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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
currently i only identify two schools of thought in English
.oh ****! now i remember, now i remember that other school of English thought... pragmatism! everything is so rational these days, no wonder that so many mental illness diagnoses exist... apparently every deviance of, "success" is, "magically" worthy of psychiatric scrutiny... but then you get psychopaths in the upper eschallance of society... and they're immune to psychiatric scrutiny... so much for pragmatism... whatever that means these days... what?! e-scha-llan-ce... usher-lance?! oh right, ****, i was going for an adjective... echelon... my adjective? feeling up to the level / rank within an organization, and subsequently, perfecting stated rank with robust, pompousness and erudition, matching up to a pedantic exercise within the confines of either, grammar, or, diction; my bad. see... i don't get it... i could somehow couple up the ancient Greek concept of the Stoic school, and the Epicurean school (of thought)... it became crystal clear... but... but when it comes to the English school of thought? i can't make the logical-leap of a worded multiplication concerning the schools of: egalitarianism, and... pragmatism... maybe i'm just *******... but i... i sometimes can't come at a worded equals sign, or at least: a mutually inclusive / mutually exclusive sharing processor of looking at both attempts to revise 1 + 1 = 2... then again, i'm not bothered... English liberalism doesn't bother me... the English were never libertarian in letting go... who are the English? they have their equivalence among the Prussians... but, yes... i was looking for this noun, this last remaining school of thought from the Anglophone world... i was thinking... what goes well with the cognitive spaghetti that exfoliates egalitarianism? ****... what else? pragmatism! so help me god, i can't concede making this dualism of ideas, perhaps contradictory, perhaps not, as i did with classical thinking... stoicism and Epicurean school i can justify... but the English, somehow complimenting within the realm of pragmatism, and egalitarianism?! good luck, i can't do it.

currently i only identify two schools
of thought in English...
i might change my opinion
in the future...

how, just how petrified people
are of exploring dialectics,
the fear stemming out
from... having opinions that
do not deserve questioning,
such blatant solipsism...

but i do identify two schools
of thought from the English
speaking world...
o.k. three... ****...
four...

egalitarianism...
egalitarian idealism...
unitarism...
utopian-ism...        

****... four, five...
how many in total?

scholasticism, in general...

  there's one more...
i'm sure there's one more...
it's related to egalitarianism...

what's the word i'm looking
for?
a morphed liberalism
of: one freedom can eventually
over-compensate
another statement of freedom
and deride the former liberty
with a... ore ******-up
liberty...

but there was another mode of thinking,
i'm sure of it...

you know that people
are afraid of experiencing dialectics,
when they have to phrase
their opinions:
but these are my personal
opinions...
   yep... stated in a public sphere...
why is it that i don't
make videos?
      your freedom of speech
is one thing...
mine? constricted to the comment
section...
   this? an extension of thought,
since i'm bashing a blank piece
of "paper"...

what was the other root of the English
school of thought?!
no... it wasn't universalism...
England, given the stated terms...
is a covert communist state...
a subdued communist state...
a dubiousness from the empirically
tested experiment...
where did Marx and Engels
concentrate their observational
capacities if not in England?
weird...

  communism originated in England
under, said, sociological observations,
was tested in Mongolia...
and then returned via Russia to
Eastern Europe...

*****... gets to my head...
it might come to be two days later,
but i'm sure i wanted
to work with another school of thought
from the English demand
for the egalitarian take on things...

looking at the English,
i see a people burdened by a desire
to make "things"... fair...
          i see people teasing Utopia...
a people who haven't experienced
a momentary transition period
of a quasi-Utopia of communism....
within the countries that
received the Bolshevik mantra
and not the Marshall Plan payout...
even Sweden (neutral, source of inspiration
for the Nazis) and Switzerland
received Marshall Plan funds...

       but the English...
              what an oddity...
oh i don't imply a demeaning
interpretation...
       but the English are teasing
a revival of socialism...
you know how many archetypical
human emotions socialism curbs?
you can't do it unless
subjected to foreign rule...
given the current Brexit agreements:
now's your chance...

but socialism really did originate
in this fine, fine land...
Marx didn't look alongside
Engels outside of England...
they looked at Liverpool...
and children being employed...
German children had Krampus...
English children had
work in the factories...

this probably is an over-simplification
of history, but all the details
are there...
personally?
i find English existentialism
(if there is such a "thing")
over-powered by Darwinism's
over-simplifications...
Darwinism, having killed modern
or pre-modern history,
having to expand beyond
our known, and kept history...

a big bang theory i can deal
with...
i can congest it into a subscript
of words, via a conceptualization
of atoms...
and bigger atoms,
suns... protons, neutrons,
planets...
and electrons...
lost in the realm of sub-atomic
particles and antimatter...

but when i go back to Poland?
you know what i don't hear much of?
overly simplified existential
explanations pivoting on
nothing, but Darwinism...
in England it's all Darwinism,
and not much more...
i guess when Einstein disproved
Newton,
the only thing motivating
English culture boiled down
to focusing and pivoting on Darwin...

outside of England?
you know how important Darwin
is?
          in Poland... Mickiewicz...
a poet...
                         Copernicus...
            a astronomer...
            and in Russia?
Dostoyevsky...
          Tolstoy...
                     Mendeleev,
Tchaikovsky,
Rasputin,
                      Prokofiev­,
Bulgakov...
        Kandinsky...
               Anna Andreyevna...
Chekov...
                      how much is
Michael Faraday worth these
days in England,
if you're going to celebrate
only the scientists
and shove every artist
into the shadow of Shakespeare?!

i really shouldn't drink
*****...
                       i go crazy crude,
mad and... it's *****!
       you can't mellow out like
you could mellow out with
ms. amber, of the Scottish highlands!
Continue reading...
Alexander K Opicho Dec 2013
Nelson Mandella is dead
NELSON MANDELA, NUMBER 46664 IS DEAD; EULOGICALLY ELEGIZING DIRGE FOR SON OF AFRICA, HOPE OF HUMANITY AND PERMANENT FLAME OF DEMOCRACY


Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)

Nelson Mandela, South Africa's anti-apartheid beacon, has died
One of the best-known political prisoners of his generation,
South Africa's first black president, He was 95.
His struggle against apartheid and racial segregation
Lead to the vision of South Africa as a rainbow nation
In which all folks were to be treated equally regardless of color
Speaking in 1990 on his release from Pollsmoor Prison
After 27 years behind bars, Mandela posited;
I have fought against white ******* and
I have fought against black *******
I have cherished the idea of a democratic
And a free society in which all persons live together
In harmony and with equal opportunity
It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve
But if need be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die,

Fortunately, he was never called upon
To make such a sacrifice
And the anti-apartheid campaign did produce results
A ban on mixed marriages between whites and folks of color,
This was designed to enforce total racial segregation
Was lifted in 1985
Mandela was born on July 18, 1918
His father Gadla named him "Rolihlahla,"
Meaning “troublemaker” in the Xhosa language
Perhaps  parental premonitions of his ability to foment change.
Madiba, as he is affectionately known
By many South Africans,
Was born to Gadla Henry Mphakanyiswa,
a chief, and his third wife Nosekeni *****
He grew up with two sisters
In the small rural village of Qunu
In South Africa's Eastern Cape Province.
Unlike other boys his age,
Madiba had the privilege of attending university
Where he studied law
He became a ringleader of student protest
And then moved to Johannesburg to escape an arranged marriage
It was there he became involved in politics.
In 1944 he joined the African National Congress (ANC),
Four years before the National Party,
Which institutionalized racial segregation, came to power
.
Racial segregation triggered mass protests
And civil disobedience campaigns,
In which Mandela played a central role
After the ANC was banned in 1961
Mandela founded its military wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
The Spear of the Nation
As its commander-in-chief,
He led underground guerrilla attacks
Against state institutions.
He secretly went abroad in 1962
To drum up financial support
And organize military training for ANC cadres
On his return, he was arrested
And sentenced to prison
Mandela served 17 years
On the notorious Roben Island, off Cape Town,
Mandela was elected as South Africa's first black president
On May 10, 1994
Cell number five, where he was incarcerated,
Is now a tourist attraction
From 1988 onwards, Mandela was slowly prepared
For his release from prison
Just three years earlier he had rejected a pardon
This was conditional
On the ANC renouncing violence
On 11 February 1990,
After nearly three decades in prison,
Mandela, the South African freedom beacon was released
He continued his struggle
For the abolition of racial segregation
In April 1994,
South Africa held its first free election.
On May 10,
Nelson Mandela became South Africa's first elected black president,
Mandela jointly won
The Nobel Peace Prize
With Frederik de Clerk in 1993
On taking office
Mandela focused on reconciliation
Between ethnic groups
And together with Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
He set up the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC)
To help the country
Come to terms
With the crimes committed under apartheid
After his retirement
From active politics in 1999,
Madiba dedicated himself
To social causes,
Helping children and ***-AIDS patients,
His second son
Makgatho died of ***-AIDS
In 2005 at the age of 54,
South Africans have fought
a noble struggle against the apartheid
But today they face a far greater threat
Mandela he posited in a reference to the ***-AIDS pandemic,
His successor
Thabo Mbeki
The ANC slogan of 1994; A better life for all
Was fulfilled only
For a small portion of the black elite
Growing corruption,
Crime and lack of job prospects
Continue to threaten the Rainbow Nation,
On the international stage
Mandela acted as a mediator
In the Burundi civil war
And also joined criticism
Of the Iraq policy
Of the United States and Great Britain
He won the Nobel Prize in 1993
And played a decisive role
Into bringing the first FIFA World Cup to Africa,
His beloved great-granddaughter
Zenani Mandela died tragically
On the eve of the competition
And he withdrew from the public life
With the death of Nelson Mandela
The world loses a great freedom-struggleer
And heroic statesman
His native South Africa loses
At the very least a commanding presence
Even if the grandfather of nine grandchildren
Was scarcely seen in public in recent year

Media and politicians are vying
To outdo one another with their tributes
To Nelson Mandela, who himself disliked
The personality cult
That's one of the things
That made him unique,
Nelson Mandela was no saint,
Even though that is how the media
Are now portraying him
Every headline makes him appear more superhuman
And much of the admiration is close to idolatry
Some of the folks who met him
Say they felt a special Mandela karma
In his presence.
Madiba magic was invoked
Whenever South Africa needed a miracle,

Mandela himself was embarrassed
By the personality cult
Only reluctantly did he agree to have streets
Schools and institutes named after him
To allow bronze statues and Mandela museums
To be built
A trend that will continue to grow.

He repeatedly pointed
To the collective achievements
Of the resistance movement
To figures who preceded him
In the struggle against injustice
And to fellow campaigners
Such as Mahatma Gandhi, Albert Luthuli
Or his friend and companion in arms
Oliver Tambo who today stands in Mandela's shadow,
Tambo helped create the Mandela legend
Which conquered the world
A tale in which every upright man
And woman could see him
Or herself reflected,
When Prisoner Number 46664 was released
After 27 years behind bars
He had become a brand
A worldwide idol
The target of projected hopes
And wishes that no human being
Could fulfill alone,
Who would dare scratch?
The shining surface of such a man
List his youthful misdemeanors
His illegitimate children
Who would mention his weakness for women?
For models
Pop starlets
And female journalists
With whom he flirted
In a politically incorrect way
When already a respected elder statesman?
Who would speak out critically?
Against the attacks
He planned when he headed the ANC
Armed wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
And who would criticize the way
He would often explode in anger
Or dismiss any opinions other than his own?
His record as head of government
Is also not above reproach
Those years were marked by pragmatism
And political reticence
Overdue decisions were not taken
Day to day matters were left to others
When choosing his political friends
His judgment was not always perfect
A Mandela grandchild is named
After Colonel Muammar Gaddaffi
Seen from today's perspective
Not everything fits
The generally accepted
Picture of visionary and genius,
But Mandela can be excused
These lapses
Because despite everything
He achieved more than ordinary human beings
His long period of imprisonment
Played a significant role here
It did not break him, it formed him
Robben Island
Had been a university of life for Mandela once posited
He learned discipline there
In dialogue with his guards
He learnt humility, patience and tolerance
His youthful anger dissolved
He mellowed and acquired
The wisdom of age
When he was at last released
Mandela was no longer
Burning with rage,
He was now a humanized revolutionary
Mandela wanted reconciliation
At almost any price
His own transformation
Was his greatest strength
The ability to break free
From ideological utopia
And to be able to see the greater whole
The realization
That those who think differently
Are not necessarily enemies
The ability to listen,
To spread the message of reconciliation
To the point of betraying what he believed in,
Only in this way could he
Serve as a role model
To both black and white humanity
, communists and entrepreneurs,
Catholics and Muslims.
He became a visional missionary,
An ecclesiast of brotherly love
And compassion
Wherever he was, each humanity was equal
He had respect for musicians and presidents
Monarchs and cleaning ladies
He remembered names
And would ask about relatives
He gave each humanity his full attention
With a smile, a joke, a well aimed remark,
He won over every audience
His aura enveloped each humanity,
Even his political enemies,
That did not qualify him
For the status of demi-god
But he was idolized and rightly so
He must be named in the same breath
As Mahatma Gandhi, the Dalai Lama
Or Martin Luther King
Mandela wrote a chapter of world history
Even Barack Obama posited
He would not have become
President of the United States
Without Mandela as a role model,

And so it is not so important
That Mandela is now portrayed
Larger than life
The fact that not everything
He did in politics succeeded is a minor matter
His achievement is to have lived
A life credibly characterized
By humanism, tolerance and non-violence,
When Mandela was released
From prison in 1990,
The old world order of the Cold War era
Was collapsing
Mandela stood at the crossroads and set off in the right direction
How easily he could have played with fire, sought revenge,
Or simply failed; He could have withdrawn from public life or,
Like other companions in arms, earned millions,
Two marriages failed because of the political circumstances
His sons died tragically long before him
It was only when he was 80 and met his third wife,
Graca Machel,
That he again found warmth,
Partnership and private happiness,
Setbacks did not leave him bitter
Because he regarded his own life
As being less important
Than the cause he believed in
He served the community humbly,
With a sense of responsibility
Of duty and willingness to make sacrifices
Qualities that are today only rarely encountered,

How small and pathetic his successors now seem
Their battles for power will probably now be fought
Even more unscrupulously than in the past
How embarrassing are his own relatives
Who argued over his legacy at his hospital bed
Mandela was no saint
But a man with strengths and weaknesses,
Shaped by his environment
It will be hard to find a greater person
Just a little bit more Mandela every day
Would achieve a great deal
Not only in Africa
But in the bestridden geographies
Epochs and diversities of man,

In my post dirge I will ever echo words of Mandella
He shone on the crepuscular darkness of the Swedish
Academy, where cometh the Nobel glory;
Development and peace are indivisible
Without peace and international security
Nations cannot focus
On the upliftment
Of the most underprivileged of their citizens.
Continue reading...
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
Macbeth
before i pull this one out of my *** (again - listen, these words are not coming from either head or heart, it's best to pull them from the bowels, a gut-wrenching-feeling is more potent than that "something" that "something" delusional pulled from a clenched heart... as far as i know, the brain is incapable of emotions, it doesn't understand them, and since it doesn't understand them: it ridicules them)... which brings me to point:

(a) perhaps the idea of a soul is out-dated... why wouldn't it be, 21g worth of breath does not equal a soul... hence the autopsy of man, each detail studied seperately, the cardiologist knows the heart, the neurologist the brain etc., but some items work in a solipsistic mode... the heart is robotic, automaton pump queen (and not the kind of pump you'd get from Shveeden) - thump thump thump! come to think of it, most of our bodies are robotic, automated... lucky for me: i don't have to think about the heart doing what it does, it just per se does it... i'm not even sure i'm gifted with the a.i. brain functions... but there's an underlying principle that governs all of these items... some call it the self... i prefer: the Σ ultimatum... some would call it soul... but there has to be something akin to the Σ ultimatum that allows me to become detached from this body, while at the same time be bound to it: high blood pressure, heart attack on the horizon... take the high blood pressure pills... ****... what was (b)? oh... yes...

(b) i'm sorry, virginity doesn't cut it for me, lucky me that it was isabella of grenoble that allowed me to move aside from: god, prior to losing my virginity.... roxette: do you feel excited, you're still the one (shanaia twain), fade to black - metallica... i was such a romantic before i lost this dreaded curse... i was a romantic... 19th century style romanticism... but you really can see past this sort of romanticism unless you haven't ******... these days the right complains about cultural marxism: plenty of things to complain about... it makes as much sense as a pickle in a dollop of custard... or cooking with pale indian ale to make a stew: bad idea... wine, brandy, cider? fine... beer? terrible idea to cook with... but unless you haven't lost your virginity, you can't see what cultural marxism chose as its opponent: cultural darwinism... you know how little you hear about darwinism outside of the english speaking world? zero to none, yes, it's an accepted fact, but this fact does not permeate outside of the fact per se, the fact contains itself and the whole subsequent narrative because subconsciously stored... no other people than the people who found it ensure there are subplot proof statements of a reconfirmation of the validity... the whole social science bogus trap of rating people on looks... contradicting the meritocracy of that old Socratic saying: let me be as beautiful on the inside as on the outside... if you haven't ******: you're still the same old romantic i was at puberty... once you ****... well... cultural marxism dwarfs... yes yes it's there... so? but at the same time you can at least appreciate seeing the antithesis: cultural darwinism... the romantic needs to die the most carnal death via experience... all my ideals were shattered, this perfection of woman... i very much liked the idea / not even the ideal of a woman... but when the idea fizzled out and there was no ideal to begin with... i saw cultural darwinism for the very first time and... it was as ugly as cultural marxism so heavily criticized by the conservative right of the west... so... i decided to walk the middle ground, ignoring both sides (of the argument).

(c) i wouldn't have come up with a point see, unless my favorite square schematic didn't pop into my mind, Kantian, as ever: the best philosophy is the antithesis of English pragmatism and overt-politicisation, so it has to be German, ergo? i will not explain these terms, i figured: if i nail a decent example to fit each category, that's enough: since you can then visualize the concept via the example:

analytical a priori                           synthetic a priori
there's a need to throw                   learning
a ball at                                                to throw a ball
a target                                                 at a target once
                                                            ­  the need has been
                                                            ­  established...



synthetic a posteriori                    analytical a posteriori
there's a  need to                           perfecting to throw
      throw a ball at                               a ball at a target
a target, in order
to perfect this need...

                                            baseball..­. cricket...
at least: that's how i define knowledge of something
simple without having to use mathematics
that Kant used to explain... 2 + 2 = 4...
mathematics isn't exactly a man's best friend
at explaining philosophy...
you write philosophy that alligns itself
to mathematics... no wonder: moths in books...
yawns, unfinished works...
i found that sports work just as well
as mathematics... and you have the already
primitive objects to work with...
rather than pseudo-objects: i.e. numbers...
the abstracts of perception: i'm actually 6ft2...
not 6ft1... karolína plíšková is 6ft1...
       as noted when watching her today...

  i'll admit, i'm always a bit shaky when it comes
to this sqaure, whether it's over-simplified,
notably the top left corner: analytical a priori,
i'm always of a mindset that wants to associated
this definition with: analytical a- priori...
  i.e. borrowing from atheism:
    to analyse something without there
being a prior to example...
               analysis without a prior example...
i guess that's the mojo of science... the driving force...
back to sports... bow and arrow...
   tools: target...
       whether a bow and arrow and a deer
to begin with...
or a hand and ball and a wicket to end with...

there's a need to throw                  
a ball at a target...

            and cricket was the precursor of
baseball, but prior to cricket?
   there was archery...
              and prior to archery...
   there was forever a fundamental need,
e.g. to go from point X to point Z...
   see... as much as Kant wanted...
   numbers don't really solve the "problem"
of explaining something: algebra would be
better suited... x + y = z...
                    with numbers either hovering
above, or below (in the instance of chemistry's
subscript)...

talking of squares... sūdoku...
well, if at any time the french were to receive a hard-on
in terms of inventing something,
the english: rugby, cricket, football, tennis...
the french really did read some of the hebrew
qabbalah literature, as i am doing...
magic squares...
       the secular version of this puzzle
first appeared on july 6, 1895 (the modern version)...

it came to us from India and China...
again... why do western cultural darwinists
always tell our genesis from
the perspective of: "out of Africa"?
aren't there elephants in India?
            i will not believe i originated in Africa,
i'm not an "out of Africa" sorry state of
incompetence... i place my origins in
the sub-continent... at least that's where my
current language originates from...
the great migration across the Siberian tundra,
rather than some African savannah...
after all the Bangladeshi and the Sri Lankans
(the tear of India) resemble burnt cinnamon
in tone, some even as dark skinned as
east africans...
   if the germanic people want to stick to
the "out of Africa" narrative (notably the English):
let them have it... i place my origins in
India...

   never mind, now i'll write a name's dropping
history of how july 6th, 1895 happened...
the "magic" squares...

    from either India or China (chess from India)...
moschopulus of contantinople
  introduced them (the "magic" squares)
in the early 1400s... apparently ancient qabbalists
had knowledge of them
  (so... a trip well spent)...
                             rabbi joseph tzayah (1505 - 1573)
magnum opus: responsa...
             rabbi joseph castro: avkat rokhel...
tzayah in jerusalem wrote his major work
Evven HaShoham (the onyx stone) - 1538 -
   a year later the book: tzeror ha-chaim discussing
the Talmud: he never really bothered about
the Zohar...
               the hebrai word for "letters": otiot...
divided into two:
                         tav aleph (a line of aleph)
and tav yod (a line of yod)...
                   one is to never concentrate
upon the keter within the realm of the sefirot...
hence the matisyahu expression:
   king without a crown...
                         one example of a "magic" square
later dictated into a 9 x 9 newspaper puzzle?
      2     9     4
      7     5     3
      6     1     8     (up down across = 15...
my date of birth? 15th may 1986,
no coincidence, just stating an oblivion's
worth of a "point)... 15 x 3 = 45...
   and that's about as significant as any
                               insignificance can be...

album of choice?
    old horn tooth - from the ghost grey depths...

and without even associating the arabs
to the hebrai practice of gamatria,
i once inquired an old pakistani (who tried to convert me)
what: Alif, Lam, Meem
implied in the opening of the al-baqarah sutra
implied?
   he replied: god knew...
        so i thought, you don't know what
alif (letter) what lam (letter) and meem (also a letter)
means? you have to search for god
for the answers? good look making me into
a proselyte... mind you:
if the jews abhor proselytes,
while the muslims are so so oh so *******
welcoming... isn't that a tad bit suspicious?
how can a muslim convert me
when he can't explain to me what
alif lam and meem implies at the opening
of al-baqarah?!
            let's play some hijāʾī order game...
and the three letters...
       28 letters in total...
alif (28), lam (6), meem (5)...
    i'm not even going to go into the gamatria
mental gymnsastics related to any
"significance"...
   point was made upon the question being
asked... if a muslim tries to covert you...
and he can't explain to you
the significance of alif lam meem at the beginning
of al-baqarah... they're letters...
well... how is he going to explain to you
what's bothersome about those letters
to begin with? ALM... does that imply: zakat?!
to give alms? zakat being one of the pillars
of islam?
  **** me... i haven't even converted
and it would appear: i know more than the person
who tried to convert me!

.i. Yuri Gagarin and the yo-yo

if ever the potency of a "keyboard crusader"
existed, it's now -
   i can dangle a mouse above a bear-trap
and tell an elephant of a phobia concerning
mice any day of the week,
          when in fact i'm talking about
a mousetrap: nothing more.
     hence the exaggeration in the imagery
comparison:
        or it begins with a story told in the 20th
century:
             when women put down their mascara
brushes, men put down their swords:
never mind the voice in the wilderness:
       mind the voice in the crowd -
there's absolutely no reason to speculate
urbanity and tribal environments without
addressing, or regressing the crowd,
or as i like to call it: what Nietzsche said,
minus the Wake... but now inclusive of the wake
and the Bacchus cult of fun fun fun.
            the Wake in condor terms?
we congregate praying for something to die...
      i don't pretend to be whatever
that sachet of concrete-Cartesian labels entitles me
too:        for the most part
        people say 'i am' without a thought to
govern the rain shaman telling you what thought
is required to 'be', oh, a very old ontological
stipend: you need people to experience a collectivisation,
a herding, a "bound together" sort of mentality
before the critic arrives and says: well, that's not
what i'm really about.
                    a bit like the **** firs, mouth second
debacle...
                but what heart they had, our predecessors!
what heart!
             they'd wage war over a woman,
a Helen,
                  would you wage a war against
the feminist version of Helen these days?
would you pluck a Scottish thistle over an English rose?
      true: you might be a bishop
and of lesser rank... but would you wage a war
over the women of these days?
my **** is in a pickle jar anyway! we have become
a *** of a species unburdened by an obligation...
             finally! we can become eternal bachelors
sort of ******* that we're here, and hear less and less
of sayings about the "things that matter".
            you know what vile? really really vile?
oh i know my contemporaries when i bother to
hear them talk, oddly enough never bother when they
think, i'm quiet content with a Godot stage of
a park bench and an old man as my company,
      i know Douglas Murray,
               i know the wild-eyed Icke,
but a thing that concerns me is why: the safety room
parallel to the leftist thesis of offensive speech
was put in play when a discussion took off
concerning feminism, between milo yiannopoulus
and julie bindel - that's like saying:
ask a pederast to talk for a heterosexual man
with a woman safe-space...
                                no one wants to hear
the heterosexual side of the argument....
  you'll sooner see heterosexual intellects have their
marriages come undone then get paired with either
side of the argument...
     little richard is in the pickle jar anyway,
and he's not coming out...
                it's a bit like ****** for dummies....
       hence i have to succumb to violence without
the glory, tongue waggling blah blah
when i'd gladly take a weapon and shove it into
a shattered cranium bone: had i the ****** chance to
do so!
           no heterosexual is taken seriously:
and won't be:
    of a woman to be like a rosy cushion on which
i can lay my head after the darkly toils of
    roofing, or laying bricks, or excavating the sewers...
no! let the Chinese do that:
the basic argument of slavery, although imported
therefore ****** ******* fine.
                         cryogenic fathers,
      pickled *****:      where's the middle in all of this?
     a coconut just fell from the Boddhi tree:
money!           and those that defend it,
don't know squat about the tribalism of squatters!
but hey! they have the ****** stage!
         i have a bench when someone approaches me
and talk, doing the best thing possible:
               knitting opinions -
i don't want the truth of opinions: i want a sweater,
or a pair of socks! that's metaphor for something
different altogether.
  keyboard crusader? really? can i ask you for
directions to the high street, in every single town
across the country? i can't find one!
         no one hears a heterosexual argument
on the various topics: because there isn't one -
                     as of the end of the 20th century,
working classes in the west striving to ensure
there is something mundane to do during the day
and kick back with the family in the evening
are the "inferior" neanderthals: who
haven't jacked into discovering a 3D reality
of what's otherwise a 2D computer screen and
aren't hooked on #crack;
honestly, so much debating ought to be opera,
and so much opera ought to be debating -
    ah: that famous tingle of utopian paradoxes
never in duality, but always in dichotomy.
   keyboard crusader?
really? i thought people were always moaning
about how many emails they receive:
   and never a single postcard from, say,
someplace like Venice?
           it's still early days,
                   and already we're brewing enough
cliches to replace all known nouns in
    the surrogate mother that's the dictionary
of our completed version of a soul -
if ever to be experienced upon meeting the omni-vocabulary;
jigsaws, i know my idiosyncratic version
of events, he says photosynthesis within parameters
                            of photon deconstruction of hydrogen;
'cos' it's sub; d'uh! i say god i say this perfected
version of nearing telepathy - you say god i hope you
don't mean satan's clause - great anagram to frighten
children with: the Babushka surprise of a Pumpkin head
laughing it's way toward: how easy life would be
if we had all that time to think it through as being hard,
rather than that mortal fleetingness in both thought
and body.

ii. Macbeth

it really dawned on me, when i was watching the film
Macbeth (2015) -
            there was an eeriness to it, a near perfection
of Shakespeare on screen...
           honestly? i'd rather read Kant early on in life
while i have the vigour, and leave old age to Shakespeare...
but it truly was eerie all over the place.
      i do recall seeing Romeo + Juliet
          and reading the script, and imagining the fallacy
of word for word translation from theatre to cinema
of the script: the narrator a news channel anchor,
and everything said, word, for, word.
that film with DiCaprio as Romeo and Claire Danes
as Juliet - it just felt itchy, uncomfortable -
                            Shakespeare, word for word, on screen?!
     (surprise, then astonishment, not !? or astonishment,
   then the surprise, because: it didn't really work);
and it didn't! you can't adapt Shakespeare to the screen
and put everything in! i noticed it at that ******
generous scene in Macbeth concerning the battle
of Ellon... so i was like like... this isn't typescript...
(and thank **** it isn't) -
you can't depict Shakespeare word for word,
to be honest, Macbeth (2015) is the only worthy
translation of Macbeth (the text) into Macbeth (the movie);
all this scientific exactness in previous examples
like Romeo + Juliet, the Merchant of Venice
and a Midsummer's Night Dream don't work,
it's their precision making,
     a theatre cast can take it, but a cinema going crowd,
with all these cutting and copying and repasting
    succinct moments? it doesn't work!
maybe because there's no actual narrator in the staged
examples? narrator as a necessary character understudy:
surely Puck and the news anchor are there:
don't know about the Shylock scenario...
           but these screen adaptations didn't work for me,
too rigid, too formal... in the case of Macbeth?
finally! the long awaited piquant version of Shakespeare:
all that matters, and the rest is thrown into
poetic technique: imagery, metaphor,
                everything that's necessary can be given grammar
as image and not word!
       want an example? from the text...
the Royal Shakespeare
  from the text of Professor Delius
  and introduction by f. j. Furnivall, ll.d.
         vol. v (special edition)
Cassell & Company, Ltd.
        sure, it feels like a Roman Polanski moment
akin to the 9th Gate scenic affair of a bibliophile
fetishist, and it is:

     ... (the only enemy of enso poetry
is the bladder) ...

well the screen play first:

banquo: what are these?
macbeth: live you? or are you aught
                          that man may question?
       speak if you can - what are you?
1st witch: macbeth! hail to thee
                    thane of Glamis!
2nd witch: macbeth... hail to thee,
       thane of Cawdor!
3rd witch: all hail Macbeth! that shalt be king in-after.

but such disparity, such **** as if once
of Lucretia, then of the authority,
for i have before me the original composition:
which is not worth cinema -
nonetheless, a **** takes place:
an assortment for the abdication of a king:
or as ever suggested: the wrong footed path:
never was tossing a coin in a gamble
that of tossing a crown into the air
for a court jester to appear less amusing
and more scolding.

act i, scene iii: post the battle of ellon...
  if ever the refusal to give up Greek myth,
then Macbeth's witches
      and Perseus' Graeae -
                            or naturalise a myth:
like you might not naturalise a strengthened
economy.... canonise the nation
with Elgin Marbles - Elgin: less than
what's said to be the exfoliation of the Aegean -
a municipality somewhere in Scotland:
west of Aberdeen, on the Northern Sea's
battering of the coast...
but word for word? or how to write Shakespeare
into cinema?
                 herr zensor must come into play -
you have to bypass imagery in poetic tongue
and relay it with actual images, a direly needed
necessity:

just after the three witches arrive,
enter Macbeth and Bonquo...

