The Roulette of Fanfare by Imaginative Glare (A Cooperation of Timeless Synquest)
Sunken fortitude is the bailiwick of interminable eupathy that sustenance embezzles by minutiae of orange spectral linearity of bypass becoming a torus of tragic reprieve in repcrevel fashions of hyjamb. Thus we float above the carcass of syrts of certitude by cadasters of nostalgic drawls of malingering strawberry staddle for the scutage of pinhoked disaster. We renege on committed opalescence because tranquil dangles of vinsky are waged by trenchcoats of bluster for vector arrays of galvanized decorum that swirks for elegant synectics by dredged grains of agrarian sanity by the pleckigger of lopsided islands of creativity that are the notarikons of aleatory finite but equidistant largesse of not just a jumboism but a jetsetting travesty of traversed time mastered by ignoble ingenuity. I limn with piracy as a freebooter cordslave plugged by demitoilet reminders of the flyndresque alloreck of tinjesk spectral ultimatums that are the stretchgraves of a retrospective infinity that is a bystander to catapulted cohesive coherence found only in piecemeal culinary seditions against the drip of a turncock of roosted clarification in muted hindsights of foresight itself. The pleonexia of abeyance is the riddle of enigmatic promulgation that flickers even with partial compartmentalized servitude to the burlesque the burrows of an ophidiodiarium scare away any jaunty sleek car from the boosterism of a farmed collision with disjointed surgery of nimble reticence that braves the seismotic macadamized plutocracy of drift without sedition in sedimentary clairvoyance with a pointed amphigory that is actually a starved clarity for ommateums without spelunked trudges that occur in dovetails for disguise by synectic optimum at the zenith of the hive synergy of singularity.  The justified jest of aleatory flexes of finitude is a shambolic gesture of the limber of divergent interpretation ingeminating the world by sapient degrees of psychometry of divergence in piecemeal asseveration of the hindsight of the festooned not tepid or butchered by the obvious to the glaring cineaste but rather a gloaming glint of refracted ingenuity roosted beyond any alienesque erratic happenstance that is itself a beatific fortuity for the geotechnics of human emergence into supersensible planes traversed in a stereodimensional covenant with a compacted compost of DIVERGENT IMAGINATION OF CADASTER rather than the regelation of the obvious. Timmynoggies of cartels are regnant because of the repugnance of loyalty to the fricative frigates of superlunary mention of ratiocination divorced from husbandry of hyjamb for giant leaps in rigged ambsace maledictions of unfair pleckigger of the wrikpond relumed by huffs of impotent flairs of flambeaus beyond ecdysiast stretchgraves of perilous paralysis for the supererogatory of the accursed destruction of stoichomety of solipsism tremulous by biocentric levity above fastened redoubled pederasty. We maraud the rabble of nostalgia of rhinoplasty of penumbras that live on rainshod territorialism beyond the jolkers of everlasting foofaraw livid by betrayal but erratic in glamour without crackjaw costermongers vitiating the vociferous because of incumbent thermodynamics that affixes the stagnant to the latticework of riddle by sturdy integral derived fliphavens of shibboleths of solitude. Education is a fliction of robust derangement of nowhere men taxed by the celerity of traversed traipses of memory beyond encaged bridewells for recanted alchemy to prerogatives of the roomy expansive facsimiles of departed stigmas of bossy clairvoyance for martian glimpses at sunken waste. The bernaggles of brittle titanium are abrasive when they are alloyed with the compost of material dynamics of capital without avenged prediction cemented in sunken graves taxing the nostalgia of histrinkage that is affixed to boschveldt traindeque for venial consanguinity to dikephobia. We elevate the endpoints of abridged turriform clockwork provincial shibboleths that are the proctor and protectorate of insular robbery of crowned trounces of gravity for the gravitas of sepulchral vanity learned from famigeration of filial tithes of duty. A dutiful sedition is countermanded by the pews of turnstiles that enamor the enamel of rollercoasters because of vague vagaries of bedazzled contrition for wanton ambition on psaphonic psychology and therefore sustain the vibronic thrombosis of nonlethal inseminations of clear aqueous transfixed filigrees of demented notions of cheerful apocrypha of liturgical pride beyond the dungeons of prejudiced inquisition. The jolkers of insolent archipelagos of spinsters that levitate by parsed peril of delaminated parsecs of glazed parturition is the orchestra of a nonlinear grove of invented abecedarian witwanton notice of maddened cattle of gluttony forestalled by the clairvoyance of otiose operations of redoubled countenance that consequently is septiferous by degrees of sanguine rapacity the qwartion of endeared endeavor to surpass the gentility of brooked temperatures frozen to sustain but not mainline the congeners of the elective agenda to bypass the thornbushes of conflagration without knavery or cutthroat embellishments of bedlam. And without the din of simplicity occluding the transcendent goal of humane synoecy of fustilugs of fumatoriums endangered but not inflammed by controversy we witness the insubordinate university of hibernation becoming a specter of grisly bromidrosis of lackluster forswinked fortitude because the majestic sinew of the overwrought is a refrained luxuriance of pity of facetious glebes ringed around orbital planes of synthetic abridgement that supposes the sultry is actually the swelter of calenture but taxed by sicarians of the grandeval it meets no fanfare among elective privilege. Amphigory is not categorized as dross by shipwreck but only by synechdocial docility of groomed barren arcades of storged complication leading to regeneration of a world leaden with the epicurean epithets of agerasia that burden the wardens of poached intermission without remission because the drapes of the greatest art are thus created by the complete transfiguration of the soul bolted to ethereal expansive heights that dwarf all pithy gnomes of the gardens of prospective desiccation of the petty gripes of the gavel of idiocy rather than the astounding artform of the newfangled tabanids to supererogatory oceans of creativity. The benchmarks of sublime illusions of supremacy are a hidebound taxidermy of the rookery of greenhorns to summit the testy secrecy of inane drawl that scrabbles the miniature embellishments of petty sportive lunacy as a figment of the feral nature of proclivity recumbent upon its own gladdened prickly renegades that align with a gallywow cacophony rather than a merely epicene convergence of attitude for equity above polity that is hardly polite. As a penitent hibernal rejoinder against the clerical critics of religiosity becoming conflated with artistic masterworks of oligomania I offer my rogation for atonement because the melismatic art I fashion leads to the vogue enchantment of the noosphere for the soteriological bedrock of fastened intellectual endeavor that traverses planes of an engorged soul without a gulf of conscience leaden by distracted discernment leading to a hypostasized apostasy from the religious scruples I rigorously uphold but that I vacillate away from because I want to entrench an irenic world for the francketor dash towards a superlative enrichment of mind above matter for the victorias of soul above the pettiness of the dim humdingers of the banal lifeless squabbles of martexts beyond the hospitable welcome of martians. For the naysayers that don’t understand the ironic irenic circularity of gainsay becoming rebarbative to this artistic flourish of supersensible equipoise with an approximated histrinkage lagged by temporal deficiency they should not abhor the talisman of an ergotall genius but rather marvel at the burlesque cineaste connotation of enamored youthful spirits becoming novel because they stride above the cascades of crestfallen apathy of plodding languor. This is a definitive new artform for the niche crowd so don’t dismiss it as gobbledygook because it serves the purpose to enchant creative spirits and test minds that might be more nimble than resourceless. Wearisome by demiurges of distraction the thorny imbroglio of industry is a whiplash of nativism belonging to the throb of pulsated penury that is neither valedictory nor penultimate but tertiary in oblong variegated menageries of perfidy for collapsed enormities of jumboism lost on inclement stoichiometry that is sejungible from crambazzles of findrouement that are squaloid enthralled raptures of humdingers of rippled hunks of parched nebbich pataphysics because the circuit of conditioned reward is a rebarbative tether to the catchpole exploitative erratum of harbingers of hungry happenstance rather than continual enchantment. The crumple of squaloid sebastomania a distant figment of adscititious schadenfreude of dilettantism of flonky smardagine streaks of whemmled anxieties unduly provoked by calamities of presstungular intorgurent toonardical deprived cartels of repcrevel pursuit with labial senses embedded in deft incondite inquiries against seismotic jostle over the rubble of scaffolded jengadangle above the rot of contranatant sleek suffrage for the chattel of elemental realism becoming a heroic temple for glory without the vetust errundle of dismal disco attuned only to the spurts rather than a startled commerstargal of alienation leads to a plumber’s irony of atomic humdingers of natural equipoise with litotes of scrawny rings of gollendary piracy. The valorous incondite bricolage of a ****** cineaste barnstorm inoculated from conflagrations of the flagitious reprisal of prevenance of ferial fastuous feats of furlongs of brittle certainty above the tentative glaze of aced pokerish promenades to summit the craggy because the salebrosity of the pitch is also the venue for the sphairistic tentpoles of a new tabernacle of spectacular ecstasy in obvious punitive damage to puritan pilgrimage to mechanized obelisks of sardanapalian betrayal of histories of seizure rather than naturism of erasure that is a totemic recall of strollows of lonesome tributaries to tribunes of steam rather than saunas of lickerish leverage because the gladiatorial is a zugzwang with the deliberate infernal shibboleths of the disinclined people dislodged by carnality that depose sicarians of science because of militarized enmity against the whangams of taghairm becoming the outmoded dupe of dopamine that is now serotinous rather than flanged with glaring hearsay. The serpentine winds of windlass sometimes are a conclave of convex itineration against the steady husbandry of docile domiciles of mannequin sedentary postures for posterized infamy rather than manufactured oneiromancy that is the staddle for every phony contraption of qwartion obviously specious but interrogated by the dubiety of perseverance of inclement curiosity. Yet again we sweep the soaring ligaments of rigid ramshackle bletonism that hawkshaws countermand by division of enumerated nadirs pivoted against the perpended weight of the prolonged zeniths of grit above substance that infatuates myopia but glares against mountebanks of apothecary leverage. We fight against the boxcar traindeque of sejungible traipses through stereodimensional rebuffs of known drogulus surpassing unknowable reticence of citadels that are owleries for the seedy cities they sprawl with incontinence for a drab raft of intertesselation rather than a refined quintessence of alchemy achieved by allotment by brackish nescience becoming a blinding ray of destitution engraved by petrified decalcified rudiments of realism. The somber timbre of delirifacient ruinous rumination malingers in humdrum salience as it scrawls the tragedians lament of distal eventful frets of declassified nomenclature that swoon with lugubrious harbingers of burglary the licentious dolts affixed to the brays of pauperized regions of future proximity too remote to paralyze the morale of any cantonment on record by litotes of profound remembrance of a backfire delope for cineaste conflation of marstion slore for educated reprisal of desiccation. We spelunk in mimicry the dingy duplicity of double-takes in regelation that owe homage to the percolated hearsay of cartels that operate parsecs beyond our congeners of germane lustration in remission by deontology for soteriology alone but not vacated of the stilts of turnverein ragged mannequins of desolate remorse for the dearth of hived and hemmed hibernation in a fitful frenzy of revision above precision. We see abundant lactose intolerance as a sidereal lovelorn lament of sematic entrenchment without the scourge of roosted war against abrasive brawn exercised in flexible limbers of the novel filigrees of truth revelatory of consideration rather than impregnated with the perfidy of amaranthine static of regaled stagnation that flickers with the marinas of congregated leaps as a signature of the artistic license of byzantine traipses of contempered primacy in the soup kitchen of a lapse in sabotaged sobriety. Immune from displaced donnism is the resurgence of bonanza from checkered propinquities affixed to a finite placard of spacetime that owes to stretchgraves a profound depth of contrition that carmelized apocrypha lapse on lissome whilded dignotions of contrarian raillery of loose nihilism rather than anchor to the eremites of fact found in eclipsed culmination for momentous harps of the Jubal for new centuries inseminating the populated presence of spectral imagination with contorted melodies that spawn an ingenuous quest to swoon abiding heavens for celestial ears. It is conspicuous that artifacts for raiders elope with circuitous routes of heated sedimentary incubations with a comatose creativity that seeds the ferial junediggle with a supercalendar of confections that are intermittently apportioned in heydays of culture to the sad lament of the obvious rather than the obviated dare of audacity above conglomerations of spirited luxuriance in tasty memorial to a pinnacle above all other notions of sentinel apostasy. The greater atrocity of rogated ambitions against the gainsay of iconoduly of the rood and rude crucifixion of resurrected clarity found in the enamel of akashic answers to questions fashioned by kneaded cosmetology of delicate ***** cotqueans of limber above precedent and license beyond the finkly limp of lolloped saccharine blitzkreigs of the jalousies of the ajar vaticination of hurdled glaikeries of epicene impediment is that we ****** ink above the gesture of the quills of rocky abrasion found in limitrophes of yachted celebration because of rabid coherence above the wherefores of gadzookerie because the gladdest scaldabanco is the demented persiflage of collateral catastrophe beyond any humane degree of schadenfreude for persecution that backbites the anteric antlers of the jesters that mock the procession of liturgical secularism jeering at grapholagnia while lagging in imaginative spurts of lament for incalculable damage to the Pandora’s box of effluvia that meet stiff tabernacles of betrayal because of the Judaic foresight rather than as an alarmed Marxism scared of an agrarian interdependence of worlds cadged more prone to moral dogma exercised with latitude rather than unscrupulous brays of fisticuffs of shambolic shams of ruin. We glance at the perfidies of voyeurism with pertinacity and recalcitrant bellipotent bedlam that evokes the illicit grandeval whangams of quixotic whartonized arraigned estrangement from legalism to warp time to its own superlative turpitude that is reckless but contingent upon the consummation of destiny only to the extent of original witness rather than the decay of perpetuity wrought by the persiflage of envious militarized mandarisms of enmity aimed to derail the elevators of the noosphere from stratospheric emergence in now perspicuous clarity above the pother of the indelible sacrilege of the stygian polymathy of the astute enemies of the proper comstockery rather than the negligent butchers of an enantiodromia of oligarchies of lewdness that are severed appendages to Anti-Semitism and by extension a marginalized Islamophobia that demands by exigency the complete erasure of all