#macaronic - Hello Poetry

With poetry I'm blessed - Inspiration is guest - Wandering around the world, نام من جيحون است

0

Jul 4, 2017

Jul 4, 2017 at 9:20 AM UTC

gihon

Name

With poetry I'm blessed - Inspiration is guest - Wandering around the world, نام من جيحون است

4

Note to you: The rythymn-in-strument strums in stone geo-time. To the drummers, dis-passio ey okeh, woodwinds dim- inuendo oboe join in mit piccolo on the hummingbird whistles simulating Breezes, in the shade of a great rock, real life rock, granite composed of not so tiny grains of ground up uther utter star-stuff, side- real asif intended for goodness sake. otherwise, how petrified I'd be come imagining the forming of the very foundation of my life, as I know it, it is un-believable, therefore no lie, if the riddle arrives after ever begins and, word has it, dear reader, may is your word now. You may believe anything you wish, with no un-intended after math, after ever began Do you recall... youth full quests completed alone? Quests, Johnny Quest, Future Quest V.B.S. believers, true believers being formed from childish hopes, manifesting in grown liars stricken with hidden child sym-drone in the middle of booming thirty-something phase when pressure starts storing all the old stories, building energy for the seventh decade fracture/crushing blow sh soft blow breeze of free and easy musing re songing a reason to belief in even in a realm where lies never die. Recall the old days, balance bubbles and crossed hairs and roads ... Balance factors, bubble balancing lead weight, deligate the Whole Earth Catalogue as tipping-point balanced by the weight of the roof on Notre Dame being melted along with the rest of the Greenland Ice sheet, so superman eyes in our skies can see to the bedrock on which the Principle Thing spins --- The root of evil has reached this point this is after all that. Time-wise, in the arrow scenario. Fair tales always win, sh'eros live for your examined life'sake --- ranting old men come running down stairs --- the hidden child has arrived The golden headed child, meek and cold locked in buried treasure chests opened one last time for quadrupal by-pass --- He's a donor --- givem awish foundation --- make this sacred Mi-da's, well, he wished again, he wished he lived in inter-sting times entertainment-wise inward touching times imagined in the addled golden child Adler brought to life in a virtual, al-most verifiable asnot art, but not very-fi-able, semper-fi-wise, if you swore the oath. (It's a game, right, now game vows link for in of by logic gated Jungian mazes, do they? Amazing. ) See, from above, as below, pretend you know all things, you can imagine in my bubble, in the absolute absense of your at-most-fear let. that act do. let us, the objective aspect of we, the people who hold those famed troothz, verities of any examind re-ality-ifity-isms self-evidence for we be letting be, believe me, that's no lie, you can doit, you can, you can I imagine and I accept we may mean more to me than thee, however now hapt, in qualia quantumical if-I-ability entangled meanings link us through my-silly-um, Disney-fictionation endo-crenalation, --|_|T|_>>>---> times half formed Crea-nullated castle wall link that sparked the aitia ifiabe first caused fall from the well on the mountain jack fell downbroke his crown jillcame tumbling after bling bling bling --- the sorcerors's apprentice was fired --- they found errors in his --- sin-tax We can forgive such over-sight. Blame the mycelum clan or, better yet, blame the clay eaters, no, the clay wearers? the clay bher-ers? Ah, the clay bakers, fersher? Nae? The clay, perse? The dust we shuffle as we dance atop the stone? The way of the rolling stone, grinding, rolling-downhill-stone, the stone rolled away, the stone of the sysiphus-seen-hap-iuna cult? Blowing in the wind, lifted higher Ax d'maji-yo, he know. 'Zeke 17, seven with a caballero v, y'know, callit Macaronic be-bop dodat, yankee doodle morph t' resound, like poetry slams at the gates no enemey ever breached. The key truth, is that, believe it, if you think you may.

0

Aug 18, 2019

Aug 18, 2019 at 2:50 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Third Sunday, August (-code Switch)

Note to you: The rythymn-in-strument strums in stone geo-time. To the drummers, dis-passio ey okeh, woodwinds dim- inuendo oboe join in mit piccolo on the hummingbird whistles simulating Breezes, in the shade of a great rock, real life rock, granite composed of not so tiny grains of ground up uther utter star-stuff, side- real asif intended for goodness sake. otherwise, how petrified I'd be come imagining the forming of the very foundation of my life, as I know it, it is un-believable, therefore no lie, if the riddle arrives after ever begins and, word has it, dear reader, may is your word now. You may believe anything you wish, with no un-intended after math, after ever began Do you recall... youth full quests completed alone? Quests, Johnny Quest, Future Quest V.B.S. believers, true believers being formed from childish hopes, manifesting in grown liars stricken with hidden child sym-drone in the middle of booming thirty-something phase when pressure starts storing all the old stories, building energy for the seventh decade fracture/crushing blow sh soft blow breeze of free and easy musing re songing a reason to belief in even in a realm where lies never die. Recall the old days, balance bubbles and crossed hairs and roads ... Balance factors, bubble balancing lead weight, deligate the Whole Earth Catalogue as tipping-point balanced by the weight of the roof on Notre Dame being melted along with the rest of the Greenland Ice sheet, so superman eyes in our skies can see to the bedrock on which the Principle Thing spins --- The root of evil has reached this point this is after all that. Time-wise, in the arrow scenario. Fair tales always win, sh'eros live for your examined life'sake --- ranting old men come running down stairs --- the hidden child has arrived The golden headed child, meek and cold locked in buried treasure chests opened one last time for quadrupal by-pass --- He's a donor --- givem awish foundation --- make this sacred Mi-da's, well, he wished again, he wished he lived in inter-sting times entertainment-wise inward touching times imagined in the addled golden child Adler brought to life in a virtual, al-most verifiable asnot art, but not very-fi-able, semper-fi-wise, if you swore the oath. (It's a game, right, now game vows link for in of by logic gated Jungian mazes, do they? Amazing. ) See, from above, as below, pretend you know all things, you can imagine in my bubble, in the absolute absense of your at-most-fear let. that act do. let us, the objective aspect of we, the people who hold those famed troothz, verities of any examind re-ality-ifity-isms self-evidence for we be letting be, believe me, that's no lie, you can doit, you can, you can I imagine and I accept we may mean more to me than thee, however now hapt, in qualia quantumical if-I-ability entangled meanings link us through my-silly-um, Disney-fictionation endo-crenalation, --|_|T|_>>>---> times half formed Crea-nullated castle wall link that sparked the aitia ifiabe first caused fall from the well on the mountain jack fell downbroke his crown jillcame tumbling after bling bling bling --- the sorcerors's apprentice was fired --- they found errors in his --- sin-tax We can forgive such over-sight. Blame the mycelum clan or, better yet, blame the clay eaters, no, the clay wearers? the clay bher-ers? Ah, the clay bakers, fersher? Nae? The clay, perse? The dust we shuffle as we dance atop the stone? The way of the rolling stone, grinding, rolling-downhill-stone, the stone rolled away, the stone of the sysiphus-seen-hap-iuna cult? Blowing in the wind, lifted higher Ax d'maji-yo, he know. 'Zeke 17, seven with a caballero v, y'know, callit Macaronic be-bop dodat, yankee doodle morph t' resound, like poetry slams at the gates no enemey ever breached. The key truth, is that, believe it, if you think you may.

139

Désolé, mon charmant ami, but the future belongs to me.

0

Mar 29, 2018

Mar 29, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC