the billionath hallmark:
that's were individualism
fails...
      people tend
to forget,
not what is past:
                         but what is...
and that invokes a people
to attest to a disproof!
           laboyr i,
           over leprechaun gold...
**** it,
              whatever:
and tomorrow:
                                altogether!

    there dies a sudden death:
there lives a certain life:
there dies an awaited death:
there lives an uncertain life!

  crock, pecking,
  drum, drum, drum,  POUDING!
drum, drum,
               a crow, pecking,
harrowing,
                                and thus
sight of benevolent väter, Ödin!
now: encompassed with
           huginn und muninn!
as i said:
                  reign from above!
this... this...
                  
    ash:                un-kun! grave(n)
yard!

                     det: grææ of
               the macabre Hamlet variety!

i came: and ****** none of
their women...
       these... pristine "parisian"
  souvenir-suffragettes...

          *** like an impeding due
with a consequence of death...
das ultra contraception...
   better than a ******...
       although:
              nice to don a latex uniform,
isn't it?!

a myth invites us to say:
there actually, was a past...
    and the present **** of history by
journalistic antics?
                    feu! feu!            feudal!
not even kings dare to
speak to the peasants like these
post-scriptum canvases of the original
point of communism...
   feu!                         feu!
                        
                       few?!

    see that!
         two ******* languages composed
into one!
   no wonder dyslexia is solely
                   an anglophone phenomenon!
elsewhere, where you have
clear syllable intake with
cutting into words?
                                 no problem...

feudal and the few...
             what's juxtaposing in the prefix?
faulty or fawlty towers of
                       spelling rubric?!

and to think that the world
was built, and governed by this anomaly...
    it's like pulling out
the hair from your cranium,
to escape scalping,
         and then learning the basics
of arithmetic!

p.s.

                             the billionth hallmark...
         you can't tell apart the real
from the fake...
not that there is a worthwhile distinction
to mind...
         what a ****** canvas
to begin with... given the lost blank
space of opportunity...
        in which art could
flourish...
                and to be frank:
this, is, it...

                       wrestling with a rottweiler is
still on my to-do-list,
  but you know...
               so is a chance
                     to see a lion, yawn.