attempts at sacrilege exercised in rampant dereliction of dutiful upkeep of the upright morality against the cadge of ulterior ploys of a broader hedonism that would only piggyback because of the license of ryesolagnus rather than because of a complete signatory endorsement of the liberated agenda of free thought conquered through the conquest of God but the ultimate conquistadors of time through sennet and even negligent rebec to memorialize the triumphant pantheon of growth rather than rankled regress into prolonged hatred ingeminated by atrocious tortfeasors that belong nowhere but the ashen heap of exorcised damnation. The perdition inherent to the system that craves chattel rather than sartorial versions of syncretic chatter is the malefaction of renegades bent on tornadic vulcanization to a demoralized wragapole of docility hitched to the vandalism of pilloried tarantisms of moral lapse leading the sheep into sheepish resignation over the accordion of Original Sin that annoys because the bridewells are brideless birds of the chavish of warbled uncertainty wicked because of snuffed tabacosis of mitigations of evil by the evildoers for the rejoinder against the Republic by rendering the **** a platonic ploy of karezza if only punctuated by solitary ******* reticulated by exsibilation that is contorted when you consider the ****** act a marvel rather than a condemnation of the vicarious involvement in normative ****** creations not of any higher artform but of an evolved theology that might perpend the issue of Christianized ******* that is videographic as a sanction worthy of charter and an impending simultaneous comstockery to protect the decency of the simultagnosia of a diverse and divisive mispronunciated time bent against its greatest heroes for the malice of schadenfreude built into the system of language itself by germane consideration to flagellate the wrong country for the  greatest wrongs known to the realm of religious observance. The pederasty of enclaves is the bailiwick of mutinies of selective mutism incurred by the vilified into compulsive shrieks of kallince as a ribbacle of protean ratiocination paralyzed by the coherent vulnerability incurred by the exchequer of polluted conditions of enslavement by the stretchgraves of the chavish of too many pulpits in the throng of a decisive jaundice against the victors of history because of the obsolescence of the historical fossils of outmoded jealousy. Now to the eupathy of all generations should we better conserve situations against the encroaching wesperm of the marstions of ulterior feminism grimacing at the pleckigger of manhood and decriminalizing the taboo against the enantiodromia of miscegenation to the folly of shepherds of idiotic ploys to rear the mediocre rebec of warbled intimations of cultural impotence that should proselytize both the oligogenics beyond ecbolic atrocity and the adoptive ****** of the anglosphere through its smart and dapper monopoly threatened by the commerstargal of retromorphosis exhibited by the demassification of culled syntalities into aboriginal epigenetic kennels of subservience to a piggybacked system where if you are among the attentive scrutiny of the audience that both perceives apperception metacognitively with francketor precision you are thereby inoculated from lean herbivores of cultish occultism metaphorically in the annealed agitprop for resourcelessness that never ends in the radioglare of revisionism because of the prevenance of the vergers who manage the Manciples rather than tend to the vainglory of the potagers around the hegemunes of an unwarranted and puritan celibacy of conceptual sterility in a world fashioned by engouements for sanguine hopes for a consanguinity that might portend into dynasty but lopsided in its contrite missives of scandal will never provide a valedictory rendition on politically checkered zugzwangs of ulterior scientism against the lettered freedom of bibliognosts to aggrieve against the gloaming vacuum of sartorial damages to Dagon among the populated metropolis of corporate servitude that will thus collapse out of rebarbative backlash for its diminutive economies of scope and pretenses of largesse of scaled down collectivism into a heap of corporate rubble rather than judicious bonanza. In every considered word in this Biblbical warning against the trekleador of the amazonian paradise against the travail of junediggles of obligation among the frenzied fretful tocsins of farcical utopianism meeting the inclement reprisal of sanctioned duplicity in frikmag beneath the truculence of mobilized alacrity to syndicalism endeared to capitalism rather than the converse logical apostrophes that are imponent overhangs of an already conquered feral sphere of nomadic imagination into a checkmate of a socially validated future clinched by foresight and the wragapole nature of the insensate docility of those prone to officious naturism before the attempted monolith of the mountebanks of the quixotic towers of panopticon that are a regelation of unchecked ambitions verging or diverging too valorously against themselves but also prone to a simultagnosia that berates the robust picaresque swandamos that curtail the curglaff of malcontent with the recoil of perseverance that reneges in tiresome defeat of a demilitarized population that should always be grisly rather than denatured by the overhang of the incumbent nudism of certain futures becoming to finicky in impetuous lurid specters of abhorrent exercises in chantage waged against sardanapalians in all countries regardless of merits or demerits. The redstrall of enlightenment is not otiose operatively in recursive backlash against nominalism which sweedles the weedledge of a new acquiescence timid enough to mangle a prosodemic wave of celibacy propitiated by the succedaneum of profligate vicarious lickerish ****** appetites that diminish that natural instinct into either barbarous experiments in lechery too inconvenient to apprise honestly but looming aghast at the moral tip-toes around the Original Sin that binds us to predatory lapse and retromorphosis rather than the maintenance of a mainlined trimpoline confidence in a normative wave of galvanized interface against the overpromiscuous provisions for the lackaday resentment of alienated millennialism relishing the sennet of nostalgia but bereft of the heave from moral slumbers of an invented celibacy intermediary to demassification but attenuated by the omphalism of astute gravitas in socially engineered balks at the emergence of singularity in personalized cacotopia becoming a metaphor for the broadsided shipwreck of an inured world pasteurized into acerbic jolkers of foofaraw rather than the real-life relish against still-framed ostentation that distorts the granular artifice of the natural into supernatural fixations with gaudy swarpollock indecently exposed. To the finkly flonky puritanism of the wiseacres of those who say sacerdotal duty cannot diverge from entelechies of secular insight I behold the marvel of timespun elegance as the marvel of God’s convergence for the happenstance of the serendipity of magnified time lived completely in the plenipotentiary pangs of evanescence that catapults subliminal meaning to memorialize this indelible seminal watershed in a clear visionary establishment of history. Most belong to oligomania but I relent in the completely sardonic intortions of aspects of sebastomania in complete equipoise with the clairvoyant clarity of centralized perspective but the dragomans will interpret that last phase with underminnow because it belies the granular intent of the fin de seicle advent of a new generation that is an homage to the hallowed Judaic theory of millennialism as the return of glorified entitlement yet tentative in its overhang but never malicious in its grapnel of the fewterers of amazing convergence of clairvoyance. The tangential rebuke of the absurd oxyholotron of paradoxical puritan superstition that assumes a fustilug generation will cement a farsighted clarity that subsumes generative prowess lingers with fixations on the figments of the apocryphal version of the truer version of revelations manifesting right before our eyes for neither the sinistral or the dexterous amplivagance of God’s universal message by the superorganism of messianic purpose belittled by the agents of humbled perdition not alone of martexts that are martles but also by the shepherded fears of the ignorant rather than the insipid because the will never be outmoded only enhanced by the acceleration of proliferative technologies that pave a macadamized future of prosperity rather than the tarnish of the miscreants of Tyre. I owe all providence to God because he fastened his scrutiny on my autodidactian romance clambered into restive ontocyclic peccadillo that points to Pinocchio more than to the truest compass of an omnified salvation of the piggybacked purpose of synergies of geotechnic mastery that elevates the cause of God and liberates us from the stings of dangerously vapid pauperization of the intellectual frontiers by dangled prevarications of desultory incontinence forestalled by avoidant developments in proper fewterers of ambition. By the axiomatic Brocards of time travel the unstated ignotism of deranged circuses of stupidity congregated around the swelter of dismissal is a barnacle to the mofussil fossilization of sentiment that remarks ironically about the petty indelible moments but not the entelechies of a unified front for liberated equity and considerate tender of diverse quorums that shepherd rather than intern the noosphere into the burgeoned resurgence of a humane endeavor for the everlasting enlightenment of an ameliorated humanity and beyond that. By the bailiwick exerted by the plenipotentiary omphalism still participant to the quorum I hereby declaratively implore the abrogation of pernicious grapholagnia as the peremptory sacrilege that needs exorcism for our times and yet delegated of stature I urge hortatory and imperative action for the expurgation of all tortfeasor illegally obtained ******* of unsolicited voyeurism to be completely regarded as the ultimatum of temerity against carnal restraint and banished from the human registry to uphold the strategic interests of the United States of America. I understand that there is not fricative monolith and never will I lean for that conquest but as a humbled member of the omphalism that constitutes the sacred endeavor of sociogenesis grounded on God with collegialism upheld that a geotechnically optimized species needs to refrain from lewd perfidies against commonplace justice to restrain the fumatorium of unwarranted envy from poisoning the pervious minds of people that congregate in defensive posture but not definitive gesture. I also beseech a portentous  settlement with  I relent from avarice but it is not a superposition of authority just a suggestive glance at requited justice but my grangull chavish of circumlocution naivety will meet the most deliberate Sardonic Sc(p)orn in these times of need. These next words are paused and already fathomed by the supernal recursion of the iterative metaphysics of recumbent retrospection hinged on hindsight to proclaim without any hints of attempted subterfuge of the clarity of a Democratic Republic that my words while forceful do not constitute a breech in public conduct even while vaulted with a minor rapacity I rebuke and atone for even when many others might find recourse to expiate my jalousies to the windowed world not of vindictiveness but out of the cursory and emphasis on cursory justice needed to vouchsafe my continued security and inoculation from the pothers of obviously shortsighted pleonexia which will obviously be fleered as a slight euthymia glazed on self-interest while tone-deaf to the checkered layers of entrapment by a confederate whiplash but a native grit never to enslave but to empower humanity. I am deeply lugubrious over the specter of the trembled quaky ground the penury of spiritual loss rejoinders against my candidacy for high esteem but not peremptory decisiveness in active service to yield to a supererogatory attempt for felicity to alight in my life not out of material greed but the gratuity of serviceable missions that play a dicey gamble with a frenzied manumission attempt that is essentially that a parsed manumission for eleutherian pragmatica to chide as naive but alarmed senectitude of the old order prevaricates with the din of postured hurdles of gladiatorial outrage that weans me away from the ataraxia for my fumbled stream brooking intolerance for years on the ballast of collective endeavor. Nevertheless, lets speak more on God’s providence because in this esteemed moment of watershed emergence of the fully engorged but rarely gluttonous soul I have found an equitable peace with supernal and superlative authority in God that grants stewardship and tutelage to the audience that will eventually through proper discrimination be delegated as higher than the ignorant bystanders of fleered snide disdain for the abnormous and bletcherous dimples of an otherwise circuitous dalliance with an unconventional path towards destiny rather than some windlass of opportunism for, if it were not for my unabetted genius and the provisions of divine appointment based on a kindly generous deference to preterition axiomatic in perceived time by the strictures of the convergent past and the divergent future, I would never find a role of partial authorship of a widely heralded tome I will one day publish to either the exsibilation of the antiquarians of hidebound irrefragable ontocyclic convictions or the cloveryield of an appreciative gratitude to the God I serve and I make no notions of any hostility towards any party of petty dismissal because I expect their recumbent recoil but I apologize for hubris and extenuate the follies of the refinery of character as I ascend into a figurative ennobled step into soulhood that exceeds my former dismal limits by such staggering orders of magnitude it magnifies the questions of ontology in sentience rather than beckons the alarmism of the swarpollock of tripwires that can easily withstand the tempests of scorn. The uproar of commotion of blood sanctified by the thirsty rain for the desiccated faucet of dramaturgy in reprisal for docimasy is the integral linchpin of the biocentric rebec reasting on the primitive hymns to festoon the curtains of defenestrated primitive relics of shady attempts at officious balks of the privatized empire of the alytarchs among the earwigs that simper the culled delicacy of sensible notions into the congeners of prioritization emphasized by quantulated concerns veiled by elaborative synquests that burrow the sulcate grooves of hidden hedonism for the chic magistrates of financial swoon or swayed vestiges of a forgotten calumny of betrayal by the coming-of-age sprouts of hedged dismal dismissal of a lugubrious prospect for an otherwise revitalized dressage of emoluments to glory that lurked in penumbras by rigged enumeration but found their prominence by the gravity of sensation-seeking frissons of alterations between benighted glory and the famish of artificial tethers to the yoke of caramel and chocolates as a dainty ploy of yearning persiflage also a dranger of camouflage for flagitious percolations of the invidious rumors of imposture and the groveling contempt of the known drogulus remiss in denial of its own requited date when the powers of miscarriage become ecbolic to their own lagging languor of lisps of linguistic ramparts of a revival of hypertrophy for hyperactive foibles in inclement weather. Ok beyond the absenteeism of the presence of perceived amphigory there is great heft in the nominal notion that dogma is mobilized in serviceable goods of merchandized mirrors of glazed remission of moral tender because of stoked curiosity unhinged from the pragmatica of duty. We need forbearance in empathy that loves the lovable rather than envies the deposed despotism of clever wiseacres veiled in delicate symmetry with conscience that is the quill of a wellspring deeper than any imaginary vagary can approximate because impossible events punctuate time with literacy rather than incontinence of drivel that is ambitious but ignoble by stately coherence. To the critics of the baragnosis of limited apperception my words are blatant amphigories but they only possess enough ken to fathom an average orbit of suboptimal outcomes