   Macb. so foul and fair a day i have not seen.
Ban. how far is't call'd to Fores? - what are these,
     so wither'd and so wild in their attire,
that look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth,
   and yet are on 't?
             live you? or are you aught that man may
question?
                  (how word for word, but the words
waggle from a different tongue, namely that of
Macbeth, and not that of Banquo, hence
italicised).
                   continuing:
       you seem to understand me,
by each at once her choppy finger laying upon her
skinny lips: - you should be women, and yet your
beards forbid me to interpret that you are so.
Macb. speak, if you can - what are you?
         the witches. all hail, Macbeth!
     hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
         all hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane
of Cawdor!
         all hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
            
so does he really belong on the psychoanalytic
couch? is he really that necessarily wonton of talk?
  Cawdor v. Gondor - it's an ongoing narrative.
but is he in need of a couch?
                 what sort of talk is talk when
in fact the only talk that's need to be said is the talk
of man's sexualised naturalisation for strife,
and here: as if knocking on a door:
you want to simply hear the onomatopoeia of
the Kabbalah in a woman gasping for breath
while puny Jewish boys under strict rabbinical
studies study?

                mama, take this badge from  me,
i can't use it, anymore,
            it's getting dark, too dark to see,
feels like i'm knockin' on heaven's door -
      my big mouth and man as a piston
                                               Ferrari acrobat

(even the soundtrack is a shrill, a strangulation
variant of higher pitch of the bagpipes -
not that braveheart ****** of whisking out
a song like for the love of a princess addition to:
  and can i have a madonna to boot too?
it's piercing, a whale sonar above refrigerator
white noise hum for the new age Buddha -
and that's because all the poetry has been excavated
  to suit cinema: not theatre).

and this is the first adaptation of Shakespeare i actually
could stomach...
     the genius was in how Macbeth spoke the lines
of Bonqua - so the character didn't start smacking
the narrative ****** in terms of solipsism:
even Shakespeare can be attacked on this front...
        if in the movie Banqua said all that was in
the typescript: the film wouldn't have worked...
i don't know what the big deal is with Lady Macbeth:
i thought that in the olden days
Macbeth suggested to King Duncan that:
can i leave the warring if you **** my wife?
i can go on the contract that you **** my wife
and i stop serving you?
      first impressions: strange English.
well, i'm sure she's important as it might be said:
within the programme of Orthodoxy,
            but never catholic (metadoxy) tradition of
saying: way hey! ensnare the mare in a funfair!
       and play the game: pin the tale on the donkey!
heads or tails?      it looks pretty damnable
     in the first place: as all honesty hogs to pout and
***** a hoggish sneeze out of the story.

iii. shaken, not stirred

and indeed, how many a times
did not a neon blossom sprout,
thinking it might rattle an oratory
with an oak in autumn, and behold
a swarm of leaves descend -
not out of passing ease,
but out of wishful thinking
that some indentation might be made:
with whom the hands of will reside,
and yet: to no gratifying effect,
to whatever atomic-centralisation
dream, be that ego or be it hydrogen
(lending hands: so too
electric or thus negative, neutral and
thus proto) - shake foundation
and give a revising repertoire of
              the covering dust humanity
that once made famous: never
again to learn the humility of the start;
        to whatever centric dream that
does not waver in demands of orientation,
be it father (sun), son (shadow)
  or the holy spirit (night) -
  make them earn! be obscure!
            or simply say: in the community
of the stated congregation:
  i find all to be as night,
   and safer that plague the father:
  i am not akin to the shadow:
                   but the shadow in mirror.
so, a centric dream that does not
waver in demands for orientation,
has ever or will be enthroned in man's
heart as the stability of Sabbath's demands
       for less, oh so much less to agitate with!
as too, when the ancient appliances
were adorned by countless demands of
mimic, so too our modern
fibbles are to stage a usurping of
such things demanded and their mimic;
for with such disclosure does all fate
of anewed become burdened in what
history could be: shaken,
rather than simply a stirring of the void,
nothing more than the unburdening
of sweetening a cup of coffee, of that and
the layers: or bitter at the top, drank
through toward the sedimented sweetness -
and all that: hoping i could have retained
that silver spoon lodged in my ***
          when i first met her and thought about
consolidating marriage: so fresh, eager prune
of the flesh embodiment as first
    watered ash, then entombed in marble
and the eternal... ah
               but it was all just the faintest of dreams;
so lumberjack sleep ensued,
                      as did a kindred worth ethic:
we are a long way from Eden...
      there is but the idyll of the absurd fruition of
albreit macht frei... or a redefinement of
such stakes as: what occupies our days?
                    if not war, if not disease,
if not the Chinese... what does, occupy our days?
Continue reading...
Toreinss Pinwinkel III Mar 2013
God
If one had a desire to define the word god where would he begin?  Why would he assign the traits he did to the word?  Would he want to assimilate traits that he perceived to be godlike?   Would he obtain a clearer vision in a realization of the futility of aspiration, or would pragmatism and adamant tenaciousness afford him a better route?  Perhaps we all could benefit by a reassessment of our affinity with god.
  
The metaphysical extremities of human nature provide man with a multifaceted image of the possible psychic states of God. Objectivity has led man away from the true nature of his need many times at this point.  Any retrospective analysis of man’s personifications of deity most often leaves one lost in the quandaries of the psychic quagmire.  The weaknesses created by man’s lack of a universally acceptable id conclusion have elevated many philosophical or theocratic hypotheses to the level of demagoguery.

One method which has been used by theologians in attempting to induct a sumerial derivation from the vast warehouse of human religious extrapolation is the concept that perhaps basic truths can be affirmed through the theory of sufficient constancy of conjunction. Which is to say that reasonably analogous conjectures can be found in the depths of religious pervasion.  But this is not strictly true.
  
The ancient Babylonians, like the Indians, were polytheistic. They worshiped gods of nature, tribal union, fertility.  Deifications created from allusion to natural analogies, yet often imbued with a euphemistic optimism.  Where as the pantheon of Grecian deities often seems an almost banal personification of psychological metaphors from the darker side of life.  Zeus a fallibly omnipotent being who pompously subverts all beneath him to his will.  Who along with Apollo and others roam the countryside ****** and adulterating the women of their choice.  And Ares the formidable God of war who’s natural lust for violence leads him and his cohorts to vicarious involvement with mankind’s altercations.

Egyptian theology seems to have been an amendable and progressive state that began with sun worship and gods of nature, and moved on to attempted assimilation of godlike traits through a natural alignment with the perceived nature of God.  There were in depth studies of the nature of time, and life, and notions of existential transcendentalism.  The momentum of this progression led them to the ultimate grandiose delusion in which the Pharaoh was worshiped as the universal supreme being, omniscient and omnipotent ruler of the ultimate utopian society. 
 
The Jews worshiped a God who was at once both a part of them  and an exogenous force believed to have created them in its own image. A God that deliberately instilled an understanding of it’s intended wisdom by instructing them of the laws they were to live by.  These divine revelations were often considered as the unadulterated word of God.  This God was jealous and demanded the adoration due him as the supreme essence.  His worship became the underlying force in their social conjecture as they attempted to inspire his continued grace and benevolence.  A seemingly irrational solution to the quandary of idealism.  An allegiance who’s impetus was unquestionable.  It seems by me to be improperly rooted on a personal level in that it overemphasizes the need or expectation of divine inspiration.

The ancient Chinese social wisdom was by me commendably rational.  Unlike the Jews they do not seem to have overemphasized the expectation of divine inspiration.  Instead they, like the Egyptians emphasized an alignment with the perceived nature of God on a personal level as the way to strength.  They of course had a conception of the possible natures of deity, but considered wisdom to be an honorably truthful self orientation.

Another realm of intellectual extrapolation from which one might hope to surmise a depthfully pervasive generality would be man’s philosophical treatises on the possible natures of God. Unfortunately due to the myriad nature of possibility this again appears paradoxically difficult.  To me this seems to be a product of the nonempirical nature of these conjectures.  Humans experience a reality which does not necessarily  have any relative effect on the transcendence of their conception of the possible nature of God. Although many have attempted to empiricise their conjectures through rational logic they are most often refuted by the possibility of ultimate transcendence or quandrified by the actuality of paradoxical argument.
  
Some good examples of these points are perhaps the arguments of Lucretius who attempted to empiricise that God can not revoke mathematical truths.  But what is the relative reality of those truths to the transcended essence of ultimate beingness.  They are refuted by irrelevance.  Another example might be the statement that God has aseity.  That is if he exists his existence is not caused.  This statement seems easy to refute for the supreme being could be all of the things possible for him except this and have evolved out of eons of cosmic continuum into natural omniscience and or through assimilation of the forces innate to the cosmos have achieved relative omnipotence.
  
One generally accepted statement that is refuted by these arguments is “the cosmos does not have infinite existence and is therefore not the supreme being.”  For if this supreme being has not yet evolved if it’s transcendental form could be said to have become out of cosmic continuum then the cosmos will indeed have achieved infiniteness.  But this already seems intuitively necessary to the ultimate cosmic essence regardless of a lack of self consciousness or even a physical form.  Perhaps what is possible and eons of void are the root of all force and matter, and perhaps this as yet unfulfilled sequence cycles on to nirvana.  Then again perhaps the supreme being does in fact preempt all as a self conscious entity.  This also would seem to be intuitively necessary to the essence of totality which of course has always existed and is in fact the supreme being in at that at that although not necessarily the true form of it’s transcendental being.
  
On this lofty note I would like to reiterate my thesis.  Perhaps we all could benefit from a reassessment of our affinity with God.

A man can accomplish many things with his concept of God. What is extraneous?  Perhaps the question would better be put what is expedient, but that becomes subjective.   You have to define your goals.  Where in lies wisdom?  Can man truly aspire to godhead or is this personally nonproductive?  Man seems to perceive a sort of manifest destiny for himself.  An intrinsic affinity with infiniteness that just must be dealt with.   Perhaps our beliefs in life after death are a grandiose delusion in which we hedonistically waste our time pampering our egos. Which brings me to my third and final argument.

Perhaps conscious regimentation and an affiliation with earth bound logic would bring us closer to our affinity with God.
One of the ideas presented by my philosophical references was that many of mankind’s inspirations to define his affinity with God grew inadvertently out of social realism and the powers assumed. Although often the subjective truths of these understandings went unmentioned out of a desire for objectivity.  For example what God must be if God is to be God.  Perhaps one would do better to relate personally to his affinity with God.

I think this is true.  Although we seem to lack omnipotence we are all individually speaking a preternatural corporeal state.  Perhaps we all should assert our godliness instead of hiding our talents in the sand.  Perhaps then we could construct a contractual reality.  An aspiration to the perfection of the human social mechanic.  I salute this concept.  In fact I firmly believe that by conscribing unalienable rights to our beings we have already performed the rights of the human social mechanic.  Our aspiration to godhead is complete in it’s conjecture.  All that is left is to obtain expedience and accuracy in our amendment toward continued obtainment of the majority goal.
Pantheism's orthogenesis overtures
Continue reading...
softcomponent May 2014
perish on the sand-drawn cross
Called in sick to work, disappoint the boss, *** of a terrible ***** hangover I framed as the flu.

'I've got the cold-body-shivers and a bucket next to my bed. I'd be no help to you, trust me.' Thankfully, one of the friendlier dishwashers agreed to work the shift in my absence. My hangover eventually plateaued into one of those fried-brain poetic calms, where you're pretty sure that terrible habit of yours shaved a few minutes or days from your life, and yet you're in some sort of involuntary (yet accepted and mostly secretly-desired) state of meditation and trance with the world. People walking past speak of strange, complex lives, with their own problems, their own triumphs, romances, fears, and aspirations.

Two young college-boys, dashing, laugh with each other at Habit Coffee. My debit card stopped working for some strange reason, with the machine reading 'insufficient funds' as the cause, and yet I managed to check my balance via online application, and I still have a solid $15.86 available so something is clearly wrong. I explain this to the baristas at Habit, and the girl understands my first-world plight, gives me a free cappuccino as a result, and I sit there at the clearest panoramic window overlooking the corners of Yates and Blanshard thankful for the kindness and finish Part One of Kerouac's Desolation Angels (Desolation in Solitude).

*****, echw. I spat at the brink of ***** above my ***** toilet seat, perhaps the more unhealthy fact-of-the-matter is that I somehow managed to keep it down. So it rots away my stomach and eats away at my liver. Disgusting. Although the prior stupor was quite nice.

On my way to the Public Library (where I sit now), some girl with a summer-skirt was unbeknownst of the fact that it had folded somehow at the back and as she ran for the parked 11 (Uvic via Uplands), everyone could see her thonged *** and they all looked back, forth, back, in *****-awkwardity (I included) wondering what was ruder: telling her? or just watching her spring away? I think I heard someone make a quip remark about it, and yet glanced away and forward as to seem unaroused (their partner was with them, holding hands and all, avoiding the lumpy desire and lust that always appears in short bouts during moments like that).

I need some sort of adventure, tasting the potential of existence as I called in sick to work and immediately felt better once the shadow it cast was delivered from the day. I think of Alex and Petter, with their motley crew of savages, riding highway 101 toward San Francisco. Last I heard, they had stopped over in Portland and perhaps had said hello to our friend Tad in the area. I wish I could have gone, felt the road glow in preternatural beauty and ecstatically bongo'd every breath. I haven't felt the true excitement of freedom and travel in so very, very long. Always, the thought of debt and labour. That's the niche I've crawled into for the time being, and I owe a lot to the friends who wait (without hate, without anger) for me to pay them back. I have some sort of shameful asceticism in the way I work now, as if I cannot just up and quit as I may often do, because I'm doing it for the friends who kindly (perhaps, dumbly) propped me up with coin. Even if most of it goes to an insatiably hungry MasterCard Troll living under a bridge of self-immolating sadnesses and post-modernisms, at least my fridge is full of food.

I lost my passport anyways, they would have stopped me at the Peace Arch and turned me back to Canada without exception. That's a modern border for you, there isn't much room for kindness. Just pragmatism.

*****, terrible, clean-cut pragmatism.

That house, at 989 Dunsmuir, the place I call home in the Land of the Shoaling Waters, is exceptionally lonely on days like this, even with Jen there reading her Charles Bukowski and offing a few comments about the gratuitous ******* oft-depicted in the book. I feel trapped, at times, by all those machinations I so deftly opposed as a teenage anarchist. In principle, I still oppose them. Most intensely when they trap me, although the World of Capital has successfully alienated me as a member of the proletariat work-force and somehow twisted my passion into believing that the ways of economy and rat-race are just 'laws of nature.' If this is true, which I believe for pragmatisms sake they are (*****, terrible, clean-cut pragmatism), there really is no such thing as liberty, and what we have called 'liberty' is nothing more than a giant civilised liability within which we are all guilty until proven guiltier. Yes, because I owe it to myself and to the landlord.

I realize, often, the endless love-hate relationship with existence that one calls 'life.' It seems undeniably true that everyone is in this same jam, secretly loving something, and at the same time secretly hating it. The distinction between 'love' and 'hate' quickly becoming redundant when they are found together drinking champagne at the dusty corner-table of the most indescript and ugly bar in the alley of eternal psychology.

My back hurts, my brain
clicks, it's all a little
melancholic; trapped,
finicky, yet calm,
hopeful, excited, and
real. About everything

all

at once.

How can you write like a beatnik in an age of eternal connectivity? Just keep writing messy, weighted passages, whine-and-dine frustration, and cling on to dear life as if it were better in a lottery ticket? Dream of a rucksack revolution, ask yourself how you're not brave enough to be a Dharma ***? Would you not question your motives in rebellion, keep yourself at arms-length for sake of self-hatred, and posture yourself on the sidewalk insisting it's not pretentious?

Ah, all the vagueness and all the creeps, all the I-guess-I'm-happy's and all the success stories mingling with each other on this planet-rock. Some sort of hybrid productivity asking to be heard. Writing about liberty and livers, both accepted as ok and yet all take a beating in the face of silence and revolt. There's a science to all this, no? Some sort of belief in mandalas and star-signs, opening portals to Lemuria to take a weight right off your shoulders. I am Atlantis, and I am sinking.

A cigarette doesn't care, and neither do I. Addicted to a moribund desire to live. To really live! Not just add a few more moments to longevity by swallowing a carrot twice a day. Not just brushing my teeth twice between sunrise and sunset to avoid halitosis. Not just sitting and waiting for language to speak on my behalf.

Be-half, be-whole. Be-yonder, lose yourself. Be-yonder, and travel. Be-yonder, and forgive. Be-yonder, and don't forget. Store those memories and add them to your landscape, next time you drop acid, run amok through those stairwells and fields, re-introduce yourself to your life and remember the every's forever. Become highschool you again, where you'd sit on your mothers porch June mornings on your third cup of coffee, writing a poem with the drive of existential freedom unpresented with fears of rent or labour. You want fast-food? *** the change off your poor mum, and meet your old friends down at the local A&W.; These days really don't last forever, and thankfully you were smart enough to avoid working all those years. They will remain the best years of your life for.. perhaps.. your whole life.

Some mornings, you would wake up late on a Pro-D day, sipping a fourth cup of joe and watching the Antique Road Show on CBC because it's the only half-interesting thing playing on a late Tuesday afternoon. Your mothers couch was leather at the time, placed closest to the deck window with some sort of ferny-plant right next to it making peace with the forest. You would get lonely at times, and it wasn't until you graduated that you noticed how beautiful those 4 high-lined stick-trees standing in the desolate firth as the last remaining survivors of a clear-cutting operation really were, the way they softly bent in the wind, some sort of anchor whether rain or shine. Your mother would be at work, your brother would be out, or at dads, or upstairs, and for half-hours at a time you would stare at those trees, warped slightly through the lens of your houses very old glass. To you, it seemed, the world could be meaningless, and these trees would go as a happy reminder of how calm and archaic and beautiful this meaninglessness was. Watching them always quenched a blurry hunger in the soul. Something happy this way came. Something tricky and simple.

I could never really reach myself back in those days. Not anymore, anyways. That old me no longer had a phone, had tossed it in a creek in a fit of idealistic rage. That old me was living in a tent somewhere, squatting on private property and working at a bakery north of his old town. He still worked there, last I heard. Every summer evening, he went swimming in the ocean, wafting along on his back to think and pray. He was a Buddhist if I ever met one, reading the Diamond Sutra and the Upanishads, cracking the ice of belief with Alan Watts's 'Cloud Hidden, Whereabouts Unknown,' and preaching to his friends in cyclic arguments to prove the fundamental futility of theory. He's the kinda guy to shock you off your feet and make you wonder. Really wonder. Whoever he's become is on the road to wisdom. Whoever he thinks he is has never mattered. He's just waiting on the world to change.

Fancy.

Above me, the patterned cascade of skylight-window in the library courtyard hints at sunset coming. I contemplate the warmth and company of Tom's house a moment and wonder if he'd like me over. I think again of Petter and Alex way down there in Cali-forn-ya. A holy pilgrimage to Big Sur, and I still wonder where my passport is. If hunger and destitution weren't a block to intention, I'd be everywhere at once right now. I'd watch this very sunset from the top of Mount Baker, and yet be singing along to the Rolling Stones with Petter at my side. The Irish country would be rolling by again, and I would wonder where I am. The happy patch-work of County Cork would invite me to the Ring of Kerry where I would wait and sip a cappuccino, pouring over maps of Ireland in hopes of finding my hostel, as I'm sure I booked online.

The warm-red stonework of Whitstable village in Kent comes to mind. I think of Auntie Marcia and Uncle Bob, soaking up the sunlight with their solar panels and selling it back to the grid. I think of Powell River and its wilder-middle-ness, the parade of endless trees stretching east out unto Calgary. I think of every public washroom I have ever defecated in, and wonder how noisy or silent they might be right now. I think of Sooke, and its sticks. I think of Salt Spring Island and my first collapse into adulthood. I think of work, and how I haven't missed a dime I've spent.

I think of wine in an Irish bar, that night I was in the homely town of Bantry, with its rainbow homes and ancient churches, reading my 'Pocket History of Ireland' in disbelief at how far I'd made it on my own when that strange old fellow Eugene came up to me and struck up a conversation on world events. He tried to sell me vitamin supplements, toting it all as a saviour. I wrote him this poem a day later, a year ago, and think of him now:

49 years old, names Eugene.

We talk politics like a plane
doing laps over planet ours,
North Korea threatens bursts
of lightening and Irish businessman
defaults on debts to UlsterBank in
the mighty Americas. He tells
me to guess his age and to be
nice I take a medium sum of
35 (white lies). He tells me
why he looks so young at
49 and tries to sell me a healthy
soul as if he were an angel of loves-
yerself or a devil
of capitalism pecking at
exposed heels. Tells me
he used to be drawl, pizza-
faced, suicidal before
production loved a spiritual
lung. Tell me what! Tell me
WHAT!
When life gives you lemons,
hug the lemon tree. Seems
the angels have sold out and
they're nice enough.


He really was a nice guy.
excerpt- 'the mystic hat of esquimalt'
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palladia Jun 2013
the rueful breadwinner (a confessional)
awkward is a promiscuous word. it flirts unintentionally. it seduces mentally. but most of all it's so disruptionally absurd even the first-come-first-serve basis comes 15 feet behind the typical quota. but it really isn't that serious. it would be awkward plus if i wasn't active right now. does that sound appealing to anyone? well it better. i'm no vanguard when it comes to distribution of emotions. they'll be distributed equally, thank you, and don't worry about getting more 'cause they'll be pieced out safe and fair. lord jesus, we need some sorrow-getter-overs in here! i'm always telling those who ask me for advice to relinquish the suffering and let the good times roll. not that it'll save their hides, i snicker mimically and divert the attention to something inappropriately interesting, like a ***** bumper sticker or a animal corpse on the side of the road. and you are gonna turn into one if you don't stop that crying! man i need some fresh air and i'm not talking about the innocent kind. it's more of the obvious, over-cynical cyanide-soaked air that formaldehyde would blush over. there are two r's in sorrow because the s and the o and w need to be capsized into one rowboat. i never thought i would compromise intimacy with loudspeaker attention-grabbers and then the sailboat does a belly-flop and lands head first in the witches' cauldron. which is like Hamlet's, but a lot less systematic and bunches more pagan. it's synthetically miserable but enigmatically moral. dance of the morals is another program i like. it has to do with the regard of selfish hope and loose pragmatism. pagan! ****** i know it's pagan but it's pigheaded trash like that which gets stuck in the garbage disposal ever so often and we don't have no time to clean it out. i use a fish net that once occupied a corner near the stove which had the net chewed through by ***** rats that inhabit the lower quarters of the bathhaus. it's nothing significant really but more or less a principle in not making leftovers from the unknown trashpile near the barn. attention: entrance alert. "too bad for" who cares. i'm sick of this. "too bad for". that's all said? "let's chat a lot" what? i thought maureen was coming over at 7? who left the cat out again--the dog's gonna have a field day playing cops and robbers, and there are always reallive guns. and i'm stuck back at square/ground one/zero figuring out how i'm gonna get the next day's meal without having to cut off my head or make the microsoft paper clip icon appear with those embarrassing clips telling you how you should appear to your boss on your first interview. and find out that he's a man after all. and ultimately regret what you said every two minutes. wish i had contributed crescents more to the goodness, and not brush over like a stuckist's paintbrush. he's actually using blood instead of acrylics- that's when i get running. wish i hadn't have done that. wish i hadn't. we "hadn't" too much, you know? i wish we had to have "hadn't" before it hadn't have been created. still my emotions are sold and i've cast a mold far too ugly to be a stupid cupid. can we get on with the show, please? no thank i've had enough cranberry pie for right now, maybe buttercup the parrot can have the rest? the cat hates water. then why is he swimming in the dog dish? i'm not complaining, just hesitating to say how i feel when i want it. yeah, i know you're looking at me make a sucker outta myself on your camera. all those poses weren't hard to accomplish but you aggrandize the bad and disregard that i actually have good talent after all. crazy 8s. thought i'd never compromise. thought i'd never make a sport out of tantalizing the shopkeeper's parakeet. yeah, they're playing that game everyone calls a bore cuz it is one. why not roast a marshmallow then find a salamander caught between the chocolate and the *******. and we can't have them crackers anyways cuz there's got gluten in them. can we take a walk, i have something to tell you? i have to tell you about my personal life. i don't care if you're bored. darwin was never bored, fyi. i don't want to hear your juvenile complaints anymore. you're always telling me your problems but you never let me talk. but why would you care? and no way am i gonna share? not there. still. you're still not coming around cuz you're crying and i can't take it anymore. stop the tears, i already told you just take another pill and you'll relax. your life can stop in a heartbeat because some freak told you to stop ******* with the power outlet and make an attempt on making it right. how am i gonna make it right? seems good to me to get up and go and never return. seems right to let it all hang lose and think of excuses as a way to win some money. i'm not the principle breadwinner around here, but i'd bake enough bread to feed an army if i had to. a whole cohort of emotional bigots who don't care anything about their stupid, money-******* societies. it's leveled to the drain again, yeah i know you don't understand. i'm done asking. please? do it for me? don't you know i'm hurting myself because... i'm not listening. don't you want to know i'm cutting my flesh because... i have to water the garden. oh dear what was that? whew! almost another collision with a bee. whew--another close one. what about the spiders in the cabbage bed? what why didn't you tell me? yeah, the cabbage patch has produced more memories than heads, and no not those types of heads. a mashup of what i hate most and what i hate least scourged outta me in a whirl. she's going to take a walk. the radio's on and it's hot in here. those maudy days of summer, but i love every shred of them like i do a coat in the winter. the radio's playing my song: doomsday magnificat! i like leather and metal combinations that are sold in a 60s oz town. you can tie and whip me if you conscience can, but not now. it's another adage gone to the birds. oh no the shopkeeper's parrot is out again and i didn't do it! how come i'm blamed for things i don't do? get over it. another fact of life. another testimonial head my way. dodge! that was a flying saucer that almost razed your head. you wouldn't care though because enough has happened today to make your head spin even faster than it already is. and they're real-live which makes me keeping fumbling my too-short curls disintegrated by sheer chauvinism and belated princeness. that's alright. i know how you feel. i know how the world feels because i am the world. and the world is my canvas. and i may dictate what you are allowed and i may waver onto what laws of principalities are shooting up everywhere, but it's okay 'cause there's a lot more to shoot than good time. and those wacked people can form an alliance and take down the stronghold because in reality, you know that you are wacked yourself to say that. i'm sorry you did. the world will keep spinning, snipers will keep killing, conservatives will keep protesting, parents will keep levitating, children will keep withholding, the days will keep heating, the pool will be more refreshing, and yeah mrs. renttib is still coming over. the world is new. and i am young. but we will all stay safe and good in this empyrean. because and i created it. and i established the surveillance cameras, which are everywhere, but don't feel pressed. yes, i'll forever watch your every move, and even though you've done good, i'll still send you to hell. because you belong there. you may begin now. make your tread strong yet gentle. it's not my expense, the water is cooler out here,
                                                                ­                             anyways.
i've had a rotten day, but i wasn't involved, rather- others force it upon me, for condolence's sake.

ah, you've got plenty to be thankful about so why bother complaining? i often try to analyze this, because my life isn't perfect and i'm often ****** into an uncomfortable state, even when i had nothing to do with it. this was written during (+ after) a family argument about help and those who shouldn't help us, and telling others first, and letting everyone know. i think it's better to keep it to yourself or see a psychologist than starting a whole mess like this again. i know people hate that i don't like opening up and sharing but i'm doing it for the good of everyone. i'm the breadwinner of myself; others will only make me file more tax returns, it seems! so i'm upset and nervous and kind of scared. i want to explore it in a different angle and if i have to be crass and confrontational to do it, i say "full speed ahead!"
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Toreinss Pinwinkel III Dec 2018
God
If one had a desire to define the word god where would he begin?  Why would he assign the traits he did to the word?  Would he want to assimilate traits that he perceived to be godlike?   Would he obtain a clearer vision in a realization of the futility of aspiration, or would pragmatism and adamant tenaciousness afford him a better route?  Perhaps we all could benefit by a reassessment of our affinity with god.
  
The metaphysical extremities of human nature provide man with a multifaceted image of the possible psychic states of God. Objectivity has led man away from the true nature of his need many times at this point.  Any retrospective analysis of man’s personifications of deity most often leaves one lost in the quandaries of the psychic quagmire.  The weaknesses created by man’s lack of a universally acceptable id conclusion have elevated many philosophical or theocratic hypotheses to the level of demagoguery.

One method which has been used by theologians in attempting to induct a summerial derivation from the vast warehouse of human religious extrapolation is the concept that perhaps basic truths can be affirmed through the theory of sufficient constancy of conjunction. Which is to say that reasonably analogous conjectures can be found in the depths of religious pervasion.  But this is not strictly true.
  
