A universe can contort

so to mistakes?...
ah though a king wouldn't profess
rather its a a date with music,
a cool hoagie, for now I've returned

Common cold theoretically a disease
waiting to happen in every champion
Huhn!- it's but a nasty charming maddened *******?

Vision body sound mass coalesce

Traipsed able as a cat yet seeking
shields for the wind/ a right veering
glance a hawk marking the terrain
each stand as today they might any other
but one claims power and the body enables
a triple folded humility, presumptions
and right of fastidious delight

To punish as scouts and predators or vermin and bats?!
Is that what the universe allows of us?
Or is that simply hope?... through meaning and
power through adamant or daunted claims of eminent domain
To think after all that!

Couldn't we simply call somebody
and advocate or fume about
the self or whom was treated so badly?

Verses harm and being handed to killers
The rage and  the atmosphere of discontent,
it  has left... maybe nothing

Granted it all seems very artsy but its not as if
asking a keen bunch of girls to join the rack
and honor a trench of bodies tortured for a week
in chains not to mention dirt

dirt

Dirt kicked around mixing earth and motion
against fulcrums of weather through time
The green, as with thought thus the land
is grass or a leaf... the slipper that  is now
pressed to cross the done well to brazen
excellence becomes sweat and toil window to  soil

These are the challenges of a universe and
yet the thoughts amazed ""subsequently""
arrive as though dress rehearsed
with a resonating transcendence

I inquire drilling in the home of the martyrs
Taken away to the home of the owners
Hate a carriage always wrought with hope yet still evil marriage
The most likeness, spindles as spines with metal
With a pentagram made of metal
Question not the vow

All sing out

Do you feel as if you know...
Where are the deathly priests and virgins?
Or where  all the ****** go?
Forever toggle the pain, put ring on the lamb, bestow
Endure the steel night as the **** hits the fan
Living now question the vow

Together we all sing out

Church forms the dust and blood and flesh
Yet the rust of demon's blood trickles,
Visceral onto the bust - mash

Seeing people cry out in vain

They fear or there is simply no God
The beginning awaits the end

Hear the choirs and madrigals sing out

Entire families slain and desperation
Infernals end and...  Imhotep's rules of the law?
Sit down let the show begin
And all coerced in meek prayers of sound
Turn to decorum of evil and you're precisely
where evil lays cloys with what its found
All bodies spirits and thoughts twist to the ground
Now are divinities- us,
All whom agree upon all that has to be seen, the afore
More mistletoe adorning more wreaths for doors bestowing
As everyone gathers about and..

All sing out!

Nothing but fear here, where all humans are under.
Whose looking proud, proper and past, you. The ****** at the park.
Exposed simplicity, all suited up,- if the *** eloquetes "Only the talk of the town, this hour!"
One more terrain swept clutter free, absence of safe association and I'd be a wolf ripping through the dark, heavy yet animated chains enclosing the area.
Definitely, if its up to the little lady, I'd want to bring it home, the ****. *** of a someone scolding my fishing avenue like change to a coin collector on rapid transit bus.
See the irony of the final match to be a beautiful fighting spirit? Hiking trails then eat the section of fresh cut grass in winters dark before pounding a meal.
All proceeds of conformity add precision to how conglomerates and organizations, like OSHA, make dangerous carcasses from all guilty despondency.
Such marginal visuals, this park, hills clogged the view for most stretches and that's part of the good work, however, that night,
it didn't trick me.
Somebody is speaking to me. It lets that special torment trick the tempo- makes for a more a physical party in the night.
What therapy! Catchy lower curbs and scratches of clean slap happy grunge scuffle paths.
They try to "do in"  this response of stowed away antipathy... but the mental exercise still stretches.  
And from the inside, not the outside, that, I now formally know I can't take, it's on with the show...

Beside the wall dimmed dimpled differential of corning
Bade to be mocked, moved it's the soul of an individual

I am a shield wheedle your way near get closer
Unbelievably boring what is done to me

Challenging utterances are solstice and waxen as words get closer

Mourn as if a draft caused the skulk, so somber free,
earthen remembrances can be

Cries white in ultricolor, alcoholic smears, their tuning
the same as they get closer

Their Persian or British, cant tell which of woven denials
been recycled from the quill that shoots the same narrow arrows

Cold agreement for stronger men,
travesty and disease,
synonymous girth
Yet inside the holes of targeted mandalas
tracking as they get closer

Trophy of denigrations, oh no' not upon these frowned
and bracken murks molding the clay of our thoughts

Passive injustice, two words phonetically inept,
in debut at catchy rhyme
Town masses martyrs behind the pandemic move
can they get closer to me or us...?

Perhaps we'll never know if we continue this inner awareness.

Sun in the sky, full moon has shone,
none to be slain as this holiday abroad and at home
still makes masked faces of confrontation as the death tolls...
get closer to us...