rather than transdimensional chances at chess outnumbered by checkers by incidental design of clever ploys of rejoinder that is by design arcane for the arcadia of the pristine arcade of future possibilities  As I am purblind by psychorrhagy I am incompetent in my radiopresence because I am a departed spectral figment above fricative hisses and whorfian glares of mediocre rebec for primitive shibboleth above prized taurine anglophonic convictions that superimpose the dignified clarity of willpower above the dragnets of supersolid conflations of puffery. Ok I admit a lapse of transmission by the vesicles of numbered murders of henpecked owleries of the senectitude of sepulchral magnetism of slumber over awakened alacrity of mobilism fashioned in portentous flipcraves of additive immobility of fixed vectors seen through parvanimity that actually just swivel in circular retorts against themselves without the elaborative potential and the belabored traipse of the rabid taradiddles of sensationalism marauding as a defalcated burglary of emotion for useless psephology that predicates nothing but a slight budge in the autarky of structuralism which is never sclerotic but stammered by articulations of the overt when the covert aligns by an alien agenda that is subservient to magnified priorities of warped swirk of telescopic prevenance and hedged boschveldts of elemental and I stress the strain of the elemental for the drogulus of sensational proclamation by executive ****** but supererogatory minutiae of fascism cloaked by earwigs of repcrevel repute beyond memorialized reputation. We need to renege the southern pacts to the Argentine mandarism of reticular vitiations of cinematography waged against creative visionaries of free speech because of the succedaneum of furtive endeavors at optimization by compromised degrees of artistic licentiousness even that is never lewd about sacred roods but boorish in blockbuster rather than kempt in collectivist brunt of the timid bronteum of agitprop that lurks in the imminent future of cinema. America needs to retain the disclosed but still-frame inertia of catapulted declassification that ennobles the fliction but also the vilified distilled truths only the keen of acumen will sensibly identify so that the magnet of earwigs gravitates to the belabored analysis of astute congeners to relevant tributaries to the ocean of adventitious swarpollock in the procedural autopsy of the auditorium for neither a chattel nor a crystallized nurture against the matriotic insistence of decorum. Essentially the succubus of prosthetic protensive docimasy of imaginative logic predicated in visionary apperception of the unseen in immediacy is the longeur of reticent endeavors to pasteurize the oculus rifts of futurity to synergize with the entelechy of proactive somnambulism that sensitizes the profoundly capable but never bereaves the inept of direct interface with communicable dominion with fantasia that is an operative artifice of a beguiled lurch without purged retrograde immaterial delusion that endangers visceral momentum toward new directives of the outmantled zugzwang in elementary exercises of swaddled posterity free by irenic idolatry never orphaned by a widowed imagination. The swirk of hypostasized probabilities in an invented swipe at wide-eyed but star-crossed turnvereins for the imaginative leaps in the performative depend on the delicate swivels of declaration independent from culinary clarity of macroscian travesty rather than pinhokes of naufragues of maudlin laudable applause by the canned nurture of speculative intimation that sadly severs the curglaff of whispered intimacy over the confidence we have in artifice to teach the wragapole both matriotism and sensitive reninjasque poker without incurred damages beyond the clarified visionary potential of graphic protheses immediately perceptible to the acumen of judicious polymathy indoctrinated by the rigor of scientific grooms for melliferous parsecs of advanced minutiae of dark horses to nomadic license beyond ravenous **** palindromes of hushed vigor to the declared by scacchic deliberation to usher in crass but crestfallen synectics. The future of God is secure in the fathomed furlongs of cubic citadels of pasteurized paradise found in corralled reluctance without remonstrance of poetic belletrist resounding with clangor rather than swerved nimble potions to avert future calamities in war by the expansive frontier of a civilized metropolis of the mobilized imagination hypostasizing newfangled naturism that is neither mofussil nor a fossilized relic of scrappy schlep. The nonchalance of parlance swims in arenaceous bunkers of drivel that congregate in the turnverein of futuristic opportunism found in the muzzled directives of orchestras of departed clarity no longer so insular in its bossy imperatives but clarified with hearsay and blushed blarney not the blench of widened divulgence of minatory malice that incurs the punitive curglaff of frenetic retchallops of winsome specters becoming opportune pragmatics of a semantic network of dirigisme that through sheer horsepower overcomes the sting of ubiquity or the hollowed headless vesicles of urbacity disenfranchised by degrees of impertinent pertinacity of deposed disclosure rudimentary in sedentary simplicity against matriotic duty to remain guarded by an ommateum that fathoms the abyss but never wages reckless adventurism. Prevenance is the key to absolution but staggered implements of dearth preempt the ecbolic corrigenda of castigation by hindered lurches of veiled errundle belonging to a central trimpoline interposition of fungible felicity for not only a regional fanfare but a global scale of competitive endeavor of cleverage beyond scopes but beneath scrutinized mutiny of embanked polymathy stranded by the redstrall of industrious slavering dogmatism to a servile ***** rather than the boomerang of pressure to asseverate limitless bounds of planned obsolescence to engorge but not intimidate checkered reticence in the sinew of the musculature of creative parlance above petty finicky demiurges of latitudes in amphibious annealed glorification. Temperatures gauged by the thrombosis of thermolysis in psychotaxis gouged by hucksters of taciturn bamboozles of teetotalism are neither scourge nor foe of the strategic advent of the fascination of prospective investment a boondoggle that offsets the bonfire of retorted whimpers of foudroyant ripples of wildfire perspicacity strung by the catchpole of ubiquity in the time-honed decorum of genteel upright raconteurs of volleyed neglect by strict mandate will uproariously profit in remission from knowledgeable exacerbation rather than tomfoolery by filial tithes to foreign wardens of conspicuous levitation above gimcracks by the syrts of percolated filigrees of belabored chantage exerted over the tide of perfidy in contained discernment will stall and extinguish the prideful jostle of profane blasphemy against tacit covenants of blackguarded justice served by platitude better than by insubordinate quivers that quake because bears bounce checkered checks rather than anoint the sigillum of protective vouchsafes of exchequers smartly dapper rather than dimpled in flagrant brays of castigation and thus secure employment of instrumental advent rather than desecrated conventicles of remission.
Now it is time to ventilate divine knowledge that transfiguration means a humane liberation rather than a sanctimony of tirade against dumose proliferations of fluminous imaginary tracts of the probable rather than the certain for the elevators of sanitized wealth to bequeath greater moral clarity found in the contrary submission of authoritative parents to shepherd guarded wealth in proper husbandry of calendrical affairs to optimize the work-life balance so the biocentric imperative for sustenance renounces the moral obesity of groundless backlash in austerity and endless cycles of remorse rather than a tender mollification of sentiments away from universal kumbayas and in favor more stridently of a system that withholds the agitprop of statist indoctrination of a mollycoddle ****** within individual mandates of variable agendas of countries beyond the borderline fluid dynamics of the foibles of moral venial folly but insensitive to the dynamism of the robust virility of a wayspayed world swaying by riddled wildfires of conflated puerile stages of ludic indoctrination to the rampant perfidy of exemplary incontinence waged by Hollywood upon unsuspecting victims of inconsiderate indoctrination that doesn’t vouchsafe the prerogatives of heteronormative values that should outshine not a parochial vehement hatred or a clorence of unconditional tolerance but a chided quarantine of variegated syntalities divorced from integration rather than fostered in communal depths of bound lettered ambition found in the allegorical power of Biblical wisdom expounded by the florilegium of the religious and secular canon.
To serve God rather than the perceived taradiddle of speculative mammon deprived of classifiable certainties but hunched proclivities we need to exhort a proper seesaw between restraint in vision and exuberance in creative license so that the pivot of the moralized world leads to an insistent trust of watchdogs that through trust revolve the gravity of morale upon the upswing of liberty rather than incidental follies of imaginative demiurges of partition but blinkered hubris in stately objectives to the demur of participant malingering naysayers and nyejays. The moral gravity of the situation requires us to rotate our hype from the fervor of panic into the resolve of fortitude that relishes family and filial duty rather than resents because of breedbate instinct the flickers of smoldering rebels that are tamed in their revelry when they follow the moral prerogative of disciplined ambition in creativity not insubordinating against insurmountable limits but reasonable adjustments to a scaffold of potential that is skyscraping more than before even if its too close to the ground for comfort and consolation. Relativism is the enemy of progress because envy seeds alienation and comparison should be eschewed because we need to burrow in compassionate embrace of the cherished loves rather than the exaggerated proximity of provincial fears becoming global juggernauts of mercy upon the merciful and I convoke a global prayer for the attenuation of the virus that spreads sadly too far for comfort today. I purge out of solidarity with suffering as the milquetoast in me identifies the disconcerted avenues of avetrols trying to find a way through the forest of rumination without gingerly superlative prerogatives outweighing the poise of balance in shields of honor rather than badges of shame. We must by moral imperative greet strangers in public places like parks rather than strangulate the percolation of affection because of regnant distractions because in this congenial way we will find a common fraternity with fellow man while soldiering on to find truth in God’s word in the proper temperature for genuflection because I admit foibles but I relent not in the chase to redintegrate myself spiritually to lead a charge without trespass of fundamental dignity over the whoppers of indignation some of us might feel because of the penury of divergence rather than the private penalty of convergence for an ulterior solidarity of purpose. I need to emerge into the humanity of compassion to showcase that virtuosity can exist without obsession over one individual because God beseeches a pantheon of observation rather than the gripes of an envied nuisance independent from normal human concerns that ripple with ecstasy because of normative human contrition over the leeway on vacillated opinions that might underwhelm those disposed by prizes of inurement. We should shelve these notions of a supersolid conscience because only in the humility of the profound simplicity of elemental postulates can we achieve complete synchrony with a syndicate that enthralls both divergent and convergent movements that partially offset on the side of convergence in some communes while otherwise countermanded in others in contrarian ways and the favor of the balance depends on the perspective of the flanged acculturation of the participant in a world that doesn’t need flayed excoriation as much as it deserves proper exercise of adoration of the admirable rather than the desecration of the abominable. I return with the greatest jubilation of a reninjasque jaunty streak that hearkens the sennet and maybe the leanings of the senate to the fanfare of adoration for life and gratitude bestowed by the stewardship of God and his divine purpose to inseminate my life with purposeful meaning and happy happenstance that is a stroke of glory. I muster the resolve to traipse in the solitude of my cavern the blessings of divinity bequeathed by the departed forefathers who never intended bossy insularity of dogma to be a stricture of rigors of iconoduly but rather a consecrated wit with the persiflage of conversant tones of labile and lissome gallantry just waiting to alight upon the affectionate dance with dalliance of a philandered hope for a purified love hopefully never profaned by the pangs of scandal (note the sardonic pun) because rejoice is the gift of Heaven upon this culmination of purpose above the dross of shipwreck elevated in folly but stranded in the throes of rumination enough to hedge the boursocrats and try to inoculate the world from further panicky divisions of hypemongers of simpered precaution becoming a financial pandemic that deserves pause and poise but should not protrude above the glistening promise of the eternal wellspring of the vineyards of salvation blooming because enhanced sapience converted the flock of shepherds to tend to those sheepish in deficiency to wield a newer curiosity to replace a saddened lament not by acquiescent abandon but by the solidarity of interfaces of love replacing cast-iron idolatries I too am guilty of for the cordslave generation of itinerant distractions that wager on modicums rather than appraise bonanzas. Safety is predicated on the idea that resources should never be glazed but always apportioned with optimism because if you examine history irrational panics have always and always rebounded because of exigent actions taken by governments to restore confidence in liquidity rather than snide dismal dismissals of economic projections based on bounded rigged betrayals of primarily a global panic that a profoundly promethean intellectual verve could capitalize on its heyday to gouge people against the insensate balkanization of the future by an alienation of formidable scarecrow of invented fatalism imploding upon itself to obviate its own existence by the insistence on free thought to domineer and tower over the doldrums of a vacant man that is now occupied by the largesse of humane endeavor for a messianic voyage that consummates time itself its own captain and is partially centripetal around the juncture of All Saints Day 2008 because of its seminal significance in ushering in a new era of liberation. This justification is a gnomic axiomatic herculean ****** that catapulted generativity in creative endeavor to coalesce around an Army of Me not because of the futilitarianism embedded in its flagrant flagitious mockery of traipsed lyricism borrowed from Bjork but rather showcases the flavork of the flavenickers of ribald coarse revolution that is no longer balderdash to Bald Eagles but the prized retribution of the inviolable scruples demolished by deracinated moral relativism balking at raltention because of persnickety and tyrannical transparency that prepossesses over the lifeless livid Potemkin  Village  of Astroturf complaint malingering in pederasty over its own depraved sinuous course of diverted restraint cemented by the scythes of Village People politics benumbed over militarized betrayals that incur and invoke the diablerist prose of anonymuncle desperado mavericks that sizzle in hibernaculum to depose the autarky of seasoned growth rather than unseasonable diatribes of vitriol poisoning the posture of gentility by decree rather than by deeds of homogenized pasteurization against Lactose Intolerant Leftism and dogged doggerel of pasty subversive paranoiac hederaceous envy spawning a vituperative summation of a beatific felicity. We need to convene upon better tranceception in this axiomatic gratuity of God

