosh, he knows--Aboard the

Calypso!! The foam beside, and a burly

sea to ride, all spell goodness for the

master of the whirling pimple tides.

He tried and fried until the rusted

hinges sighed, and then he stepped

inside! He found her there, swimming

in her seaweed hair, looking vaguely

like a lover who has hung herself with

underwear--Phosphorescent green and

the sex-act made obscene, in Jacques

galleon of hatred--This wrinkled French-

man is a living god!!!

Cousteau, you know, where the dying

dolphins go, and the wasteland ever growing,

never slowing till it's far below--Put it

on your T.V. show--and let the humans

know!!!