In poetry there is always a great deal of eluding undertones and connotations, though defying, a reader must seize and tackle. Illustrious examples of worlds of secret meanings more than often can be found in witty poems. Acting as a narration and deriving a situational behind the poetry one is left begging for a truth behind themes of adversity, transcendence, or even polytheism. Poems are plush while painting and considering original statements. what at first may be implied or a life's meaning suggestion often can strike a reader as being more than the narrator can handle or wrathful or even too loud of a reference. Ironically it is the intense descriptions that often call forward a sense of care free being poetries can bring. To suggest impudence or be clubbed by wise parsimonious verse is not an abashment but the passing of judgment and behavioral analysis in creative structure.
There are lies planted by poems and yet often a reader can find how the tone affects, in fact, the opposite take away. Strong statements aren't necessarily meant for ill bearing, but to quote an effect outside ones own admittance, creating observations and perhaps a triumphant fuse. Entailed explanations ask the reader to bend to match the pomp or seriousness or divisive stooper. Lessons are learned, words cast and final arguments stands with a  simple reference.
Themes about life during this day and age or relationships with others can bring renewed interest and break barriers ascending from the norms to a sense of meaning. Such writing can plead and catch thoughts of personal prudence or implications of great strain leaving not just a silver streak but a moment cast; the reader is in an aura of gold.
Whether  hidden meanings or a stolid imagery, each dignity of a stanza cast with thought, no compromise can be expected to grind third levels of clarity, saturation through nuances, rhymes and ambivalence. The cloth over reality now can be an  acting curtain raised and the stage for prophetic acumen awaits the stylized performance of words cast to the live event of poetry!

Today is...? seconds the hour is seven more than than 2 dozen
& two pints of ounces minus 2 licks
When the number of hits uses 6 more to shut the door
( 2 dozen 2 pints (hits and licks stay together for 1 makes 3 not 4)...
...Thus three is minus the main number which be 2
(used 2 thrice, okay , alright)
Which is thus 4 hundred and twenty 1 where 1 is the tricky sum
And now 1/2 that a whole body turkey is not a huge rotisserie lamb
Then add or subtract the velocity tunnel of oven
gloved thermal coated love
When it begun it makes 3 and a week times 3 though 1/2 was a 4 or 3
Now that's how much time it might take to confusedly
cook todays Thanksgiving Turkey
But most people estimate a perfect ten or fifteen
plus their trifecta groove as we took a twenty
But usually its' more a 30 to forty five
if you don't want to burn the outside of the Turkey, so using a
lower temperature we were off by twenty...
But a good preheat and maybe that's closer to 10 which allows a dip
of ladle for gravy real quickly- then taken from the oven
Hurry the smash and dash for the potatoes and veggies
so in that window either begin them early
Or take off the tin wrap before 1/2 and splice the skin holding the legs and cut the coccyx and we're on our way to relatively good timing!
Oh and make sure the maple honey coated yam slices aren't burning...
Whelp...As you can see it's food not mathematics
that today I've been yearning.

Yeah! It slows, the sleigh of 50 memories, my only guests
A toughened werebeast, countenance straight eternally
and the tears that weren't...
Before us remains the wicked lure in which everybody
writes for that laugh a day
However give me 20 of the sassy and 80 less of what you
Want it says our choice is to answer the top furthest,
brim of the cliff... from the fall in one's view
Thanks 'oh personal mystery, the actual writing, of which,
a friend currently claiming to be cool
Do the grounds create a game that leaves us
the means to never go again?
Or is that the duplicitous slop, of over reaching dreams
and fighting the inner self which aspires?
No! It's called ripped- been there - go there,
one more understood quest and food and a cure
I could watch the swaks of heaving formations, as hawks,
pleasing our marching roads of circles in the sky...
And dots below are but the identity of each of whom I protect,
but then you'd know!
So after that I'd have to **** you
There's fun in doing a rummage, old identity pages, instead it's more  common- eletrco fluster bluster of muted moments; typed, gaffed, well shed, separated, this is that and that's why
The thoughts brought on by an archon, her passes dogmatic, as she holds the joke while really thinks preponderance of the free choices that she might make
This tournament... you and your parents, teachers, canons might think by now the house of religious affirmations turned day to switching mosaics of sunsets
Alas their only call, the exiting by the visiting mob of picture viewing drone crowds
Our coaster slows, sleigh of memories... now jump! With any gifts! You must be in the right place, for it's as- amusement parks, they need verbs virtuality triggers, we're a likeness, drums that solo off into the air for commotions and war
Perhaps narrations, the story...a story you'd thought, books help god machines and zeroing in on cops, and floating autumn leaves a puff of happenstance, it all works out
Quenched occasionally through solutions but a triple take seeks mercy, to love and play- it has to hear of mountains
Whosever attempts to be a visitor, brings an equal  shut off valve for in reality wicked  statements burn while still the thirst for christ devil attacks... requisite,
To  land shorter than an idealist empire is tall

No one shows us who owns our journey for we have gifts for the truth in the daily complaint of life.. life  is...

You can cut it with a trick or dollop  or a sweater or garden cutters but your vigil remains a pitiful aftermath of society's battle, what else?

We're not done for, however, there be cheers, anymore, as a wolf eats meat and habanero fricassee cut with cloves smooths your voice...Yoo Hoo... you..who?

It's time for a tournament again, I fear, seek face masks and the foretold free shy and futureal unknowing robots that don't know to begin with... to begin with

Dearest ambition these thoughts though!?... Don't worry their over at stellar morbid factories waiting. lurking, aspiring  amidst the woe