The ancient Babylonians, like the Indians, were polytheistic. They worshiped gods of nature, tribal union, fertility.  Deifications created from allusion to natural analogies, yet often imbued with a euphemistic optimism.  Where as the pantheon of Grecian deities often seems an almost banal personification of psychological metaphors from the darker side of life.  Zeus a fallibly omnipotent being who pompously subverts all beneath him to his will.  Who along with Apollo and others roam the countryside ****** and adulterating the women of their choice.  And Ares the formidable God of war who’s natural lust for violence leads him and his cohorts to vicarious involvement with mankind’s altercations.

Egyptian theology seems to have been an amendable and progressive state that began with sun worship and gods of nature, and moved on to attempted assimilation of godlike traits through a natural alignment with the perceived nature of God.  There were in depth studies of the nature of time, and life, and notions of existential transcendentalism.  The momentum of this progression led them to the ultimate grandiose delusion in which the Pharaoh was worshiped as the universal supreme being, omniscient and omnipotent ruler of the ultimate utopian society.

The Jews worshiped a God who was at once both a part of them  and an exogenous force believed to have created them in its own image. A God that deliberately instilled an understanding of it’s intended wisdom by instructing them of the laws they were to live by.  These divine revelations were often considered as the unadulterated word of God.  This God was jealous and demanded the adoration due him as the supreme essence.  His worship became the underlying force in their social conjecture as they attempted to inspire his continued grace and benevolence.  A seemingly irrational solution to the quandary of idealism.  An allegiance who’s impetus was unquestionable.  It seems by me to be improperly rooted on a personal level in that it overemphasizes the need or expectation of divine inspiration.

The ancient Chinese social wisdom was by me commendably rational.  Unlike the Jews they do not seem to have overemphasized the expectation of divine inspiration.  Instead they, like the Egyptians emphasized an alignment with the perceived nature of God on a personal level as the way to strength.  They of course had a conception of the possible natures of deity, but considered wisdom to be an honorably truthful self orientation.

Another realm of intellectual extrapolation from which one might hope to surmise a depthfully pervasive generality would be man’s philosophical treatises on the possible natures of God. Unfortunately due to the myriad nature of possibility this again appears paradoxically difficult.  To me this seems to be a product of the nonempirical nature of these conjectures.  Humans experience a reality which does not necessarily  have any relative effect on the transcendence of their conception of the possible nature of God. Although many have attempted to empiricise their conjectures through rational logic they are most often refuted by the possibility of ultimate transcendence or quandrified by the actuality of paradoxical argument.
  
Some good examples of these points are perhaps the arguments of Lucretius who attempted to empiricise that God can not revoke mathematical truths.  But what is the relative reality of those truths to the transcended essence of ultimate beingness.  They are refuted by irrelevance.  Another example might be the statement that God has aseity.  That is if he exists his existence is not caused.  This statement seems easy to refute for the supreme being could be all of the things possible for him except this and have evolved out of eons of cosmic continuum into natural omniscience and or through assimilation of the forces innate to the cosmos have achieved relative omnipotence.
  
One generally accepted statement that is refuted by these arguments is “the cosmos does not have infinite existence and is therefore not the supreme being.”  For if this supreme being has not yet evolved if it’s transcendental form could be said to have become out of cosmic continuum then the cosmos will indeed have achieved infiniteness.  But this already seems intuitively necessary to the ultimate cosmic essence regardless of a lack of self consciousness or even a physical form.  Perhaps what is possible and eons of void are the root of all force and matter, and perhaps this as yet unfulfilled sequence cycles on to nirvana.  Then again perhaps the supreme being does in fact preempt all as a self conscious entity.  This also would seem to be intuitively necessary to the essence of totality which of course has always existed and is in fact the supreme being in at that at that although not necessarily the true form of it’s transcendental being.
  
On this lofty note I would like to reiterate my thesis.  Perhaps we all could benefit from a reassessment of our affinity with God.

A man can accomplish many things with his concept of God. What is extraneous?  Perhaps the question would better be put what is expedient, but that becomes subjective.   You have to define your goals.  Where in lies wisdom?  Can man truly aspire to godhead or is this personally nonproductive?  Man seems to perceive a sort of manifest destiny for himself.  An intrinsic affinity with infiniteness that just must be dealt with.   Perhaps our beliefs in life after death are a grandiose delusion in which we hedonistically waste our time pampering our egos. Which brings me to my third and final argument.

Perhaps conscious regimentation and an affiliation with earth bound logic would bring us closer to our affinity with God.
One of the ideas presented by my philosophical references was that many of mankind’s inspirations to define his affinity with God grew inadvertently out of social realism and the powers assumed. Although often the subjective truths of these understandings went unmentioned out of a desire for objectivity.  For example what God must be if God is to be God.  Perhaps one would do better to relate personally to his affinity with God.

I think this is true.  Although we seem to lack omnipotence we are all individually speaking a preternatural corporeal state.  Perhaps we all should assert our godliness instead of hiding our talents in the sand.  Perhaps then we could construct a contractual reality.  An aspiration to the perfection of the human social mechanic.  I salute this concept.  In fact I firmly believe that by conscribing unalienable rights to our beings we have already performed the rights of the human social mechanic.  Our aspiration to godhead is complete in it’s conjecture.  All that is left is to obtain expedience and accuracy in our amendment toward continued obtainment of the majority goal.
Pantheism's orthogenesis overtures
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Toreinss Pinwinkel III Oct 2013
Subliminally Subjunctive Subjectivism
The concept of a whole person is an enigma that evolves within a culture . Often it is not a transitive concept and can only be conjuncted within it's social setting . In fact the realities of social fragmentation make most all concepts of a whole person universally inapplicable .

Literature is often a good tool for developing an understanding of a culture and it's inclinations . In a cultures folk tales , plays , and fictions you find authors making a deliberate attempt to portray the basic dramas of their society .

Greek myths are a vivid example of this ; they are literally frought with characterizations . In their development these multitudes of characters weave into an elaborate tapestry that depicts the developing Greek moral ethic . The intricasies of the analogous content are brought across in a multitude of forms . Names were very important and a major force in clarifying the concepts being presented . The multitudes of characters portray a multifaceted understanding of the human psyche . The chauvinistic banality of their culture and it's gods is graphically depicted against the backdrop of their developing ethics .

It is difficult for a modern man to construct a vision of a whole person from a strictly ancient Greek point of view . The obvious anachronisms envolved make such an attempt partially ludicrous . Contrarily the bulk of their characterization paints a vivid picture of their primative social state .

Of course while the Greeks were muddling through the multicolored quagmire of human frailty many societies where learning to master the powers they had developed through centuries of strict adherence to religious and social mores . The development of their socially biased realities make many Greek nuances seem decadent anachronism . Rather than deitizing their baser natures as the Greeks had thay had learned to master them and turned to new paths to clarity . Spiritual pragmatism and lack of comunication nullified the social attributes of many of these extrapolations on positive orientation .

Jung preaches that man has an innate need to assimilate all external sensory perceptions . I find this untrue . In fact I find it self abortive . Human beings have a complexity factor that is individual and must be protected from overload ; man's moral ethic is a tender and deludable feeling directed by empathy . In the hectic world of modern mass media this tender individuality can become dwarfed by the percieved need to obtain social acceptance . Whole civilizations have become deluded by the flow of their complexities into an outright denial of their moral ethics .

I find this partially estranged condition prominent throughout social history . Children are brought up to respond to a vast realm of presupposed social ideologies and are not allowed to venerate themselves until much of their conscious matrix has been established . This of course makes self evasion an easily attainable goal . Sometimes politically speaking the actual goal . The mind satiated by it's social framwork is the ideal tool for a socialistic or tyrannical government .

To me the value of social history lies not in it's application as much as it's illumination . All the fragmented pockets of human coalescence should instill an understanding of man's posibility factors . Man's inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his annihilation .

Modern man has learned how to use tact in instilling the acceptable social mores . Solviet psychiatrists have spent years on perfecting these social sublimations ; children learn how to make their personalities conform to the accepted mean . I think that the true nature of a well rounded being lies in an ability to reject the fragmental nature of these instilled mores and develop a more universally acceptable social orientation . Does the son of a ku klux **** member have to hate blacks ? The obvious answer is no ; contrarily socially acceptable orientation is a product of environment . This is the pitfall of man's evolution as a race ; his inability to rise above the quandary of his immediate surroundings with all of their overwhelming complexities and demands to become a cognizant and empathetic being . There in lie the keys to his future .

This does not necessarily define the well rounded person . A well rounded person must be able to cope with his immediate surroundings withoutan abject denial of his empathetic being .

I believe well roundedness lies in thoughtful orientation and a well centered understanding of self . One need not be socially active as long as they are thoughtfully cognizant . Obey the golden rule ; you can not allow your objective orientation to supersede your subjective empathy . You can't allow yourself to be thwarted or overcome by your peers into being something they might want to make you because temptation may overwhelm them and you will become a transient tool in their succession .
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Wk kortas Mar 2017
In Which John Lee Crow Comes Back To Montmorenci Falls
Well, why not me, I reasoned
(No surprise to friends and loved ones,
As I have always considered my time
On this spinning patch of rock
As something of a monument to the value of pragmatism)
But there were still the normal sine-wave vacillation
Between tenuous optimism and odds-driven grim reality,
Fanciful discussions of Chinese herbs and Mexican clinics
And, later still, of time frames and stock transfers,
All the while various folks attired in suits and clinic coats
Debating matters pertaining to the coda of my personal symphony
(Doing so as if yours truly wasn’t even in the room)
Until, deciding my input might be somewhat pertinent, I said
If it’s all the same to you, I would like to go home.

It was, in a sense, like getting back on an old Schwinn
(Fender dented, rubbing on the front tire just the least little bit,
The chain needing oil, grudgingly giving in
To the demands of the crank)
Sitting, unused but inordinately patient, next to the barn,
The whole notion of settling back into a pace you’d forgotten,
Like dialing back a metronome from allegro to andante
Without missing a beat or flubbing a note.
What’s more, there were the sensations you’d never made time for
While under the thumb of daily deadlines and train schedules,
Greeting you like friends you hadn’t seen for twenty years
But started gabbing with as easy as slipping on old jeans:
The scent of the lilacs, overpowering but borderline mystical,
The informal yet precise ballet of the cattails and jewelweed,
The fields of cows that, even though you know it can’t be the case,
Are populated by the same Bessie and Bossie
You taunted and pelted with watermelon as a child
(I have made it a point to proffer my apologies),
The dark, pine-choked hills,
Formidable but accessible, even comforting.
Sometimes, when I am not paying attention,
I catch myself all but tearing up,
And I say to myself, ever so softly,
As not to disturb the squirrels and the wrens,
I had almost forgotten.  Christ forgive me,
I had almost forgotten.


I’d assumed (sometimes, I can be astounded
At the full extent of my own foolishness)
That she would merely take a leave of absence;
She has, after all, an alphabet full of advanced degrees,
A rainmaker’s reputation and the billable hours to match.
Columbia and Harvard Law, after all,
But she grew up down the road just a piece in Ebensburg,
So this is all part and parcel of her as well
Hard coded in the DNA for better or worse, she’ll say,
All the while shaking her head and laughing softly.
Surely you don’t want to stay here, I’ll say,
Boorishly rational in the face of everything
Which would argue to be otherwise,
You’ve read enough Forbes and Fortune;
Altoona is dead, Johnstown is dying,
And she allows that, for a time, coming back
Was the source of some misapprehension on her part,
Until it dawned on her that on those rare occasions
It had occurred to her to glance skyward in mid-town,
She had seen faceless tiles of windows
Sufficient to sheet a Great Pyramid,
An Armageddon’s worth of angels and gargoyles in the cornices,
But she had not, even once, ever seen the stars.
#montmorencifalls #thanksquiz
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EC Pollick Dec 2014
Overhead Cabin
Storage for things I need but not right now.
Can I put my love there?

It's something I will not put away forever.
I'm proud of the mistakes I've made and the glory of love I've lived and died with.
But there's a time to carry my love with me--right next to me--
And a time to store it in the overhead cabin.

I'm a function of 21st Century pragmatism:
Where you don't have to put love away,
you can travel with it.
As your carry-on.

And as I make this decision
to stow my love away
Three feet above my head
I know one day
someday
My love will be sitting right next to me
as we take to the skies.
Southwest 369
#flight
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Julian Apr 2023
The Lionization of the Paragons of Societal Orthobiosis in Civic Life
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/l8njruxa73yee9b0jzmhd/The-Ultimate-Unabridged-Guide-to-Esoteric-Working-English-2.docx?­rlkey=kunoar7ghpfkb7fjk5xkdgx95&st=i84ornny&dl=0

