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

the jungian concept of the collective unconscious
is quiet simply bogus... why?
it would mean that no one in the rest of us
would or wouldn't know whether they were
capable of being... plumber!
        i find the jungian version of "events"
as scary as communism,
          it just means: a retardation of
darwinism - it means a loss of consciousness -
you do know, that jung is a covert
communist, right?
                 i find it strange that a collectivist
unconsciousness does not allow me to
engage with whoever i like in the dream world...
why is it, that i can't dream up:
  anyone i like?
    why am i not a magician in the medium,
pulling a black 12 incher from a top-hat
instead of a rabbit?! as usual: no answer.
      a ******* **** in the wind,
      a persian falafel in a turkish kebab,
a piece of broccoli in a cauliflower salad...
an eskimo in a sand dune,
about as weird as a zebra among pandas.
so we're collectively unconscious of
each of us are doing?!
           so the plumber doesn't know
why he's a plumber, nonetheless,
he's content with being human, and being part
of the great extract of the universe,
and the subsequent per se,
           and he's not ******* at anything
akin to the exceptionalism of an einstein?!
wow!
    what, an, exceptional, observation!
scary to endorse the psychiatric collectivism
of jung, and oppose the economic collectivism
of marx...
       in both instance: we're all apparently
going to succeed!
          but one thing is for sure:
we're not sleeping walking into one of them...
oh... right... we are...
    no wonder the circus is dead;
because when i think of a collective
unconscious i start thinking along the lines
of: there is someone, out there,
who's a walt disney,
    who doesn't actually think / imagine
himself as being a plumber...
         and then he does a las vegas on
the stage, and he gambles it right...
      which is why i can't actually understand
jung without understanding communism,
and why anyone would an essential part
of freud, to replace it with jungian
ideology, and not accept some minor form
of communism...
the collective unconscious...
   that's a truly unfathomable compound
of words these days...
     so we're all sleeping, or?
we're all awake?
         in the collective array of stratas i already
"knew" i was to be a plumber,
the poor ****** next to me,
already "knew" he was to be a politician?
oh, right, it was in the unconscious
medium, so we won't actually "know"...
   jung was a ******* communist however
you like it or not...
        and freud was just the instigator
of the *****-industry,
      a monolithic capitalist of the *******
agency of the base construct:
       skyscrapers are not, an, accident;
and i do abide by the law of necessary
correction,
   i probably have made a mistake -
   it, whatever ill i've said,
     nonetheless is wed to the already prefaced
intro to:
           i find the collective unconscious
a dire play on words,
   that shies away from the politico dynamic
of communism...
  by suggesting, that when all said and done:
the plumber has no knowledge of
being a plumber, rather "thinking" himself
                     being a zookeeper!
oh ****... i must be *******...
but i just watched the plumber do the zookeeper's
job, of teaching the gorilla sign language,
"telling" the gorilla: i, think, yer, deaf.

.nietzsche once wrote: imagine the uncomfortable position, of having to speak for the whole of humanity... that's what i think of, in terms ever bothering to read an English philosopher; after reading Leviathan by Hobbes, i was so put off by English thought, that i became a recluse among the Germans... i still can't explain why i dislike English philosophy, but then again, i do: it's so... so... politicized! all of English philosophy is endeared by its culmination in Darwin, that... i rather look at an individual, rather than the entire schematic stratum of society, of human organization... if an individual can organize himself to fit an already rigid social structure, a seemingly predetermined social structural "pathos"... i don't think i will ever be convinced.

Kant among the ancients Greeks...
it's a simple schematic:

    a priori (prior)                    a posteriori (after)
the skeptic,                                  the stoic,
the cynic,                                      the Epicurean...

sometimes... language requires
a momentary borrowing from the simple
abstract of mathematics -
well, arithmetic...
                                 2 x 2 = 4...
the cynic's inclination to believe...
can only have an a priori ontological
orientation, leading up to experience...
hence the a posteriori realm...
wasn't Descartes the prime
example of skepticism?
                     cynicism is skepticism
whereby an inclination to believe
is replaced with a determination to doubt...

now the divide...
knowledge...
                a priori there is no knowledge
to be spoken of lightly...
instead... there's intuition...
or... der instinkt... hey, i still don't
know which definite article is
required for a certain expression in
German... it could also be das instinkt
or die instinkt... never mind...

