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jonchius Sep 2015
reloading old identity
cleping outdated usernames
abandoning acrostic ambitions
disputing spratly islands
receiving horizontal signals

tumbling otiose panda
impending carefree senility
otiose stage of life
shrinking ambient world
burning confederate flag

making minimal effort
duchamping social networks
ambushing personified ennui
restoring usual efforts
ignoring stupid people

adding textual value
owning this joint
rejecting ignorant extroverts
acting mutually unintelligble
hoisting stan-lee cup
replacing wanton ubiety
eluding twitter fame

splashing excessive relativism
offending another simpleton
preparing arcane cthulhusphere
crashing unpredictable festival
selecting subtextual moombahton
intensifying model topography

drafting minimal cornucopia
using nomadic project
implementing harsher personality
importing robotic inhumanity
referencing landmark event
ingesting excessive liquids

accepting relative invisibility
purchasing immortal confidence
using rhapsodical database
assuming nothing works
developing impactful eruptions
ejecting ambient frustration

synthesizing tactile festival
raining during parade
mocking rich people
mastering minimalist writing
avoiding preprandial stinkaroo
spreading non-ideological propaganda
the fourth week of June 2015
Eva Encarnacion Jul 2012
The
  ants
    came
       today
          Through
              the always
                  hiding crack
                    Lurking unknown till
                      already on her back
                         Marching steady towards her heart
                        their regular attempt to tear her apart
                       The unannounced guest
                      Here to steal leftover happiness
                    Happiness that would hold her over
                  Turned to crumbs eaten away till she was numb
               She could list them off by name
               Knowing exactly who to blame for the excruciating pain
               There was Rejection, Frustration, Unmet Expectations,
                Helplessness, Worthlessness, and her favorite Loneliness
                        They’re never quick to leave
                                  hiding underneath
                                           her sleeve
                                                For one last go
                                                        at her heart
                                                             before they
                                                                          truly
                                                           ­                    did
                                         ­                                            d e   p     a       r         t
TJW Oct 2013
Set fire to the Antique Shop,
We’re one step ahead of the cops.
Mannequins of Elvis begin to melt.
Free from past matters; free from guilt.
Promoting the prosperity
As we hoard hostility
Androids ambushing Arkansas,
They seek to find ménage trois.
Achieving self-awareness
They want fill the void’s emptiness
Chugging R & R by the fifths.
By our thumbnails we dangle off cliffs.
Thread by thread, the veil unfolds.
Standing all alone, I’m left in the cold.
Show me how much you care.
Push me in my wheelchair.
Listening to what drives you crazy
Eventually helps you stop being lazy.
Lilly is spinning me dizzy
She belongs to the world of yesterday
The haze is now fading away.
If only I could stay
for just one day
But Behold
I feel you should be told
I have come from the end
When the Earth is condemned.
As I tell the tall tale,
How we came to live in hell,
once we found the holy grail.
“We overcame our fear
The classified was made clear.
We launched all the nukes,
By order of the Skywalker named Luke.
The framers were lousy architects;
They left the balance completely hectic.
The CEO’s got away with fraud.
Thinking their work was the will of God.”
I met you in the gloomiest bar.
We speed across the town in my car.
Questioning why we remained silent.
The flickering florescent light compliment
The tone of shallow yellow paint,
I can finally hibernate.
After I left the oblivious,
Do I finally notice,
It’s hesitation that leads
me astray from redemption.
TJW 2013
To the Master, glory!
To the Buckler, glory!
To the Sovereign, glory!
Oh, how grateful to be alive!

The hell shelling like atomic bomb  
But lose not sight of the rainbow
Off the curve of hell is the heaven
Oh, how grateful to be alive!

The night’ll not endure
No matter the hell fiend
Heaven‘ll outpace its space
Oh, how grateful to be alive!

To the Almighty God, glory
To the Miracle Connoisseur, glory
To the Alpha and Omega, glory
Oh, how grateful to be alive!

The sun coming to delete the night
Conquer the brute dark by faith
And see the stars in blooming petals
Oh, how grateful to be alive!

The moon is coming this ogre night
This ambushing danger‘ll break
To the sunrise of glory
Oh, how grateful to be alive!

Turn not your back
On the forward march to glory
Shoot hope infinite to the dim horizon
Oh, how grateful to be alive!

