Confused Poetic Travels

I entered the poetic cave. Lit all the alliterations I could, so I could see. I had hoped for a burlesque show, but settled on ordering a sausage canzone from the pizzeria. When I was in Vietnam, under Carpe Diem, he would often reflect on the visual power of the Nazi Chatushka. I thought it was a cinqku, that if we went before the Clerihew, the mob would not attempt to implant us in concrete. As I watched him adorn his head with a crown of sonnets, the crystalline form of the cave around us became evident. I drove my Diamante outside in hopes of catching a prehistoric didactic take to the air. Sadly, my diminished hexaverse was overpowered by three Japanese martial artist witches in their doduitsu. I ordered a double dactyl, and downed it in one shot...... to be continued.....