i settled on this Kantian backwards
and forwards for some "strange" reason...
well... it's niche...
   and doesn't attract mobs...
it's not the sort of "problem" you'd
really see in life,
other than in the leisure time
you could ascribe to periods of prolonged
thinking, or not thinking,
reflecting, rather than itemizing
thought: as an insatiable reflex of
consciousness...
  that dreaded persistence of narration...
bundled together with
empirical bombardment via
the senses...

hence i lean toward stoicism and toward
the Epicurean side of things...
needless to say...
if i can know anything, anything at all...
it cannot exactly come from...
oh wait... yeah... knowledge
does exist a priori,
simply put: history repeats itself...
so you can learn from the past...
****...
                     well, the statement was
about to become hyperbolic anyway...
point being: that knowledge is
of a collectivist nature...
  to my understanding at least...
to generalities,
to succumbing to other people's
"realities"...
                        a pseudo-universal
knowledge of...
  but even if that is so...
having knowledge of the past /
a priori, from what came prior...
implies that you can't have knowledge
of the future!
you can have speculation,
you can take to gambling,
you can guess...
             and you can also hope (for the best)...
but...
a priori knowledge is exclusive
with regards to a posteriori knowledge,
they're not mutually inclusive,
they're mutually exclusive...
oddly enough, this is not a paradox,
but the ontology of... zeit-wissen...
time-knowledge...
                       space... oddly enough,
without being attached to time in
a relativism is... a bit like photographic
memory... when orientating yourself
in a new city, for the weekend...
tall buildings as compass pivots...
yet knowledge a priori
       (instinct, intuition,
    "knowing" how to throw a ball
a certain way
   cannot translate into a posteriori
knowledge through... whatever it is
that allows to make the transition...
instinct and intuition are prone
to the fault of mortality...
i.e. an aging baseball player will not
throw the same ball 30 years apart,
a priori "knowledge" is mostly
associated with a gift...
an inheritance, such knowledge is
nothing more than an inheritance...
   it's an ontological phenomenon per se,
but the knowledge isn't learned
as such... it it inherent, inherent,
   particular to the instance of its expression,
and unlike the a priori knowledge
of the expression: history repeats itself,
we can learn from the past...
it is unique, particular, not universally
viable, it's not collectivist...

a posteriori knowledge... well...
trial & error...
   empiricism...
              with no knowledge prior,
having some sort of empirical experience
provides a mostly new knowledge,
all of science is tinged
with an a posteriori methodology...
it is accumulative knowledge,
on the collective sense...
on the individual grounding...
wisdom...
        to not repeat the same mistakes
twice, which then, "magically"
is supported by cynicism...
    once a person has grasped a glimpse
of human nature,
   and concludes that self-interest
is the prime motivation...
he learns to respect his fellow beings...
in that, said trust...
is a cautionary standard for further
interactions...

all in all...
        a priori knowledge cannot
peer into a posteriori knowledge...
   on a personal level,
  a mere hyphen helps...
i.e.
             a priori can only peer
   into a- posteriori realm;
i.e. (a-) without an after...
  while, likewise,
   a posteriori can only peer into
a- priori realm,
  i.e. (a-) without a prior...
why?
well in the first instance,
whatever was known prior...
is what is known without an after...
likewise in the second instance,
whatever is known after,
has already discredited what was known
prior...

a posteriori knowledge is accumulative,
but it is also erasive in nature...
i.e. it erases preconceptions,
   and all that is a priori...

a priori knowledge is inherent,
but it is also tied, subtly with empiricism,
in that... if thinking was a sense,
a sense of sight... e.g.
   then we would call thinking:
intuition, instinct...
or rather the absence of thought,
and a synchronicity of all the senses...
given that the existence of thought:
cannot be categorized by
the synchronicity of all our five senses,
at the same time...
   the existence of thought is
predicated on 5 - 1 = 4...
at least one sense needs to be absent
from what the remaining senses
synchronize...
i.e.
        i see this text, i hear this music
(chant of the templars),
       i feel this keyboard and the clothes
on me...
but... i can't exactly smell anything
specific,
    or taste anything specific either...
saliva like water... doesn't exactly
have a taste;
ergo: i can think of something akin to this.

it's not plagiarism,
rather, a collectivist
coincidence -

    i can't believe people
in the former days would
reduce themselves
to plagiarism -

    they'd sooner die than
relieve themselves
of an original idea -

   working with a mythology -
how could such
differentiated people
achieve copernican
globalist relativistic /
globalist impetus,
  and yet, somehow succumb
to an ethnocentric -
    genesis of unoriginality...