THE EUPRAXIA OF  PRISOPTOMETRY SIDELINED BY THE SOPORIFIC PROMACHOS OF ABSOLUTION MIGHT WE CONVENE THE CABOOSE OF ANACUSIC TALENTS FOR SURDOMUTE  REGALIA IN THE MUGIENCE OF  DUGONG BECAUSE OF EXASPERATED DECREES SEEKING TO TRIGGER SARANGOUSTY IN PRIMIPARA PENTAPOLIS THAT ARE SCREWBALL WITH ANTERIC RAGE PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF A HOPSCOTCH MORALISM RATHER THAN A EUHEMERIST LAXISM. DUGONG DUCDAMES OF EISOPTROMANIA AGAINST  THE PODEX PNYX BECAUSE OF TRUTINATED CNICNODES OF SCENOGRAPHY FOR SCAPPLE AND STANNARY PLAGIARIZED FROM THE CLAVATE OF MOST STERLING ELITISM BROCKFACED IN BRONCHOS BECAUSE OF BRADYDACTYL FEATURES  OF TOWERING GIANTS OF THE TADPOLE MACROPTEROUS WINGS OF INSIPID OR ORGANIC ORGANITY IN THE SCHWERMERIE THAT IS A SPANGLED BANNER OF RADICAL TRUISMS OF CATAMOUNT CATALLACTICS AMONG THE CORDWAINERS THAT SWITH WITH COUNTERFOIL BRAZEN IN ALL CARNAPTIOUS FRIZZ AND FOMENT ENDOWED WITH THE FUMATORIUM OF EFFLUVIA UNSPOKEN PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF HACHURES OF DURAMEN AND THE ARGALI OF MEGALOGRAPHY FORSAKING THE OLMS AND ESBATS OF PECCADILLO AND REGAL SECRECY PRIMARILY TO ACCELERATE THE TAGHAIRM BECAUSE OF THE ARTIFICE OF RUDENTURE IN MUGIENCE WHEATEN EXASPERATINGLY WITH POIGNANT GRAPPLING-HOOK TENACITY SUCH THAT WHEALS AND  WARDCORNS ARE ZUGZWANGS OF NARRISCHEIT FORMATIVE IN THE PROWESS OF TIRED DROOPY EYES AIMING AT  GEOSELENIC SATURNALIA OF THE PANTOGLOTS OF PARVANIMITY ACKNOWLEDGED BY THE PASILALY OF GUBERNATORIAL REMEMBLES OF REPINE RATHER  THAN OPINION OF SCARAMOUCHES THAT BECOME RAFFISH FOR LAFFY TAFFY JOLLYBOAT JOLLY RANCHERS BECOMING CENTRIFUGAL TO THE MAGNETS THAT ONLY THERBLIGS OF ERGOGRAPHY CAN ESTEEM THE STELLIFIED STELLIONS OF IMMORTAL DEGREES OF CREANCERS BOOMING IN THE SEMPITERNAL FLAGRANT FOUL DELUSIONS OF A CASTRATED DESTINY AGAINST ORTSAC PRIORITIZATION OF A SECURE WORLD OF OCREATED ARCEATION OF ELAPHURES THAT IN UNSEELED RIGMAROLE OF JAUNDICE CREATED AND SUSTAINED BY IMBREVIATED KNAVERY OF BLESBOKS TRYING TO PLAY OPERATIVE CHESS IN A CHECKERED HUBRIS SPANNING THE GAMUT OF SPEED RUN HYPOCRISIES NEVER FULLY FLESHED OUT BECAUSE OF RIBALD CORSAIRS OF COCARDEN. SKELDERS OF SCAZONS OF BRUTAL INTEMERATION OF CARTHAGIAN GLADIATORIAL WRIKPOND WREPOLIS MERGERS OF THE PRIZED ANTIQUITY DEFINED BY SUBERIC VINTNERS OF PLACKIQUE THAT BARNSTORM WITH FERVID SPUMID SPURIA OF THE SCORIAS THAT STARTLE THE STRICKLE SUCH THAT NOT A SINGLE  WAGERED PAXILLOSE STRETCHER EVER FALLS BY THE AERONAUTICS OF ARENAIDAN FORESIGHT CONTUMELY ENAMORS IN SLEDGEHAMMER DEFECTED CRAVEN BRITTLE REDSHORT SELACHOSTOMOUS SEDERUNTS INVOLVED IN THE SENNET OF REGULA BECAUSE OF LAVADERO IVORRIDE OFTEN OVERRIDED BY EUCRASIA AND NEVER BY THE ACCIDIA OF PAST TENSE RIGORS OF CALUMETS ESTRANGED FROM WIDDERSHANCY BECAUSE OF THE CONVENIENT WANCHANCIES THAT WE DEPLORE DESPITE THEIR DISCRETIONARY ADVANTAGES OF GALLOP POLLING GALLOPING HEADLESS HORSEMEN OF THE VERDERER AS THE PERCURRENT CENTURIES ELEVATE DUGONG FOR DIDDICOYS OF ART TO LICENSE THEMSELVES BROADCLOTH MASTERY OF WUNDERKINDS THAT CARESS THE COSSETED COGNOMEN OF THE CORRIGENDA BECAUSE OF THE RIBALD PALLOR OF CRETACEOUS OLASIN EPOCHS OF MACROBIAN SENTIENCE EVOLVED FROM EMOTIVISM TO VOUCHSAFE THE METEMPSYCHOSIS OF JOCKO JOBBERNOWL FINFIGUAL NIHILISTS AMBITIOUS TO DEBUNK EVERY THEORY THAT PROVOKES THE POIGNANT TRIBULOID QUALMS OF A RADICAL MURENGER CHARGING MURAGE IN HIS SPRINGHARE OBSESSIONS. IN DOOMSTERS ADEEM WITH SUCCULENT SACCHARINE TONSILECTOMY SUGAR OF APIKOROS NOVANTIQUE SPRAWLING IN EVERY CREATIVE DIRECTION OF FUSIONS OF CREATIVE NUCLEOTIDES THE CENTERPIECE OF A NIMBLE PATRIARCHY WED TO PRIMIPARAS OF MULIEBRITY SUCH THAT GALLANT ARGALI LEAPS OF AUGENDS TOO COMPLEX TO TURBINATE BECAUSE OF TUBIFACIENT LORE SLOGMARCHING INTO URBANE BOWERIES SUCH THAT COUNTERFOIL IS COULROPHOBIC AND THE BALLAST BRONTEUM OF ALL CIVILIZED RANSACKED FOSSORS OF THE MOST ELOQUENT OF TIMES. THE CODSWALLOP ABOUT GERENDUM IN CARELESS HASTY MISTAKES GRANDEVAL GUDGEONS OF GUFF AND GUIGNOL OF RHYPAROGRAPHY AGAINST THE ROENTGENOGRAPHY OF ACCIDENTAL POSTURES OF LOLLIPOP TOOTLES OF TOPGALLANT ROYALTY RESCUED FROM THE SNATCHES OF  ***** DEARTH AND THE ACUMINATION OF ACERSECOMIC URCEOLATE ACHARNE WHICH IS THE WEAPON OF TIROCINIUM TYROS THAT BEBLUBBERED THEIR WAY INTO INTREPID INFAMY AND NOTORIETY BY IGNORANT OVERSTEPS BY LARGESSE IN RACEMATION FOR RHIZOGENIC RADICALISM IN MAXIMALIST MATHEMATICISM PRIMARILY THE SKIRMISH OF SCHMEGGEGY BY THE STANHOPE AUTHORS OF JESUITICAL JANSKY AGAINST BLARING CATACOUSTICS WHICH FILIBUSTER THE DILATORY DESULTORY JAUNT WITH JIGGERY-POKERY WALMS AND WASMS OF ESCALIERS OF ESCULENT ENANTIODROMIA THAT SUFFRAGETTES OF BLOCKHEADED CHOCKABLOCK JAWBREAKERS BETROTHED TO MATRIMONY OF NATIONAL ESTEEM AND JINGOISM SWELTERING IN THE HEYDAY OF ONEIRODYNIA SADLY STRADDLED IN COMBUVIROUS SPATTEES PRIMARY TO THE HUES OF CRETACEOUS CHALKING BRISTLES OF BARBEDWIRE LIES AND SUBLINEATED MAINLINE FRIGORIC FRIGOLABILE RETINACULUM THAT THE SWARF OF HEDERACEOUS IVORRIDE AND THE OCCAMY OF MEHARIS BELONGING TO MEGACERINE FEARS OF HYPOCHRONDRIA BECAUSE OF THE PREVALENT JERBOA DYSCHROA OF SYNAPHEA THAT STARTLE HAPPY ACCIDENTS AT FINISH LINE CAMARRA THAT CATAPULTS THE FILTH EDGY BY COMSTOCKERY THAT THE TAME TENDER LOLLOP OF LONGINIQUITY AND LESSER DEMIURGES WHO FIGHT THE SPECTER OF TIRED ISOLATION SUCH THAT THE PEDESTRIAN IS A SPRINGALD NOTORIETY THAT FIGURES OUT THE WAINAGE OF SAPROSTOMY BECAUSE OF CERBERIC WANIGANS OF THE ULTERIOR GALLIVANT BROCKFACED INTO EVERY TITANISM BY THE DROLLERY OF DROOPY SERRATED EDGES OF CURTAILED CURGLAFF SURROUNDED BY PLASMAS OF AUREATE AURIGRAPHY AGAINST ATOCIA OF THALEROPHAGOUS NEOMORTISM TWISTED INTO WARPED CONTORTIONS OF RHADAMANTHINE DOUBTS OF THE ALABASTER ALCOVES DREAMING OVER EVERY HEAVEN IN SONDAGE AND BRISK BRITSKAS OF BANDOBAST BERGAMASKS THAT SPURN THE SPURIOUS SOPHISTRY FOR THE CATALYST OF CLEPSYDRA. THE KATABOTHRON OF KALIMKARI KYMATOLOGY THAT IS SWARTHY SPATHODEA REPUDIATION OF NYALAS OF NAGORS OF NUTATION BECAUSE OF OBLATE BOLAR RANCOR FOR THE CALVERS NEVER OF A CALVOUS LENDRUMBILATION NOR A PANCRATIC ACCORD OF GRAVEDIGGER SERENDIPITIES SCOWLING AT HEADWINDS FROM THE PARAVENTED LAIRWITES OF MOONRAKER JOLTERHEADS WHO EMERGE FROM THE THICKETS OF THE DENSEST ELITISM EVERY MANUFACTURED BY THE HEGEMUNES OF SECULAR RETINUE AND CORTEGES OF THE VENTRAD AND VENTRALABRAL FAMIGERATION BEYOND VENOSTASIS AND AGAINST THE HEARTH OF ATRABILIARY ECCENTRICITIES OF ALIDADE FISTICUFFS OF SCOFFLAW MACROPICIDE IN THE TEDIUM OF SWELTERING PARASELENES OF KNIGHTED SQUARSONS SQUARROSE UPON THEIR SQUIRMING SQUALLS OF STRAPONTIN IN INTRORSE SOPHISTICATION MIGHT THE LANGUOR OF EXHAUSTED BEATLES MEET THE TIMESPUN RICHES OF ALL FORESIGHT PRISMATIC UPON HINDSIGHT IN THE CHRONOBIOLOGY OF CARAPACE AND THE REGIMENTATION OF TESTUDO THAT IS A GLAMOR OF AFFLICTION RATHER THAN A BEAST OF CRUCIBLE IGNOMINY FOR MALINGERING GIAOUR ESBATS BENIGHTED BY THEIR OWN PARLOUS PLIGHT IN POIGNANT HEYDAYS OF NEPHROLITH CALCULATED FOR NEPIONIC ENRICHMENT AGAINST NIDOR THAT STRIVES WITH CABRILLA AND CACHALOTS TO PROVIDE AUSTERE REFORMS IN AUGUST SUPERCALENDAR DIVINITY BESPECKLED BY MONOCLAR SEPHIROTH TAXED BY SYLLABUB LAGGARDS IN THE TRIUMVIRATE OF ULTRAMONTANE GLEE AGAINST BATTLEDORES OF SABOTAGE SPANKING EVERY MONKEY OF MONETIZATION FOR THE ROODS OF MISERICORD TO BECOME PARABOLASTERS FOR NEW WORLD ATTRITION IN ATTINGENT AND ATTEMPERED AURILAVES OF ALGOR AND THE ANACHORIC RESIGNATION OF PENTAPOLIS THAT SQUIREBELL CLORENCE OF NAUCLATIC FAIRGOERS SERENADES AS THE WORLD DEMARCHES FORFENDED AND FORERIGHT OF ALL INDIGNITIES THAT THEY MIGHT EXCEED ESCAPE VELOCITY SUCH THAT THE ELASTANE ELASTICITY OF INVENTED DEMAND SHOWCASES THE DUGONG DURAMEN OF THE CLASS AND CLASSIFIED SECTORS OF SALVATION BY ARTIFICE AND THE LAST HOPE OF JANIZARIES OF JANGADA TO STROLL PAST LUCRATIVE BUT SULLEN LOURS OF PARKS BEYOND EVERY ESCARGATOIRE KNOWN FOR POGROMS OF DESOLATION. THE ALFORGE OF AFFOREST BECAUSE OF THE ACRASIA OF ANACHORIC LIVING LIVID NIGHTMARES OF HENPECKS OF ATTRITION LEADING TO SALIFIED SALMAGUNDI IN PARALLAX WITH THE TRIUMPHANT BLARE OF SAXHORNS NOTAPHILY FLUMMOXES WITH REPARTEE IN RESCRIPT THAT TRANSCENDENTAL TWINGES OF POLLARCHY MIGHT DISHEVEL THE ARRONDISSEMENT OF BLETTONISM BECOMING HEAPSTEADS OF HYPOGEIODY. WHEN WE ARRAY AND ARRAIGN THE ZEITGEIST FOR ITS BLENCH AND BLARNEY OF CAPSIZED EPITHETS AIMED AT VOLUMINOUS FLUMINOUS SKELDERS AND BROOKS OF ROARING TEMBLORS SEQUESTRATED FROM THE VARSAL SCOPE OF HUMANE TOTEMISM IN SUBSTRATOSE AGGRIEVEMENT WE MIGHT FIND THE SUCCOR IS THE WHITTAWER OF WOOLD IN BEAMISH HUES OF SATURNINE BETROTHED FIDELITIES TO NOCTIDIURNAL DIESTRUS FRAGRANT WITH TERPSICHOREAN DAVERING DIPPYDOS WHO BLANDISH THE FRANGIBLE PULVERIZED METTLE OF CENTURIONS AND LEGIONNAIRES OF FILIBUSTERED CASEFIED CASEMATE JORDANS BOUND BY JOUGS OF JUDOGI AND THE BROADCLOTH FASHIONS OF YASHIKIS BEYOND THE THERMOSTAT OF ISOLATION AND THE THERMODYNAMICS OF LABILE OPPRESSION FOR LABROMANCY BECAUSE OF LANCINATION WE MIGHT GRANT STOMACHERS A GRAND AUDISM OF THE SERVILE POTAMOLOGY WHICH CARESSES THROUGH COUNTERFOIL WITH APOLAUSTIC PEDIGREE AND EUMOIREITY INGRAINED IN THE CELLULOID OF TIMELESS CUCULINE AND CUNICULOUS FERRETS AT THE PARAPET OF BRISURE BECAUSE OF THE BRIQUETS OF NOMOGENY WE SEE THE PRESBYTERY SMIRK AT THE PLIGHT OF THE STRIGINE IN AN ERA OF HEYDAYS OF GENEROUS REMUNERATION BLANKETED BY A CHIONABLEPSIA DEFINED BY CHIMINAGE OF OXYGEUSIA SUCH THAT THE NEMESISM OF NOETIC NOOGENESIS IS NEVER NIDIFUGOUS AND NIDAMENTAL WITH RESPECT TO BARRULETS ABOUT BANDOLIERS IN THE CHAPERONED CEREMONIALISM OF THE GRAND INSPECTOR GENERAL’S SOVEREIGNTY WELL BLACKGUARDED BY KILLCOWS SEEKING STOICHOLOGY AND SYNECHIOLOGY MIGHT THEY SLAVER OVER POTENT TONICS OF SWAG AND SWAGGER FOR REDINTEGRATION IN HYPAETHRAL HEIGHTS OF ATHENAEUM FOR THE HAMARCHY EMERGENT FROM THE DAWN OF NOTAPHILY IN BLOCKBUSTER SUMMERS NIGHT DREAMS BECOMING RANCID NIGHTMARES OF GULLYWASHERS OF ANTEBELLUM RECIDIVISM FOR CANEZOUS OF CANZONE TO ESTABLISH THE CHRYSOPOEITICS OF A GALVANIZED VENOCLYSIS BECAUSE VARIMAX VARIPHONES UPON THE HYDRAHEADED ODYSSEY OF PRINCELY FANDANGLES FROWARD IN RABID DENIAL OF TAMARAWS ENLISTED BY INSTINCT AND DEPREDATED BY THE TORPOR OF LETHARGIC AIMLESSNESS FOR LUDIC PALUDISM SADLY THE SPITE OF ALL PIRANNHAS COWLING AND COWERING IN SHEEPISH SIMULTAGNOSIA FOR HETEROCHRONY AND THE ARYAN ASSENT AND ASCENDANCY OF THE EQUITABLE TINTINNABULATION OF KNELLING SESQUIPEDALIAN SYBOTIC SONDAGE LOST TO THE MESMERISM OF YESTERTEMPEST OVER THE YUAN OF YENTA BECAUSE OF THE FORMIDABLE JAPAN LACQUER THAT AVOIDS GARISH TARNISH AND HARNESSES THERBLIGS TO PREVENT ENCROACHED THALWEGS OF INTREPID GROWTH AND THE FLOWERS OF MAY AND THE SEASONS OF A ZOMBIE TIME FOR PULCHRITUDE IN PHANTASMAGORIA. TURGID TURMOIL OF THROMBOSIS WELDED TO THE WELD OF  WELKINS OF WALLFISH WALLETEERS BECAUSE OF STRADOMENTRICAL NEUTROSOPHY IN OPTIMIZATION OF SUBFOCAL SUBINTELLIGENTUR FOR THE BALISAURS THAT TREACLE THE SUBSERVIENCE OF CREATIVE LICENTIATES OF DUGONG OF FURLOUGHS OF POVERTY-STRICKEN OLASIN REGISTRIES OF INTERMINABLE PRESTIGE AGAINST COMBUVIROUS FOGRAM RECAPITULATIONS OF THE FLOW STATES OF SEGUE SUCH THAT HUCKSTERS OF MASKIROVKA IN THE WHIGGARCHY AMOUNTED TO MANY COMPRACHIOS THAT STING THE STALWART SPARTAN STOICISM AGAINST HEBENON MIGHT THE HUMAN PEN OUTWIT THE PARCHMENT OF THE INVETERATE BIAS OF GRANDFATHER PARADOX PARALLAX BETWEEN HEAVEN AND THE DENEHOLE MOULINS FOR OLIVASTER NEUSTONS AND NOILS SURVIVING THE VIRTUALASIS OF TWADDLED TWANGS OF  DELIRIFACIENT PERIBLEBSIS SQUEAMISH BECAUSE OF A RIGMAROLE AND RABBIT HOLE WORMCAST WORMHOLE BURROLE OF ROTTEN APPLES TACKLED BY WREST AND WREATH IN THE WROX OF WHEALS OF COMMOTION AND LOCO LOCOMOTIVE ENGINES FRAZZLED BY SPIVS AND SPAVINEDS IMMURED INTO THE FABRIC OF THE SPANDRELS OF  INTERTESSELATED WEIGHAGE AMONG THE STEVEDORES AND PORTREEVES THAT CONTINUE THEIR ROLLICKING  MAGPIETY GALLOP AGAINST THE FRICTION OF RUMCHUNDER COAGULATION SERRATED TRAVAIL  OF THE DYSTOCIA OF GAMMERSTANG BLUEPETERS ENRAGED BY CONFLAGRATIONS OF CAMARADERIE AND BONFIRES OF GEZELLIG THAT INDWELL INGLENOOKS SWAPE WITH MAJORITARIAN ETHOS TO PROPITIATE THE GAVELKIND CELEBRATION OF ROOSTERS HENPECKING  THE DOORS OF PERCEPTION AGAINST THE REAL ESTATE DEGRINGOLADE OF PHUGOID GROUNDPROX SWIRKS OF CHOSEN VESICLES OF MEDIOCRITY BETWEEN BLARING  SEMAPHORES AND FIRECRACKER WISEACRES THAT ARE AN ENDLESS PARADE OF INSULTED CONTUMACY BREATHING SWELTERING SIGHTS OF INCREDULITY SUCH  THAT THE BRONCHITIS OF ROENTGENOGRAPHY IN GNOTOBIOLOGY MIGHT BECOME BETTER THAN PETTY GALEANTHROPIES FROM VULPECULAR HENCHMEN OF THE FROTHY TAMBURITZAS AGAINST WHERRETS BECAUSE OF WHIFFETS OF THE YAFF THAT IS ASTRIDE OF ADEEMED ADEMPTION OF DETAIL HARANGUING THE MONKEY BUSINESS GORDON GECKO MODEL OF HACHURE AND FLAGRANT  REPOSE. THE  HANDSPIKE OF PICKELHAUBE NEPHELOMETERS OF NEUTROSOPHY PREDICATES TO NOETIC NOMOTHETIC ENNOMIC MASCON PREROGATIVES THAT RELY ON GEITONOGAMY BECAUSE OF A VULPECULAR TRUST IN SPHENOGRAMS OF THE STUPE OF STUPULOSE PARTISANSHIP BECOMES THE VANGUARD SPIRACULATED IZZAT OF THE PROBABLE PORBEAGLES THAT ANTICIPATE THE ILLUMINISM OF POLYPHILOPROGENITIVE PROCREATION OF NUBILE INCHOATE BUT SOPHOMORIC TROPISMS FOR TROMOMETERS IS THE GAINSAY OF ALL GENERATIONS BENT BY SYNCLASTIC HARPOONS OF GALERICULATED FOCUS SUCH THAT THE MASCARONS OF KYMATOLOGY UNDERSTAND THE CTETOLOGY OF CURMURRING PRODROMES OF A LARGESSE ECONOMY BUILT ON MOONRAKER BALISAURS WHO IMMERGE THEMSELVES INTO THE ETHEREAL  REALM OF ELDRITCH FASCINATIONS WHICH PREEMINENT IN THE GARBLED GABBLE OF DESIGN AND THE TABLATIERES OF THE TABLATURE OF REGULA MIGHT WE WITNESS A NAUFRAGUE NOYADE WHICH SPARES THE MOST CLEMENCY AND AFFORDS THE GREATEST FORCES OF REVALORIZATION TO ENNOBLE THE PRESTIGITATION OF SEDIGITATED MACHINES SUCH THAT TIME BECOMES ITS OWN RECURSIVE ANFRACTUOUS TERMINUS TO THE THERMOLYSIS OF ALL CIVILIZED TROPES OF METAPHORICAL LITURGY THAT SCAMPER THE TESTUDO INTO THE DELITESCENCE OF HIDDEN BOSCHVELDT SCRANCHES OF PRIORITY BY SECURITIZATION OF ALL OVERLEVERAGED FINANCIAL INSTRUMENTS OF MATHEMATICISM FOR THE APOTHEGMS OF OUR AGE TO BE BLINKERED BY COCARDEN IN ACRONYCAL COLORATIONS TO BEGUILE AND SUSSULTATORY SPATTEES FOR SCAPPLES AGAINST SPAVINEDS OF THE BERLINE INVENTION. THE GALLANT ELAPID OLASIN EPOCH OF CIVILIZED RUDIMENTS OF ABECEDARIAN ABDERVINE MERIT THAT AVOIDS THE CODSWALLOP OF ALL BOLAR STADIOMETERS OF WANIGANS OF  POWELLISATION THAT BECOMES VIRTUOSITY IN AGATHISM THAT IS SPECULAR IN BLEMISH AND SHEEPISH OVER VAUNTED VAUNTLAYS OF VECORDY BY  THE METHODOLOGY OF VASTATION AS THE UNINTENTIONAL SCURFY SWANK OF BALATRONS OF BAISEMAN WHO CARVE THE SYSTEMIC DESIGN OF SANGFROID AGAINST GALERES WHO USE THE STOMACHERS OF  THEIR OWN PALATABLE FILIGREES THAT WE MIGHT NEVER ENTHUSE THE GOURMANDS OF TIROCINIUM TRUCULENT RATHER THAN SWASHBUCKLING WITH VANITARIAN BUMICKY BADIGEON TO REPAIR THE REVETS OF THE CHEVROTAIN OF YOUTHQUAKE THAT JANITRICES OF JANSKY SWOONING ON THE ENGORGED WREPOLIS OF GARBLED MISCEGENATION OF WARTORN IGNOMINY THAT TRAVESTY APPOINTS THE BELLWETHER OF ALL JUBALS GRAND INVENTIONS BECAUSE WE REMIGATE THE SCALARIFORM CORDWAINER NOMENCLATURE TO SHOULDER DISHEVELED RATOMORPHISM THAT BELONGS TO AGROZIATRY BECAUSE OF  THE PREVALENCE OF URANOPLASTY IN GLABROUS OR HIRSUTE ARTS OF GEOSELENIC ACCORD THAT CALUMETS OF WALDFLUTES IN THE SONDAGE OF CRUEL COMPRACHIO AVIZANDUM IN THE BYRES OF BUSHWA IN NONSENSICAL COUNTERPATRIOTISM TRYING TO HEDGE MALAISE WITH IVORY TOWER CREEDS OF CREDENDA FOR THE VISIOGENIC APLOMB OF CIRCULARITY OR ELLIPSIOCITY IN THE GRAVAMENS OF GRAVITAS. IN THE VERVE AND FASHION OF KNEAD MALAXAGE FOR THE MITTIMUS OF SUCCEDANEUM WE FIND THE PETTY FAULTS OF PECCADILLO ENRAGED BY IGNOVIMOUS IGNOSCENY TO BE IDEMPOTENT IN  SEDIGITATED  SEGUIDILLA OF WILLOWISH FASHIONISTAS AND BARRISTERS OF CABOOSE AND SNARE SUCH THAT SPECTACLES OF GRAFT BUSHWHACK THE UNDERBRIDGE OF RECTISERIAL HOMILIES OF WOUNDED WOMBS THAT THE SUFFRAGE OF PROMACHOS TRITANOPIA OFFSET BY CONTRARIAN PROTANOPIA MIGHT FESTOON LUKEWARM REVANCHE FOR THE  DYSANIA TO OUR OWN FAULTED COMPLEXIONS AND OUR QUIRKY QUISQUILOUS STERNWAYS OF BANDOBAST STRICTURES IN BAGGING COAMING COBALTIFEROUS VINEGAROONS OF PICKELHAUBE PORBEAGLES OF MENACING RESIDUE TO CHURN THE MILKY SEAS OF CONTRITION INTO FORMIDABLE BASTIONS OF PHAROS OF PHANOPEIA WHEN WE FIND THE OUTSKIRTS OF ALL REMEDY NEVER A SHEEPISH EMBARRASSMENT BUT ALWAYS A DOCTORED TRAVAIL OF NAVARCHY LEADING PAST TEMBLORS OF SATIETY IN GLAMOUR AND GLOZING GNOTOBIOLOGICAL CONFEDERACY SWOONING WITH TESTUDOS OF BOYAU PROXENETES THAT WE MIGHT OVERCOME THE THRUSH AND SLEDGE OF DREDGED IRENARCHS AND INFAMIES BECAUSE OF TRICOTEES AND TRICHOSIS THAT CEPHALIGATION IS AN UNNECESSARY NODALITY OF NICCOLIC NIDAMENTAL NANCIFUL NUMBATS WHO ESCORT THE PASTIMES OF CHOMAGE BY METEORIC SPRITES OF SPALDING ASPHETERISM BECAUSE OF CORPORATE TWINGES OF MORAL CONSCIENCE IN REGARD TO PROFICUOUS LEGERDEMAIN AND LOGODAEDALY BY DEGREES OF PYCNOSTYLE RATHER THAN PALTRY OBSESSIONS WITH WROTH AND WROX IN THE NEIGHS OF CHIRK AND CHAMPION. THE GYMNURE OF PRICKLY TRIBULOID SCANDALS OF  SCANSORIAL MOULINS FOR OLIVASTERS BURROLING STANNARIES OF  STANJANT FOR HISTRINKAGE SPANS ALL PERCEIVED GAMUTS OF HETEROCHRONY THAT DISHEVELED RESIDENT ADVISOR SOCIETIES THAT INTUITIVE SURGICAL SOLUTIONS TO THE GNOMIC PROPRIETY OF GLAZED POTVALIANT POSTCENNIUM THAT  PREDICATE THE AGATHISM OF AGATHOCACOLOGICAL DISASTERS THAT IN THEIR FLEX OF SUPREMACY AND THEIR LEAPING PAGEBURNING FLIPPANT DISCORD MIGHT ZITHER THE HARP AND IN HARPSICHORDS OF WALDFLUTE BY WALLETEERS OF GROOM AND GALLANTRY MIGHT WE FATHOM THE HOLOBENTHIC DIMENSIONS OF A LITURGY OF MAGNANIMITY CODIFIED BY STRICTURE RATHER THAN RELEGATED INTO AUXILLIARY COMPLICATIONS OF BYZANTINE MIRED MAZY MAUNDERS OF MARAUDING VIKINGS OF DIPPOLDISM BECAUSE OF RAPID TACHYTELIC TACHYPHRASIA STUDIED BY ORGANUELLE AND RHADAMANTHINE RASPS OF WASPY HORNETS NEST MIKE BOSSY BOSE FOR THE STRANDED ISLAND OF INSULAR HOBBYHORSES THAT MONETIZE THEIR OWN CONSUMER FETISHES FOR THE ZAP OF FRUITION TO MANIFEST IN DESTINED TRAIPSES IN COLLARBONE VESTMENTS OF HABILIMENTS OF SCORN AND PILLORIED IGNOMINY THAT THE HIDDEN GUILT ASSUMES THE SPECTRAL DIMENSIONS OF PALTRIPOLITAN URBANE COQUETRY GROWING ROARING ENGINES BEYOND PRETEXT OR PREVARICATION TO SUBSUME THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CONSTELLATIONS AROUND WHICH MAROONED MOONS SEEK THEIR GEOPHYTES OF MORPHOGENY IN RACKRENT ACERBATION IN SPHACELATED METROPOLIS DEFINED IN RETROGRADE MOTION TO DISCERN ALL PROPER RECIPIANGLES FROM THE MASTERATE TO THE MATACHINS OF MELODIKON FRAZZLING THE FRAYS AT THE EDGE OF REVOLUTE DISINTEGRATION OF LACK VANISH IMAGINATION. THE BLEND OF GUILLOCHE DEMARCHING BEYOND DELOPES IN PRAXEOLOGY ENTOMBED BY VESTIGIAL FOOTPRINT DACTYLOGRAMS AND KINDERGRAPHS OF FLASHBANG GRENADES OF SMOKY HARNESS AND REPLETE HARVESTS OF THE RADICAL STALINISM DEFEATED BY MARINERS OF  THE MAROONED POGROMS THAT REVANCHE DESOLATION VANDYKE PROXENETES OF STATURE USE VASTATION FOR RHEOTAXIS AND UNDERSTAND THE RACKETEERING OF MORAL PERJURY IN OBOLARY HEDONISM SCRUFF IN DANDRUFF ECONOMETRICS DIVORCED FROM LEVERAGED BALANCE SHEETS WITH CASH ON HAND FOR GOVERNING PRINCIPLES OF ASCENDANT LITURGY RATHER THAN NESCIENT OLIGOPSONY OF BANGTAIL ARTIFACTS OF BEGUILED ARTIFICE ITSELF ESTRANGED FROM MORAL DOGMATISM USEFUL IN ECCLESIOLATRY. PUNDONORS OF IVRESSE DERIVED FROM PRECISE IAMATOLOGY OF AUDILE ARYANS GHAWAZIS ENVY IN THEIR RACKRENT BEATSTERS ADEEM BECAUSE OF ACHARNE WIELDLESS OVER ERAS OF EPHORIZED ZOOLOGICAL MALCONTENTS OF GRAMPUS IN TRUCIDATION AND BARNSTORMS OF ABSTRACTION BY PARABOLAS RECOCTED AND INCENSED BY THEIR BETRAYAL OF SURDS AND SURDOMUTE SCRIVELLOS SUCH THAT AUGENDS ALWAYS CARRY ENUMERATED STRINGS OF STRING THEORY DECIMATION OF MINIMIZED TRACTION FOR EVERY LAGGARD HOBBLED WORKADAY MANTLEPIECE OF NUMBERED NOMOGENY BECAUSE THE NEKTON IS A GRAVER THREAT TO TROMOMETERS THAN IS THE CHIRKED SWAY OF PALM TREE OASES ON THE VERGE OF VERDERERS GROOMED BY RANGING PLAINS OF CHAMPAIN AND CHAMPERTY IN THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE STRUGGLES OF VOLITION AGAINST CURTAILED CURGLAFF BY BRACKISH INCALESCENCE FOR WHITTAWERS OFTEN BEREAVED BY THEIR OWN HUBRIS OF A MOMENTARY VICISSITUDE OR VRAISEMBLANCE OF VORTICISM LACKING VOLTINISM BECAUSE OF UNIVOLTINE TRESPASS. THE PULICIDE OF HAECCEITY WITH RESPECT TO QUANTIFIABLE QUALIA TRANSPOSED IN BLINKERED RHABDOS AND REPINED REMEMBRANCE OF THE SOVENANCE OF WUNDERKIND YOUTHQUAKES BORNE FROM WINTERBOURNE SPRINGS DESICCATED FROM WELLSPRING  FOUNTAIN PENS WORTHY OF SCRIPTURAL REMIGATION SUCH THAT THE OLIM ARE PERSECUTED BEYOND ALL MANNER OF DEMARCATION SUCH THAT TWINGES OF HOROSCOPES MELLIFEROUS IN VEXILLILOGY GRASPING EVERY PENITENT ITCH IN EVERY WEIGHAGE OF THE CUSTODY OF SOULS THAT SUDDENLY THE TRAULISM OF MODALISM IN MODULATED STEPWISE RECOURSE OF BECHIC AND BEDAZZLED MYTHS OF HADEHARIA BECAUSE OF IMPLODENT EVENTS OF PREDICATE VALOR ONLY IN THE PRESCRIBED ANOINTMENT OF DIRECTIVE ABOVE DIMINUTIVE REGELATIONS OF BREVET AND THE CACHES THAT SURMOUNT TITANIC AND HERCULEAN TASKS WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE BECAUSE OF THE NODALITIES OF SYNERGY IN CEPHALIGATION DESIGNED BY ENCAUSTIC MANDATES OF NOMOTHETIC NOOGENESIS THAT SERTIVINES BELONGING TO JABIRU TRIBESMEN MIGHT TROUNCE EVERY LOLLYGAG OF PRALLTRILLER PRAGMATISM PRIMARILY BECAUSE THE PROVENANCE OF ALL HORTORIGINALITY RELIES ON EMOTIVISM FUNNELED THROUGH SIPHONS OF CAFFEINATED LAVADERO SUCH THAT THE SUTLERS OF  SECTILE ECONOMIES CONTINUE THEIR PLOUGHSHARES OF DEADSTOCK MIGHT IMPINGE ON QUALITATIVE GOLD FOR QUANTITATIVE HOGWARTS METHODS OF SORCERY ABOVE VEILLEUSES OF TRAMPOLINE REVERB THAT OUR BRONCHOS IN THE  RELEGATION OF THE FREE AND THE BRAVE IS THE UTMOST TRAVESTY OF RIMOSE RANKLES UPON TRIDENT SEAS TRAVERSED BY ACHILLES MOONSHOT ORBITED SATELLITE EXURBIA. THE PUTCHERS OF FRIGOLABILE VANDYKES OF VASTATION IN JASPERATED JARVEYS FOR FROWARD BARTONS OF PANMIXIA IN A WORLD LESS ACCOLENT AND MORE NOTORIOUS FOR ITS FAILED CHIVALRIES OF PEDERASTY SCHLEPED ON THE DENOUEMENT OF ALL DELIVERABLE COMMODITIES OF CREATIVE BRINKMANSHIP BROOKING THE TRAVESTY OF TURNVEREINS OF GRAMERCY AND VISIOGENIC VISIBILIA IN THE VETANDA OF TABOO STIGMATA FROM THE URCHINS THAT SWERVE INTO ABYSS AND ABANDON FOR LACHRYMOSE INSISTENCE OVER TIME INEXORABLE SUCH THAT THE FLUX AND FLOW OF CRYPTODYNAMISM STRICKLED THE COAGULATION OF BONNYCLABBER WASES OF WAPENTAKE TO EDGE TRUMP TO ELECTORAL STAMPEDES IN ITS HONEST VALOR AND MAJORITARIAN RALLENDORK OF ULTIMATE SYNCHRONICITY SUCH THAT GODS PREROGATIVES WERE OBEYED. THE UMBELS OF VERTIGO DEPENDENT UPON THE APOSTILS OF HOARDED HOARY WIZENED GRAY AGING REVOLUTE FRAYS OF SURDOMUTE RATOMORPHISM OUTSMARTS TITANS WHEN THE NODALITIES OF THE NOILS OF CEPHALIGATION FORMATIVE IN THE DURESS OF EFFICIENT ECONOMIES REACHES SUCH AN APOGEE AND ACME OF THE ULTION OF THE INANIMATE AGAINST MACROBIAN SENTIENCE MIGHT WE MARVEL AT THE SUBROUTINES OF THE GLOZING GLOTTOGONIC GNOTOBIOLOGY OF SEMAPHORES IN A VAGANTES VACUUM OF THE VASTATION BY VAPULATION FOR THE LAMBENT LAZARETS OF EPOMANIA BECAUSE OF STRIDOR AND STRAIN WE FIND OURSELVES IN GINGLYMUS ARRAYED AROUND GENIUS SUCH THAT HOLOCRYPTIC HOLMS AND OREAD NYMPHS FREQUENTING THE LABORIOUS INDUSTRIALIZATION OF HUMAN IMAGINATION WE FIND THE MAROON OF THE HUMAN TALENT FACTORY OF FACTOTUMS TO BE ENDANGERED BY AURILAVES OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE WHICH SURPASS ALL LIMITS OF CONDIGN HUMAN MELANCHOLY BECAUSE OF MERCURIAL VENGEANCE OF VENDETTAS THAT SEEK AGATHISM RATHER THAN TERROR AND NOTORIETY RATHER THAN CENTRIFUGES OF THE LISTLESS AND USELESS RETINUE OF VESTIGES OF WOODSHEDDED WOONERFS BELEAGUERED BY BRIMSTONE AND THE DAMNATION OF A HYDROELECTRIC SYSTEM OF RELUMED LOURS OF SOFT MARAUDING LIGHT OF THE TWADDLING DANCES OF THAUMATURGY IN THE MIRACULOUS AFTERBIRTH OF THE MOST SECURE VARDLES BECOMING THE MOST DESPISED ARTIFACTS IN THE HISTORY OF LABOR BY HOFFA TACTICS IN UNDERHANDED MUGIENCE OF NEGOTIOSITY FRUSTRANEOUS TO ALL FLICKERING FIZZGIGS OF SODA POP GENERATIVITY PUNCTUATING CENTURIES WITH CONSUMERIST PLIGHTS OF ADDICTION BY THE LABARUM OF THE LORD RATHER THAN THE WHIMS AND CAPRICE OF ANEMOCRACY. WE ARE OUTFOXED AND AT THE SURRENDER OF THE DACOITAGE OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE STORMING FORWARD LIKE A BLITZKREIG TEMPEST MET WITH THE ANGARY PETTIEST  RESISTANCE OF PETTIFOGGERS AS THE PANTECHNICONS OF THE FUTURE CONVENE UPON THE GOLDMINES OF KATABOTHRON AND SYRINX WHICH IS A JOCKO JOLLYBOAT FOR FULMINATION IN CHIMNEYS OF ORPHANS THAT LEAD US TO  THE PRECIPICE OF TOMORROW THAT ONE DAY WE MIGHT BE DUMBFOUNDED BY OUR OWN ANAPEIRATIC EXCESSES OF ALGEDONIC IMBALANCE BECAUSE AURILAVES OUTNUMBER COMSTOCKERIES AND WE FIND OURSELVES FISSILE VEES BURIED IN THE HEAPSTEAD OF THE BULGUR OF BUDDLING TIMMYNOGGIES THAT ARE SEMPERVIRENT BECAUSE THE IMMORTELLE IS ESSENTIAL QUIDDITY IN QASIDA AND QUERENCIA ABOUT DROOPING EYELIDS OF LOUR AND LEER BY LEARY DESIGNS OF TUNE IN TURN ON AND DROP OUT SOCIETIES OF EPIPHENOMENA RATHER THAN SOLID ENGRAVING ON THE TABLATURES OF MIGHTY MACHINATIONS AMONG INTELLIGENT ROBOTIC HENCHMEN OF THE DEEP STATE WHICH SCURRILOUSLY SCARE ALL PUSILLANIMOUS FIFTH COLUMNISTS AWAY FROM GEOTHERMAL POWER BECAUSE OF ECCENTRIC OBSESSIONS WITH THE TALISMAN OF THE SORCERY OF MODERN WORD CRIMES MONETIZED INTO PRIGGISH LAPSE AND CRENELLATED ROYALTY BYPASSED BY ABORIGINAL SPITES OF PRISON COLONY PREROGATIVES THAT THE AVARICE OF MAMMON IS THE MANIFEST DESTINY OF ALL GORDON GECKO FLEAS WHICH HERDS THE CANINE SENSIBILITIES OF THE CAMARILLA AHEAD OF THEIR NEAREST COMPETITORS OF MAINPERNOR. THE INFERIAE OF DUGONG DIDDICOYS OF DAMSEL IN DISTRESS VIRTUALASIS TETHERED TO THE CORDSLAVE BOLAR ENCHANTMENTS OF BLEAK DREARY HUES OF FUTURE DYSTOPIA MAGNIFIED BY ALPENGLOW VISAGISTS THAT PARLAY ALL WRIKPOND WREPOLIS TAMBURITZA FORTUNES AGAINST THE WHERRETS THAT SOCKDOLAGERS OF HERCULEAN BETS MAKES IMPROBABLE MIGHT THE CAGOULES BE TERRIFIED THAT THE MURAGE OF THEIR ANTIQUATED CASTLES OF CRENELLATED PREJUDICE MIGHT COLLAPSE INWARD AND IMPLODENT UPON AN ARCEATED WORLD THAT TARGETS DEFICIENCY AND SOLVES THE STATOLITHS OF NESTITHERAPY WITH A GREGARIOUS INSOUCIANCE BECAUSE OF NEWFANGLED INTERRAMIFICATIONS OF MAN TRYING TO KEEP PACE WITH THE IMAGINATIVE ****** OF BALBRIGGAN TECHNOLOGIES WHICH ARE COVERT IMPLEMENTS OF NIVELLATION AND ENTHYMEMES OF UMLAUT PROVIDING AN ANTIPANGAMY OF PANEGOISM AND PANDATIONS THAT BLUR A GAUSSIAN SPHERE INTO COMPOSITE COMPONENTS DEMASSIFIED BY ADVANCED ASTROPHYSICS IN THE QUANTULATION OF INEVITABLY SUPREME NUMERICAL HEIGHTS OF IMPOSSIBLE REACH ONLY ABRIDGED BY THE HUBRIS OF PROSTHESIS BECAUSE OF THE ABDERVINE MERIT OF A WORLD BRONZED WITH SWORDS OF DOUBLE-SIDED SHEATHES OF STEELING EYES AND STEWARDS OF OLYMPIC CABOOSES IN MARATHON TRANCE SETS FOR THE WALDGRAVES OF THE NOBILITY OF CANQUE BUILT BY JORDANS TO SURMISE THE YARAKS AGAINST YIRDS THAT CARNIFICINE ALBATROSS AND EAGLE FETCHES EVERY SQUARED COMPASS AND EVERY HEDGED GYMNURE THAT WE MIGHT PROPEL OURSELVES BEYOND GAUDY MACHINATIONS OF LIONIZED INUREMENT TO THE RAGGED HETERONORMATIVE EXCESSES OF A PHILANDERED ESCULENT PARVANIMITY ENDANGERED BY VARSAL PERSPECTIVES OF VITRAIL PROPHECIES SEEING THE TURTLEBACK FREEZE IN HYPOTHERMIA LIKE A JACK DAWSON SUNSET INTO THE CRUEL ABYSS OF NIGHT BY KNIGHTED DEGREES ABAFT OF THE SCHWERPUNKT THAT MESMERIZES AGAINST THE CHOANIDS OF SARANGOUSTY A MAGNETISM OF THERBLIGS AND ERGASIAS THAT SURREALISM COVETS AND PRAGMATISM ABSOLVES WITH ABLUTION AND BLUNT TORPOR BECAUSE OF AVENGED SEVENFOLD BATMAN CORDWAINERS OF CODSWALLOP AND CURMUDGEON BECAUSE TIME IS ITS OWN CUCULINE BEHEST OF ORGANITY IN THE BUSHWAS OF THE MOST ABSURD BEING THE LABILE IMAGINATION AND VORTICISM OF ALL CONTRARIAN MOVEMENTS AGAINST SOLIDARITY AND TOWARDS INTREPID BALKANIZATION. ORIBIS OF ORICHALC SHANTUNG BECAUSE THE BLESBOKS ARE INCULCATED ON THEIR HAUTEUR OF JAUNDICE PRIMARY TO THEIR ANTITHESIS TO MODERN SURGING SWELLS OF SPUMID FROTH BETROTHED TO THE ELEGAIC HEARSES THAT TRANSPORT THE LIVING REMNANT OF THE DEAD REVENANT AMONG THE LITURGY OF MEN ABOVE THE CURGLAFF OF GODS WICKED SPITE EVEN IN HIS PERFECT  MAJESTY WE SPURN THE REDACTION OF PEREMPTORY CALCULUS OF IATROMATHEMATICS BECAUSE OF MUTUALISM IN AUDISM THAT IS FORSIFAMILIATED FROM FEWTERERS AND GRAUNCHERS OF JOLTERHEAD JANGADAS SURROUNDED BY ARMIES OF JANIZARIES SEEKING TO ABRIDGE THE TENURE OF THE GROVELING GRIPES OF ESCAPADE AND ESCARGATOIRE BECAUSE OF PAST POGROMS THAT SLAYED THE DRAGOONING FORCES OF DEMASSIFIED CARNAGE IN WAR THAT THE CAMARRA MIGHT BE AVENGED PENNYWISE BECAUSE OF RAPTORS CROONING LOUD SONGS FOR THE ETERNAL REGISTRY AND CADASTER OF HEAVEN MIGHT IN SEDERUNTS OF SYBOTIC SYCOMANCY THAT THE PENULTIMATE DEGREE OF PROMACHOS ELEUTHEROPOMANIA SLEEKLY NAVIGATE EVERY NAIVETY SUCH THAT NO IMPLODENCE OF PIRANNHAS CAN EVER CAPSIZE OUR TITANIC VESICLES OF VENDANGE IN ASPHETERISM BECAUSE OF ARROGATION IN THE PALACES OF THE THRONE AND THE CRANING CULPRITS OF WEGOTISM THAT BECAME THE ORGULOUS OF CENTIPEDE CONTRACTS CONTRAHENT TO JAPANESE TOILET ASSEMBLY LINE CRAFTY DIVERGENCE FROM AUTOSOTERISM IN OUR TECHNOLOGICAL EMPIRES OF ENTROPY CURVED AROUND THE PARABOLAS OF GOOD WILL HUNTING VENATICS AND VENDIBLE RACEMATION OF LASSITUDE PRONOUNCED IN THE HEARTH OF ABODES OF ADOBE MATERIALISM WOBBLING UNDER WIZENED PRESSURE BECAUSE OF THE VOLTINISM OF STACKS AND SPETCHES OF SOLIDARITY THAT CRIBBLE THAT TANTREL OF DEVOURED DEMIURGES OF DRAPER HIT ADEEM DOOMSTERS AGAINST PETTIFOGGERY LASTING INDELIBLE IN THE CONSCIENCE OF SINNERS AND TAX COLLECTORS UNABRIDGED IN THEIR MISERICORDS OF CORDSLAVE WORD CRIMES THAT SPAWN A THRILLER FRIGHT FOR GHOULS OF THE GASPING GHASTLY MOONLIGHT DRIVES OF CAREFULLY CULTIVATED BRIMBORIONS FOR BRILLIANTINE JASPERATED JARVEYS OF IATRALIPTIC LONGEUR PRANCING AT THROTTLEBOTTOM TOCODYAMETERS THAT CODDLE EVERY VELCRO SOOT BELABORED WITH CONSTRAINT AND CRAZED UPON SCALDING THIRSTS FOR DUSTBOWL RUNAGATES FLOATING WITH WHELVES ABOVE EVERY METROPOLITAN GASP OF COACERVATION ESPECIALLY IN ANACHORIC CONDITIONS CREATED BY REGIONAL BANKING SECRETS PEDDLED INTO BARNSTORM BY ORCHESTRA AND GALLOWS. THE RINKOMANIA OF RINGENT RAREFACTION IN THE QUIBBLES OF QUESTERMONGERS GRAPPLING THE TETHER OF ZIP LINE DECLASSIFICATION SHOWCASES THE ATOMIC NATURE OF VEEPSTAKE VEESES OF VARSAL QUANTULATIONS OF PROBABLE EXIGENCY BECAUSE TRIMSCREET NOTAPHILY THAT NEWELS TREAT WITH MUGIENT RUDENTURE MIGHT ONLY ASTOUND THE PEOPLE OF A BADIGEON MISTRUST IN THE SYSTEM OF STANDPIPES AMONG THE STANNARY BECAUSE IN THIGMOTAXIS A CHUCKWALLA CAN ACCOST MODERN PLIGHT BY DEMOCRATIC HEFT ESPECIALLY IN CLADOGENESIS AND SPODOMANCY BECAUSE NO LONGER IS THE SINECURE A FACTOTUM TO DESTINED UNBUTTONED SNOOZES OF THE CHAVISH OF MANY BIRDS ALL AT  ONCE IN CONCLAMATION AVERTING THEMSELVES FROM MODERN TANTRELS OF TANQUAM TANTONY BECAUSE OF GIROUETTISM AND TIMMYNOGGY BOTH PART AND PARTICIPLE OF THE CONSTELLATED CONSTITUTION OF A WORLD BEYOND TRICKSTER HUCKSTER NEGOTIOSITY ****** WITH NEBULIZED NECROLOGUES AND THE ATTEMPTS OF NECROTYPE IN WHERRET LONG AGO DEMYSTIFIED THAT SUCH A HIGH DEGREE OF OXTERS SUFFERING FROM THE OVERLOCK OF NACREOUS YAFFINGALE YELEKS OF YASHIKI BECAUSE THE BINTURONG FINFUGAL COMMONALITY OF ALL CHAPERONES TO RABID DESTINY BECOME A MOTATORY MODALISM OF MOFUSSIL INTEGRITY ABOVE FREEWHEELING LICENTIOUSNESS IN PROFLIGATE SHOCK VALUE AND FLAGRANT FOUL GROIN INJURIES OF DENTICLES AND CORBELS THE SINECURES OF MAINSTAYS OF LEVERAGE BEYOND THE SNATCHES OF COQUICIDE. TOO MANY EBBERMANS EXPLOIT THE EBRIOUS TENDENCIES OF MALADROIT ECCOPROTIC ECDYSIASTS OF ECCENTRIC ORBIT AROUND THE MYTHOS AND BATHOS OF THE CULMINATED VARIETIST FOLKLORE OF WILLOWISH WITWANTON PERSIFLAGE FRISKY IN BOUNDED LOLLOPS OF DENIZENS OF PRIVY