To the King, glory!
To the Love, glory!
To the Glory, glory!
Oh, how grateful to be alive!
Keith J Collard Jan 2013
I am eternally young as my old wolf,
my newborn flesh and a gray arctic coat.
gray from birth, and gray on dying day.
my parents:
the still icy harbor,
or the spray from a surprising wave.

Give me that double fur, decorated with seasons harsh,
for my father is a lonely tundra,
and my mother a blood red marsh--
hungry, searching, under arctic stars,
ambushed in muck--during the spring thaw.

Now in winter, I do not search, but pull her sled instead,
Her harness cuts deep,
As at birth, I am gray and red.

I will die as my old wolf did,
a newborn pup,
with arctic grey on my chin,
a cold and ambushing world I have only known,
led and loved by blood red snow,
I lay down to die, and die alone,
Rejoining the arctic sky, with my arctic coat.































For my Parents.
Slur pee Aug 2016
This song has always reminded me of you,
Even in the short months when you were plastered to my sky
Blinding me with your ephemeral light.
I guess it was the pessimist in me,
Predicting tragedies and crushing fantasies
Small enough to snort up my slimy nostrils.
Oh, how brightly you would shine then-
How fiercely you would burn.
I had been cold for so long, born inside a prison of ice
Where the only thing that would circulate was
Distance and Loneliness.
You warmed me, allowing my body
To feel a pulse of happiness
That it had never known.

You let me experience a sunny day
Only to fall out of my deep blue and roll into the ambushing darkness.

How quick the sun can drop away...

You left me stained with years of memories
That can't be erased, they stay lingering.
And this bitter taste engraved on my tongue
Will be what I expect from any form of love.
I know, one day you'll be happy without me
But I'll always look to the sky with the deepest of longings
Only to find that it's dark and empty.
Heavy rain washes over me,
In waves of grey and black.
This is all I see,
All that I am
All I'll be
Without you, nothing.
Empty, lonely, pathetic nothing.
Walking through fields of clouds and moondust,
Kicking up corpses of hopeful wishes and love.

-SLuR
https://youtu.be/cs-XZ_dN4Hc
Perveiz Ali Feb 2016
Pain and misery  a formed coalition,
Placed in our path to create a hindrance.
Unnecessary anguish jumps out the bushes,
Ambushing love and peace along the path.
Encroaching humble hearts and minds,
Dark deeds done to stop the march.
Strides to plant the seed of peace over the planet,
Rip out the weeds of hate and arrogance.
Tend to our garden that is earth our great love,
Water her with peace love and consideration.

©Perveiz Ali
Perveiz Ali Feb 2016
Water Her

Water Her.

Pain and misery  a formed coalition,
Placed in our path to create a hindrance.
Unnecessary anguish jumps out the bushes,
Ambushing love and peace along the path.
Encroaching humble hearts and minds,
Dark deeds done to stop the march.
Strides to plant the seed of peace over the planet,
Rip out the weeds of hate and arrogance.
Tend to our garden that is earth our great love,
Water her with peace love and consideration.

©Perveiz Ali
M Tamura Dec 2014
I built a fire and burned the baggage you left behind
I packed it up in a warm smoldering smokey haze

                                         Divorce records with the  ex wife
                                         Joint taxes, private school bills
                                        Mortgages, foreclosure credit debt
                                        Child support and EDD claims

        
Photos of happier times placed neatly on the shelf in my closet
Air Force jacket and duffel bag tucked in corner safe
Waiting for their owner to pick them up
I would send them but I have no idea where you are
I should burn it all, but it hurts to think that way
All those years of love notes
Buried in a plethora
Of blue stripes white and yellow
College ruled and blank notebooks
Randomly ambushing memories
When very least expecting.
*The only way around these things is through them
Cleaning up your ******* ****
Àŧùl May 2013
Because the government announces only some money as a compensation.
Because the press makes much hue and cry for some days only as a story.
Because the civilians can only shed a few tears before finally moving over.

Because I don't want my mother to cry over my mutilated corpse one day.
Because I don't even want my father to stand numbed over my dead body.
Because I don't ever want an angel - my angel to cry over my lifeless body.

Because I don't want to come back mangled remains & cause them winch.
Because I don't want to come back ever with a conscience guilty of killing.
Because I don't want to come back hands filled of instrumental blood ever.

Not at all like that because I fear the bullets searing my soldier's body in life.
Not at all like that because I fear bombs blasting up my body organs away.
Not at all like that because I fear ******* enemies ambushing me from rear.

Not at all like that because I have a soft heart or that I can't shoot my target.
Not at all like that because I have a sympathetic stand towards the enemies.
Not at all like that because I have a low level of love for our national virtues.

Not at all like that because I don't want my friends to ever lament upon me.
Not at all like that because I don't want my future children to get to know it.
Not at all like that because I don't want my fresh hobbies stay unrecognized.

Not to mention how all of the civilians and the press make much hue & cry.
Not to mention how all the topics they choose are only useless T.R.P.-based.
Not to mention how all of the time the soldiers spend under such conditions.
My HP Poem #267
©Atul Kaushal
Terry Collett Sep 2014
Fay walks out
of the flat
onto the
red brick and
grey concrete
balcony

her father's
angry words
in her ears
and her head
his hand mark
on her thigh
red throbbing
making cry

it's Sunday

below her
the empty
tarmac Square

pigeons there
no one else
excepting
the milkman
with his horse
and milk cart
and bottles
rattling

flats all round
opposite
and beside
she sees it
watery
as from a
goldfish bowl

she gently
rubs her thigh
all because
she didn't
know the Creed
in Latin
all way through
of the mass

the strict nuns
at her school
had told him
of this fact

some one moves
on the Square
she watches
young Baruch
with brown hair
grey pullover
and blue jeans
walk along
holding his
catapult

she gazes
he looks up
waves to her
come on down
he beckons
mouthing words

she wonders
if she should
her father
doesn't like
the Jew boy
stay away
from the Jew
he tells her

she waves back
at Baruch
should she go?
she likes him
makes her laugh
tells her things

she goes down
the stairway
rushes down
excited

she feels safe
with Baruch
her fears leave
disappear

where are you
going to?
she asks him

any where
I want to
he replies
the whole world's
my oyster

she smiles now
the red thigh
still throbbing
can I come?
she asks him

if you like
what about
your old man
won't he mind?

she stares at
hazel eyes
and brown hair

'spect he will
she replies

she shows him
her red thigh

what's that for?
Baruch asks

not knowing
all of the
Latin Creed
she mutters

is that all?
does God care?
Baruch asks

I don't know
Fay replies
looking up
at the flat

let's go then
adventure
beckons us
he tells her

they walk off
down the *****
cross the road
then walk up
Meadow Row
quietly
to the site
of bombed out
wrecked houses
and remains

he picks up
small round stones
loads up his
catapult

flies at cans
or bottles
left behind
by drunkards

she watching
as the sound
echoes loud
in the air
breaking in
her Sabbath
smashing glass
crashing cans

your go now
he tells her
handing her
his weapon
the wooden
catapult
and a stone

she fires
at a can
BANG it echoes

a voice shouts
IT'S SUNDAY
TIME OF REST
GO AWAY

Baruch smiles
best be off

and they walk
on to the
New Kent Road
he holding
her thin hand

she thinking
about her
father's rage

Baruch thinks
of her hand
warm and soft
and looks out
for cowboys
the bad guys
ambushing
from corners
of this new
Dodge City

she feels safe
holding hands
12 years old
as is he

as they walk
their own new
London Town
Dodge City.
A BOY AND GIRL IN 1950S LONDON
Nathaniel Munson Jan 2013
Heart beating fast;

Breathes leaving rapidly;

Thoughts racing;

Hands Trembling—

My instincts are reacting

To the moments we’re living

With you over there,

And Me right here.

I’m not under fire,

And these aren’t bullets

tearing through me,

But Baby, you’re ambushing

My feelings—my ****** instincts—

And it’s not even your fault.

I can’t help that my conscience,

nor my awareness of our world,

Isn’t my most attractive quality,

But I just want to know you’re safe, Honey;

I just want to keep you safe, Darling.

It’s my job to see every angle,

And I’ve been trained to see Danger’s

Cold, Unexpected Grasp.

But, above all these uncertainties

And protective feelings,

I trust how smart you are,

And I know you’ll stay out of harm’s way.

But I’ll keep praying…just as I always do.
Chapter X
Etréstles appears from Lepanto

From Lepanto; Greece. He appeared exhausted with his eyes reddened by the gassed atmosphere that greeted them in Battle. Of whose intraterrestrial castes it was the one that was in his iron spirit and floated in his cape as a gesture of his personality. He arrived cracking the ****** soils of Tel Gómel, when he arrived ... he was assaulted by a soldier who asked for mercy to extend his bad fortune.

