Ashtray Alliteration

Simply ashtray alliteration which came to me via a kink in my subscription to Cosmic Conciousness.
Damn people keep sending me their sweepstakes invites.
They're only advertising their other magazines: Kinkily Conscious and Cosmetically Conscientious.
Or perhaps this is inspired by the post-lecture gathering of the ravenous audience at the Royal College of Surgeons this past week: people so terribly hungry for knowledge and as knowledge was not on the menu eight or nine canapes at a time will do.
A cufflink scrapes my cheek as a large hairy hand reaches over me like a crane lifting skewers of curried chicken satay directly to a mouth as this man's plate was too soggy to hold any more. Was it a Calcutta-esque free-for all; a grab and gorge session;damn the dainty--take as many as you can. Is that the undertow and motto of people who frequent political debates? I have never witnessed the candid behaviour of after hours lawyers before. Starving artists have more grace. They are more practiced at stealing free canapes. They don't attack the waitresses before they have replenished the relish tray. Maybe that's why they're still starving. And the maid in the story inspired by the maid in Peter Pan. I picture her working in a hotel on Lake Louise in Banff.

Sterling Mermaids Murmermansk
Rising tips of curly waves
Steamy Mermaids to the bridge
Meaty cabbage veiny ridges
Meaty cabbage
Carrot darlings
Dumpling trade

Gravy-boated, trimmed and shaved
Dickey-bowed and well-behaved
Toting silver-plated trays
Ocean line the stainless graves
Ocean liners from the finest of the kitchen's stainless maze

Tray out those Lacy Lengths of Loose-fit Latvian Linguine
As the Pianist accompanies the Bogota Bikini
Feather-slippered velvet songstress
Dusty plush a pink so crushed
Twitches to the sordid beat of
Summer slices....
Lemon devices
Gin and greedy tonic sweety
Please advise us
On our vices
As we tally up the sauerkrauty
Sums of summer sausage
Get the postman for this
Pastry parcel spinach as it bursts
the bottom buttons off the
Stroodle strapped oh lasses
Smelling Greek of meek molasses
Waiting tendrilly on patrons with their pasty pints of wine
And giant scented asses
Hanging low and leaking lawns of
Suburban mower gasses
Grim and grey-chinned grinning
At the fruity tarts and pastries
Which are glistening with promises as shiny as a jar
Of vaselined guitars
Cracked and yellowing with scars
strumming slowing out of tune
in the medicine cabinet of the honest virgin's room.

They make their fruitless passes
At the gin drinking masses
Of leather faced ladies clinking glasses

Chime with me. Dine with me.
Cluck and recline with me
Chime, grind, and wine at sea
The evening has a breeze

Her complexion gently rose to the surface
As she wiped the mascara with the napkin
Folds enclosing a number of a room or telephone
The metal-mirrored door
Side to side it swung
Upon one small but stable nail

Undressing from the black and white laces of service
Placing pilaf on plates
Fizzing bubbles for the bow-tied mates
Holding their last hurrah....bachelor funerals
Her hand clasped the crisp of the white of the sheet
As she good-nighted herself to sleep