Alpha dot skies

In the butter of my Benidorm,
Across the whisper soaked skies,
Lay the form of alpha dot supremacy,
Rippling in the contours of time.
The freedom cracking mind riders,
Who decoded the stream of realisations,
From the pulpit of chronology,
Sent particles of hope to the patterning in the air.
Collisions in prisms and miscounted missions,
Allowed for a semblance of truth to filter the clouds.
Doubts pierced the cloak of knowing,
And shudder of grim ricocheted through their dormant skulls.
This was the reckoning.
This was the field decider.
This... was the merry Jimbo.
No longer would havoc rule the ignorati...
People would express the alpha dot skies in liberty...
Decisions made in place of insurrections,
Would pepper peace with oodles of wotnots,
Jibbing in a dulcet pocket of oxygen...
Like a hyperventilating rat,
Poisoned from drinking it's own urine.
Cast asunder as a runt from the vermin clan...
The very purpose of existence. Questioned.
Until the elixir,
The catnip of men,
The eucalyptus of herbacious boarders,
The meat, of machismo lions,
Was found in abundance beyond the island of legality,
And there the roving pirates consumed their treasure,
Laughing with pixelated glee,
As the riven mank soaked the balls of a Tennessee saloon,
Lifted, above the ground,
Using electro magnetic pulses,
Derived from Catherine wheels.
Marvellous like a Spice Girls reunion...
Joy fluctuating in a hit and miss sky...
Everyone a participant,
Of Death.
Nacho Frisky looked to the hilt of his horizon,
And declared gaming season open...
As mighty Blighty died a morsel of woe,
Thanks to the legacy of a sweetheart,
Who passed away so thoughtlessly,
Seeing as like Cheers, everyone knew her name.
'I don't know where I'll be in a thousand years time', said Nacho.
'But I sure hope I feel okay'.
The oven cheeks of Ramadan cloaked their repeating horseshit,
And everyone tippled in a roundabout way.
Surrealism, death charge mode, was in effect.
Let's brink.