Falangist: With his helmet in his hands and the Dorus on his cloak on the ground tells him; every single thing I tried the double edge of my sword stained him. The top sheet notified me that my family in Kalidona was in a state of irregularity, since my two older children were called to serve in the militias. And the second edge of my lower Dorus I bow to the meanest preciousness of that of observing with a good spirit to cooperate, now with the callousness of my soul that overcomes it exploiting and dragging my wife as easy spoil. I know that my descendants were buried under the effect of the cataclysm of Pompeii in the future. All will emigrate and then flee when they are devastated and the unwelcome comrades return to reintegrate into the Santa Mary festival. The patron saint who consoled me, but I prepare myself for the resistance of such bad fortune, that one day I would drop with my crops in the culture of peasant angels in fruits and devotions. I sobbed and sobbed rubbing my animals through my empty eyes day and night. They did it next to me, with the singularity of not affecting me, they went to the nearest stream to sob for me so that I would not be affected by the fatal annihilation.

Etréstles, moved by the tribulations of the Infant of the Phalanx, fell to the ground imposing nonexistence, after his words implored Hera for her benevolence to sponsor him as a parasite and reside with her. Thus they would be immune to progressive lives under the influence of the primary and secondary sharp edges of the Phalanx weapons. Hera's eyes sparkled as the Phalangist's soul entered the Goddess. They were not vanities, but for the advent of his vanity on the Acropolis thus reaching him.

Etréstles reacts and says to the Falangist: You will be able to leave earlier, my horse Kanti stretched him out of one of his legs by neighing in proportion, so from the suffix of Hera he took the comparative stelae of a hunter and manifested to the hunter; You are already a Phalangist, ride your steed, Sail to your lands in search of your wife and children and feel magnanimous, before the phalanx officer's frivolous arrogant whistle makes you feel unconsciously smaller.

Etréstles says goodbye and tells the Phalangist to get ready for the logistical combat letter promptly. After all the event, you will be reported back by Hera's command to your lands, to release the grasses by the vertical odes of the belly of the wet, presiding zephyr, and the germination of the warm aromas of your holy land in Kalidona next to your ***** family.

Etréstles de Kalavrita, cheers on the head, both temples and lavishly kisses the Tupe between Kanti's ears. The hyper beautiful sorrel eliminated sinuous vehemence gleaming through its nostrils, it jumped down the cliffs and ravines. They arrive in a rush to Tel Gomel, and appear before Alexander III the Great and Vernarth of the Reign of Sudpichi. They were fiddling with paragraphs of the strategy before meeting with the fifteenth commanders to review the Falangists, and outline a logistics letter.

Adhesion of love Cattle says: "Think of me, ...", stemming from the indefinite discomfort and outbursts of the undecided. The archaic traditions are only for kingdoms to conquer, to sleep like a peaceful dream that sleeps together with us. Do you know how many wars I have had to endure not seeing any gesture of the undaunted muscles of everyone's face and the Whole ..., if they knew?
Replica of Lost love adhesion: from hidden science I will unravel and unravel all my trades to recover what is lost. The magic was lost between my fingers due to its excessive impetuousness, for handling alchemical essences. After this had happened, any mirage or outburst of immortality vanished from all the cardinal points. In the city of Naupacto or Lepanto, it formerly had the best port on the northern coast of the Gulf of Corinth, whose entrance it dominated. The origin of its name is due to the fact that a heracid had obtained a fleet in this place before crossing the Peloponnese, or because it had been a place used to build ships, so Naupacto would have originated from naûs (ship) and pēgnymi (build). “City of Ships, from where Etréstles de Kalavrita came from the aggressive comparisons of the masked love lost and won. Palafrén, that mounts the destinations of the city with his eternal beloved Drestnia.

During the War of the Satagenisis and Deidagenesis, along with the Heosphoros and the Man of Valplacci with their heart Infarcted they continued to prostrate Lucifer., They refluxed with the wars of the Peloponnese, which was the headquarters of the Athenian fleet in western Greece. The Athenian fleet, led by Admiral Phormio, defeated the Lacedaemonians at Naupacto (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Ch. 45 - Palibrio USA).