yes, unfathomable,
the concept of polyphony,
synchronicity inter-people...
    plagiarism is a modern
phenomenon,
   it doesn't exists in
collectivism of inter-ethnic
conundrums of
segregating categorization...

      just like evolution is god's
take on the thrill of gambling...
an original idea...
   allowing an in group focus...
it could never be a plagiarism -
    the segregating process of
techno. advancement...  
         toward a...
less cultural appropriation...
and more?
   cultural loaning...
      "plagiarism"...
       perhaps i should "read" into
solving crossword puzzles...

now plagiarism is easy...
any son of sam
is not an arsonist...

             but as my continued fascination
continues with
    andrei chikatilo...
and batman, the dark knight rises
scene on the plane:

  why would you shoot a man,
before taking him into a prison cell?!  

ah... christine chubbuck...
this fascination... will not, die...
such a solemn,
              vernacular death...
worthy of a Vatican pawn-ship
of preceding the scourge of death.

/                              don't know...
      maybe the song mein teil
just made me do it...
   or perhaps i became "lost",
or rather, bored with
video uploads in the sub-media?
perhaps i just like to
sit, "quasi"-drunk,
   imitating a balancing "act":

  drunk...

  of a "clue" into
      deciphering buddha...
but a turkish akimbo on
a windowsill?
          surely i can't be drunk
and do such a posture?
   guess i'm: seriously *******?!

but i am,
and i have a wrath
  that will eat everything in its way
and itself to conclude
     the ploughed field.

they could have encompassed
the happy, catholic labourer
on a construction site...
  where: feminism?
   falls flat, since there voices
are confined
to the canteen...

                 construction industry
is a no go zone,
   for feminism...
                but if they do want to
go there?
           industrial roofing...
         in summer:

   YOU'RE MORE THAN
******* WELCOME!

                     come! come!
               vee nee'd'zzzzzz uzzzzz!
    (k is not even
there...
   while you're at church
giving it the boston terrier
                                            "lap")
better­ than counting sheep
while falling asleep:
count them....
1 by 1,
    1 by 1...
                   drop... like... flies....

mein teil!

            can't expect me to respect
the army with the women
so welcome...

     but i do expect the last
"army" to exclude with good intentions...

namely the construction industry...

    any women found
in this economic expression...
and i'll be looking for
a sioux on advice on how
to pitch a tent with
               a ******* bedsheet!

(making ****** sounds,
with a protruding tongue,
slapping the forehead...
"moment"...

           nope... lost by
surd encoding pass at this point).

        but it did happen...
how on earth blackadder
degenerated into mr. bean:
i'll never know...

    guess translating thespain-spresch
works,
even if you're a plumber...

will this writing flop, or fail?
hell: i hope it doesn't succeed!
for starters.                 

but apparently it's all:
hands up in the air,
   like i just don't care(!)
   attidute...
          so heaven-sent
    thong-negligee-und-lace'end-tights!

**** me!
               an over-sweated in
bolsheviks' cap!
                                      well done!        

since, if making **** is a liberty of
the opposite ***?

         what is the liberty of the equal
perspective: of the *** speaking
with this tonuge, that shares the same
constraints, rather than "the same"
concerns?
    
what? and capitalist corporations are
not synonymous with the western
concept of communist communes,
collectivist "farms":

just like my grandfather predicted....
capitalist corporations
are hardly differentiable from
communist collectivists;

                           n'est-ce pas?                 /

/                    nietzsche wrote
his ecce ****
                                                  book...

­                         now?!

apparently we're all supposed
to write a book, entitled

mea culpa...                                 (?)

i just want an authenticity
of using the index,
index finger,

and being able
                        to point...
without sacrificing
the ownership
of a shadow attachment...

               and how
does the víšégrād group
    (oh i'm into linguistic
sabotage,
     writing such a word,
treating it as a bomb,
     and knowing the "nuance"?
well...
   the manchester mob,
the panic,
           and what is the concept
of islam if not advocacy
        for literacy? no? really?!)

invite the bulgars...                         (?)

like a birth of a 2nd. yugoslavia...
or the shift of
   the 2nd holy empire
to the, "left" in copernican
"terms"...

    there are the narrators,
the observers,
the critics,
   and the: chanced eyes on the mess...

no... in the collectivist / corporate
mind-sent?
              mea culpa is not on
the agenda...
                           "we" have already
stressed the situation past
the mea culpa:
  
           come: ecce ****
                      and the crucifixion /
                                          guillotine.

come the bulgars...

   and why am i not expressing
an intellectual ben hur
of an index finger?

managed to punch myself
20 times in the face
and give myself a plum beneath
the eye?

          so what's wrong with
"flexing" attributing
the tongue to an index finger
"exasperation"?
    
so few books are actually
ecce **** orientated...
            
       always the mea culpa,
never, never, ever,
                         tua culpa:

ergo?
                   ecce ****!

              shh...

quiet...

     just mention the concept
of mea culpa

                     to elißabeth fritzl

   how much of masochistic
              "moralißing" does it have
to take place, trans-temporal
  and justifying
                 the mono-spatial realm
of a "past", and, "now"
                before being crucified
is no longer deemed
the same as labouring with
                       a hammer, or a chisel?!

i say that: metaphorically
frothing at the mouth.

firt i learned to throw a punch
onto my face...
   give myself a plum just beneath
the eye socket:

   now i know the mea culpa mantra,
as i know the existence
of the index finger, being
differentiated from the fist...

and?

          the tua culpa mantra.

/                                          there's a difference
between sycophancy
and, being:
                       endearing...

like there's a difference
between
what psychiatrists
fear -              empathy

and what the generic
  (yes, that's a collectivist
term for society)

crave, in the form of sympathy...

why why, oh my...
words actually do possess
the fathomability of squares
and other forms

of ad abstractum;
        so... can you make
my sudden surprise: generic?!

    ginger ninja, ******* son of
a skivvying mom (um?)
   'ere we go! 'ere we go!
     rhyme and rhythm -

   now watch me perform
    a... mahler!

enough rhyme to encompass
a rhythm for you?

  - ginger ninja... **** me:
   good that i didn't think it up,
             but merely passed it on.

(that seriously implies the genesis
of the concept of a paragraph,
in english,
      utilißing the hyphen...

i'm foreign:
   english isn't exactly to become
a serious concept...
     i fiddle with it without playing
a violin...
     i toy with it...

    the mortus operandi
  of the memoria of my great grandfather
(on my mother's side)
  was that i was supposed to play
the piano...

   sure as **** i'm playing one now...
but all my notes
are "surd"-encodings...

   inorganic now...
              organic later...

ha ha! that ******* i're celtic
                              ginger ninja! ha ha!

it's a love: that transcends
                            domesticatic a woman;

because there's an alternative
to keeping one?

               really?!

mmm...  just the thought of an alternative:

   one word clue...

                  yummy:

                           mixed-race "*******":

jay-jay- jay-may-can       oopsie far-vour
   (that's québécois
for                                 vow-oh-r
   voo...
                     trump pursed lips...
    
                         far-  -voo- -voolevie-
                  voo-va-voom...

and no... it's not a... favour...)
            
come to think of it,
   i prefer organic canvases
             of implementation,
           since: no poet actually
convened to surprise the, "idea":
which was already a priori in
            an ontological canvas;

this? this is just a posteriori!

   am i the first person to actually
paint onto a psyche rather than
                    a blank canvas of wool?  

what a ******* ****-head that i am
infuriating such ideas without
any actual implementation strategies!

                                                    ­                      /

it was nothing more than
drinking a
   ⰔⰕⰀⰓⰑⰐⰓⰀⰏⰀⰐ
      beer and walking
the night without
             a suitable suit
or care for flesh...
  bone to cold:
            cold to bone...

god (casual inference
of making a sound
equivalent to stating
something: aghast)
these people are "gone"
yet they're still here...

no, i'm not thinking
about deus...

             two things on my
mind:
    making dumplings
tomorrow:
       fungus, pickled cabbage,
chicken meat and
chicken stomachs...

(well, three):
how constelations
look: almost pristine
during a cold night...

                    •
                 •
              • .
                             .
                            •
                            •

  ­                                             •
                •

while lost paparazzi
flashes of frost
cuddle the tips of
the grass' elongated
strips:

head tilt one way,
head tilt, another:
    at night in this cold:
i might as well
be walking the red carpet.
  