These hands that have held you as a wild child in a dream are the same hands that throb to choke you and muffle your screams.
These hands which guided and guarded you down those stretches of hospital halls are now the hands that push you down to fall.
These hands once caressed the jagged, pink, scar where your heart used to lay become the hands that wish to tear it away.
These hand that made sure you fell asleep through all that pain now are the hands that would cut themselves to beat out your brain.
These hands that used to pray for you like a ***** ready to be ****** are clinched in two fist now ready to make the first throw.
These hands that ached for you, fed you,  and tried so ******* hard are just the hands of memories now deep tissue scars.
... These hands.. Would have killed anyone, in dirt and cold blood.. Are now the only hands holding back the rage of my flood.
.. These hands, they still work for you. Even if you're no longer here with me..... These hands, they're still here, waiting... One day.. You'll see.

I was your balloon,
You had me so high.
My head overflated, filled to max capacity.
You couldn't have possibly known just how you made me feel.
My neck attached to a string clinched tight in the center of your hand.
Then all of sudden.
Pop.
You couldn't possibly have known how bad that hurt

Garvin
Garvey
Garvin
We're starving for Marvin
as in Hagler
Let's snag her
"You gave your promises to me
and I gave mine to you.
You gave your promise to me
and I gave mine to you
Love is all around us
So let the feeling grow"