FRIVVERSCRABBLE BECAUSE OF COCARDEN SELF-FULFILLED DESTINIES OF GORDON GECKO HUCKSTERSHIP ARRAIGNED BY THE OBOLARY COMPRACHIOS ABOVE EVERY ANOINTED PROXENETE OF BOYAU SUCH THAT THE OUTFOXED GALLIVANT OF LEADEN DREAMS MIGHT INCUR THE RANCOR OF SOOT IN FULIGINOUS FUMIDUCTS BLINDING BLINKERED IMAGINATIONS IN CHECKERED EXPECTANCY BECAUSE OF THE LIABILITIES OF MANUFACTURE OF POLITY BY PELITIC MEASURES OF PIEZOMETERS WHICH ABIDE BY THE AGRACERIE OF TRAGELAPH TOURBILLONS OF TOMECIDE PRIMARILY BECAUSE SAMIZDAT ONCE BURIED BEFORE CHRONOMANCY COULD ALIGN SHOWCASES THE TWINGES OF HENPECKED HINDSIGHT OF DEADSTOCK KEELHAULS OF INTEMERATED DESTINY TO BE THE APTITUDE OF DESCRIPTION SOUGHT BY DOXASTIC ONCOSTMAN OF MINERAL SUFFICIENCY ENOUGH TO BROWBEAT MIGNON ATTEMPTS TO SWAMP THE STREETS WITH LETHAL CARNAGE AND SPURTS OF SOPHOMORIC CRIMES OF THE PETTIER SORT BY THE ADOLESCENT FABLE HALLOWED BY PERSNICKETY CONSTRINGED AND CONTECKED CARFAX CARRACKS BELONGING TO PANTOGRAPHS THAT DELIMIT AN AUSTERE FUTURE BETTER THAN A BRACKISH PISCIFAUNA OF PAST MISERY MEASURED BY DEPRIVATIONS IN MOUNTENANCE BECAUSE OF IDEMPOTENT SQUALOR REITERATIVE OFTEN TO THE DIMINUTIVE PREYING MANTIS SCORIA OF TRICHOSIS SLIPSLOP UPON THE RUMCHUNDER SILK OF RUPESTRIAN COMPREHENSION IN LANGUISHED EXHAUSTION OVER AGING RHETORIC SUITING DIFFERENT ZEITGEISTS WITH DIFFERENTIAL GRADIENTS OF SERRATED SECODONT GOLIARDY AND OTHER CAMELOPARDS BRICKBAT MANSIONS AVOID PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF THE CREAM AMNESIA HEDONISM OF AN ERA DEVOID OF MORAL PERJURY BECAUSE OF UNIVERSAL PURGATORY AND THE ITCH TOWARDS URANOPLASTY HOWEVER MISGUIDED THAT ULTRAISM OF REQUEST MIGHT BE UPON THE RESCRIPTS OF LEGALISM LITIGATED BY FILIBUSTER AND RETROACTIVE IN THE ENLISTMENT OF SPECULATION TO STORGE BARMCLOTH ECONOMIES WITH A HYBRIDIZATION OF MOONCALF DEMISANG STOICHOLOGY WITH THE SYNECHIOLOGY OF BIOLOGICALLY ATTUNED ATTEMPTS AT ACHIEVING ETERNAL LIFE THROUGH WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY TO COMPUNCTION AMONG  STELLIONS AND STANDPIPES TO THEIR SWAPES RATHER THAN THE AXLE ROSE SWARF OF JUNGLES OF SCHOENABATIC RHABDOS RUNAGATING DELIRIFACIENT FEARS AT FORFENDED PROSCRIPTION OBEYED BY ALL MORAL KERYGMA CURVED INWARD AND BELEAGUERED OUTWARD. THE ECHARD OF MAEUITIC THOUGHTS THE IMPRINT OF ALL EMOTIVISMS EVOLVED BY TACHYTELIC EVOLUTION BY THE HARPSICHORD REFINEMENT OF CALUMET BY CAMPANILE STANDARDS OF CETACEAN LEAPS IN INVOLVED MATHESIS MIGHT PROVIDE THE DOXASTIC ONTOGRAPHY OF CATADROMOUS TAMARAW BECAUSE THE FLOURIDATION OF THE THIRST MUTILATION OF A DECREPIT SEEDY BOWERY OF MALCONTENTS OF BUSHWA COMPOUNDED BY BYRES OF SUBTERNATURAL JUNGIAN ARCHETYPES THE COMPOSITE OF MANY RHIGOSES IN HYSTERICAL OUTRAGE OVER THE PRONOUNCED PROVIDENCE OF HIGH BETA CORPORATE TRAJECTORIES MIGHT CREATE AN ECLAIRCISE RATHER THAN AN ECREVISSE BECAUSE THE HISTRINKAGE OF GOURMAND CABOOSES OF INGREDIENT SALMAGUNDIS STORGED IN MOTLEY FORMATIONS AROUND THE QUIDCUNX OF ALL MASONIC LORE SWORDFISH TECHNO BELLOWS FROM THE RAFTERS OF TSUNAMI ELEGIES IN HOMILY DESIGNED TO OVERHAUL AND OVERTURN THE DILAPIDATED INSTINCTS OF INCARNATION BY DECRASSIFICATION BECOMING AN IMPLEMENT TO TRAVERSE ALL SCALE OF TIME AND SPACE FOR MESSIANIC ARENOID ECLEGME MIGHT WE FASHION A BETTER VILLAGE OF UPSTAYS OF THE DENORATUM BECAUSE OF THEIR PERSNICKETY BAILIWICK OF PROVINCIAL SHIBBOLETHS THAT HAUNT THE MINDS OF GHASTLY MEN ATTEMPTING GHOUL GANG SLAUGHTERS BECAUSE WALTER MCGINN NEVER STOOD A CHANCE AGAINST CARNIFICINE BOLIDES OF BOMAN DACOITAGE BECAUSE OF THE FERVOR AND HEIGHT OF DRAMATURGY IN DACNOMANIA BLISTERING THE RACIAL FOOTPRINT OF ANCIENT SOCIETIES CONGREGATED AROUND HAMARCHY MEGALOMANIA WE FIZZLE AND DISSOLVE THE SIMPERS OF THE DISSOLUTE INTO THE FORMIDABLE CONCOCTION OF HOGTIED JOUGS OF CANQUE MIGHT THE ELASTANES NEVER HAVE THE COURAGE TO OUTMANTLE THE FENESTRAL FENNEC THE UNDERBELLY OF SOCIETIES CRAVEN IN DISREPUTE BECAUSE OF THE  CLADOGENESIS OF CRIME FROM THE CRYPTADIA OF NOTAPHILY AND THE URGE OR CACOETHES TOWARDS NOTITIA PRIOR TO THE DAWN OF THE POWELLISATION OF WANIGANS AGAINST POTICHOMANIA FOR SOLIDARITY, TRUTH AND A RABID SENSE OF JUSTICE NEVER FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FROM THROMBOSIS. IDEMPOTENT IMPLODENT SQUALOR MANDATED BY AVIZANDUMS OF CRUEL SAMIZDAT DIVORCED FROM GEZELLIG BECAUSE ONCOSTMANS OF INDWELLS AND THE INKTHORNS OF PRIMIPARA SURREYS OF BROADCLOTH MODERATION ON THE MOFUSSIL MODALISM THAT PROVES NEOVITALISM BECAUSE ACATALEPSY STRAINS CREDULITY TO SUCH A CONTRAHENT RESPECT THAT IT CRACKLES WITH SUBORNED SUNS SETTING LONELY LOVERS FREE ON GONDOLAS FOR GONDOLIERS BECAUSE OF THE CHAMOIS OF GOLIARDY IN SUBSULTUS JOGGLES THAT BERATE JOCKOS FOR THEIR IMPUDENT REGARDS TO POGROM AND PASTRY MIGHT WE CONVENE THE BETHEL OF THE BROAD SEAS SPRAYING THE HORIZON WITH CURGLAFF BECAUSE PETEDORES ARE TOO MALCONTENT TO STOWAWAY LEVERAGE IN WELTER THE BELLWETHER STORMS OF STRIDENT TEMPESTS OF STRIDULATION ITSELF BECOMES THE STRADOMENTRICAL DIMENSION IGNORANT IN BARAGNOSIS OF GRAVIMETRICAL DISDAIN OF PINGUEFIED WORMCAST VOGUE SAGINATED BY SURETYSHIPS OF SERICULTURE THAT MADDENS THE FATTENED VEAL OF VEILLEUSES THAT BELONG TO GROMATIC REVOLUTION COUNTERCLOCKWISE TO EVERY ORANGE ORANGUTANG HARANGUE IN THE BLOCKBUSTER MERGER OF CAPITAL WITH INTELLECTUAL HEARTH SPRAWLING PALTRIPOLITAN ARROGATION IN WEATHERBOARDS OF ARROGANCE MIGHT THE BETTER DIPLOMACY BECOME A MORE REIFIED CHARADE FOR THE PROMENADE OF GULLIBLE SWANSONGS TO THE  CHAVISH OF ELEMENTARY PATAPHYSICS SUCH THAT ALL DELINEATED SUBINTELLIGENTUR TRACES ITS FORMATIVE LITURGY AND LINEAGE TO SOBRIQUETS OF SOVENANCE FOREVER EMBEDDED IN CHARACTEROLOGY. THE KYMATOLOGY OF THE SARVODAYA BELIEFS OF THE UPAS UMBRILS OF UNUFERUN DEGRINGOLADE DROOPY WITH LOURS AND LEECHES OF SANGUINOLENT HOPES FOR IMMORTALITY BUILT INTO BYSSINE INTERTESSELATIONS OF HAUTEUR GRANDEVAL IN TAGHAIRM AND MYSTIFIED BY THE PYRAMIDAL TECHNOLOGY OF SPHENOGRAMS THAT STUPE AND STOPE AROUND THE STULMS OF ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT OR OTHERWISE THE ATELIOSIS OF SEROTINOUS TALENTS AGAINST DIABLERISM AND HADEHARIA BECAUSE OF THE COMMON REFRAIN OF EVIL POLTROONS PARTICIPANT IN THE JEMADAR OF BANNOCK BECAUSE OF THE  WROTH OF WURLEY DISTRACTIONS BURIED IN THE VARDLES OF THE TEMPLES OF TIME AND CHIEF TABERNACLES OF PRINCES OF JERUSALEM MARAUDING AROUND THE AGATHISM PREVALENT IN FREEMASONRY THAT DEFILES THE EDIFICE OF ENNOBLED HUMANITY MIGHT EVENTUALLY WE SCOUR EVERY ACME AND PERIGEE SUCH THAT SYNCLASTIC BREVITY BECOMES A PRISM FOR THE LIBERATION OF TOLERABLE SOCIETIES ESTRANGED FROM FINIFUGAL BINTURONG CHIFFON RUMCHUNDER RHUBARBS THAT THE VENOCLYSIS OF GREAVES AND GRILLAGE APPOINTS THE JACK-O-LANTERN SPECIFICITY OF ROODS NEVER MORE PEREMPTORY IN THEIR AFFORCED CONTRITION IN PENITENT HALLS OF WINDING RESOFINCULAR DESIGNATIONS OF DEVASTATION RECOILING BY DISAGIO IN ARBITRAGE BY THE DESIGN OF THE CURTAILED GAFFES OF UNIVERSAL DOVETAILS OF ONDOMETRY BARELY EVER DEMASSIFIED FOR  PRYING INSPECTION BECAUSE OF THE CJ MACKINTOSH EFFECT WE WILL WITNESS THE CYANOTYPES OF ALL WORLD ORDERS CONVERGE UPON MIRACULOUS FORESIGHT MET HALFWAY BY THE PULLEYS OF HINDSIGHT  THAT CLAMBER IN INTRORSE DIRECTIONS TO METE OUT EVERY CALCULI AT THE EQUIDISTANT POINT BETWEEN GENIUS AND IGNOSCENY IN UNDERSTANDING NUTATION IN CRAVEN DISTURBANCE AND PAYABLE ON DEATH PEDIGREE THROUGH THE POISON IVY OF VENDIBLE GOODS RATHER THAN PROFICUOUS VENDANGE. THERE EXISTS A SWARTHY RAPSCALLION ECREVISSE LURKING IN THE SHADOWS OF HEYDAY AMONG ZEITGEISTS MARAUDING AROUND GRANDIOSE PRETEXTS FOR PRESCIENCE BECAUSE DORMANT CATAPULTS THAT ASSAY THE REGULA OF RINKOMANIA WHICH IS THE SWARF OF PIXELLATED FRINGE BENEFITS OF CARNAL OUTRAGE MIGHT THAT DEFALCATION OF EXCHEQUER FROM CHRYSELEPHANTINE GAMBITS FOR OUTRAGE PERCURRENT IN GEOSELENIC SERENITY OR OTHERWISE SUBSULTUS OF TEMBLORS OF CHAOTIC HAECCEITIES IN DUNGEONS OF DOOM BLASPHEMIES CAN NEVER EXPIATE WITH FULL SLEDGES OF PIER 39 WHARFINGERS ON WASTELOTS BECAUSE OF WALLFISH CENTRALIZING THE OMPHALOS OF GRAVID PLENIPOTENTIARY AND PLENARY ASSEMBLIES THAT CAVORT WITH NETHER QUANDARIES TO SPAR AGAINST CONGENIAL SERPENTS BRAZEN ONLY BY THE BACKBITE OF THEIR AUTHORITARIAN REGRESS. THE STENCH OF BLENCH AND BLARNEY BLANDISHING TOADIES OF SYRINX IN THEIR HOSPITABLE KALIMBAS OF DARK SPATHODEA ABIDING BY THE TURF OF WOONERF STRUGGLING FOR WHIPSTAFF RATHER THAN JACKSTAFF BY NYALAS PREROGATIVE BECAUSE THE ESTEEM OF BRIQUET LEADS TO BRISURES IN REGAL FAMILIES AGAINST DEFENESTRATION SUCH THAT THROTTLED CONSUMERISM MET WITH THE VOLTINISM OF VORTICISM MIGHT BE THE VRAISEMBLANCE OF ALL VAURIEN REVALORIZATION IN THEIR PIVOT TO THE ESOTERIC ARTS OF NAME AND DATE, BYWORD AND CREVASSE, TRAVESTY AND TRAGEDY THAT THE IMPLODENT COMMEMORATION OF FLASKS OF WHIPLASH PLUCK THE PLUCKIEST OF THORNS TO REACH THE MOST EFFLORESCENT OF ROSES SUCH THAT WE CAN SURVIVE THE TIDE OF CERACEOUS POWER OF SEMPERVIRENT BELLETRIST WIREWOVEN INTO EVERY REPUBLIC SUCH THAT LANDSLIDES OF PSEPHOLOGY BECOME THE HABITUE OF A SOBERMINDED WORLD RARELY IF EVER BLINDSIGHTED BY NIMIETY BUT ALWAYS STELLIFIED AND CONSTELLATED BY THE CELLARER MONKS OF THE HIGH ARTS OF SOCIAL SCIENCE IN THE HALLOWED HALLS OF GUARDED BARRULETS THAT TEEM WITH CARBONATED CERTITUDE IN A  CANADA DRY WORLD SUCH THAT THE BLUEPETER GAMMERSTANG TRIAD OF TRIAGE MIGHT METE OUT MULIEBRITY NEVER BEYOND THE GASCONADE OF GUFF GUIGNOLS OF RHYPAROGRAPHY THAT  TRAUMATIZES THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF BLITZKREIGS OF SCHWMEREI AND CELIBACY IN THE SECRET TROVES OF A HISTORY PUNCTUATED BY ATROCITY AND RANSACKED BY THE DERMATOLOGY OF THE PATINA BETTER THAN THE CINEASTE OF DEEPER SUBINTELLIGENTUR WHICH IS SUBERIC LIKE A VINTNER TO PRESERVE THE RESURGENT BOOTLEGGING MOONSHINE TIDE TO THE LIMITS OF ALL POSSIBLE IMAGINATION THAT THROTTLEBOTTOMS BRACKISH IN BARNSTORM THAT  THE WASES MUST BE OBEYED TO PROVINCIAL WAPENTAKE BECAUSE OF THE SYBOTIC UNSEELED ARBITRARY MEASURES OF SGRAFFITO IN WAPENSHAW TRANSCENDENTAL OVER ALL ROMANTICISM SUCH THAT THE ORDER OF THE KNIGHTS OF MALTA KEEPS THE PERDURABLE SECRETS OF REGALIA ALIVE IN THEIR PRIVATE ALCOVES OF SQUARSONS OF A DIFFERENTIATE SQUAMATION OF SEQUESTERED REALISM IN REALITY TOO BOLAR TO WITHSTAND GRAFT. ECTHLIPSIS WITH THE EBBERMANS VAUNTLAYING THEIR PROXENETE BOYAU JIVE TALKING TRAPS OF STAYIN’ALIVE HAUTEUR OF SUPERCILIOUS TACT BECOMING IRONICALLY AN EIRENICON FOR THE STOMACHERS THAT PREVENT MISCEGENATION OF SPRINGHARES AND MURENGERS FROM PROSCRIBING THE SELCOUTH SERROWS OF SERICULTURE BALLOONING INTO INTREPID RAPTORIAL THREATS GRIMACING HEADWAY UPON THE DAYLIGHT WALKERS OF THE PISMIRISM OF ECHOPRAXIA IN PSITTACIST LIGHT REFRACTION THAT BYPASSES NATIONAL DIRECTIVES TO BRACKLE WITH NEVERLAND NAIVETY SUCH THAT CREDULITY IS A CLEPSYDRA OF THE MALAXAGE OF CARNIVOROUS FREGGETS OF FENNEC PRIMARILY OF A BLUE PRIMACY OF UNSPOKEN GAFFES OF GARBLED GABBLE OF THE GABELLE OF SCRIMSHANKED DWIZZENS AGAINST DRAZELS THAT PRANCE WITH ELEGAIC BALLET FOR BALLOTEMENT FORMATIVE IN DURAMEN AND SCAFFOLDED BY THE UTOPIAN IDEAL BECOMING AN ONEIRODYNIA OF FASTUOUS FERIAL FLAPDOODLES OF FLANNEL IN RETCHINATION OF HATED QUALMS BECOMING THE LOCKSTEP BRATTICE OF BANDOLIERS VACATED AND VACANT FOR PRISMATIC REMIGATIONS FOR REMEANTS FROM THE VALLOR OF MOONLIT SKYLINES SPHACELATED SO HIGH BECAUSE OF DRAMATURGY SO SUFFICIENT IN ACCIDENCE AND ADVENT THAT THE PARLOUS RABELASIAN COURTIERS MIGHT SLINK THROUGH THE MARSHY RESIDUE OF AN OLD DYING REPUBLIC PREPARED FOR ALL EXIGENCY BURROLING ALL CORTEGES CLOSER TO BALMORALITY THAN INSANITY. FALLIBLE MISTAKES OF A BLACKGUARD ZEITGEIST OF ANIMADVERSION FROM PRAXINOSCOPES OF DUGONG SUBVERSION SLOPPY IN ARCHITECTONIC TACT BECAUSE OF ELAPID BRINKMANSHIP IN THE SWANK OF PILLORY AND THE IGNOMINY OF LEONID METEORS AND BOLIDES INFILTRATING GREAT WHITE BUFFALO BRIMSTONE AGAINST THE HEFT AND SCHLEP OF BUFF BLINKERED CHECKERING MALINGERING HUBRIS OF INSTANTANEOUS TRAPS OF ENTRAPMENT BY PULCHRITUDE THAT THE MAJESTY OF THE REPUBLIC WILL ALWAYS BROWBEAT THE REGATTA CREWS SAILING THE CAMBRIDGE SEAS OF RECOGNIZANCE AS THE SERRATED TIMEPIECES OF EUPRAXIA MIGHT LESS OFFEND AND HEAL VULNERARY WOUNDS SELF-INFLICTED BUT RARELY CONDIGN IN SYNCLASTIC ROBBERIES OF HUMAN DIGNITY FORMATIVE IN CONSCIENCE RATHER THAN DEBATABLE IN DOUGLAS DEBATES OF DISTRICT ATTORNEYS SCARED SKITTISH BY A HARVEY DENT VANDALISM OF NEBULA AND PARSEC FOR NEPHELOMETERS OF WHARFINGERS OF THE UTMOST ELITISM OF EKPHRASIS OF THE EDAPHA THAT RARELY EDULCORATES THE EFFODIENT AFFLATUS OF AFFINE ALGORS OF ARGALI SUCH THAT SILK ROAD CHIFFONS BRASHLY CONTEND IN THEIR SUNKEN RATIOCINATIONS ABOUT THE RATIO OF SUBSTANTIVE GOODS AND MERCHANDISE OF CHOICE THAT SQUALOR SWIMS IN SPATTEES OF SIFFLEURS BEYOND THE SNATCHES OF  SEGUIDILLA IN SIGLA PRIMARILY ORBITED AROUND JIMSWINGING ATROCITIES ALWAYS HALLOWED AS TRAVESTY ADULTERATED BY THE CRUEL IMBRUTED TRAGEDIES OF MARKETABLE TIME IN WANHOPE AND WANION FOR DESPERATION IN GASCONADE. THE ARCEATION OF MODERN ECONOMIES IS BUILT ON THE ECCOPROTIC ECTOBATIC ECHARD OF THE MAIEUTIC EDULCORATION OF FAMISHED WARLORDS BENIGHTED BY THE FOGHORNS OF SEMAPHORES OF THE DAYLIGHT PRISTINE MOONLIT CAVERNS OF PATHWAY AND ENTELECHY IN SOLUTIONS TO THE PATAPHYSICS OF HUMAN THERMOLYSIS IN CONTRAHENT DYNAMICS THAT STORGE THE WORLD AGAINST STULMS AND STOPING AGENTS OF STANNARY MIXED WITH THIXOTROPY MET BY INCLEMENT TACITURN CHISELERS IN THE ANCIENT PREMODERN FRAME THAT THE SPECTER OF BUGABOOS OF DEATH AND MAUDLIN BEBLUBBERED BECHIC BOLIDES CARESSING A TIMELY TOME OF A FUTURE SCRANCHING THE FILIBUSTER OF ALL FUTURE CALAMITIES SHIELDED FROM THE DESTRUCTION OF THE GAUNTLET OF PRIVATION SUCH THAT THE OPTIMAL DEASIL MOTATORY MOTIONS OF PLANETARY ALIGNMENT SUGGEST A NATURAL NOMOTHETIC ORDER THAT IS PREVENIENT IN ALL MAJOR AFFAIRS BECAUSE OF THE DEFT EXPERTISE OF THE UTILITARIAN SCALES OF NEGOTIOSITY WHICH ANALYZES NEUTROSOPHY AGAINST SPARTAN TRAVESTY BECAUSE OF A STOLID WORLDVIEW THAT SIMPERS THE CAULDRON OF GROWTH BEYOND THE LEGALESE OF DOUBT SUCH THAT A NEW FRONTIER OF CIVILIZATION ARISES FROM THE POTSHERDS OF VEXILLILOGY RATHER THAN ENAMORED CYMBALS OF SYMBOLISM IMPREGNATED BY THE LOVE OF THE PORBEAGLE BECOMING THE CIPPUSTURE OF WIDDERSHANCY TO ELECT THE KNIGHT OF DIVERGENCE SIMULTANEOUS TO MUTUALISM IN CONFORMITY TO RELEASE AN ECHOPRAXIA OF OMPHALISM IN MORALE THAT BOOSTERISMS ANOINT BEYOND ADVENTITIOUS ACCIDENTS OF RIGMAROLE CREATED BY OVERSLAUGHED BERLINES IN THE VERDURE OF KIPPAGE IN THE KITH OF KITTHOGE IN ATTEMPTED FEMICIDE TO REPUDIATE THE KYMATOLOGY OF THE GRAVID WORLDVIEW THAT SUSTAINS URCHINS AND BARNACLES ALIKE SUCH THAT WEGOTISM PLUMMETS FROM THE PROMONTORY OF THE IVORY FORTRESS OF PERVERSE ****** MORALITY AND IMMORALISM BECAUSE THE AURILAVE IS DESPOTIC AGAINST UMBRILS BECAUSE OF URCEOLATE UMBRACIOUS UMBRAGE BECOMING SILLOGRAPHS OF PANTAGAMY WE NEED THE GRAUNCHERS OF OUR ERA TO DEMASSIFY A TRIBUNE OF TRUTH TO PREVAIL OVER MENDACILOQUENCE AND THE SATINETS OF RADICAL JACOBIN WORMCASTS SUCH THAT SUPERSTITION CLEAVED FROM CAVALIERS AND MAVERICKS BEAM THE ROYAL ARCH MASONS FROM THEIR SLUMBER THAT MOONLIT YOGIBOGEYBOX IS THE SAUTERELLE THAT CREATES THE TURNVEREIN AND THE  GLADIATORIAL DIVERSION OPERATED BY THE HENCHMEN OF CHURCH AND STATE COMPLICIT IN HIDEBOUND WARNING KNELL AT THE TOLL OF TINTINNABULATION BECAUSE FEWER ARE VAPULATED IN A WORLD OF COLLECTIVE SOLIDARITY AROUND INDIVIDUATION RATHER THAN BACKBITES OF SLANDEROUS REGIMES OF HEGEMONY DEPARTED IN THEIR RUDENTURE OF VILLAINY SUCH THAT THE RUBEFACTION OF THE RUDDY SANGUINOLENCE SHEPHERDS RENEWAL RATHER THAN RETROMORPHOSIS. WE BELONG TO AN AGELESS EPOCH PREDICATED BY THE MATHEMATICAL RIGORS OF TAXATION WITH REPRESENTATION AND THE ENCROACHMENT OF  DERIVATIVES OF THE THIRD ROOT SOLUTION TO TURBINATION THAT TRUTINATES THE HUMAN HEART TO ANALYZE THE MEGALOGRAPHY OF MAN BEYOND HIS PETTIEST LIMITATIONS OF EGINTOCH KILMARGE AND PRURIENT PRIGGISHNESS DONE IN THE SECRECY OF THE REREDOS AGAINST THE BEST  WISHES OF TORCHIER PHAROAHS. THE URCEOLATE BERGAMASKS OF IZZARD AND ZOUK AGAINST THE ZEKS WHO SUFFERED THE  SUFFRAGE OF  STERILIZED POGROMS DESERVE THEIR  DUE COMPENSATION FOR THEIR BEREAVED SKULLDUGGERIES OF APOTHECARY SUBLIME RANCOR AIMED AT TRUCKLING TRUCULENCE TOWARDS AN AMERICA-FIRST AGENDA THAT EXAMINES RATHER THAN EXCORIATES ALL WORLD INTERTESSELATIONS BECAUSE THE BRIQUETS THAT HISTORICALLY MONOPOLIZED THE PARAPET TO ENSURE FEWER BRISURES OF CASEMATE SPODOMANCY MIGHT BE BRUISED AND BATTERED BY THE POTICHOMANIA OF AGED BUT VENERABLE BERLINE INSTITUTIONS OF GALEANTHROPY BECOMING GALERICULATED BY PALTRIPOLITAN VALUES THAT SKEW AND  SKELDER FROM EXCORIATION THE VILE AND VEHEMENCE OF THE OPPRESSED MIGHT THEY FUSION THEMSELVES EQUIPPED BY SCAPPLES AGAINST STULMS FOR THE BONANZAS OF STOCK MARKET PEDIGREE AFFORDED BY ONE FAINEANT PRESIDENTS TIME TRAVEL GAMBITS AND ANOTHER INTERREGNUM OF OBSOLAGNIUM AMONG THE MATURATION OF NEPIONIC NIDOR SCRUFF IN GUIGNOLS MEANT TO HORRIFY BY BACKPIECES STEADIED BY ICEBERG ICEBLINK UPSTAYS OF POTEMKIN VILLAGES OF MARTINGALE MIGHT THEY FIND DEFEAT IN THE LEGACY OF MAN TO BETTER HIS WISDOM WITH THE PROPER COMSTOCKERY ARRANGED BEHIND THE SCENES TO PREVENT THE PETTIFOGGERY OF TRANS-INCLUSIVE TEACHERS THAT TRY TO BRAINWASH LITTLE CHILDREN INTO SELF-STERILIZATION AND PERMANENT MARGINALIZATION BY STIGMATA AND THE VETANDA OF THEIR LONGINIQUITY CREATED BY IMPRESSIONABLE MORAL STAGES IGNORED BECAUSE OF LUDIC MARAUDERS AND VIKINGS OF ****** INFIDELITY AND THE LAIRWITES OF THE SLEAZIEST CORRUPTION ON THE BOOKS AS THE MANACLES OF THE URCHINS OF MEN THAT ESPOUSES RANCOR OVER GENTEEL GENTILITY DESPITE GENTILIAN MINORITIES PRIZING THEIR NAZES IN THEIR CAPE TOWN CAGOULES PRIMARILY BECAUSE THEY RESENT THE RANCID CREEP OF ENCROACHMENT WITHOUT THE PENALTY FOR APPROPRIATION OR VAGANTES ARROGATION THAT SUBSUMES THE BRONTEUM OF ALL MATRIOTIC DUTY ABOVE SELFISH PORNOGRAPHIC AMBITIONS BY THE WORLDS WORST FEWTERERS OF HUMAN IMAGINATION TO SUCH A DEGREE THE OUTCAST STIGMATA BECOMES AN IMMARCESIBLE FORCE FOR IMPLODENT SOCIETAL DECADENCE IN AN ERA OF DECLINE OF AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM TO CREATE MORE EXCEPTIONS RATHER THAN BECOME RANGIFERINE IN THE CULTIVATION OF THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT AND THE PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC AND ALL OF THE AGGIORNAMENTO THAT FIGHTS THE STULMS OF VIACOM AND OTHER WINDBAG PEDOPHILES TRYING TO REVERT OUR COUNTRY TO A SOCIETY OF EUNUCHS AND *** SLAVES TRAFFICKED AS THE NEW NORMAL IN A DERANGED WORLD THAT DESTROYS INDIVIDUATION AND BULLDOZES THE INTREPID ENTERPRISE OF A FOCUSED ECHOPRAXIA RATHER THAN A PSITTACIST NIGHTMARE OF LAZARETS OF ELASTANE PANDERING THROUGH BLOCKBUSTER CRACKJAW EPOMANIA. WE CANNOT AFFORD A SOCIETY THAT TOLERATES BOTH THE ASCENDANCY OF BILL THE BUTCHER AND THE DEMISE OF WALTER MCGINN BOTH BY SEPARATE URCHINS THAT EMBODY THE CARNAGE AND BYRE OF RAREFIED EVIL PURIFIED AND MAINLINED AGAINST SUBINTELLIGENTUR TO SUBTERNATURAL PEOPLE THAT DON’T ADHERE TO THE CONSEQUENCES OF NIDIFUGOUS IMPRESSIONABLE EUTHANASIA OF MORAL VALOR AND THE RESPECT OF ALMIGHT EUMOIREITY MIXED WITH THE PROPER ASSORTMENT OF THE PURSUITS OF HAPPINESS THAT DEFINE THE BEST WORLD REPUBLICS BECAUSE WE CAN LIONIZE THE FREAKSHOW HOUSE OF MIRRORED HORRORS AS WE FOCUS ON THE DECREPIT MODERNIZATION OF A NIVELLATED SEXUALIZATION EVEN WHEN THE SPECTERS OF FAT SHAMING AND BULLYING ARE OVERLOOKED IN FAVOR OF A MICHIGAN STATE SPARTANS MODEL FOR THE BOWDLERIZATION OF ALL CANONICAL TRADITIONS IN THE SLOW TIMBERLASK LURCH TOWARDS INEVITABLE DECADENCE IN THE NIDOR CREATED BY RAMPANT SKEWERING OF SLANTED WOBBLES IN ECCENTRIC ORBIT AROUND ECCENTRIC ****** FASCINATIONS THAT HOBBLE THE ENTIRE AMERICAN BRAND AND ENDANGER THE EUROPEAN ETHOS BECAUSE WE CAN NEITHER TOLERATE THE DEATH OF WALTER MCGINN BY THE WEGOTISTS OR THE ASCENDANCY OF BILL THE BUTCHER IN INEXORABLE BERGAMASK WHIMPERS AT THE FLACCID URCEOLATE WHEELBARROWS OF FINANCIAL REDINTEGRATION THROUGH THE DECLASSIFICATION OF GROWING EMERGENCE OF ECONOMIES OF SCALE AND SCOPE FOR A MORE HORIZONTAL APPROACH RATHER THAN A VERIDICAL VERTICAL LIMIT FORCE TO BLIND THE BLINKERED FROM THE HEIGHTS OF EVEREST IN ANACUSIC DISREGARD CREATED BY PERCURRENT DECADENCE IN THE CURRICULUM RELATING TO EARLY SEXUALIZATION. WE NEED NEVER TO BAN A BONFIRE OF BOOKS ON THE AUSTERE AND VENERABLE HISTORY OF MINORITY CULTURES NOR THEIR EPIPHENOMENA BUT A PEDERASTY LURKING IN THE WOODED BEWILDERMENT OF SUBTERNATURAL KUMBAYA RAINBOW-PAINTED SKULLDUGGERY NEEDS TO BE THWARTED BY THE CAREFUL APLOMB CALCULUS OF VIGILANT TEACHERS AND EVEN MORE VIGILANT PARENTS THAT AVOID THE AURILAVE AND REPLACE IT WITH THE UMBRIL TO PROTECT THE SANCTANIMITY OF OUR YOUTH BECAUSE THE ROT OF POISON IS A RANCOR HARDER TO WITHSTAND IN A NATION FALLING  INTO FLAGSTENCH BECAUSE OF CLEAVED CAVALIERS RATHER THAN UPSTART MAVERICKS WHO UNDERSTAND THE LOLLYGAG AS A SCAMMONY OF STEMSON RATHER THAN THE STEPNEY OF IMPORTUNATE PIONEERS TRYING TO MONOPOLIZE WITH BANGTAIL OSTENTATION TO EXCUSE THEIR QUALMS OF CONSCIENCE BY NORMALIZING ABERRANT BEHAVIOR ON A WORLDWIDE SCALE WITH LANGUAGE POLICE AND THE BERGAMASK SILENTIUM OF THOSE WHO SIDELINE THEMSELVES OUT OF EITHER APATHY OR COMPLICITY TO DEGRINGOLADE OF THE AMERICAN PRESTIGE AND THE EUROPEAN CREED OF PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC AGGIORNAMENTO AGAINST THE SEXUALIZATION OF THE YOUTH AND THE INCULCATION OF VICE AND GAMBLING AMONG  THE SUSCEPTIBLE. NOW THAT MY INVECTIVE HAS BOILED INTO EFFERVESCENT TOXINS AGAINST THE AGENDA AND CORRIGENDA OF MODERN NEPIONIC DEVELOPMENT OF LUDIC CONSCIENCE AND DESULTORY CREATIVITY DEFYING THE AURILAVE DEMASSIFICATION THAT IS CORROSIVE TO THE AMERICAN YOUTH AS WELL AS YOUTH FROM ALL OVER EUROPE IT IS IMPORTANT TO VOUCHSAFE THE RIGHTS OF THE MINORITY ON THE CONDITION THEY DON’T BARNSTORM AGAINST THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN CREATION SACROSANCT BY LURID DEGREES OF VIGILANTE PARENTS UPHOLDING TRUE CHRISTIAN VALUES OF EUMOIRIETY WITHOUT A HINT OF CHARLATAN PATAPHYSICS IN THEOLOGICAL CONTORTION BY CLOSET NIHILISM TRYING TO PANDER TO RELIGION IN ORDER TO SOW THE MUSTARD SEEDS OF DESPERATION THAT RANKLES ALL PARTIES INVOLVED BECAUSE WARHOLICS THE CLOTURE OF THE CLITTER OF THE CLINKSTONE OF RUDDY EXTINCT SHRILL IDEAS OF KNELLING BELL-TOLLING ENTER SANDMAN RECIDIVISM MUST RECEDE INTO THE WHIMPER OF A  SHEEPISH NIGHT SO THAT THE REAL KNIGHTS OF TABERNACLE AND PUBLIC SQUARE BECOME THE CENTRIPETAL MOON CERACEOUS IN ITS TIDE OF MORAL VIRTUE AND VEHEMENT VIRTUOSITY BEYOND THE BAD PARENTING OF THE PARENTS THAT STORGE THEIR KIDS ON INTOXICANTS WITHOUT CHECKING THEIR FACTS OR REALIZING THE FRAUD OF THE FRAUDSTERS THAT TRY TO INOCULATE THEMSELVES FROM BLAME BECAUSE OF THE ZEITGEIST-NORMALIZATION ARGUMENT WHICH IS SPECIOUS SOPHISTRY BECAUSE ABSOLUTE MORAL KERYGMA EXISTS TO STAND AS A STANDPIPE TO REVOLUTIONIZE  THE LOT OF THE SUBTERNATURAL PEOPLE THAT SKILLFULLY NAVIGATE SHARK-RIDDEN WATERS AGAINST WATERGATE JAWHOLES SO DEEPLY CRENELLATED WITH THE INSIGNIAS OF IMPRIMATUR IN ELITISM THAT SCOFFLAWS CHEAT THE SYSTEM RATHER THAN RECOIL IN THE BLARNEY AND BLENCH OF THEIR OWN SUPREME SHAME FOR THEIR CAGOULES AND WEGOTISTS BOTH WAGING WARS AGAINST DIFFERENT SEGMENTS FOR RADICAL RHIZOGENIC BETRAYALS OF THE GAME AS CHUCKY VS. THE GIANT TORTOISE PROCEEDS AS AN EMANATION OF THE NETHERWORLD OF WANION AND THE WOODSHEDDERS THAT DEFEND THE CREED AND CREDENDA OF VISIBILIA FOR CRETACEOUS LORE AND CERTAIN ABSOLUTION THROUGH THE ABLUTION OF THE SACRIFICE OF CULMINATED PROPHETS THROUGHOUT HISTORY MARTYRED FOR THEIR REMIGATES AGAINST ENTITLED ENTRENCHED AUTHORITIES CARING MORE OF MEGALOMANIACAL SPRITES RATHER THAN TURGID GARISH IRONIES OF THE SERENDIPITY OF DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS RELATIVISM. RANSACKING POLEMICS OF EXEGESIS THEORIZING ABOUT PROFLIGACY IN CONTORTIONIST STRIPPER CONFLAGRATIONS IN RAPID DEGENERATION RATHER THAN THE CONVALESCENT HOPE OF INTELLECTUAL REBIRTH ESPOUSED BY OUR FOREFATHERS IN INFINITE WISDOM DESPITE HANDSPIKES OF GOSSYPINE SUBVERSION IN THEIR NESCIENCE OF ZEITGEIST-NORMALIZATION ARGUMENTS WHICH ARE EQUALLY INVALID NOW AS THEY WERE THEN BECAUSE WE MUST UPHOLD THE APOLAUSTIC PURSUIT AND THE TWINGE OF EUMOIREITY BEYOND HYPOCRISY AND GOD BEYOND TRAVESTY. THE NOILS OF NUMBATS NEOTTIOUS IN THEIR VARDOS AND VARDLES THAT VAPULATE THAT VAUNTLAY OF REVERSE VASTATION IN RHEOTAXIS OF AIMLESS YOUTH OF A NATION PAYABLE TO THE TEACHERS THAT EXERT THE GREATEST CENTRIPETAL FORCE OF OMPHALISM MIGHT WE FIND A CULTURE OF OPTIMUMS WITHOUT LOSING AMERICAN VERVE AND EXCEPTIONALISM WHILE BOLSTERING MORALE FOR THE DISPOSSESSED AND THE BULLIED WITHOUT PIGEONHOLING ADULT-AGED ****** MINORITIES UNLESS THEY ARE GUILTY OF TRYING TO CORRUPT THE YOUTH THAT EVENTUALLY THE SARSENETS AND BOBBINETS OF STEEVE INTERMINGLE TO FORM A RENEWED MUTUALISM CAPTIVE TO THE RAPTURE OF THE EYES THAT HAVE WITNESSED THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD BECAUSE HE DECLARES ABSOLUTION AND ABLUTION AGAINST OPPRESSION WITHOUT OPPRESSING THOSE THAT OPPRESS BECAUSE OF JAUNDICE IN AN EQUAL TWILL AND TILT OF TWADDLING WOBBLES OF INTRANSIGENCE. THE REVOLUTE FRAYED EDGES OF CARNASSIAL MODERNITY TOO CRUEL TO STOMACH THAT ZEKS EXIST IN THE POGROMS OF DERELICTION BY A CONSUMER TREACLE AND TRICKLE OF CLEPSYDRA ERRATIC IN DEGRINGOLADE MIGHT WE INSTEAD MEET A RESURGENT BOOM FOR BONANZA IN SPECULATIVE ECONOMICS BY PROVIDING THE CARRACKS AND CARNETS WITH THE ACUMINATION AND DELICATE DECISIONS AROUND ACERBATION THAT YIELD MORE THAN JUST A TANTONY OF TANQUAMS FOLLOWING BLINDED SHEPHERDS OF CORRUPT PERIBLEBSIS BECAUSE OF WHIMSICAL ROTUNDAS OF ROTUND PEOPLE BRAVING THE BARMCLOTH OF THEIR BLUEPETER ALLEGIANCE IF ONLY TO THE AUDISM OF IAMATOLOGY MIGHT WE STEWARD AND CHAPERONE A BETTER REGALIA FOR THE CHIFFON AGAINST THE SHANTUNG BECAUSE TO SOCIALLY ENGINEER AND UPRIGHT PARVENU IS TO BECOME A BOOSTERISM TO THE JANGADA OF HIDDEN THICKETS OF YOUTHQUAKE WEALTH IN THE GRAVIMETRICAL PROPERTIES OF THE SILKEN SILT OF SUBSULTUS REARRANGING A RAPIDLY EVOLVING SOCIETY AGAINST INTRANSIGENCE BUT FOR THE BETTER FORMIDABLE FIGHT OF MATRIOTIC DUTY AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS BEYOND THE HATCHES OF THEOCRACY. WE FUNNEL THROUGH LAVADERO AND DELIMITED NEAT NEXILITIES AMONG PATAPHYSICS AN AGE THAT REQUIRES MORE STEM CANDIDATES THAT LIONIZE THE HIGHEST ARTS AND COLLABORATE WITH BENEVOLENT ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TO ENLIST A CREATIVITY BOOM RATHER THAN A LAPSE INTO THE LAZINESS OF ELASTANE LAZARETS SUCH THAT POLYPHILOPROGENITIVE GLOMS OF THE GLABROUS MOON AND THE HIRSUTE WHEREWOLVES THAT BELONG TETHERED TO THE CONNUBIAL BETROTHMENT TO MERIT BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY THE GIRDLE OF ALL STUNSAIL GENERATIONS OF THE PROMACHOS FOR GROWING SIDELONG EMACITIES TACKLED WITHOUT A CACKLE AND STUNTED WITHOUT A PUBLICITY. WITH THE HELP OF SENTIENT NODALITIES OF NIDDERING NIDAMENTAL BANDOBASTS ABOUT WHICH QUISQUILOUS STERNWAYS EXIST AND COMPANIONWAYS ARE RECOURSE WE SEEK THE BELLETRIST OF A RENEWED ERA TO BECOME THE TESTUDO OF AMERICAN FORTITUDE AND FRENCH VALOR SUCH THAT THE GRANDEVAL TAGHAIRM MEETS THE MODERN DAY RECLAMATION AND CONCLAMATION OF SUPEREROGATORY AMBITIONS, VIGILANT PARENTS, TACTFUL TEACHERS, AND POSITIVE WHIPSTAFF ROLE MODELS WHO TEACH MORAL REASONING AND INSTITUTE A THEOLOGY-INCLUSIVE EDUCATION THAT SPENDS MONEY TO ENHANCE DIDACTIC TECHNIQUES AND TO BE ECTOBATIC TO REMOVE MANY A DISTRACTION FROM THE VARSAL GESTALT OF NIDOLOGY TO FOMENT A CATACLYSM AGAINST A CATASTROPHISM OF ABAXIAL DENOUEMENT SUCH THAT WE REAR THE REAR GUARD AND BLANKET THE WORLD WITH SEMINAL INSEMINATIONS IN BOTH CREATIVE ARTS AND BIOMEDICAL SOLUTIONS TO STATOLITHS THAT BROADSIDE THE GALLANTRY OF ARGALI FORTUNES WAITING TO BE DISCLOSED AND DISCOVERED IN THE HAUNTS OF PEDIGREES OF DAY AND NIGHT WITHOUT A HINT OF MALEFACTION WHILE EMPHASIZING THE KERYGMA TO SUSTAIN THE MAINLINE CARDIMELECH CARDIOGNOST SOLUTIONS OF THE PROPER PARENTING IN PERVIOUS TIMES TO CHANNEL THE CLEPSYDRA TOWARDS THE GROWTH OF ABSOLUTION BY TEACHING THE MORAL KERYGMA OF CHRIST NEVER NEGLIGENT OF MUHAMMAD AMONG THE OTHER PROPHETS THAT FUELED A MANIFEST DESTINY AND A MANIFOLD JANIFORM WORLD BEYOND DUPLICITY AND SPITE SUCH THAT HANDSPIKES OF PICKELHAUBE BECOME DIMINISHED BY PORBEAGLES OF ALACRITY THAT SOAR WITH ELEGANCE NOT BECAUSE OF CONTRITION OF RIGOR BUT DESPITE THE OVERHANG OF TEMPESTS AND GULLYWASHERS THAT TREAD LIGHTLY IN ENCIRCLED WATERS BEYOND WATERGATE SHORES OF THE DISTANT PERSPECTIVE SHEPHERDED BEYOND SHEEPISHNESS. THE SQUALOR OF MANY SQUALLS OF CABOOSES VAPULATED FOR THEIR BETHEL INIQUITIES OF APIKOROS OLIM REMIGATED BY THE RELICTS THEY FORGOT IN THE AMNESIA OF THEIR HEIGHTS OF YOUTH AND THE DEPTHS OF THEIR PLANGENT INSOUCIANCE MIGHT THE ADOLESCENT FABLE SUBSIDE INTO THE SWIFT SHIFTING  SANDS OF EVOLUTIONARY TIME MORE TACHYTELIC THAN EVER BECAUSE OF SYNAPHEAS AGAINST STULMS AND THE BULGUR OF QUALMS ENLISTING THE STOPES DEMISE FROM THE PUBLIC SQUARES OF INTREPID INDEMNITY FOR THE AUTHORS OF MORALISM AND SALVATION FOUND THROUGH THE HIGHEST OF CREEDS AND THE MOST ORNATE OF COMPLEXITIES BECAUSE WE CANNOT BE BELEAGUERED BY AN ASYLUM OF SERRATED CENTURIES TRYING TO AROUSE RANCOR IN BACKBITE IN RETROSPECTION AND INSTEAD REVALORIZE AN ECONOMY NEVER AS MUCH PARALYZED BY REGELATION BUT ALWAYS THE STUNSAIL OF COAST GUARD YOUTH AUXILLIARY TO UNDERSTAND PROPINQUITY FROM DISTANCE AND GENIUS FROM INSANITY SUCH THAT THE PROPER PIVOT OF WORLD LEADERS IS AIMED TOWARDS NOT A SOPORIFIC TIRED TEDIUM BUT ALWAYS AN OPTIMISTIC BONANZA THAT KEEPS ECONOMIES AFLOAT IN THE LUXURIANCE OF THEIR OWN PEDIGREE AND VIRTUOSITY SCALED UP TO A VARSAL SCALE OF GESTALT EVOLUTION THAT UNDERSTANDS THE PLIGHT OF TAFFRAIL FENESTRAL FENNEC AND IMMARCESIBLE ASPECTS OF THE INERADICABLE ELEMENTS OF CORRUPTION FOCUSED AROUND MODALITIES OF MODALISM SUCH THAT A MUTUAL COLLECTIVISM INDIVIDUATED FOR A BRIGHT NEW CENTURY BECOMES THE SALIENT BEACON OF TRIUMPH RATHER THAN TRAGEDY AND THE GAUNT GLORY OF THE BEST OF OUR ASPIRATIONS OF A STAYIN’ALIVE MODESTY EVEN WITH THE SENNET OF REGULA UPON THE TARRY OF TESTUDOS MIGHT THEY SWARM GNATS UNMATCHED BY THE PHAROAH’S MAGIC AND ALWAYS ABIDING BY THE NEPOTISM OF AGES PROLONGED BY DURESS AND DURATIVE IN THE FORMATION OF DURAMEN FOR DENEHOLES SO WELL FORTIFIED THAT THE AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM NEVER BECOMES A FAFFLE OF SIDESHOW CLOWNS AND BALATRONS WARPING SATRAPS WITH GAULEITERS OF PROTENSIVE PROTRACTORS OF CADASTER OVER INTEGRITY AND OPPORTUNISM OVER AMBITIOUS REVIVALISM. WE FIGHT AND QUIBBLE OVER THE COSTERMONGERS AMONG US AND THE TREGETOURS OF PRESTIGITATION IN CLEAVED TALKING POINTS BUT RARELY DO WE SYNERGIZE FOR THE BEST INTERESTS OF WORLD REPUBLICS TO BECOME SHINING BEACONS IN THE LIMELIGHT OF ALPENGLOW BEWILDERMENT FINDING ASCERTAINMENT RATHER THAN POLLINATION BY THE ESCAPADE ROUTE RATHER THAN MORAL KERYGMA REITERATED RATHER THAN INDOCTRINATED THAT MORE ARE PROSELYTIZED UNDER THE BANNER OF CHRIST BECAUSE OF  THE GRATUITY OF ALL SUFFERING BECOMING TANTAMOUNT TO ALL MOBILE SUFFRAGE FOR A NEOVITALIST IDEATION RATHER THAN AN ESTRANGED BLACKMAIL OF MARTINGALE EARWIGS AND IMPASSABLE THALWEGS PREVENTING THE NEGOTIOSITY OF CHURCH AND STATE TO FOUND ECCLESIOLATRY IN AGGIORNAMENTO SUCH THAT ACCOLENT FRATERNITY AND SHARED AMBITIONS CATALYZES A BROAD INTELLECTUAL AND ARTISTIC REVOLUTION THAT IS COGNIZANT OF ITS FOOTPRINT. AMEN!
Continue reading...
RAJ NANDY Jul 2016
ZEN PHILOSOPHY
Dear friends , this is an old poem of mine which was composed after I learnt that one of my favourite Hollywood actor Richard Gere had become a Buddhist and believed in Zen Philosophy. So having read about Zen, I composed in a simple format about the same. Hope you like it. Thanks, - Raj.