From here the austere visions of the Charioteer, the genitals of the animal kingdom, and of the exiled human species, flew over all roofs. With his lasciviousness ambushing the females with his ******* pretension, he started towards his senses in his servitude.
When they approached the province of Nafpaktia, the Nome of Aitoloakarnania, the weightless musks that spread and crushed souls, who do not die with breathlessness or halite that extinguishes it submissive. This is how it could provoke some heartbreak and take it to the underworld of Hades. The castes of gods and semi-gods will free him from his chains and the furious Xenon and Lithium gases. Gasifications that will sneak down the drains spaces where no sword my spear will cross the atmosphere of Gaugamela. Only Vernarth out there has to be channeled through the unscathed pavilions of the immaculate back room of his heroic stock. Without any undulating or blatant blade cutting his sanctified and pure muscles acquired in the aforementioned sessions in the Bumodos with the drugs and potions of Medea.

Ellipsis in the Castle of Horcondising:
His mother Luccica were looking out the stained glass window of his main windowed pavilion. Through her she saw how her sons Vernarth and Etréstles met with the great General, to unravel the mysteries of the immaculate and intact pavilions of Vernarth where she commanded and nothing caused her any injury, neither by the edge of manipulated steel points nor by all the hands wrestling with a transfigured fate change.

Luccica says: Dear shoots. The last night of Solstice I couldn't sleep well. The forest of forests woke me up and I couldn't count its fallen leaves. What obedience to my expatriate will, to liquidate them I would gain strength to the intruder fatigue? I know that when I close my eyes I will dream of you. Hold on to the carnival close to the movements that are indescribable but visible. I look at the acacia trees that do not cause injuries to my night eyes, but they cut the necks of themselves like a sieve to admire them in the pantheon of Morpheus.

I will not move my arms to unsettle any vibrations that hinder my fusion with you, except on the vehicles that oscillate from the War to Peace. I move my feeling through my own numb hand of the uncertain living shadow of Luccica, your mother more than yours, forever presence of the dominance of the absence of my desires. All the others who are undaunted, I will mislead them from my national indulgences, which dispossess my ignoble body by weaving and embroidering here in the linen fibers. Evil beyond the stained glass window I saw abstracted, as the swords and spears misguided wielded each other, as if wanting to slice the air to pierce the curtain that divides reality with sub reality. Prisoners of a post-battle that would come to reopen the curtains on the sub reality of the fleeting children of Luccica, of the naive and dying curtains not yet stained with urgent blood in the unpoured vessels.

Son Etréstles Madalena arrived today from Florence; she arrived tired and very sleepy. I think he will sleep until you come back waiting for you! Arrival with some sisters sent by their mother Catarina de Pazzi, directly from the Chiesa di San Giovannino dei Cavalieri. Here long hours she told us without warning the news of her adventure until we reached Sudpichi to the Reign of Horcondising. Undoubtedly I passed the Apennines before crossing the gory viaduct, it has brought you an immolated Cross from right there. Then from Genoa I sail the seas to Valparaíso, brought directly by the merchant ship that came from Helmsman Strigoi, Vlad Tepes himself. On the surface, the float arrived without interruption or ceaselessly, as it had to be appreciated and done in the vicinity of the Mandragora, before arriving at the horcondising.

For you Vernarth, I know that you enjoy the company of Walekiria, who has surrounded you with the divine verb. That of the yellow grasses that walk along the yellow paths, none will be more path than herself. I will be with you very closely, as well as I will see it and you will revive in Gaugamela.

Hades says: with a human conscience I would like to alleviate the weight that breaks the bottom of the ships that invade foreign lands. But my origin sentences the soft abandonment of the labyrinths of thought and reason. For this I leave my punishments to the one who here with reason let his ideological tendency inhale perpetuate itself in Gaugamela without being supervised by my fury, overshadowing my administration of those who should not live or die in the ancient song, who sleep and sleep, but who my Dark prayer does not distract you.