Harsh light falls on my fearful face
She stop thumped against my heart
Gliding night on crinkled tights
She worked and quirked her way in to me
Shoulders clinched as she spun her drift
She stomped trod on my soul
Set aloft in the ***** air
My eyes slopped their tears
Wet down her hair as she clenched
Lips dragged drug down my neck
Lamp lit light flung down and low
Fearful thoughts because I’ll crawl back
Fearsome thoughts as she works again.

cc1210

Once I had a friend
    and soulmate,
we were dreamin’
we could fly away
    with the wind;
    but knowing
wings are for angels,
we stood transfixed
  beneath the light
  a sky full of stars


hanging onto a dream      
we clutched so tightly,
      perched high
      on the edge
      of the world,
wondering how far
     and how high
the great wide open
     sky blue skies
           abide


believing the power
  of kept promises ―
you said you’d forever
   catch me if I fall ―
letting go of the fears,
 blindfolded hope
clinched so deeply,
    hanging onto
a wing and a prayer


I guess I wanted it
     far too much
     reaching out
  like a thirsty fool
grasping for a mirage ―
teetering on the brink
    unspoken love,
   a vast unknown
  threshold beyond
          wings


with eyes wide open
throwing caution afar ―
   in a leap of faith
I reached ― out of reach
   into the mystic wind ―
    believing in dreams,
      in destiny's tease:
       I’d learn to fly
         before I hit
        the ground


but now I’m perpetually
          free fallin’
  I see the empty space
   all around me pass
a fleeting lifetime lost ―
   still  you’re nowhere
       to be found ―
    and I remember
what’s been forgotten:

       how far down
  rock bottom befalls
  when your spinning
    round and round
      like dust eddies
        in a fog bank
      lost in the wind                             .

Folder: Heart aesthetics

The two of us alone by the fire in this wild landscape, tumble weeds and dust. the endless dust.  surely there could be some sort of peace offering that might make the night a little more comfortable than that of the past days. a small truce? suddenly I noticed him watching me. it was in a strange and unguarded way. he almost seemed  likeable except for the fact he was the most arrogant, heddonistc man i had ever met. again I looked at him. I bated him a little.

"dont you know its impolite to stare at a lady?"

There was an instant glint in his eyes and I knew he was thinking of the bathing pool. I blushed thanking the fire it didnt have the air to flicker brigher.  I wasnt quite ready for a reply.


"Yes, and I sure would be in trouble if there was a lady here! cause what Im looking at would be the pride of any man who had the pleasure of meeting them!"


He caught my breath my heart paused for a second. He was oviously alluding to the invitation he so easily tossed at her by the waters edge as he handed her her towel looking away with a cheap grin trying to convey the model of a complete gentleman. I saw him at that moment, menacing and I met him eye to eye. something strange took over me as I watched him leering at me eyes moving from soft peaks to nape , to lips and challenging me with his eyes. He made no attempt to hide the fact that I was desirable in the conventional way. Just not in any other way. but strangely I didnt feel threatened but rather bolder. his hand clinched suddenly as he stood suddenly towering over me. I got up on my feet and walked back a bit to create some distance between us but I stopped unable to mover further than a few feet away. my legs were unwilling to move and his eyes were able to rove freely the peaks and vallies of my womanhood. **** the fabric for being the type to reveal my shape in the firelight,  and **** the hot air that made the moisture cling it tightly to me.


I searched for meaning in his eyes, it came in  the unfurling of his desire and manifested in the breath of my own heartbeat pulsing into a crevice long forgotten. its revival took me somewhat, by surprise. and in the instant you saw it flicker in my eyes I saw it flicker in your own under the brim of that old leather hat. panic! oh hell! not ready for this feeling! uncomfortable sweetness and lazy pulses. weakness dragging along with it a wanton desire crawling molten heat wilting and yet rising in it a will of its own. I reeled inside my mind now lost inside the sensation of my body! reactions everywhere! A deep blush and a nip of my lip  to constrain me. here we are standing face to face a few feet  from eachother and that flicker had started in me a whole revolution. my thighs grew weary of standing so tightly wound together and my hips fancied themselves drawn towards you and took thier liberties from me. here I was held in an uncomfortable contortion hips lunged forward, tightened rosettes lunging to ward you and my mind was now working against me. your jaw seemed so warm and welcomeing and I could see myself nuzzling in the craw... and your hardness proudly announcing its desire to serve. those eyes those lightning sweet flickers, glowed over you warmth and hardness so appealing so pertinently appropriate in its impropriety.


Oh what in tarnations, there goes that waffling **** joy, oh sensiblitily who the hell cares! My mind and body argue and the shakes start to take over and I am completely confounded by my senses. then just as suddenly as it came its forgotten as the realisation of why this is such an offensive state to me. All I can remember are the words he said reeling in my head!


"The invitation is revoked of its warmth on account of your inhospitiable and ungracious prudish manner, but the polite thing to do is keep the invitation open at least on a civil basis otherwise i might not be considered a gentleman."


that was his gentlemanly way of calling her a harlot! Gentleman my-  Hate suddenly crawled up my spine and to my surprise it only served to flame my passion. I wanted what I wanted and courage and boldness took hold. If its civil he wants civil he will  get! I picked up my vanity like a harlott and lunged forward stopping just as quickly hoping he hadnt noticed. Hardly worth hoping. He noticed everything and he would surely call me on it. but insted strangely intent, he stood silent, still and focused. His eyes on my eyes I had noticed once I met them. A rugged jaw clinched and fist tight beside him. but his breath was cheating him of his composure. it was at this moment I knew we were fighting the same wanton battle. Pride dancing with lust, any hopes of love torn from the bitterness of rivalry between us by the fact that he held me in such high disregard. and I only as a pure instinctual reaction, do reasonably as any reasonalbe person attributed  such unwarranted assignment of character failings would do the same.


What was I to him? I found myself wondering what it would be like to be taken under his person, his strong arms pulling me towards him pressed against him... more rushes spun in cirles around me trying to find expression tight rosettes and puckering crevices landscapes once barren and forgotten had suddenly sprung to life. alive and wanting aching craving touch and now suddenly my heart decided to pull away from me. Suddenly fear flooded my body and then anger twisted its self all over me again. What the hell is going on?? Is it in my head? to hell with it ! I peered deep into his eyes and marched into his arms and forced a kiss to push him into my headdiness. and he obliged and held it warmly and gently, though my voraciousness clearly fell away at my noticing of this sudden cordialness pushing humiliation down into my throat and deep into the core of me unleashing a viper


"Why did you let me kiss you? "


I hissed, pulling away. he replied without missing a beat,


"It was the civil thing to do."


here I am rosy as all hell with a chasm as wide as the grand canyon with the words **** etched on to my pride.


"**** you! **** you to hell!"



I rushed at him and my hand flying through the air. it had its own justice to serve and I went with it. Oh hell, i went with it! Rage flew me up to him and suddenly I felt immobilised. My hand stilled hanging in the air, less than an inch from its target. His eyes now burning into me burrowing into me with seering white heat and an intensity that made me want to look away if it hadnt been for my last shred of pride refusing and rather accepting full blindness rather than conceede. suddenly his shadow fell over me and leaning down his lips parted his eyes softened and i felt the tenderly regard he was capable of it made me weak in my knees! I fell  into it as he caught me and in that sweet kiss, so beautifully warm. velvet silkeness I clung to him pressed against himas his hardness proudly declaring his intensions. it was a fit so perfect, that had there not been silk , denim and leather chaps in the way I would have merged with him seemlessly! oh the glorious delight of such care in his ravishment of me! I was lost, I was found!  yet, I was not even aware of anything but a dire need for his impending intensions to come to light.  then I felt him pull away from my lips. confused eyes watched as they pleaded why? He pushed me away and held me back from him like some vile rat and declared


"That is what youre missing as per the original invitation."  