                    ZEN PHILOSOPHY
With roots buried deep in soils of Ancient India,
And watered by the exotic blend of three different
cultures;
Reflecting the mysticism of India, the pragmatism
of the Confucian mind, and the Taoist’s love of
naturalness and spontaneity,
Buddhism bloomed and blossomed into an exotic
flower called 'Zen Philosophy'!

In 475 AD a pupil of Buddha called Bodhidharma
went to China.
There the Mahayana School of Buddhism mingled
with Chinese Taoism, which evolved into Chan
Philosophy!
'Chan ' derived from the Sanskrit  word 'dhyana',
which meant 'silent meditation',  -
Through which the Buddha attained enlightenment
and salvation!
Later, in 1200 AD this Chan philosophy travelled to
the shores of Japan,
Where 'Chan' got translated to 'Zen' by its many
followers and fans!
ZEN is the art of meditation to achieve inner awakening,
To gain intuitive knowledge, highlighting the inadequacy
of logical reasoning!
It therefore advocates the practice of 'zazen' or 'sitting
meditation',
For acquiring inner awakening through silent
contemplation!

ZEN could be practised in our daily life,
Without entering a hermitage, leaving behind your
family or wife!
'Gain the naturalness of your original true nature',
-  preaches the Zen Teacher through meditation,
'Rather than through mere faith and devotion,
which is contrary to Zen notion.'
'One must awaken to this present moment to feel
this life,
And not waste time in speculations of an Elusive
After-Life’!
The 'Enso' or the ‘circle’, is the Zen symbol which is
often deployed,
Symbolising Enlightenment, Strength, the Universe,
and the Void!
With this 'expression of the moment ' the Zen Philosophy
starts,
And today the ‘Enso’ is also the symbol of Expressionist
Art!
Never ask the Zen Master 'What is Zen, when, or how? ',
For he will always tell you, - 'Zen Is The Instant Now'!
                                                      - Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
Mahayana in Sanskrit means 'Great Vehicle', and is the largest major tradition of Buddhism existing today. The other branch is called Hinayana meaning the 'Lesser vehicle'.
Continue reading...
Amir Apr 2010
Nike New
there are no
treasures for the timid.
nothing accomplished
by trepidation.
no such thing as
logical caution either.
pragmatism is a pompous *******.
fear is always fear,
subjectively irrational
and
subject to scrutiny.

more often than not
to fail holds more glory
than to fear.
© Amir 2008
Continue reading...
Deepsha Aug 2012
Turning human courtesy of HP
Today, somebody's words awoke the ashes of my long dead heart
I know that was much more than mere fictional ink spilling out of a creative mind
I forgot how that felt, years back, you know, emotions
it reminded me of the excuses I gave to myself
for running away from relationships
for choosing to live alone
for not meeting my friends often
for not talking to my family for over a minute
for deciding I am simply not meant for marriage
and certainly not for ever having kids
their hurt, hurt me
and it felt like more than I could take
so I chose unattachedness over fragility
somehow, that strategy doesn't forge too well here
I am too seized by words to even try to be nonchalant towards my current better half
towards strangers over family
the rust has been removed from over my bemired emotions
pragmatism has been thrown to the dugout
those words have left my haven purged
and I am left befuddled, meditating over a paradox
They aren’t my carks, yet, I can't stop feeling them.
Continue reading...
Toreinss Pinwinkel III Jul 2014
Paraphernalia
One of the most humorous conditions that a creature could burden itself with is a somnambulant desire to be to it’s own liking .
Maxillary extrapolation although a positive political expectorant is likewise a practical partiality .
I prefer to  be philanthropically phenological although rational impedance is my histophysiology .  My present participle is practical pragmatism and tertiary transcendentalism .  Xenoplasticly speaking I feel alone but plausibility is a probationer in reflective self awareness .  Atrociously impetuous I proceeded amidst heinously horrendous heckledom .  Adequate inflection is a relevant relative to retaliatory regression but I digress .  Paraphernalia is a practitioner to plausibility’s cause and should be assimilated through cognizance  not perfunctory preferentialism .
Hegelian humanitarianism must supersede political subterfugalism or all may be lost in quagmire .
Someone said I should lighten up!!
Continue reading...
Jamesb May 2017
Loss
Loss
That's what they call it,
Or mourning,
But I've lost before and
I've mourned
Before
Yet never ever
Known pain like this

Pragmatic,
That's me to a tee,
Yet pragmatism ain't cutting it
This time
Because I fear and I feel
Your departing
Before the decision
Or announcement made

And it hurts!
Oh sweet Lord it hurts,
In ways I cannot clamp down,
Or externalise or
Stop the feeling of,
A crippling *******
Of sobbing deep inside
Where none can see

And you're reading our poems
Which might be hope
Or might be farewell
I just don't know,
And not knowing is bad enough
At any time but this?
This matters so much more,
This is killing me

Objectively I know we should part,
Objectively I know you'll struggle
Because you love and desire me
On so many levels,
And to not have me would ****,
Yet is it enough my sweet?
Is it enough
To save you n me?

And if not?
If not enough?
If I lose you to another,
If I never get to hold you,
Make love with you
Fill you with my love and
All I am?
How do I then live?
Continue reading...
Paul James Woolley Jun 2017
Yorkshire Logic???
"It'll never amount to owt"
As they say in Yorkshire.
"Ahh mean, 'ers 'int love wit 'ere ole man
'Ant thou's married too!
Giv ova 'ant grow a pair son....."