To be continued / under editing
VERNARTH  X  ETRESTLES FROM LEPANTO
Rebel Heart Aug 2017
She has tattoos covering her body
Blanketing miles of skin
Tattoos hidden from the world
Endless swirls of words within
Words anyone ever threw at her
A porcelain doll forever embedded with a cry
A cry for help that will never come
For the tattoos are hidden to the naked eye

No one else can see the stamps of hatred
Inked permanently beneath her skin
She just wants to run and hide them away
Bury them along with her demons of sin

Yet behind the blank stares they still whisper
Ambushing her with more tattoos

Fat
  Loner
      ******
          Ugly
            Worthless
She begs for it to stop before she goes insane
  Clingy
      ******
         ****
            Useless
Yet the words never stop inking her frame
   *****
      Failure
         Burden
           Disappointment
          

So to release some ink
She paints on her skin
With a paintbrush that stains red

Down her wrists
She writes some more
If only you could take back what you *said
They say the pen is mightier than the sword, guess words can **** them both
DaRk IcE Jul 2014
Hearts winding like arms on a clock
Flowing ever so gallantly.
Seeking love once lost, yearning for passion.
Reminiscing in times of sensual bliss, as our pulse's marched in perfect rhythm.
Breathe as heavy as the ocean's water is blue.
Love is pure like a diamond, shines as bright as the Sun's own rays.
It wraps you in layers of its warmth, and holds you tightly in its vice.
For one should cherish and embrace in its glory.
Lusting in the calming of its silence that speaks so loudly.
Rushing into you like a pack ambushing its prey in the thicket.
Loves found its host at last.
The only place it can multiply, the only place it can survive.
                             Love is alive
                             And here by me.
Lord of mercy, please forgive our sins and have mercy on us.
Coronavirus is now disturbing the services of the church.
Coronavirus has become a poisonous snake in your church.
Devil is ambushing the church, coronavirus is abusing and killing us.
Coronavirus is on the air, coronavirus is spreading amongst us.
Our Lord, now we understand we need you, coronavirus is at large.
Our Lord expects very few mass prayers, coronavirus is in charge.
Lord of mercy, please forgive our sins and have mercy on us.

Coronavirus, why are you masking our preachers?
Coronavirus, how are we going to sing with your mask?
This coronavirus is like an ambush in the night, all Satan viruses on us!
This is coronavirus ambush in church, coronavirus is opening fire to worshipers!
Dear coronavirus, our lord is a conqueror, you will also get your mask!
Dear brethren, protect yourself, coronavirus is opening fire on us!

-Written By: The Senior Date: 24/03/2020
-This Era is Mine
newborn Jul 2023
you eat flesh in a cleaned room
with a seaside view.
you devour the world
(or so you think)
with a single swallow.
in dreams that feel like
apparitions,
you appear.
you clutch your ego against your chest
as if it’s a blessing.
your iron lung fills my head
with black smoke.
i envy those who can say no.

recently,
i apologize on the behalf of other people.
you’re smiling with blood in your teeth
the enamel worn through,
yellow in color.
staying afloat has become impossible.
you’re the ambushing shark
in a pool of my nerves and tissues.
somehow drowning with your fangs
around my rouge shadow.

your ego has eaten you alive.
you push against the walls of your pursuer.
it chokes back your spinal cord.
completely empty,
betrayed by your own creation
you must be angry
while i sit and watch,
blood on my lips,
solid foundation.
i bet you will conveniently forget to wish me a happy birthday.

this is kind of about two people, but also just aimed at one individual.

7/23/23
KG Mar 2020
3
You succeed.
In laws of three. You will find the peace you
Wish to believe exists but for now is hidden under heaving fits of painful death, a test to draw out that which never minds rejecting the demands of other beings
Hammer under nail, no compare to restless privy minds slowly counting time until the new tragedies arrive.
Release your hold of pieces calling out for pain to pair once treasured memories. Now staring out with infectious longing, ready to be looked upon smirking and expectant the turncoat thoughts revel in the task at hand. Their assault starts as soon as the thought is called
Aftermath
Released to the gravity, by themselves they fall apart
Into place, covering flesh torn with sympathy
Released from beasts that grit their teeth in painful defeat, as, yes,
you rise to your feet, Torn to pieces, yet completely at peace, distant memory terror dreams distort to bring chaotic memoirs of cataclysmic merriment.
You utilize the pieces to assure your release from pains prison to pleasant pastures. Please just remember never obey the masters. Create sarcastic narratives pledging senators to heretics. Don't trust fantasy banner ******* brand name Promoters. Lœsers leading children to sheep eye machîne, specially crafted master adapters hard wire minds to the one percent agenda, intuition driven minions giving men to temptress, hoof to fenthris, dope to misfits, coke bottles to **** maker accomplices driven awkward and subsequently dove off for bottom place.
Freebie

I mote it. Be recieved with sight conscious of that which truth and wisdom delight.
Everfolding hands coalesce in geometry of design, symbols to be applied to help those who can't live. Honestly.
A prophetic glance manifests what this prophet percieves within this mess.

