How's your gibberish? A tiki challenge to YOU

Check out the gibberish on the tag on the back of this coco joes piece I just got. I never noticed a tag that was like this one before. Made me wonder just what and how much they had been smoking when they wrote this:

Lava Lamp

When candle light
against the tiki glows
The breath of flowers
Haunting pervades the air
Recalling the magic of the
isles---
The sun-flecked seas,
And high strutting surf,
Warm elusive sands
Cooled by fanning palms
Mountain tops
Playing hide and seek
With cherubic clouds,
Who score
In brilliant crescents
Across the skies
And weep in veils
On losing.

And so I must reply:

With mouth agape and jaw dropped low  
The lava lamp has filled me with  
a presence in this modern age which  
is fueled by envy for a previous dawn  
on an isle so distant and inside me at once  
By humid airs on scorching driveways  
of this land locked existence I scour  
My eyes aglaze from the absence of nocturnal stillness  
A handicap to overcome for a treasure found  
without map or shovel  
Beautifully hideous she beckons  
charismatically grotesque he directs me  
in the paths of aquisition so barren  
And then as time has nearly fallen over the horizon  
a mirage gives way to a solid form  
a tactile possession of an aged generation  
now takes flight upon the wings of glory  
Momentarily satisfying a neverending quest  
Seek with ferver, searching afar and ye may find  
Abandon the anchors of familiar ports  
for the asphalts of the promised land.  
Though the moisture of the ages threaten  
A glint of gold your umbrella.

Now it's your turn, go for it.
8FT

makes perfect sense to me..

Intoxicated by zesty gusts
from flared nostrils
The chupacabra coconut
Speaking milky riddles
Under swishing corduroy
With frazzled scoria
Combing yogurt skies
for hibiscus contrails---
The sinuous monstera
With fassionola dewdrops
In ritual condensation
Joining topknots
Caressed
By inlaid coral elbows
And blended on high for 5 seconds

-Randy

In the zenith of Jurgen Prochnow's corn-hole
Lies an elephant-cluster of predominate butterflies
Long was the breast-line of fortuitous reclamation
We danced with holographic nematodes while extracting silk
but dawn's clairvoyance shifted just an intrasemiphore
and the devil howled into the wind
dry was the phoenix as it got wet
and short was thy morning weeds as they cameth
bashful was the everpresent sloth as it tied the knot
and quenched it's valor upon the talons of a fresh, spring day!
The interpolation of sad frequencies bemoans the adaptation of intransagenic meridians.

http://soundcloud.com/lucas-vigor/sets/set-3/

"yer jus not tuned into the series of tubes yet, let it soak in".

[ Edited by: lucas vigor 2011-08-17 14:23 ]