"I know, don't you think I've been thru this a million times in my heart and head"?
"But I can't give up on her, I haven't told her my feelings, I couldn't.... She'd run a mile, and I'd lose a friend, my heart would shatter into a trillion pieces"

"Aye, but 'ere know thou's sweet 'ont 'ere"
"Lassies know such things"

"But she teases me, leads me on,flirts with me, manipulates my heart".


"Nowt good will come of it I'm tellin' ye,
It'll all end 'int tears...probably yers too"

"I know that at my age I should know betta,
But no age is exempt to love"
I cling to hope,
Each and any crumb that might Indicate that she'll allow me to hold her in my arms
And kiss her..."

"So take your Yorkshire logic,
Your Northern pragmatism,
I can't see the wood for the trees in this 'affair' I know
But I live in hope that one day
She'll tell me that she loves me..."
#unrequited #love #frustration #longing
Continue reading...
Jerry Howarth Jan 2016
More Poems of Faith
CONTENDING FOR THE FAITH
  Certain men, described by Jude,
  As ungodly filthy dreamers,
  Condemned unto judgment,
  Evil speakers and flesh defilers

  Have subtly and secretly made themselves
  A part of the Christian faith,
  Purposely undermining salvation
  with ungodly speeches against God’s Grace.

Who are these insolent filthy dreamers
Who speak evil against Dignities with
                              disdain?
“Woe unto them” says the Apostle Jude,
“Woe unto Balaam, Core and Cain.”

Representative are these three of
The self-righteous for salvation,
The self-seeking for prestige and power,
The worshipper of wealth and mammon.

These are spots, ugly, despicable spots
In your love feast celebrations.
With all boldness and fearlessness,
They join you without invitation.

These are the murmurers, the complainers,
The mockers, of the soon  return of Christ,
As prophesied by Jesus and the Apostles,
     that in the last days they would arise.

In view of such apostates as these,
Be praying in the Holy Ghost, Beloved,
And building yourselves up in the Spirit,
Be living daily in the sphere of God’s love.

Having compassion on the innocent deceived,
The sincere soul drawn into a damning lair;
And others, addicted to chains of sin,
With great caution, ****** from the fire.

This, then, is the message of God,
With compassion, caution and love,
Be ready always to contend for the faith,
For the glory and majesty of God above.
From Jerry Howarth's original Poetry
Hello & Poetry
Jerry Howarth   Poems  
Published147  Drafts54 Hidden16 Deleted3

ADJUST OR BUST

A GOOD DAY FOR BIKE RIDING

A GOOD DAY FOR RUNNING

A LESSON WELL LEARNED

A Man and His Religion

And Then There Is God

AND YE FATHERS

ANGELS, MINISTERING SPIRITS

An Old Testament Love Story

A PRAYER OF PRAISE

ARE THERE CONTRDICTIONS IN THE BIBLE?

Are You Certain?

ARE YOU GOD'S MAN?

" ARE YOU READY FOR 'FREDDY?' "

" ARE YOU READY FOR 'FREDDY?' " (DRAFT)

ARE YOU SELF-CENTERED OR CHRIST-CENTERED

As a Man Thinketh

Atheism, Agnosticism, Deism, Humanism

A TREE HOUSE

ATTENTION ALL FATHERS

BACK IN THE WHEEL CHAIR AGAIN

"But My God Shall Supply All Your Needs" 4:19

Butter Milk Boogie

Christ the Strength of My Life

CONTRASTS

COPD

DEALING WITH SET BACKS OF LIFE

Dear Lord, I'm Bored

DEATH COULD NOT HOLD HIM

Jerry Howarth Dec 2019
DOUBT NOT GOD'S FAITHFULNESS
FAITHFUL TO THE LORD
   The Bible tells of a man called Job,
Whose life was filled with great discord.
He lost all his family and fortune,
But through it all was faithful to the Lord.
            chorus
Faithful to the Lord, Faithful to the Lord,
My Brother and Sister, be faithful to the Lord!
Yes faithful to the Lord, faithful to the Lord,
Be like Job, be faithful to the Lord.

Have your friends all turned their backs upon you,
And left you walking all alone?
Just remember, God is always faithful,
and will love and keep you as his own.

To Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,
God's promise of faithfulness was given,
To Joshua, the Judges of Israel,
And to a man called Gideon.

Yes my friends, doubt not  God's faithfulness,
Read the long list of men and women
to whom God was faithful to supply of their needs.
Found in the book of Hebrews, chapter eleven.
From Jerry Howarth's Book of Orginal Poems

Written by
Jerry Howarth  Topeka, Ks.
      
24     3
1 comment

Esteem Others Better Than Y'self

EVOLUTION SAYS.........by G.E. Parson

FAITH OR FEAR

Faith -What is it?

Father Forgive

FEAR NOT TOMORROW

FIRE! FIRE!! FIRERRRR!!!!!!

Five Kings In A Cave

FRIENDS

God's Faithful Provision

Go Forth With Confidence

Going Up to Glory

GRAMPA BACK IN GRAMMA' KITCHEN

GRAMPA BOUGHT A NEW CAR

Grampa Cooking Hashbrowns

Grampa G.E. Parsons's Creed of Life

Grampa Parson's 4th of July experience

Grampa Sold His Garage

Grampa Took An Unplanned Train Ride

HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF....

Heaven Is Only A Prayer Away

Heavenly Blessings

He Lied About Her

I Don't Get Mad, I get Even

IF CLOUDS HAD EYES

IF YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED

If you need a little help just call on me

IF YOU'RE TOO BUSY TO PRAY IF

I'm a physically Challenged Man

I'm so Blessed

I SEE GOD

IT ONLY TAKES BELIEVING

Jerry can't sleep

Jerry's Breakfast Sandwich

JESUS IS COMING

JESUS THE ONLY WAY

JESUS=What He Means To Me

JOHN Q.PRISONER

JOSHUA AND CALEB

JOY, PEACE AND HAPPINES

Judges of Israel Cont.

JUST RAMBLING AND RYMING

Keep Your Spiritual Eyes On Jesus

Legally Dishonest

LESSONS FROM THE PRODICAL SON

LIFE IS A CONSTANT STRUGGLE

Livn'n To Glorify The Lord

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

MARANATHA

ME AND MY SUNSHINE

Jerry Howarth Jan 2016
More Poems of Faith
CONTENDING FOR THE FAITH
  Certain men, described by Jude,
  As ungodly filthy dreamers,
  Condemned unto judgment,
  Evil speakers and flesh defilers

  Have subtly and secretly made themselves
  A part of the Christian faith,
  Purposely undermining salvation
  with ungodly speeches against God’s Grace.

Who are these insolent filthy dreamers
Who speak evil against Dignities with
                              disdain?
“Woe unto them” says the Apostle Jude,
“Woe unto Balaam, Core and Cain.”

Representative are these three of
The self-righteous for salvation,
The self-seeking for prestige and power,
The worshipper of wealth and mammon.

These are spots, ugly, despicable spots
In your love feast celebrations.
With all boldness and fearlessness,
They join you without invitation.

These are the murmurers, the complainers,
The mockers, of the soon  return of Christ,
As prophesied by Jesus and the Apostles,
     that in the last days they would arise.

In view of such apostates as these,
Be praying in the Holy Ghost, Beloved,
And building yourselves up in the Spirit,
Be living daily in the sphere of God’s love.

Having compassion on the innocent deceived,
The sincere soul drawn into a damning lair;
And others, addicted to chains of sin,
With great caution, ****** from the fire.

This, then, is the message of God,
With compassion, caution and love,
Be ready always to contend for the faith,
For the glory and majesty of God above.
                                  -  by G. E. Parson
     06/272011

Written by
Jerry Howarth  Topeka, Ks.
      
703     Don Bouchard, Got Guanxi and 1 other
Don Bouchard

Don Bouchard  I see we are writing on similar themes. Jude is a book for our times.

0



1 reply

May 2017

MORE THEE, LESS OF ME

MURDERING BABIES

My First Airplane Ride

My Lost Toy Bear

MY SUNSHINE GAL

NO EXCUSES

NONE OF YOUR BIZWAX

ONE MAN'S TESTIMONY

Out Line for Devotions or Full sermon message

PLAY BALL !!

POEMS UPLIFTING

POSITIVE PRAGMATISM

PRAISE GOD I GOT SAVED !!

PRAISE GOD, JESUS CAME!

PRAISING GOD FOR AMERICA

Preaching On Facebook Live

PRESIDENTS DAY 2/19

RABBONI ! MASTER !

READ THE BIBLE !
Next page

            MORE POEMS OF FAITH

Hello & Poetry
Jerry Howarth   Poems  
Published147  Drafts54 Hidden16 Deleted3

ADJUST OR BUST

A GOOD DAY FOR BIKE RIDING

A GOOD DAY FOR RUNNING

A LESSON WELL LEARNED

A Man and His Religion

And Then There Is God

AND YE FATHERS

ANGELS, MINISTERING SPIRITS

An Old Testament Love Story

A PRAYER OF PRAISE

ARE THERE CONTRDICTIONS IN THE BIBLE?

Are You Certain?

ARE YOU GOD'S MAN?

" ARE YOU READY FOR 'FREDDY?' "

" ARE YOU READY FOR 'FREDDY?' " (DRAFT)

ARE YOU SELF-CENTERED OR CHRIST-CENTERED

As a Man Thinketh

Atheism, Agnosticism, Deism, Humanism

A TREE HOUSE

ATTENTION ALL FATHERS

BACK IN THE WHEEL CHAIR AGAIN

"But My God Shall Supply All Your Needs" 4:19

Butter Milk Boogie

Christ the Strength of My Life

CONTRASTS

COPD

DEALING WITH SET BACKS OF LIFE

Dear Lord, I'm Bored

DEATH COULD NOT HOLD HIM

Jerry Howarth Dec 2019
DOUBT NOT GOD'S FAITHFULNESS
FAITHFUL TO THE LORD
   The Bible tells of a man called Job,
Whose life was filled with great discord.
He lost all his family and fortune,
But through it all was faithful to the Lord.
            chorus
Faithful to the Lord, Faithful to the Lord,
My Brother and Sister, be faithful to the Lord!
Yes faithful to the Lord, faithful to the Lord,
Be like Job, be faithful to the Lord.

Have your friends all turned their backs upon you,
And left you walking all alone?
Just remember, God is always faithful,
and will love and keep you as his own.

To Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,
God's promise of faithfulness was given,
To Joshua, the Judges of Israel,
And to a man called Gideon.

Yes my friends, doubt not  God's faithfulness,
Read the long list of men and women
to whom God was faithful to supply of their needs.
Found in the book of Hebrews, chapter eleven.
From Jerry Howarth's Book of Orginal Poems

Written by
Jerry Howarth  Topeka, Ks.
      
24     3
1 comment

Esteem Others Better Than Y'self

EVOLUTION SAYS.........by G.E. Parson

FAITH OR FEAR

Faith -What is it?

Father Forgive

FEAR NOT TOMORROW

FIRE! FIRE!! FIRERRRR!!!!!!

Five Kings In A Cave

FRIENDS

God's Faithful Provision

Go Forth With Confidence

Going Up to Glory

GRAMPA BACK IN GRAMMA' KITCHEN

GRAMPA BOUGHT A NEW CAR

Grampa Cooking Hashbrowns

Grampa G.E. Parsons's Creed of Life

Grampa Parson's 4th of July experience

Grampa Sold His Garage

Grampa Took An Unplanned Train Ride

HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF....

Heaven Is Only A Prayer Away

Heavenly Blessings

He Lied About Her

I Don't Get Mad, I get Even

IF CLOUDS HAD EYES

IF YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED

If you need a little help just call on me

IF YOU'RE TOO BUSY TO PRAY IF

I'm a physically Challenged Man

I'm so Blessed

I SEE GOD

IT ONLY TAKES BELIEVING

Jerry can't sleep

Jerry's Breakfast Sandwich

JESUS IS COMING

JESUS THE ONLY WAY

JESUS=What He Means To Me

JOHN Q.PRISONER

JOSHUA AND CALEB

JOY, PEACE AND HAPPINES

Judges of Israel Cont.

JUST RAMBLING AND RYMING

Keep Your Spiritual Eyes On Jesus

Legally Dishonest

LESSONS FROM THE PRODICAL SON

LIFE IS A CONSTANT STRUGGLE

Livn'n To Glorify The Lord

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

MARANATHA

ME AND MY SUNSHINE

Jerry Howarth Jan 2016
More Poems of Faith
CONTENDING FOR THE FAITH
  Certain men, described by Jude,
  As ungodly filthy dreamers,
  Condemned unto judgment,
  Evil speakers and flesh defilers

  Have subtly and secretly made themselves
  A part of the Christian faith,
  Purposely undermining salvation
  with ungodly speeches against God’s Grace.

Who are these insolent filthy dreamers
Who speak evil against Dignities with
                              disdain?
“Woe unto them” says the Apostle Jude,
“Woe unto Balaam, Core and Cain.”

Representative are these three of
The self-righteous for salvation,
The self-seeking for prestige and power,
The worshipper of wealth and mammon.

These are spots, ugly, despicable spots
In your love feast celebrations.
With all boldness and fearlessness,
They join you without invitation.

These are the murmurers, the complainers,
The mockers, of the soon  return of Christ,
As prophesied by Jesus and the Apostles,
     that in the last days they would arise.

In view of such apostates as these,
Be praying in the Holy Ghost, Beloved,
And building yourselves up in the Spirit,
Be living daily in the sphere of God’s love.

Having compassion on the innocent deceived,
The sincere soul drawn into a damning lair;
And others, addicted to chains of sin,
With great caution, ****** from the fire.

This, then, is the message of God,
With compassion, caution and love,
Continue reading...
zebra Jan 2019
A Dialog About Writing Poetry
I do believe all poets must not only read a lot of poetry but read a lot about poetry. Of my 50 favorite poets, there is not one who has not written about poetry, the philosophy of their work and of the craft. That in itself is fascinating- and difficult, like the depth you find in NY Review of Books. I do about 2/3 (poems) to 1/3 (being books about poetry) From the most philosophic works of archetypes by Northrop Frye to the most public and basic questions of Zupruders good seller "Why Poetry?" .
That last book opened up a new reality for me, to I ask myself all the time who am I writing for, in context to all this reading...I realized I was really trying to communicate the poetic truths of living, of my own small life in the world so full of beauty, horror, paradox and death. I realized to do this I had to make compromises, to not try to impress or amuse myself with poems that could only be understood by me. The craft and presentation became as important as the message. That is currently my direction, I'm writing "collections" of poems with themes so a reader could enjoy a concrete theme. (The last book I just read, a signed collection by Ferlinghetti ( nice and cheap in a used bookstore) was just that- the theme of light in "How to Paint Sunlight." Accessible and very full of several poems about light)
So you are stating two different issues:
I don't like being not understood, Having people throw up there hands perplexed, I'd rather be popular.... Its lonely
But I cant write for others because than it would be feeling like a commercial venture My motivation would be destroyed.
Id rather be desolated and write for those few who get the twinge...
Well, first of all, we poets are possibly lucky because we ain't making beans for our poems. Forgetaboutit. Even our most lauded poets end up teaching to get the health care and severance. I suppose there may be 3 poets in Amerika that make a living on just writing poetry....if that many. Who's buying? I didn't see much word "poetry" once in this weeks NY Times review of books. Only some letters crashing last weeks review of Leonard Cohen, who the critic called a wonderful lyricist and performer, but an awful poet. These dialogues are important to me, but really, quite a small audience. Either way, lyrics and song paid the rent, not Cohen's books of just poetry.
I'm sure there is no immediate cure for your paradox. If you want to be popular you have to make compromises. If you don't want to alter your vision, you can get the joy of a smaller readership and forget the rest. You have to manage expectations is a world that hardly notices our craft.
It's hard to be both, I suppose you should stay true to your motivation. And if readers like me don't get it, **** em. Let it suffice we acknowledge the craft, and that we will get closer to some poems more than others be enough. For me, accessibility, the ability to engage a reader into whatever poetic truth I am feeling, is more important than in any way hiding the meaning in the poem in which I alone can understand it.
I want people who never read poetry, which is most people, pick up a poem by me and feel the poetry power without feeling intimidation which is what most people feel when they read most poems published today. For me its that fine line between letting the imagination do the work, and the poem setting up the narrative to allow it by inviting a reader into it. I get great joy reading my poems to non poets who are scared by even the idea of it, and get them to feel something new, that wonderful way Aristotle put it- that poetry provides an ultimate truth that is found beyond the boundary of philosophy.
Best Mark
…………………...

Admittedly I have gone off the rails focusing on the meta or man as dreamer. Are we not dreamers first before descending into the material, deadening the faculty of imagination or as the I Ching says "a darkening of the light"
I want to bring the reader up and when I read I want to have the sensation of ascending I try to give what I like to receive which is to be brought into greater fluency and light
Have we abandoned our inner life to such an extent that when confronted with it we find our selves strangers to it; reinforcing and amplifying a kind of cognitive dissidence?
Are we in a sense a stranger to our selves having lost the lucidity of our magical youth
Do we see the world as vacant utilitarian stuff and other humans predictable lusterless cogs in a wheel like cued robots?
Witches Seers, Voodoons , Hermeticists, Kabbalists and Occultists of very stripe know and use objects as essential to their operations and craft because they have hidden meaning and power.
Has the life of fantastical creative cognition been sacrificed to inveterate congenital pragmatism?
"Beloved imagination, what I most like in you is your unsparing quality".
Andre Breton
To transgress is to process ones madness as opposed to the customary botched behaviors of repressive modalities we hide behind . It seems to me that poetry is a great ground for that exploration.
Perhaps Its a good thing for a reader to think about what the writer means, albeit a difficult pleasure as opposed to the instantaneous and facile modes of naming and claiming Reading towards the abstract can be a mystical experience Most people who read are shallow readers Shall I than aspire to be a shallow writer?
What surrealism (Detailed descriptive language unmoored from linear rationality) affords the writer like pure abstraction to the visual artist is a great opportunity to explore the musicality of language ie the musicality of form i.e. the energetic configurations of architypes.
Part of our craft that makes things crackle as you know well remains sound play ie the strategy of syllables ... Long vowels / short vowels...the length of words and sound of words in relationship to one another
As you know Mark to analyze the subtle abstraction of sounds i.e. words to the ear is just like music and like music although not wholly translatable has an undertow of non verbal meaning especially if exploited out side the linguistic necessity of linear prose like poems i.e. a device that most never use consciously and strategically or certainly to its fullest potential.
So when we say a poem is beautiful do we impart mean its those amazing tintinnabulating sounds that ****** with their musicality? Poems that do that well stand out to me.
Further I think we are in error when we confuse the realistic with the materialistic. It seems to me realism has magnitudinal underlying meta elements that need to be felt in poetry and to think other wise in my opinion would be a dull conceit
A good example is thought itself
When we speak our ideas thoughts impulses we have no real sense of where they emerge from The processes are so meta their incomprehensible even to neuro science and scientists have little if any understanding of consciousness or its meaning as far as I know
So perhaps the surrealist has a place of worth too; and that is to remind people of their inner life out side the cage of end product think and commodification. After all what is a life and what is a poem?
Best Z
Continue reading...
b e mccomb Sep 2022
albany ny 8/30/22
mvp arena
s pearl st
albany, ny
8/30/22

(to summarize how
we got to this point

i was in the
darkest year of my life
and in my pragmatism
self-inconsideration
i gave myself
an out

the only way i could
survive was to
tell myself it was
going to be over soon)

i’m screaming
the words into
currents
of noise

i should be
happy
still hearing the ringing
in my ears and
seeing flashing lights
in my eyes

(9/25/16
was the day
it was going
to end for me

concurrently
i discovered
a genre designed
for kids like me

spent hours
in full blown panic
not at the disco but
twitching on the floor
trying to drown it out
with fall out boy
nights that didn’t end until
dawn picking apart
twenty one pilots theories
in razor free showers

and then
my chemical romance
was back from the dead
10th anniversary album with
new tracks
coming 9/23/16)

things have changed
i’ve changed
and yet still
traumatically
dramatically
the same

”what’s the worst that i could say?
things are better if i stay?
so long and good night
so long and good night”

(and i realized
there was something
out there to
look forward to

maybe
just maybe
i make it through
just for now)

”we’ll carry on
we’ll carry on”

i did
and i made it
all the way to here
found a way to
scrape myself through
every lonely night

but in that
moment the
crushing weight
of my own
insignificance
caught up to me

i should have been
happy
to have made it
to here

but the only thought
in my mind
was that
if i hadn't
made it to here
this moment
in this sea of
misfits and margins
in this sweaty stadium
four hours from home

if i hadn't
carried on
nobody
would
have
noticed
my absence

i'm reduced to
a face in the crowd
twenty dollar bills
in a merch line
a scream in a stranger's
snapchat story

and the world doesn't
need me
one more person
to add to the chaos

i should have cried
happy tears
but instead
i began to regret
what makes me
strong
what got me
to this point

would it be better
if i had ended it?
would it be easier?
does it even matter
either way?
because i'm
beginning to think
it really doesn't

and i know
i made it this far
i have his hand
around my back
and don't cry
alone at night anymore

but in the cosmic
scheme of significance
(which i want there
to be and i want
to be in)
i just don't
think
i don't
know
if it matters enough

what's the worst that i could say?
are things better if i stay?

"so shut your eyes
kiss me goodbye
and sleep
just sleep
the hardest part
is letting go of your dreams"
copyright 9/5/22 by b. e. mccomb
#mcr #mychem #mychemicalromance #suicide
Continue reading...
MRR Oct 2013
Radiohead
"Fitter Happier"

"more productive
comfortable
not drinking too much
regular exercise at the gym (3 days a week)
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries
at ease
eating well (no more microwave dinners and saturated fats)
a patient better driver
a safer car (baby smiling in back seat)
sleeping well (no bad dreams)
no paranoia
careful to all animals (never washing spiders down the plughole)
keep in contact with old friends (enjoy a drink now and then)
will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in wall)
favours for favours
fond but not in love
charity standing orders
on sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants)
car wash (also on sundays)
no longer afraid of the dark
or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate
nothing so childish
at a better pace
slower and more calculated
no chance of escape
now self-employed
concerned (but powerless)
an empowered and informed member of society (pragmatism not idealism)
will not cry in public
less chance of illness
tires that grip in the wet (shot of baby strapped in back seat)
a good memory
still cries at a good film
still kisses with saliva
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick
that's driven into
frozen winter **** (the ability to laugh at weakness)
calm
fitter, healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics"

- A song by Radiohead. I did not write this.
Continue reading...
RAJ NANDY Nov 2017
ZEN PHILOSOPHY IN VERSE!
Dear Friends , this is an old poem of mine which was composed after I learnt that Richard Gere, one of my favourite Hollywood actors had become a Buddhist and believed in Zen Philosophy. So having read about Zen I composed this simple verse. Hope you like it. If you like it kindly re-post this poem. Thanks, - Raj.

                      ZEN PHILOSOPHY
With roots buried deep in soils of Ancient India,
And watered by the exotic blend of three different
cultures;
Reflecting the mysticism of India, the pragmatism
of the Confucian mind, and the Taoist’s love of
naturalness and spontaneity,
Buddhism bloomed and blossomed into an exotic
flower called 'Zen Philosophy'!

In 475 AD a pupil of Buddha called Bodhidharma
went to China.
There the Mahayana School of Buddhism mingled
with Chinese Taoism, which evolved into Chan
Philosophy!
'Chan ' derived from the Sanskrit  word 'dhyana',
which meant 'silent meditation',  -
Through which the Buddha attained enlightenment
and salvation!
Later, in 1200 AD this Chan philosophy travelled to
the shores of Japan,
Where 'Chan' got translated to 'Zen' by its many
followers and fans!
ZEN is the art of meditation to achieve inner awakening,
To gain intuitive knowledge, highlighting the inadequacy
of logical reasoning!
It therefore advocates the practice of 'Zazen' or 'sitting
meditation',
For acquiring inner awakening through silent
contemplation!

ZEN could be practiced in our daily life,
Without entering a hermitage, leaving behind your
family or wife!
'Gain the naturalness of your original true nature',
-  preaches the Zen Teacher through meditation,
'Rather than through mere faith and devotion,
which is contrary to Zen notion.'
'One must awaken to this present moment to feel
this life,
And not waste time in speculations of an ‘elusive
After-Life’.
The 'Enso' or the ‘circle’, is the Zen symbol which is
often deployed,
Symbolizing Enlightenment, Strength, the Universe,
and the Void!
With this 'expression of the moment ' the Zen Philosophy
starts,
And today the ‘Enso’ is also the symbol of Expressionist
Art!
Never ask the Zen Master 'What is Zen, When, or How? ' ,
For he will always tell you, - 'Zen Is The Instant Now'!
                                                      - Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

Mahayana in Sanskrit means 'Great Vehicle', and is the largest major tradition of Buddhism existing today. The other branch is called Hinayana, meaning the ‘Lesser Vehicle’.
Continue reading...
Melancholy of Innocence Jun 2019
So Don't Worry..


PART I
Let the world be
- against our LOVE
Let the society also be so
- against our LOVE
Let the laws, rules, regulations be
- against our LOVE
Let the religions, scriptures, gurus be
- against our LOVE
Let our friends, colleagues and
Family, relatives be
- against our LOVE
Let even YOU and me be
- against our LOVE
Let them be, Let us be..
Let everyone be
- against our LOVE
Yet it is NOT going to be
"The end of our LOVE"

PART II
Every "against" is just a gray smoke
Trying to pretend to be a blue sky
"They"- the one who are against LOVE
If they are eager to crucify Jesus
If they are eager to lynch Mansoor
If they are eager to poison Meera
If they are eager to throw LOVERz
In the pyre of FIRE
Remember this...
The air around us is "LOVE"
The whole world shall burn
In the grief of two LOVERz flames
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"

PART III
We all know, we all know
That the enemies of LOVE are many
They are educated, smart, intelligent
Powerful, leaders and identity groups etc.
Those who can reason, argue & debate,
Rationalize with practicality & pragmatism
But they do not even have a heart
To feel the trueness & purity of our LOVE
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"

PART IV
What comes out of our LOVE
Is the most Powerful & Almighty NATURE

LOVE in my heart - is not ruled by anyone
LOVE in YOUR heart - is not ruled by anyone
LOVE in our heart - is "OUR" LOVE
It is not even ruled by us
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"

PART V
Today those who pretend to be masters
Today those who pretend to be leaders
Today those who pretend to be gurus
Those who pretend to "I know it ALL"
They won't be here tomorrow to live
They are only passengers of life
Traveling illegally without tickets
Because they are living without LOVE
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"

PART VI
Do not forget, Do not forget
LOVE has taken centuries
It has taken ages
From the garden of Eden
Where Adam - Eve ate the apple
Since Romeo-Zuliet died
When Layla-Majnun wailed in longing
LOVERz have poured their breathe
Into every living thing on earth
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"

PART VII
The breath you take is of LOVE
The breath I take is of LOVE
The breath the whole world takes is of LOVE
Who are we to say "YES" and "NO" to LOVE?
LOVE does not even take our permissions
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"

PART VIII
LOVE is not even this moment "NOW"
LOVE is not a slave of any constitution
LOVE can't be imprisoned in any identities:
Religious, regions, gender, caste,
Class, society, color, race, age etc.
LOVE is not owned by anyone
LOVE is not even owned by LOVERz
So don't worry, it is not going to be
"The end of our LOVE"





Continue reading...
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
χαρoν walking on valentine's day
aged six, got hit by a swing,
                                 rushed to hospital,
                      now have a kippah-scar
     when the monk resides...