He let me go as pain and humiliation stung my cheeks. reeling once again. I dropped to the ground. I put my hands to my heart trying to cover what he had done.  He had breeched my sacred place my soul stained and forever darkened by this stranger, I had trusted who was entrusted to escort me to my new lodgings... now my closest enemy.  in three days. and to bare for three days more. I am lost. lost. so this is what it feels like when hell burns you to the ground? and to think I almost thought for a second I could have fallen in ? serves me right to think any man would be different.  Im an idiot. That is the exact reason I need to marry money. I regained an inchling of my composure. enought to speak well, ok hell, I spat it at him


"I trust you sir, will be gentlmanly enough not to mention this to Mr Bently?"


"As always ma'am"


he tipped his hat and walked away  from the fire and my ashes into the darkness.


I stood there for a while listening to the bushes rustle till I knew he had found a place spend the night. I walked around the carriage to enter, I waited just enough time for him to get comfortable.  then ever so politely, gave him a reason to rise.  


"Mr Jones, would you mind helping me up the footer? I'm too afraid to sleep on the ground alone."


I heard him muttering and hissing under his breath. I smiled inside. for some reason it made me feel better. He slammed the carriage door and walked off again into the dark. I sat there on the plush bench thinking of him and scolded myself just as quickly as I had thought it. it was a cycle reapeated the whole night and as I drifted off to sleep I even let myself slip a brief thought of myself on a porch cleaning potoates while looking out at Clancy wiping his brow and smiling back... Clancy, Clancy Jones. What kind of a stupid name was that anyways? No woman in her right mind would want to marry a man with a name like that!  Mrs. Clancy Jones...

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I have a rubber band ball snapping apart in the inside of my heart
And in my mouth, hitting clinched teeth
Being full of screams

Their vibrations tumble down
And I can feel each and every sound

They pull on my veins
And play them like guitar strings

They tingle the scars
Each one lighting up like stars

They ring like church bells
The sound unavoidable

They sing a lullaby

‘Scream and cry, scream and cry
Don’t you want to die
It’s not easy to say goodbye
Isn’t that why you lie?

Break the ties
Muffle your cries
Turn all of your screams to sighs

The anxiety will be over
It’s just a lullaby'

The wheel clinched tight

Fingers numb and white

Hyperventilating

Counting to ten

Anxieties curse

Mind, a devine quality

Over....
Thinking

A flash of death as her passengers lay lifeless

Death

She pictures faces

A ****** mess

Stillness

Everyone sits singing and unblemished

A true definition of mangled point of view

A routine her mind has provided

Someone else hits the petal accelerating

She is familiar with picturing the world dying

She is now stamped with, "I'm part of the ****** up society"

Stay clear

She is endearing

The tea cup world believes she is dangerous

I’m wrapped in a netherworld
between fear and urgent turmoil
a shady region of late twilight
on the edge of dreadful night
what to do with the light.

Like the nightingale whose song
brings pausing, sadness, and hope,
blinking in a landscape of plains and *****
sadness of a creative life’s ending
a blending of sand and the hand of God.

My gut clinched in a tempest
rowing unknowing for shining sky.

Did you behold my form Milady?
then, well you know
the intensity of these coal black pupils
that flame with inner fire
or look away
and claim victory,
smiling memories
whispered sighs
moving ever onward
exploring
mastering all their ways
my hour approaches
grinning broadly
teeth clinched
to step forth
clothed in shadow

yes, indeed, Milord,

I couldn't advert thy eyes;
from the vestiges of
your smile, such memories
leaves traces of love
forever in my heart;
as each glimpse beckons
a taste from your sweet
mouth, fore, our hour
has arrived, casting
warmth within
bodies entwined;
languishing in light
of morn

by the light of the blue moon;
I made love to you,
amazons naked between earth and sun;
the only way left, the only position never tried
and we went together,
to a place of ancient curses
and secret runes
an island
in the sun

fore, which, I cradled you against
thy breast, whispering liltingly
of your tenderest touch
teasing thy entirety
as each breath upon
me raises every cilium
in ecstatic bliss
sealing our hunger
as lips and
tongues french kiss

and kiss to kiss return
hungry to taste this moment
from thy lips such sweet nectar
awakens in me a deep burning lust
to consume and be consumed, fore,
in some cataclysmic consummation ******
encompassing want

translucent you become
your hands a shimmering touch
your breast as crystal goblets glow
when cradled in each hand
your lips of wine quench my thirst
but kindle my own fire
my skin in fire itself erupts
and melts my heart's desire
a transformation has begun
this path the only key
to hot torrid love that
all the same erupts in fire

igniting in thee flames
of thy lust burning
with excitement as lips
touch upon sweetness
of thy petals blooming
accepting nibbling nips
to sepals quiver in want
of feeling bedewed
mouthing, sipping
its nectar as a bee
hovers ripened blossoms
as thy thirst quenches
in inebriation of honey

makes me wanton to taste
the salty taste of your
******* and the trail of
our love down to your navel,
then your thighs, as my
hand is damp with your essence
sliding gently up your inner thigh,
my beard becomes a
thousand sparks of
power on your petals bud,
your lips slide easily open
to my fingertips,
my tongue swims deep inside ~

within our throes of passion
you've fulfilled thy hunger;
I pant and gasp clinging to our
pleasurable ride, as in thy delirium,
you cuddle me within your embrace
still loving me from neck to waist
at a hungered pace; entwining
again in haste

I kiss your neck, your throat your lips
as my manhood ease within lotus petals
sipping sweet nectar covering him with
dewy freshness and your lips suckle mine;
thine own nectar on thy tongue doth grace
deliciously; pushing shoulders downward
I feed upon you thus, fueling our lust all night

within your gift of pleasure; thy body
shivers from each tentative touch so, soft
light, re-igniting deeply with each
******; manhood feeds thy lotus
thou nectar, fore, in thou wetness
I cryingly moan appetitively in succor;
as thy hands roam, thy lips find
thine deepest desire of want

as thy mushroom flares it's gills;
I'm filled with rushing sensations
all wetness I welcome, slide in
passions gush to meet
stroke for stroke, tongues
fight greedily, ******* taunt
stretched to limits of erectness;
screaming for pain, squeezing
hard between thumb and finger,
between lips and teeth;
lotus awash with rhythms that
cling to thy arms like boughs of oak
in trembling waves we crash against
rocky shores

blushing in sweet-sounding joy...

thus, satiated...

She plays black, then blue, then green and red and yellow,

Then translucent and impatient;

Messy and aggravated.

She fumbles,

Then runs full speed -

Touches the wall

and back again towards you.

Spread arm'd and clinched fist'd.

Clinched teeth and mismatched socks.

Haphazard hair and ****** complexion.

You slit eyes and wink and shine on oh great shining thing,

Until the dust of her lay at your feet.

One morning, Howard was deciding what he was going to cook for today's lunch. Howard was not the worlds best cook, he mainly enjoyed buying ready meals to eat, Fishermans Pie was his dearest. But today was to be different; a change; he would make something from scratch. He decided that Carbonara met his fancy, so he got up from his wearing sofa, and made his way to the half filled book cabinet. 'How to make Pasta', the book read. It was a result for Howard. He clinched his hands on the closed book, and bought it into the front room.Howard opened the book to the contents and turned to page 21, 'Carbonara Chicken Special'. Howard firstly read the ingrediants needed, then popped to the local convinience store to fetch the things he needed. When he eventually started the meal, he was on task and ready to go. So he prepared the sauce, and the pasta, and the chicken. Then put it in the oven, a fourty-five minute wait.Howard was knackered by this time and thought he'd have a quick lye down..."BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP"!!!!!!!!!!!!!   This incredibly loud noise was coming from the smoke alarm, startaling Howard! He rushed to the kitchen to discover masses of smoke dominating the room. Howard glanced up at the the clock to discover that he had been sleeping for over an hour. The pasta was ruined and had to be thrown away.Howard was starving though. So he went over to the freezer, grabbed a microwave fishermans pie, and heated it up. As he sat down to eat the meal, he thought to himself; ' Well I gave it a go, one step closer eh'. Then digged into his seafood.

prepared for any kind of fight; rifle, helmet, knife, even glaring teeth
she comes at me like I'm a hive of bees
but who can blame her, after all, who's really adequately prepared to handle me

she only cuts shallow and jabs, never stabs for the heart
unlike me, she won't ****, unsuited to play that part
she's a survivor, she heals, I'm a comet in it's one bright radiance before breaking apart

anxiety makes you shudder like a dump truck coming down a bumpy street
depression dictates who you call, when you work, what you eat
if you're not bipolar then i'm afraid the three of us will probably never meet

punching clinched fists through doors is a cheap circus trick
but taking out the anger is dangerous without something to hit
because it pours it up, tries to drink itself down, and drowns everything around it

my remorse stiffens me in bed next to her sleepless I wear the darkness, rigamortis and black suit
I feel my poison wilt her, bend her stems, dull her colors, shrink her roots
i have burned all the wood in her pile just getting started a fire the size of my selfish pursuits

carrying sandbags roped onto me one parent and sibling at a time
dragging the chains of days barely survived still hooked into my skin like the other memories of their kind
I stall her pace, hold her back, make her trudge uphill, I make her climb
but her undaunting patience somehow persists in her, in me: still, calm waters sublime

She comes at me like I'm a hive of bees prepared for any king of fight
only wanting to save me, to heal me, to give sleep back to my nights
bread for it, I show teeth and cut for blood and she continues to be the definition of grace in my life

From the day that I met her she clinched onto my heart
I knew this was gonna be love right from the very start
It’s extremely difficult to erase her from my mind
This girl was attached to me and that’s no lie
I said a few words and she was already swept off her feet
It seemed like I was the guy she desperarely wanted to meet
She clinged herself on me and dosen’t want to get off
Her words instantly makes my emotions grow soft
In just days we went from best friends to lovers
Who knew that we would end up being with each other