(well, four):  
                        imagine all
the amount of paper,
should books be wrriten
like this:

¶...........................................
.............­.................................
...............................­...............
..............................................
..­............................................
....................­..........................
......................................­........
¶...........................................
...........­...................................
.............................­.................
..............................................
­..............................................
..................­............................
....................................­..........

rather than, like this:

          ....................................
...........­...................................
.............................­.................
..............................................
­..............................................
..................­............................
....................................­..........
.......
          ....................................­
..............................................
.................­.............................
...................................­...........
..............................................
......­........................................
........................­......................
.......

countless pages!
  
(well, five):
  imagine the students of
architecture having
to rely on roman numerals
to think of
    wriggling out
something to appeal
to the pleb...
        
      countless men have
tried: but...

          a coliseum via
  IV + VII = XII

   and sure as ****
    a quantum physics
definition of reality
via 4 + 7 = 12:

"god" of the "gaps":
    4, 6, 8, 9, 0,
    A, B, Q, O, P, R,
    D...

ⰔⰕⰀⰓⰑⰐⰓⰀⰏⰀⰐ:
this writing?
about as much vitality
surrounding it as...
not since high school
have i heard someone
say: you should read
james joyce's ulysses..

(well, six):
god has nothing to do with
"it"...
   it being a precursor
of: what?

   i.e.
          religion as in what?
i can hardly kneel,
i can hardly play
the lunatic variant
of: before me i see a void
that eats, rather than
clarifies itself for the sake
of vanity...

      a cold beer, a cold night...
the existentialist fwench
philosophers:
   existence precursors
essence...
             as mind precursors
body...
  or rather:

  there's no god other than
in the gesticulated: aghast
expression of: a little
bit more than mere awe...

    i'm just...
bothered...
about no less a point
of god...
              other than:
faith has never recovered...
in that:
   man is less and less
someone who believes...
man, to satiate
the curiosity of time's
inexhausive narrative...

        what was once
faith: has become nothing
more than paranoia...

       for no god
there's only the suspicious
inclination of
a reality that's...
   in situ...

          man becoming
so self-conscious
that indeed:
   doing away with god,
he ought to do away
with: and lodge in
the zoological mingling
with the psychological
study of man as:
   "self" -
   this... etymological
curiosity:
           Babylon...
            selb...

because the modern Italian
is somehow,
unrelated to the ancient
Roman...

              the in situ
conundrum of man being,
able, to scuttle away with
the myriad of facts:
shared among the myriad
of people...
  
and to think...
people used to reason
with     ⰏⰀ as
the same as         MA...

i can't read the modern
variety of hieroglyphs
of the EMOJI...

         :) - sure,
i can read that... :(
       but anything beyond
that?
           well... it's not like
i was even given the opportunity
of finishing school
at 16 and entering
a ******* coal-mine either!

although no trinity
of Giza before me:
   all i seem to be clarified by
is the current
        endeavor of:
whatever is the collectivist
ambition of man...

           a pyramid of sighs...

/grand terms along the way... none of which require pillars of establishing a reminder...

                  genuinely
i can approach a trans-grammatical
inconvenience of a word
with a:
          -pre
                             and          suf-,
a cat the size of a fox sleeps
with you in a bed that
could allow a woman and
you begin the lost scratch
of the cranium,
with fiddling with the nasal
cartilage...

       until bone comes across
bone,
       and the sensation is no
longer equivalent to
                         ingesting helium
  and laughing like
a pubescent torah reader...

     open to discussion,
if you mind:
                     -so-,
i.e.
                ****, a hammer enigma,
nail in a post-
ending with
              ... can you think of
an english noun
that doesn't end with a pluralism?

       hmm....

                        pillows! ah, ****,
no good: pillow...
             what sort of english
noun could end with an S
and doesn't denote: a plural?

     pre bound to o-?
                   that's easy: oßmosis...
but a suf bound to an -s
           in the singularity realm of
nouns?
                     impossible...

kant is still impossible to fathom
as a trans-national...
          monkey that began speaking
scotch parrot...
          
    language as an echo-chamber,
and less a people...
         what's spoken in english:
stays within the confines of english...
even if allowed an audience
trans-genus + "neo"-lingua...

far from being jealous:
  just this...
         tiresome bridging fabric...
    like a pavement of marble,
    ending up with a chewing-gum
stuck to your sole...
            
akin to whenever teeth feel itchy:
making a toothpick necessary -
because that's precisely the case
of itchy teeth:
               that there's something
stuck in between them...