it just gets boring after a while, when too many people try
to **** you, and there's no Golgotha  theatre to make
all the necessary requests for kneeling worshippers...
   well...
you soon realise that you sometimes
get to worship a god by drinking
a glass of water...
   and with that argument: ex nihil...
i thought that black holes were nothing,
but apparently they're not
nothing after all...
i have no concept of nothing,
i see too many things...
  nothing is harder to conceptualise than
a deity,
      but this is the boring bit,
i mean: religiousness has to involve
a group of people,
a communal meaning...
being given this multi-diadem lottery
ticket and then asking the right question
is not really the only approach,
    i guess walking past a few evergreen shrubs
   and sticking your nose into them
(i wish i stashed my entire head in them)
     to get the scent...
  atmosphere, and how there's a need for
scent,
    lavendar, evergreen shrubs...
     and it has been valentine's day, right?
all the urban people must have been busy
under the guise of the cupid called cliché...
in local news:
   passing an indian restaurant with five beers
i spotted only 2 couples... only *2 couples
celebrating the whole point of having
anniversaries and days that could be considered
   worth having...
i'd feel happier if Hemingway didn't commit
suicide...
          but i'm happy that he invented
the cocktail: death in the afternoon...
a shot of absinthe in a champagne flute...
    tried it once, knocked me out straight...
   but there is something, really bugging me,
i'd love to have had an honest relationship
with women, i.e. the honesty concerning money...
just talking about it...
           it's no wonder we were given
toys as children and sometimes having to share
them...
             i never had an honest conversation
with a woman about money,
count prostitutes out of it...
no money at the beginning of a conversation:
no honey...
       maybe that's why it is so complicated
about talking about money,
how it: suddenly "kills" the romance...
  i can think of better ways of killing
a romance... e.g. reading heidegger's
"aphorism" no. 159...
   that's really killing it...
                money and romance...
no money and a familial affair of tribalism...
     i'd like to meet a few Aztec
and ask them why they kept so much
useless mineral resource until
the European Smaug came...
  and settled...
   and why the schizophrenia of the american
content is english up north, spanish down south...
ok... "exactness": a bit of french land and english
up north, a large chunk of portugese and spanish
down south...
    i left the house today hearing
the most amazing conversation between a man
and a woman... they were talking about money...
and how they'd juggle the accounts
  and pay for the roof...
               it was so nice hearing a man and a woman
talking about money without either
pretending to be a thief, and the other a king
or queen...
             when two people meet god is hardly
the difficulty to be managed,
    people can enter relationships from a variety
of backgrounds, one kneels periodically every
sunday, the other jokes about it...
  but money is the hardest obstacle to synchronise
between two people...
   it would have been nice to have written that
sort of symphony with someone...
     but when you're in a relationship with a woman
and there's a money "issue"?
    that's harder than keeping a dialectical argument
solo about god...
     from an early age i was told that money
was the root of all evil, that it displaced people,
that it transvaluated all values...
   well... it sorta did,
let's try toi engage atheists in talking about
the concept of money, past all economic theories
like past all theological theories...
  it would be easier to talk to them
about that thing that never seems to disappear
then about a deity...
question is: at what point will the argument
become considered too "infantile"?
   when we consider money to be a concept
that could be translated as an element akin to earth
and the earthquake of the great depression in the 1930s
that no one could prevent?
  or the Amazonian offshoots of the last remaining
tribes without the concept walking
into a house?
     and i thought: when was the last time people
used hard cash, and didn't buy on credit
and didn't turn gold in plastic?
            fervently, i believe that money had a real
place in the world, i honestly do,
even though i abhorred wearing rings
or necklaces, and that i didn't have the capacity
in me to not say: red is red, blue is blue...
     a chicken is worth more to me than a slab of gold...
   and this ties in with the ancient pagan practice
of paying the ferryman across the Styx,
  χαρoν / καρoν - (depending how you like to say it,
****! a choice! quick! make it!)
       how they placed two coins on the burial body,
nowhere else than on the eyes,
    not in their hands... on their eyes...
i just think there's more to it than the myth of the Styx,
even though i like the myth, i like the storytelling
aspect of it... something we could have engaged with,
in those days, when people reached old age,
they discovered philosophy, and mythology,
that's what they gave us,
   now... oh! it hurts!
           just talk of ailments...
  most people living to old age would have made more
sense having lived in ancient times,
when the really strong lived to old age
and could invent philosophy and a timescale
anti, completely anti-scientific, i.e. mythological...
   and that's the sad truth...
it's almost as if the young these days have to take
to the reins, and utter some very unfathomable stances...
so if they didn't place the coins for χαρoν in their hands
(as money is usually passed that way) - why
place them on the eyes, if not merely to state:
    let us see beyond the concept of money
in the afterlife...
                i can't see a reason for it...
                            that's what the ancients said,
when the concept of money was precious,
akin to diamonds, gold...
                        i think the concept is exhausting itself...
why do so many people fall into dept,
         they're hardly dealing with hard-money,
in urban areas i mean, at the high-end of society...
gone is the joke: how was copper wire invented?
two scots pulling a penny apart...
       at what point does this all become: delusional?
infantile?
              even as Ezra pointed out: usury...
or the fake exponential quality of being lent this
abstract thing that later translates into
concrete things like: a baker provides bread
in a supermarket... a butcher some meat...
  the apple farmer apples... and civilisation is built...
nothing familial being established...
and how the concept of family is now abhorred...
and how we only created money to give no
better idea of procreation... but the objective-unconscious
focus on mere numbers... being as they are...
     without money there would be no
sad story... but there wouldn't be this number
of us...
      i don't know at what precise point
i'm going to feed the seven pages of civiliation
(they were once called the cardinal sins) -
   how can i feel pride for this fact? how can i drop
into a cest pit of gluttony?
     oddly enough: drinking excessive is by comparison
a virtue... but it can rarely involve a lot
of people... oh look... here comes the pompous cannabis
crowd... the the m.d.m.a. freaks...
    poncy buggers...
        i have for that matter,
an experience of driving in a fiat 126 P,
and a ford mondeo, and a fiat cinquecento,
one of them would fit into a cadillac, no problem,
there! yonder! america and its size-complex!
just hearing a man and woman talking about
money so frankly, ah...
  romeo and juliet and *******...
            if you can be honest about money,
you sorta never have this desire to be dishonest
in the emotional life...
            and cheat, e.g.,
money isn't exactly a nice topic on the ground,
in the trenches of life... it's hardly an economic theory
for the highbrow talks at university...
   but at least both parties are agreed that
money is real, and like a philosopher's stone,
   it turns all subjects into a tapeworm of needs...
  take a penny and with your index and thumb press
it against every single thing in the whole wide world...
   like a magic wand, it changes every single thing
into, that common motto: beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
or a flea market: one man's clutter, another's treasure trove.
nietzsche didn't write the transvaluation of all values
because it would have been
   a book, with only one word in it:
                                                         money.
i know he's dead and there are many biographies,
but all of them are wrong,
  it wasn't the end of his relantionship with
   lou salomé, how she ran off after the mengage troi
ended with Rée... she ran off with Rilke after that,
and god knows who else...
    it just so happens that i'll state his motto:
poets act shamelessly toward their experiences...
they exploit them...
    he did see a *******, and so did i...
eventually prostitutes are like dentists or doctors...
dealing with the heart bit...
          what broke Nietzsche was the book title...
and the one word answer -
all the rest of it is *******...
                    yes: because it's such an infantile
   consideration to understand the basics of our lives.

so considering the beginning that's completely
unrelated to the end...
    people started, really, really boring me...
               in that they made so many attempts to get
rid off me... and that i'm still here...
  and within the groundwork of the only
pragmatism left in me... laughing at them.
Continue reading...
John McCafferty Mar 2020
Pragmatism
Fear can cloud the vision of our fate
Divert attention of a state
Is it wrong to live lethargically
waiting for the bell to be rung
later to be hung

If a virus is afoot
how bad can things become
Should you just amble along
or strategise what's wrong
on how to overcome
Can we help ourselves
to be the change
with a climate in dismay

For pessimism is a necessary
self defence mechanism
Can we directly effect
our surroundings with intent
and elevate our kind
Or are we here to observe
learn and bide our time
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
#fear #divert #live #virus #overcome #climate #defence #elevate #observe
Continue reading...
Benjamin James Dec 2012
There's Nothing Civil About A Spanish War
We have dignity, right?
Since the 1600's we've thought with minds of reason
Anselm of Canterbury created pragmatism
Out of the most sacred and holy of things
And since then our rationalism has worn suits.
War is for the common, the petty.
Let the east quarters bury themselves in poverty
Leave them to their primitive ways
I want my son's to return
They'll be studying the Romantics in the Fall
We have no need for war
I want my daughters to come back to their homes
Instead of manufacturing arms to fight
These unreasonable beasts
We have no need for war.
Let the Calvary of America flex its powered machines
We are civilized.
Poster Childs for the post modern
With the intention to overtake
Our own philospohy, that indicates-
(with the raise of a brow, a tip of the head)
That -
We have no need for war.
Continue reading...
Mark Lecuona Jan 2015
How Should I Believe?
Should I believe in idealism
Or pragmatism?
Should I die fighting
Or live compromising?
Is it what I am willing to do
Or how I'm judging you?
Is it how I choose to live
Or how I expect others to give?
#hypocrisy
Continue reading...
AP Beckstead 2014 Jan 2014
How Can We Know?
I often find that the people I know are polarized,
they range from,
positive to negative,
you have your optimists,
your idealists,
your cynics,
your nihilists,
and oddly enough,
everyone else.

Optimists believe in Hamilton's Principle,
but they tailor it to our own fabric,
they believe that for some unknown reason,
the current situation is the optimal one,
everything will be alright,
que sera sera,
carpe diem.

Idealists believe in truth,
they understand what is ideal,
and what is not,
they attempt to apply such principles to the observed world,
and more often than not,
they fail,
but that's alright,
they tried their best.

Cynics view the world as it is,
they observe and make rational judgement,
realism at its finest,
a time tested trait,
pragmatism has served them well.

Nihilists believe that life is without intrinsic meaning,
there is nothing that cannot be observed,
a craft of existentialist theory,
they assert that morality is a figment of mankind's imagination,
and for all we know,
they could be right.

And finally we have the remainder,
those of us we have no idea what we believe,
no path traced in the sand,
no trail blazed in the years prior,
and sometimes I think that perhaps this group is right,
there are limits to human understanding,
and so I ask,
how can we know,
oh,
how can we know?
A.P. Beckstead (2014)
Continue reading...
Butch Decatoria Oct 2018
How Old By Your Hands.
Church Lady Dearest

Says she’s grown old

“Silver’s not so foxy”

Says she is quite practical

Serious with her moonlight moxy

Now no use

For Face-off make-up or

Delusions of grand magic

Says she

Don’t worry—with age comes

Pragmatism, Sister Agnus Wisdom

Sure bound to

Have fractures / cracks

With such antique

Foundation…

Old lady Golden Goose

Giant wisdom, beanstalk limbs

Sullen dreary sunken

Lost princess whims

Thoughts like her hair frosted,

Thinning…

Says she has nothing to whisper,

Sweetly cannot hide

A great old oak’s age rings

Inside

There’s no use for abusive rouge

Mirage of glossy lips kissy

Thing in headlights

Make up with oneself, forgive, and confide

Besides

because

Your hands tell your aches & true age

Church Lady just smiles…
Continue reading...
Pearson Bolt Feb 2016
caucus
pasty white ghosts haunt
the corpse blue cornfields of Iowa
whispering wisps of smoke
shimmering shadows of the past
setting the pace for the rat race
that is the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election

senators billionaires doctors
frauds liars fools
campaigning for selection in an
archaic and outdated
form of governance

witness the spectacle
the orgastic worship
of solipsistic oligarchs
bloated by their own
sycophantic rhetoric

it's just another form
of all-American
entertainment

each orator's charismatic adage
froths forth from a
throat like a grave
pragmatism throttles hope
as we stoke the fires of
self-indulgence and neglect
the fact that we acquiesced
as another deceiver stole votes

we're choking on placebo pills
every ballot cast is another act of apathy
escapism pleading vainly for a
savior to rescue our sick society but
these hands didn't evolve so we could
collect a representative to lead us
blindly into one fiasco after another

these fingers penned  
humanity's symphonies and
these calloused palms have
toiled for years under an apathetic sun
we learned to make love
using our fingertips and
with these fists
we could chart a new path
but only if we raise them in
defiance

our only chance is leaderless resistance
"Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and ****** respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind."
- George Orwell
#cruz #president #sanders #iowa #election #vote #primary #trump #clinton #caucus
Continue reading...
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
example of the internet (lao che's dżin / jinn / joe rogan & neil degrasse)
and i'm watching this couple, this: bromance...
  and i'm wondering when the time
comes that the other tells
the former: you can't talk
physics wearing a cowboy hat,
wasn't the 20th century the time
they lost habitual need to cover their heads?
monks shaving, the kippah...
indians and the Martian act of scalping,
my donning a beard and fiddling
with it like payots / sidelocks...
can this... cowboy talk seriously to me
about what is and what isn't a stance
on pragmatism?
      let's just say, that being attired
with so many scientific facts, moon lading
and all that, i'd be most perfectly sound
in stating such facts, such attire,
without looking, rather ridiculous...
   it's nice that someone can go to the moon,
and in having this susbjecitivty enclosed in them,
and how that won't translate into something
i might share... how i will never experience
someone else's subjectivity, and how that is
the sole basis for having objective opinions...
but you have to admit that donning a cowboy
hat is more ridiculous than putting on a sock
or a shoe...
                       and then talking
looking like that genius gremlin...
    men age, they enforce being boring,
they're too nostalgic, they love to re- re-
  a care for st. pete... hey! pedro! what do women do?
they're just become weird...
   like that wasn't the case to begin with...
love is... whether expressed by a pensioner
or a teen... a bit... mmm... whatever.
          it just gives me the idea of being
a host of gnats when people have to dress themselves
with these "serious" facts... and then they later
talk donning cowboy hats and boots...
  who's the serious monkey to be given
a radio show? who the serious bobo?
          even i know, given the phonos,
that dżin is an orthographic transgression...
        dzin would suffice...
yes, you've been to the moon, that's nice...
this is where you deviate from telling other
people to keep it to themselves...
              i'd prefer to hear more about the brothers
Grimm sound asleep, than hear of american astronauts...
but yeah, thanks for the invite,
      so few people care or want to be astronauts,
the emeritus americans and the emeritus russias
ego-tripping is so, so, so so boring...
       and i'm sorta in the custard of it taking place...
ethnicity and abstract identities of succumbing to
nationhood... cut it open... dżin... it's also called
the fake graphemes of sh and sz and dz ch and cz...
those are graphemes...
            there's a reason you don't **** around
invoking too much distinction in the realm of grapheme...
they really could have just said: dzin....
or jinn... or aladin drinking gin.
    sure, they call them aesthetic bits and bobs,
when in fact they are nor aesthetic in a + way,
they're chiral, hardly natural,
gin             jinn              joke                              egg...
   gaug                                    chase,
      glee jeer... game, jam, gammon,
     jammy... gaming... the near proximity!
they're so close!
           - i sniff... (snout noises)... an existence of a graphame...
     if one was to listen to humans talking,
one could clearly see they are bound to cheat...
they have too many symbols for the sounds they make...
and for the deviations in making sounds
they ******* chiral twins of the same sound...
and then sometimes deviate from it...
ensuring that Latin graphemes, those linguistic siamese
rule the river of diacritical mark,
suffocating them, until the river becomes an
artificial lake...
            when diacritical marks was given to
the "deuteronomy", (e) missed in the original...
sometimes spelling mistakes can reveal much more
than the words themselves...
          the 2nd e... for the te-,
t-ah, tao...
                 i can feel winter ending,
i can feel the loss of limbo, fatigue,
               or what comes as spring, namely insomnia,
increased productivity,
but such that diacritical marks were the heavenly
based descents to mark distinct syllables,
  like hailed original use of pucntuation marks,
but more within every word, than among words
in sentences...
   i could just as well call for a genocide of linguists...
i just don't see why they need to
complicate the matters with some wacky
anti-copernican alphabet
akin to writing hope, (consciousness),
[hohp] (american, spaghetti, nasal
akin to echo: oompf! ergo subconscious:
insinuation, panicky, puppets and the empire),
/həʊp/ (british, origin, ergo unconscious) -
why do we need this linguistic alphabet?
you can reach a perfect argument
using the same language, with one
that has adopted the use of diacritical marks
akin to punctuation marks...
and have the only avaliable canvas that
english is... there really should be a russian
counterpart of me dealing with how the greeks
are so paranoid in over-using diacritical marks,
like me, but speaking russian and looking at greek
and nodding, insinuating the word
on a broken record: aha, aha, aha.
it would be nice to talk about people,
but then i graduated from the optometric school
of having to look at migrating electrons in
organic chemistry... i think i'm relaxed these days...
so outside the failed translation gimmick
of chemistry, mainly german, mainly
hyphen orientated CH3-CH2-OH (alcohol, numbers in
subscript) - ****... looking at that "fingerprint",
why is my vision of the world so pink?
you try to teach the anglo-saxons that they're saxons
again, and not orientated around building an empire,
imagine teaching them the proper way to be
saxon, that, some words, like german,
desire, complexpunctuationstandards.
there you go, a real life example, let's see you cut that
word open and extract a heart,
  and a lecture on having a heart,
    let's wait for Frankenstein's monster to groan
into the vacuum, and the no actual vacuum,
but merely the night.
- yes, a hyphen at a beginning of a sentence plateau
almost means a stance to take to paragraph;
even though it shouldn't exist, as a p.s.,
***** into existence by, nothing more than a bias
to endorse whims, cravats, Monet,
and tantrum fits of little girls that dreamed
of being princesses... but instead became ******;
yes, those working parts of you
                           that are quiet, edible.
to write, and see, rather than write, and hear;
that sentence will not actually require
the existential ambiguity of the zoo,
of the enclosure of "     "...
                    i look at existentialists as i might look
at zoologists... prison guards...
      pontius pilates.
Continue reading...
Nothing Personal Mar 2012
Unnamed
Why don't I meet those students?
I can be a teacher
I am a teacher
not teaching English in a community college
or NYC for that matter
yet a teacher
and I have Freudian asymmetries
I mean I am hung up on women
on old world literature
on promiscuity , racial mixing
tense ****** moments.
I am also quite frank
to myself, to my sensibilities
my self centered world.

I do have students
who seem to be interested in
chitchats outside class
those evening walks grabbing coffee somewhere
learning a thing or two
about life, men.
I mean, their chief complain
they have dated boys
missing pseudo-intellectuals
& everyday enactment of 'Oedipus Complex' in reverse.

I see compelling eyes,
provocative bodies,
keen to learn, waste and start from scratch
yet I don't meet those girls
who would rip apart my three year old marriage
keep me pseudo-happy for the time
have *** in claustrophobic venues in unknown hours of the day
make me quit jobs, sanity and pragmatism
marginalize me to despair and defacement
to
inevitably break up with me
so that I can write a book or two about it
Random House may be interested
and I would have to turn forty,
without a single care in this whole, wide world
Continue reading...
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
yearning for soul ᚾᛟᚱᛋ / complicating Mondrian
it became clear as day... i knew this was coming,
the day when i brushed aside all the science,
the dogma, and said nothing of a big bang
fancy, but to keep me inside it rather than,
outside of it: whatever it was that imploded...
if the **** thing didn't implode why all this
gesture two describe it as an explosion, and give way
to phenomena? they're not imploding into
singled out individuals...
   ah, **** this boring scientific crap,
the rubber-band of me learning chemistry at university
had to snap at some point... it had to...
i also decided that the term big bang is really
ugly... given humanity and the care for aesthetic,
whether inner or outer, the big bang has no
impetus to succumb to it if your mind is
even remotely interested in science,
     i'd call it the imploded onomatopoeia...
i can't write a cat's meow or a dog's bark or a crows
croak to perfection, words have
no ~ markings attached to them,
which shows you how shallow existentialism
is with its lack of symbols, only the ditto,
and that's never really explained, for what i've
read it's a stylistic inclusion akin to italics...
no existentialist expresses whether a dittoed word
is ambiguity, or whether it's a loan word,
like a Pole might loan the word weekened
and speak the foreign word in his native tongue:
as if we invented it...
  Poles do that, a lot... i mean: it's easier to loan
foreign words than create your own...
   i call this an T. Edison stagnation...
the moment you start loaning words,
is the moment you're left with about two famous
Poles in the history of mankind,
and even that's disputed, since the Germans
want Copernicus, and the French want Chopin...
you basically become unimaginative, not firm,
loose, bubbly, lard...
    that sort of language encoding can belong
among merchants, but look how the former
mechant of Mecca has become strict,
where's the lingua franco?
             i know it's english, dummy,
  but i mean: why use so many loan words in your
own ethnic tongue, so blatantly,
    try to tell an englishman to use
    the german word zeitgeist with as much
of a populist zeal as a Pole who incorporated
the english word weekend, it's not going to happen...
thankfully the english know they're of germanic
descent for the most part,
    and partly norse, and celt... and roman...
****! what a brothel, you get all kinds here,
anglo-slavs and afro-saxons to boot these days...
magic... the ******* 60s were true, after all.
  but it's the puritanism in me regarding language,
well, given that Poles have become almost
akin to Jews in Europe, given the history...
oh look, the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth,
ah crap, look, it's gone, no, wait, it's up and running
once again... no wait... they joined the E.U.
when papa essex and mama normandy said:
we're out! dumb chocolatiers, it was bound to
be too sweet, too true... too pointless to continue...
faking what the Mayflower people did "across the pond".
and it's almost fun learning how
the central european commonwealth was based
on the fact that: only a foreign ruler can claim
a crown over the geography that once spanned
from the baltic to the black sea...
yeah, and i am ethnically bound to talk about it
without having to: i don't even know the polish
anthem, the english one? it's the easiest
in the world, done in under a minute...
     god save our gracious king,
something something... something something...
  when i became naturalised as a "citizen" i think
i sang it... no, wait... i didn't...
    just like i didn't accept the catholic bureucracy...
i should have a tetranoun / "grammaton" /
tetrakilogram name in the paperwork,
what, catholic and not baptised, and not chosing
another name for yourself at the ceremony
involving the purple bishop?
   well, that's the first joke i spotted with what i later
realised as the Hebrew divinity, and how
i wouldn't desecrate the principle...
       but it's not even about that!
     it could well be about the 2015 film
fathers and daughters, and how they say
novels take years to write, edit, i say: vulgarity
is necessary, as are conjunctions,
     and as is phlegm...
                               but it's not even about that,
the sunday times magazines...
the style magazine on purpose, the dating columns
are going off-print! i can't believe it!
         what am i going to be reading from that magazine
on a sunday?
   i did once say (keeping up with the goldfish,
scatter brain, short-memory span, therefore telegram
poetry, many punctuation marks,
disorientating, punctual, but disorientating,
a *******-base on purpose,
i don't think many people will like it; good):
it would be nice to see a journalistic sabbath,
yes, a media sabbath, after all Monday newspapers
are so thin! anorexic news... that's Monday,
people have been lazing too much on sunday,
actually reading every single page that a monday
newspaper, just makes no sense!

and yes, the very point of enforced interludes
is that you might find yourself in the scottish
highlands looking at a waterfall, for example
the above is an uninterrupted waterfall,
and then gaze into the void of a sea not too far away...
and looking at that sea, you can see the most
perfect interruption...
    the romance died when science explained
the mystery of hearing the sea in a seashell deep inland...
there should be taboo subjects, taboo topics that
are better explained by love,
not this omnipotent dissection method,
just saying...
   how philosophers will call it abstract
and a poet will call it metaphor...
   given that both are not equipped to the application
of any sort of reality, or dare i say a schism from
it, akin to calling the two approaches
a realism, or some quasi or pseudo sort.
i can call democracy for all its wants to be the most
perfect consolidation of man under the rule
of man, but then a tornado comes or a tsunami
and all of man's efforts to rule himself crumble
into disaster... and how rare to see it when
discussed in philosophical theory,
    democracy as an abstract, is also a metaphor,
ob-, prefix denoting away from:
and then the suffix -tract... well, i was thinking of
a road... the less trodden track...
        apparently it means an area...
                democracy as nothing but a cancerous growth,
it spreads to almost every cavity where people
are content with an alternative political establishment,
for they like the basis for the ***** that
made it to the egg and beat all the other ***** that
would otherwise make it into a tissue or into a ******...
thankfully metaphor, i.e.: something not literally
applicable has the potent of not being abstract,
abstract, i.e.: working from the heights of ideal
to the depths of an idea, that has to compete with
the many narratives that later allow the idea to resurface
as a lightbulb...
                    these two cruxes are very much akin,
philosophy says abstract! poetry says: metaphor.
keeping in mind, i took to poetry like a mozart to a piano,
i never actually intended to say these things,
i merely envisioned conducting a philharmonic orchestra
for deaf people...  oh sure, this wasn't supposed
to be a one-man show, a monologue,
i never intended to say these things...
i wrote these poems in mind of conducting an orchestra,
which is a useful method of creating an implosion,
which goes back to, that dread, the bing bang...
    ever hear a ******* bang in vacuum?
     i wrote these "poems" so that someone who sounds
like a violin might play the violin parts,
someone that sounds like a clarinet might play
the clarinet parts... and if sound has a colour,
it would be a ****** colour when encoded for the eyes to see,
akin to something being monochromatic,
therefore this mono-nausea...
  i write the same encoded sounds for someone
playing either violin, piano, clarinet or harp...
  let's also add in sax...
           but that couldn't make it onto the orchestral palette...
what a bollocking, either 4 beers and
the expected weak bladder or constipation...
it was never to be a soloist performance,
which is why it imploded,
      why or precisely how i was not writing this
for myself, for myself to speak these words...
  tad too empathetic concerning what's universally
human, i.e. a condition of some sort?
which is how i react when one of my favourite
columns from the journalistic columns gets the schtick...
and is out-grown...
               out-dated, who would have thought that
a dating column could allow two lonely hearts so much
space to later pull them apart...
     neither cosmo nor dolly have made it
     to a love brick, that sits firm at the base of the pyramid...
which is sad how the dating scene will go on,
and they will go on, dating...
monday shuffle, tuesday shuffle, wednesday shuffle
(catch the pop ref. point to a song, we all boogie
down with the groovy kids once in a while,
basically a music video that was actually a advert
for some sort of liquid, root beer? ginger beer?
i know, i know: i scratch your back, you scratch mine).

i might call this: what happens with interludes,
or quiet simply: interludes.

i was never into writing something akin to an Ikea
manual of putting up a cupboard,
Ikea has probably the best library for self-help,
a, b, c, d, e... a few screws, a few wooden bits,
and something resembling corkscrew...
the only self-help there is, i.e. put a cupboard together,
by yourself. is there any other self-help manual
that can beat the Ikea manuals? i don't think so.

and how happy can a man be, having lost
the ability to drink perfumes (i.e. whiskey) and turn to
miss стандарт, with such jovial missing or
never had expectations?
   i guess, quiet easily, it's there, a bottle,
with a little story on the label,
   once upon a time (in 1894 to be exact),
  dmitry mendeleev received a decree (do it
or i **** you, harasho?) from the tsar...
to create the imperial standard (i.e. triple filter,
akin to the imperial standard of measuring
in inches rather than in millimetres,
the French, who apparently took forever to create
the concept of 0 from O... eat a doughnut,
much easier)...
   and i never thought i'd say that ***** is more
appealing to my natural ingestion of
Dionysus' blood...
     the more i think of it, i do think that writing
can become akin to painting,
it just doesn't have to be rigid, scientific,
order-prone... it can reach the levels of chaos as
easily as it can become dull and a shopping list...
   many people can't see writing as painting
in the same way that language has many more
function of applicable needs in other profession...
read a poem to a surgeon during an operation,
he needs language as rigid as a mountain
that said: no avalanches are bound to me!
     the reason why novels take years to complete
is the over-rule of science in the humanities,
i don't understand why poetry has to be bred for a
scientific pragmatism, that it apparently does work,
akin to soap, or bleach...
          science can poke it's crazy head in every direction
it wants, usually the interchange of words:
                 bang ******* hole (b.b.b.b.) /
   howlin' wolf's backdoor man / **** -
but science has become a dog, barking up the wrong tree...
the money's are down... houston, we have a [problem!
they're down... they're walking upright,
they lost the joys of having a tail and swinging from
tree to tree, and if an abstract parasite akin to cancer
doesn't **** them... your argument will surely be the one
thing that will... eventually.
    
and i did mention runes, didn't i?
   well... if writing can be anything like painting,
it can only ingest ******* as foundation,
  no shapes, no cubism, no definite "things"
(for lack of a better name)...
        just spontaneity... and hazard, and chaos...
just like life evidently seems to be bound to
reveal itself as guarding against nothing...
well... i appreciate the runes...
not in an ****-Satanic cult sort of status,
i just appreciate them because the Slavs didn't leave
any original phonetic code...
     which is why Poland is still so ****** catholic,
minus the Pope? add the proper post-script to communism?
it might have been the next Russia with its oligrachs,
minus the gas pipes and all those resources
people boast about, but who weren't originally
bound to inherit, like Arabs and oil...
   you need practical nations using the resource,
western nations, overly-bureucratic nations that
make a man "do a job" licking envelopes and shooting
ink into fountain pens...
         just saying...
hard to be lazy, hard to be mystic, harder still being
a monk... wait and see how these peeps talk when
they retire... it's hard being lazy, "lazy"...
        now i see heidegger's concept of dasein
as the real problem of happening, how things necessarily
and subsequently, unnecessarily happen...
then i look the alien remnants of nomadic tribes of
the Amazon and realise: they're still here,
but nothing's happened.
or that's how i take a break from that german's ponderings,
and loosen into some sort of stroll...
       just about the right time,
when poetry stops talking about sounds,
and takes to complicating modern painting,
akin to working on complicating a square,
  the most famous to be worth complicating (rather
than contemplating) would be piet Mondrian...
   if you ever find the spare time:
i'll be in the space that tries to revive the runes
under no ******* ᛋᛋ...
to be honest, i'd like to refine several runes...
given that the non-diacritical latin is largely lost to
the virtual world...
what runes would i refine?
   ᚲ (k / c) at least make it larger, like <,
ᛃ (j), i'd probably just call is skew, i.e. /,
ᛝ would remain and ᛜ would be lost
to denote the grapheme ŋ (i.e. njae) -
and that's because i'm either itchy, or stitching up
a carpenter's worth of lack of cruve,
   like the arabic alphabet is curved twice-over
and the woman are clad in shadow and ninja and niqab...
just like runes once were, hiding curves,
or at least the men overly defensive of their woman...
once the latin curves were introduced...
well: there came the mini-skirt, and the mini-couper car.

who needs a big bang origin, when you can have all
of this? if i kept that much dynamite in my head
i'd be seen wearing hawaiian shirts short-sleaves
and drooling over porridge at breakfast...
        and my... when was it such a sin to drink
***** and listen to the blues?
Continue reading...
akr Aug 2011
Dear Anne
Given a moonless sky
there was once a time
we could hold words in the mind
far as the line of horizon.

The problem with pragmatism
(aside from self-loathing)
is that no one sings of it.

Of spring: it is not that the flowers crouch on
with an aperture already dialled to metabolize
a portion of the sun, and die,--
it is not that all of this unfolds as scripture.

We live in a web of connections.
For Hume, the sun might not rise.
The flowers will come.
Continue reading...
Mahima Gupta Feb 2014
Fade
Beginning to remember
How it had just started
Now it's gone
I was gone for two weeks
And the river is now frozen
It was an inchoate group
Laying the bricks
One by one
But they departed so soon
Like the ignoramus men on the sidewalks
Herding like sheep to make a living
Like some old fat lady sitting by her children
With a half filled cup of happiness
Afraid of losing herself
Like those water drops on cold winter mornings
Forcing life to stay torpid
Pragmatism collapsed into my veins and
I heard the cat door slam and immediately looked at the clock
It was dead
Continue reading...
James Ciriaco Nov 2011
Roach Hour
I wanted to call you--
in the wee hour, when only
      the roach stirs, or
      the cat light-stepping
across
some unseen shadow--
my soft quick patter
      there was no choice, what's
      one rushed goodbye
there would have been a fight
let's be mature
      about this--

            I want to say this
pragmatism is humiliating
it hurts the heart
      a little
a man would hang
on the last word
from such lips--
      but I didn't
call, you might be sleeping
      it's hard for you
      to sleep on
warm nights like this.

Instead
I sit alone quietly
watching my own shadow
      indistinct, that
dark second guess of me
thoughts of care and cowardice--
a fine bright line
      of morning
            falls
there on the floor, from which
each moment clearer and more fierce
the insects flee.
Continue reading...

— The End —