I would go through hell and high water just to defend her honor
I will do everything in my power and my will just to charm her
I could mess up my entire life and she’d still be there for me
She intensely loved me to death whether I was cool or corny
There’s nothing in this world that can destroy her love
It’s pretty clear that in her eyes that I’m her chosen one


Not even my parents’ love was intense than hers was
In her mind trying to grab my heart was really a must
Many times she would trap me in her intense lust
For whatever the reason she declared me the king of her soul
With this honor I will cherish her love and never make her feel cold
That’s how I am, I can never break a girl’s heart
In her life I definately play a very important part
I could even hate her and she’d still fall head over heels for me
But I don’t want to feel that way all because she really supports me


She’s been hurt repeatively throughout her life
Never once did she ever live her entire life right
Her mom gave her up and her dad wouldn’t support her
Basically there was nobody in her life there for her
No one to lift her spirits when she was down
Everyday her face would always be in a frown
Tears would flood her eyes night after night
Hoping that love would come in her sight
Older sister leaving bruise marks all over her body
It sounds like her step-parents left her heart rotting


All this time she was looking for a prince to save her
She spent her whole life finding someone to not hate her
She found the happiness in me and now won’t let go of me
To a lot of people it’s easy to tell that she really does love me
She engraved my full name into her heart
Easy to tell that her life Ieft a very big mark
There’s nothing that I can do to change her opinion about me
Her luck started to change ever since the day that she found me
Since that day she never wanted to let go of my hand
She constantly sees me everyday as her loving man
She’d even die just to protect my spirits


And wants me as her sweet loving dearest
And to think that she would feel that way after only small talk
I know if something happened to me her heart would just stop
I’m the only person in this entire universe that she actually wants
Even willing to pump her blood in my heart
She says in her life I had created a new start
The farther away I am from her the stronger her love grows
Why she feels this way to be honest I don’t really know
I showed up in her life and that’s how things got started
I guess it’s because of the fact that I’m really big hearted
She’s so attached that her worst nightmare is us being departed


Whenever she’s in trouble, I’ll become her superman
If I fall to failure I know for sure that she’ll understand
No matter what happens she forever branded me as her guarding angel
She will always be by my side whether when times are good or fatal
She’s had a rough life and it’s up to me to create her happy ending
When it comes to taking away the pain, it’s me that she’s depending
Her love is so intense and strong for me that I swear I’m not pretending


She’ll even give her life away with her blood in my hands
I’m gonna try to please and satisfy her in anyway I can
I know it’s up to me to dry her tears
And it’s up to me take away her fears
I know **** well that she’s suffered a lot
And it’s up to me to give her what she wants
She gave me her heart and it’s up to me not to break it
I know that in this relationship that we can definatley make it
Constantly sending me messages over the internet hour after hour
I’m destined to make her waking moment sweet and never sour


She’ll stop at nothing just to be in my presence
Showering me with her love is atually a present
She gave me the trust to carry her heart
Now it’s up to me not to break it apart
The last thing I ever want to is to break her trust
I have to lift up her spirits and that’s a must
I’ll be the pillow that she can cry into when she’s upset
I’m destined to be the best human being that she ever met
I’ll be the soilder who rescues her from all the pain and misery
Take her away from the sea of sorrow, her suffering will be history


No matter what road may lay ahead infront of me I will always be there to defend her love
When it comes in bringing her an endless life of happiness she choose me to be the one
She choose me to be her knight and shining armor
And I will do whatever I can in my power to charm her.

While sitting in a booth, an hour before work, I try to write poetry. But the click, click, click of the cash register distracts the musings jammed into my already clustered brain. And as I try to spill words onto this page, a you child spills her soda, the tawny liquid cascades the patterns of her too-tight T-shirt and falls to the floor ~~ the floor I will mop and mop over again, as sticky footprints retrace the night's events. And the man, a cigar dangling from the sepia corner of his tightly clinched mouth, growls the angered growl of a wounded bear, bearing all to me and the child who hides behind her mother's saffron sundress. And in the child's shame, she raises two, too-large coca cola eyes to meet mine, and then lowers them as a tear trails the shadows of her sanguine face.

I lay upon cold steel, blinding lights loom
above my head. I hear my brain
confirm 'minor surgery' and then you
enter the room, scalpel in hand, aimed
at my chest. Not there! my mind screams,
then I feel the burn of ripped flesh;
a repugnant stench fills the room, a familiar smell,
the sickening, salty odor of blood.
Bones and cartilage moan as the scalpel shreds
with swift precision, one target in mind:
a fist-sized beating *****. Extraction.
I raise my head from frosted steel
in time to see your deed: ****** fingers,
clinched into claws, dive into the open cavity,
gouge holes into either side and wrench
the tiny ***** from its cave.
You hold it high above your head, a trophy;
crimson drips down your arm, soaks
a white sleeve like spilt wine on lace; you open
a glass jar, formaldehyde mixes with drops of blood
as the ***** plunges into your solution

These are not the times
for poetry…
For lofty prose or
roses budding in
warm sunlight
to gently perfume
the wind with
a delicate reminder
of tenderness.

These are the days of
****** knuckles;
chipped teeth.
The days of beating the truth from strangers,
then strangling that truth
with a piece of garden hose.
The bad days, the ugly days
when poets take up fighting and
fighters take to ******.
The goddammitfuckyou days.

Welcome to the clinched fist.
Beautiful things must be whispered.

by: William A. Marshall


I stepped off the world
today,
off the broken streets
that winter has damaged
and municipal assessments
off the political gluttons
and performative marks
off the know-it-alls
and wild dogs roving around
with their ****
noses in the air
it’s not pretty
they cover what they don’t know
so that they look good
I head back down the dark hallway
to get a more primitive angle
off of privileged confidence
they are vulnerable
basic caretakers pursuing opulent corsages
to free them from their anxious quotas
and ******* rules
telling me how to wipe my ***
and how to use baby wipes
jointly acting like they run things
from their phony utilitarian bus stop
and cutting-edge applications
their personal band plays a cheerful tune
in the background
as they search for a bigger
advantage and more likes
even though we all share the same horror
youth is about mistakes
and making money
and choices with one eye here and now
the other eye on prevalent professions
students and maintenance men
bureaucratic puppets and academics
farmers and auditors
sales greasers and coaches
writers and board members
somewhere they end up there
carrying a liability
and it creates a vibration in my foxhole
but right in here baby
deep down within me
inside my tomb
I transfer to a silent
place away from
rambling rotting fungus
I step off of it
not always methodically
and then back into faults
and louse packs
I can only assume my rock
that sits in my hole immobile
next to the ****** candy wipes
unless I push it up ontic peaks
nonbeing begins to doubt me
and grips part of you so don’t
think that it doesn’t
I cut it with my knife
obliquely
finding unfortunate contagions
and courage down in the vault of silence
it is there or it isn’t
it is what keeps my will interested
far from the ones moving rashly
without it you would leap from bridges
through minefields I remember
a certain detachment
an uneven and sick progression
paperwork and a number with
a D affixed to its file
the ceiling became the nightly norm
this plastic vacuum-packed
wedding gown made of white silk
made weird noises
in the back of my closet
like it was weeping
the kind of dress
only worn once
it smelled like her that closet
retelling me each time
I opened the private door
making fake crinkling sounds
an icon of pure young tenderness
love expense and faith
eventually cooked and burned  
but it is too early
those individuals that gloat in pictures
and dream about their prince
they are busy playing with
their hair and organic shoulder bags
driving around in furnished cars
the uncorrupted ones
constant courses to come and
subsequent interviews
nailed skintight dresses
soon to be colored sweet red
with danger competing
well you had better feel lucky
because when you plunge into
future swamplands
incompetence and repayment
of what to do with it
and how then to
fill up your cup
without spilling it
all over your soul
don’t tell me how
to live my **** life
now is your time
to reason and shake imperfection
interruptions
over and over
those that listen to your intrusiveness
false performances in chic coffee shops
it is not sustainable there
but you play the part to maintain
your chair in the cooperative
you will miss it
neglecting real evil
because you were talking too much
maintaining your image
Bradbury whispers
from the counter,
“You can't make people listen
they have to come round in
their own time wondering
what happened and why
the world blew up around them
it can't last.”
and numbness above nightly cocktails
distracted dub tracks
ultimately attending
hectic personnel meetings
in drenched swamps
spinning with heartless ***** jobs
unconcerned about safe comforts
two things balance them out
people and things
all part of it out there in the world
and they approach like a train
suffering shocks
unemotional images in chambers
some actually never return
from the beatings
but this isn’t the end
this is a commencement
for me
the forecast is water-resistant
they hurry snatching their
body spray and shower gel
on mirrored reflections
that scowl back at them
all alone there
in their glass steeple
family photos
thinking they have nurtured something
more than endless gossip
and ****** strains
much more important now
bent into independence
pausing with the approaching sunrise
as it splashes powerfully
inside their speculations
pride doesn’t care
if you think you are not puffed-up
at all you are
who in the hell are you kidding?
nothing to cling to
essential oilskins and manuscripts
credit problems
and autobiographical *** packed expressions
corner office windows
and diplomas
behind high-back chairs
trying to copy Sunday magazine’s
hottest statement
to fill up their life
a reminder just who the comics are
but it does not register
until that day
when it becomes intolerably vile
beneath wreckage
and burnt ruins
they find his
caring donation
clinched in the saviors grasp
jutting through burning garrisons
there is no truth more senior
than this truth here and now
but they can’t all be imparted
in this culturally planned folklore
I see them
when I am walking away
from the insulated bubble
down the street
like recruits in boot camp
and zealously rich parents
who send their youngsters
with luggage and loans
nearby like idols
salesman explaining things
as they nod like they are approving something
perhaps autonomy
from fathers and mothers
who stand with them astutely contemplating
the whole arrangement
they stare at the marble floor
I observe the run-through
the glittery entertainment
and documented departments
for happy pilgrims
who are insulated
for now

cinderella looked out of a tiny window covered with steele bars. the sun brightly shining through, the sky a beautiful pinkish purple. she wondered if she would ever feel the warmth of the sunlight again as she touched the window. she looked down at what used to be a gorgeous blue gown, now tattered and toarn. she touched the fabric softly remembering how her eyes shined when she first saw it. & the struggle that ruined it. her eyes began to swell up with tears. ¨i cant take this much more¨ she thought. ¨i wont...¨ she decided, her sad eyes and broken heart now filled with rage and hostility. her shaking hands now clinched in fists. ¨i will be just as mad, limitless, and unhumane as he is. i will be decieving, cold and cruel. and i won't feel anything about it. ill treat him like a doormat instead of a person just like he treated me. the only difference will be that i will not allow him to live.¨

¨we will see who is dim witted.¨

It was lust we were building.
Moving in the dark, all elbows and ankles.
Found each other’s lips, leaned in for a kiss,
the first of what would be countless that night.
Your mouth tasted of strawberries and wine.
On the stereo, our favourite song.