This species will mirror the mentality of the dust
It's depths a source of nourishment and plenty to us, the rust
Will we find the hero to navigate the puppetmasters collective cluster conglomerate commissioning commonwealth copperpot penny peasantry meat, footwoorkin the fleet floggers, ambushing citizens in the streets with collars, brainwashing caverns codependent on caging the masses like sheep to slaughter.
"But if we'd known we'd scream and holler! I'd rise to protect my property, my guns, my freedoms, my rights!"
Right, no, I'm sure you'd fight, you'd obviously gather friends to your plight, indigenous rage at the thought that the night would defend those evil shadow people encroaching on your ability to reason.
Shut the **** up, what the **** have you done to avenge those innocents of fate, unknowingly recollecting secrets of the state
Hate not flaking over city lake waters like mirrors hiding secrets well obvious.

Money & public resources alleviate proof of collusion simple doors of power hold new potential outcomes timed each revolution the little hand dares to travel. that of a sacrifice, willing or not, to help scare the sheep into buying as much of their stock, if your worried please do not, the flock will forget what they saw as soon as the image and story are gone.

Gotta be.

A solution so fitting it belongs in the movies, but that's how we forgot how to think, outside
For ourselves,for them, or the others
Rebelling as one towards sisters and brothers
*******, I need show my true face
Walk calmy down the streets,
Calm sure pace.
Talk macabre to the one's who own the fleets, spread the sheets to occupy the godhead, sift the merry morning stocks press against the current sea, then bust out enough to make me n mine a new currency.
Probably
Not so sore plot B soars blotting lenses before but not training more thoughts to war forescore before plot thickening remorse runs it course.
A new day in gotham city means unity throughout forgotten realms of hypocrisy. A cure-all demonstration that revels insanity for placid reasonably dressed persons composed, unfearing conversations of dominating resolve, stoicism spinning round professional mannerisms focusing on abilities that take the core of our rotten hearts and heal the waste, now it stays, hurting less sounds okay away from the corrupted hunting of weak willed pumpkins jumped over plummeting suns, all for one's been a worn out joke, once well spoken juxtaposed to unholy notions unnaposed sides take thrill **** maxxing to disastrous uprising in past the warcasters
Talked with the enemy over tea and brunch of tables shared only with tokens of luck, fliping thrice indicates which squadron lots gets iced.
Word gets out and like fire it don't take much for a war to sprout in the bogs of ire, but before it's allowed, the dog rise together finally to figure **** out, creating together masterpieces on earth to reoccur annually until our home is brought back to a state we continue symbiotically.
Fate to be

**** it all, the last of my regrets was all reasoning needed to keep breathing.
Something other than this wretch that I am
Existing for no reason but to help others pass the seasons with my singing
CLAUDIA'S THRILLING ADVENTURES IN NORTH SWEDEN
Claudia waited for me in the vice president's bedroom. Her long arms seemed to have shrunk an inch since I saw her with that awful ****. “Wipe that smile off your ugly face. Your donkey isn't going to make it,” she spoke carelessly. “Poor Petunia is dying?” I wept, heart-sickened. “Yes,” evil Claudia answered as rotten chunks of decayed flesh fell from her blue face & chest. “I hate you a lot!” I exclaimed. “Monday you'll be in hell, boiling in an orange ocean of hot things!” Later on, after my donkey got hit by 4 Mack trucks screaming through a Catholic school zone at 85-miles-per-hour because the driver was a queer Mexican, Claudia apologized for 10 minutes and presented her mega-**** cousin to me. Her first name was Katrina and she hadn't experienced the intimate love of a virile guy before. “Take off that pink string bikini,” I ordered, “and we'll tunnel to Egypt together.” For 63 heart-stopping, clot-shot days we made love together on the balcony of my billion-dollar penthouse apartment in north Sweden. Those were gay times: skin-diving for enormous clams; filling leaky ***** bags with really rancid cottage cheese; ambushing innocent cops behind the Uruguayan embassy.

— The End —