would be much easier if
we all had the Madonna central
                      incisor whistle...
or flooooote...
         whatever you might call that...
post-scriptum of
                 experiencing itchy teeth.

so...
            much of the quest of being
human revolves around space,
as it does around a personal memory...
most of the time i find myself
nibbling on the remnants,
  of the personal,
                     yet nonetheless
crushed by the moving collective,
a condescending
        congregation point
           of:
                    ceramic implants counter
to where ivory primes should protrude...

i can't see an abstract,
individualist perspective of a collectivist
left...
            without falling into
collectivist anaswer of:
            the so-called individualist,
nearing albino,
  mild-autism-of-the-comprehensive-man,
solipsist...

i actually only wrote this
because i'm waiting for my fridge
to **** out six ice-cubes...
          no joke...

   noun no metaphor but certainly
not a misnomer...

      a warm mixer?!
              feels like a hundred syringes
shoved up the nostrils
  when landing in Kenya...

   not that i did anything spectacular
concerning the equator...
  some people decided to go
on a safari...
                 i took to hunting shade,
and a brandy with a strong coffee
prior...

   how did the english manage
the ******* heat?!
                 kenya =
       coffee + brandy + shade + sleep...

and whatever subsequent blah blah blah
accomplishes.

what's the problem with kneeling?
where's the right hand posited?
you know that there's
the disgraceful middle-ground
position? right?
    it's called... SITTING DOWN...
what's up with these Americans?
am i supposed to not kneel
in church?!
                     aren't these "suckers"
bridging a gap by
the stature of, over-emphasis?
       it's enough that i have to stand...
but kneeling? kneeling?
  isn't that a hefty summation
of the subsequent enterprise of events?
it's not, sitting down...
SO WHAT, IS, THE ******* PROBLEM?!
you know that kneeling is
an indicator of shared interest,
a veneration gesticulation...
the man, "in question"
is not sitting down...
       kneeling before an anthem is:
TWICE as much effective of
conveying the message, as standing up!
Bolognese sauce...
Retards R Us....
   kneeling? kneeling?!
the most humbling gesticulation bound
to the practices of the church...
and yet, YET... these athletes are somehow
dishonoring the flag?
   what's the difference between
kneeling, and standing up?
erm... sitting down?!
trick question!
                why is it somehow less,
if not more, patriotic,
to kneel, rather than stand,
while digesting a national anthem?!
the **** are you talking about?!
          i never like American football,
one quarterback throw,
some idiot runs the field, catches the ball...
and so many impromptus,
"sport" built for the advertisement
age...
       too many interruptions...
rugby?
        even soccer,
with its 22 ballerinas...
           the day might come when
squash replaces tennis *******
tournaments...
                     so... kneeling... kneeling?!
you have to be ******* kidding me...
that's a source of collectivist commentary?!
not buying it...
         *******, and turn that **** off!
i'll be correct and proper about this,
proper red-skin fashionista styling...
kneeling, given church manners...
is not an offensive statement, pose...
between kneeling,
and standing up...
there's the sitting-down
  mitigation...
now.... that's offensive...
    most of these men are probably
thinking: thank god for America...
my great great great grandparents
came from Nigeria...
all this white *****?
  don't worry,
i'm not bothered,
i know the responsibility aligned
with owning a dog...
having a relationship with
a woman?
   you keep one....
i won't complain.
i have this "thing" for phantom
a troll-she, derived from Norse
mythology...
   you do the window shopping for me...
point being:
at some point,
the copper-beauties will come through,
mixed race...
  and i'll be like...
    ah, now i see the particulars!
******* retards...
   down syndrome looks clever
at this point...
   so there's a problem with kneeling?
rather than standing?
  ******?
    but there's no problem with,
sitting?
        THEY'RE NOT SITTING!
what's the problem?
   kneeling is a preferably
generous offering of
a variant of genuflection...
what's this, the anti-Catholic
sentimentality of the Kennedy
assassination mentality?

       no... i'm not joking...
ask me, and i'll start enticing
a hammer into the current
schematic of imagery...
a skull, and a nail...

         i'm done telling jokes,
don't even know if i even
began telling them...
i'm after tarantula-esque
   neurotoxins...
                 i want a language
that surrogates
a momentary immobility
of the reading specimen...
   shock-value...
  not worth the tabloid strategy...
i need grit...
a supplement of an ego,
still worth
  implementing and originality
of a non-original idea
for a changeable focus,
and subsequent implementation
validity.