You said ‘I love this song’,
peering out the window at an opposite building,
one hand clinched around a glass swollen with wine.
We still wore our socks, cuddling our ankles,
and we kept them on throughout the night.
In my head, replaying each previous kiss.

We’d never wanted to kiss
like this before - as soon as one song
ended we did it again, the night
oozing like a wound into early morning, the building,
our bodies alight with desire, ankles
knocking between sips of wine.

We soon finished off that bottle of wine.
Drained my glass of red, placed a kiss
on your shoulder, shuffling my feet, my ankles
into a more cosy position as a new song
kicked in, swirled into the building,
a hot breeze of music disturbing the night.

I didn’t want it to be just one night.
There was more to discover and plenty more wine,
every word we spoke echoing through the building.
I could savour your smile with every kiss,
loved your freckles, the daisy tattoo near your ankles.
It felt like writing our own story, the lyrics to a song.

But you didn’t want to hear our song.
At the end of the night
you went cold. I wrapped my arms round my ankles.
I felt sure you’d gone off me. Maybe it was the wine.
My lips were anesthetised from every kiss -
when I asked what was wrong, you said 'get out this building.'

Something had changed; I didn’t know what. Night dissolved into day. We stopped listening to Kiss.
Your lipstick stains the colour of wine on my neck. Was it the final time I’d see your naked ankles?
I took a mental photograph of the building as I left, though I’ve forgotten it since. But not yet our song.

i.

Into twlight, Shadow's of monster's, men's piercing sight's
As they stareth at mine queen, dog's, hopeful dreamer's, dream's;
Tis, cometh to find out these verily aren't men, they were aloviti being's, their breath was poisonous as an asp, teeth as glass.

ii.

Tis these brute's couldst not be killed by arrow, nor gun's, unless silver and gold were used; They brought a thunderstorm and hail over me and mine beloved's head, they clinched their lip's, their nail's ripped through the roaring of the darkness around instead.

iii.

Mine Earl Jane Nagley held me closely, as tis these barbarian's were untamed and ghostly; I pulled out mine secret hidden choice, An Aesculapian snake to giveth a bang taste to these to these unholy ale's, I used that silver and gold to cut off their tail's.

iv.

Whilst the thunderstorm's and hail dissolved into thin air
Mine reyna and queen hugged me and screamed, cheerfully;
She saidst to me she loved me, tis now she was free, from pain and from anguish, I saved her again from the devil's advantage.





©Brandon Nagley
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry

rapture from my wrist
cold steel clinched in tight fists
not now, but maybe if it slips, if it slips
why can't i touch your lips? Whisper,maybe dance,
with a twist, with a twist
maybe a chance, maybe a kiss,
but for what, for this?
would i wreck it, all ive missed
for you? maybe once.
but not tonight, not with a tryst.

she is an asylum,
her walls drip blackness
writing every word
that neglected
to slip past her
teeth,
she sleeps on
****-stained spring
mattresses as the
clod tiles bite
at her heels,
hair and skin hide
beneath her fingernails
as palms are twinged,
the padded walls
whisper screams
of coercion; wrists
bound by silence and
tightened by insanity.
to bedposts
rusted,
her hands retired on
ridged thighs
hugging her
goosebumps with
convulsions of agitation.
her mind
scratches melodies of an
insomniac,
the flickering lights choke
her vision and blind her speech.
a room of contradictions
irregulating regularities
intoxicating sobriety
hallucinating reality,
the muffled screams
that weave through
the fibres of the
pillow clinched tightly
in her lap harmonize
algorithms that pull
each padded wall
towards her howling
being — centrefold the room,
as the walls hug her body
she awakes and paints
antonyms to
perpetual despondency

Aim well, aim true
A refurbished face,
From a cry and hue
A bottled song just for You

From a stretch of tissues
From inches of a grin
Oh hark the heralds
Extra! Extra!
For Dobbie is free from the ******* of sin!

That's all I can stands, and I stands no more!
Mis-sized forearms can cause a little Thor!

A clean slate and a comma,
A rid of blight
I won't strap-out without a fight
On a zero to none I could still stand a chance
Place your bets on the duel of a pure heart and bad romance

1-2-1-1, 1-2 to 2
Pure heart hits turned the black birds into blue
Jab-straight-hook-straight!
Straight!-straight!-straight!
Fo­r bad romance it was always never than late

In arms a-clinched,
In needs of each other's cleave
Oh but stand up for the Greatest Warrior who ever lived
This habituated mantle only craves for;

A clean slate and a comma,
A rid of blight
I won't strap-out without a fight
On a zero to none I could still stand a chance
Place your bets on the duel of a pure heart and bad romance

Alas, after the bout the canvass had its slain
His subtle dance, a downpour and in vain
Raise your arm on bell's a-cue
The winner of this match; it's up to you

Welcome to suspense
Thought provoking horror
Invoking the mystic art of story telling
Compelling tales weave in and out of a curious yet terrified mind
Stimulated senses, feeling dread, body tenses, psychologically on edge
Eyes widen, teeth clinched as the next scene unfolds
Security blanket wrapped inside tight fist closed
You travel into the unknown; you want to know what's there,
that is why you are here to experience the unseen
The strange and obscene
This is the emotion of mystery; pondering what the outcome will be
The fate of our beloved hero or heroine has already been determined by the grand puppet master
Ladies and Gents the Director of these wonderfully constructed ill-fated events presents the conclusion
that blows the mind, jerks the tears, and chills the spine
You have just become a victim of a maetro's imagination, "to provide the audience with beneficial shocks"




*Just having a little fun with this one

easy there Mr. Testosterone
control your speed, put down the phone

did you light the fuse when you turned the key
rage bomb, speeding, weaving, for all to see

squeeze the wheel, music will blare
clinched jaw, your ****** words, we hear you swear

we're stupid drivers, bad traffic you say
more over, speed up, get out of my way

rest assured that none of us care
if you text or you're a mobile talker
either way your remembrance will be a roadside marker

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down as
the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
There was a story of a King
who lead the Great March on Washington, with an army of over 300,000 civil soldiers.
600,000 irises fixated
3,000,000 fingers either spread to invite applause or clinched to offer rebellion.
What was he thinking?
That this dream, this illustrious and renowned dream,
Would submit itself to be injected into the veins and muscles of this body we call America.
No, that is not. No, it cannot be.
Why would any king, let alone this one, allow us to believe
that this nation can live up to the true meaning of its creed,
while the reality spits blood into our faces
with the news coverage of black faces destroyed by black guns.
Are we still dreaming?

Bullets dribble on the pavement like a basketball,
spreading through the hollows of their tips,
knowing that there is no reason as to why
they are being propelled into the bodies of the innocent.
Death creeps on corners like words leaving the roofs of our mouths,
we roar and we rage about the lies of the beautiful reason,
so we spread our shoulders like faith
to lift us off our nimble feet, because our wings are to tired to carry us up.

Five decades have passed, and we are nowhere near that mountaintop.
Because this mountain is impossible, right?
No way can we let freedom ring across this nation,
because we solve arguments the way we solve tactical warfare.
We've turned his dream and made it into our nightmare,
We took his words of action and turned them into questionable ones,
so while some of us may question and criticize how far we've come after fifty years,
others turn the other way, supporting the idea that we're at a post-racist era.
How did we get here? How do we get there? Are we going anywhere at all?
It's easy to see this as a dream,
because we can always change the channel and find something else to watch.
But fifty years is long enough for this coma. It's time to wake up.

On my way to the attic,
each step creaks
protesting.
            I’ve worn this path smooth.
I reach the landing
and turn.
You sit there
on top of a stack of boxes
            easy-access
composed, legs swinging
insouciantly
I brush off the light
layer of dust,
open you up to the dark room
and take out a golden trophy.
After reminiscing, I return it.
You put your clothes back on;
I fold you shut and walk away.
You don’t bother taping your seams
you never did.

What we do isn’t pretty.
We aren’t two starlings
in our own murmuration;
we are a ****** of crows.
Our dance is getting away with felonies.
            Take it from a jail bird
                        a trophy is no occupation.
You watched as I was polished and shelved,
captive after a year
of looking for a champion.
She had me cast
at the start of that long year
well before she clinched her title.
I was touted around, then passed on.
She never dusts me off, dear.
That is why I smudge your sheen
I have no shimmer left myself.
That is why you stay
you seek the heft
of my cast-iron company,
the weight we have borne
six years without touch
sixty ****** crime dramas
six hundred batches of half-baked cookies
six thousand nights in.
You are my memorabilia.
I just don’t want your dust to settle as mine has.
I want you to dance, gilded, on the sky.

On my way to the basement,
each step squeaks
inviting.
            I’ve worn this path smooth.
I reach the foot.
Brothers greet, glasses clink,
plumes build, couches sink.
The ceiling dances with golden trophies
all with your composure
gleaming
legs swinging.