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ConnectHook Sep 2015
[Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle]

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Ill:
We languish here in deep red hell—
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.


Replied Lil’ Kim: The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs…


Kim chee does stink, but tastes so good
Do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessey and blondes (in hell)
when
Juche’s in da hood!

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.


Ill Kim displayed a wicked grin:
Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck
I think we still could win…


The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
Replied to Ill: This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still—
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend.
Remember **? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam—
He’s limping toward his doom.


A wizened ghost now drifted in
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle ** Chi Minh !

** **—old friend! Draw near! Draw near,
Spoke Mao: In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.


Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap—
conspiring ******* their cow
and smoke their duck and drain their sow
while they are buying bling.

** Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.


Old uncle **, the sage revered,
did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp
It slithers like a jungle asp…
** paused and stroked his beard:

You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol ***
How best to steer this fight.

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
of Kapital. His fame was huge
for plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation
such is revolution, gents…
The traitor classes see the masses,
through reactionary  glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
for pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
to fertilize the harvest plot—
the people’s mouths to feed.


When Pol *** heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber:
Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well and I will teach ya!

Kim and Mao applauded.

City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them slave – and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

From the barrel power grows—
(I don’t mean kim chee barrel, boys).
Now learn my way.We’ll have our say
Their weakened states will wither away.

The Red dictator rose.

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(the way Fidel so loves to do)
Pol ***’s harangue now fired the gang
like rockets falling on Da Nang
emitting sparks in showers.

Hell is known for lack of stasis—
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
and constant similar affairs
the population faces…

Thus Saint Pol ***, still naming names
along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
while ** Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
were swept en masse, and unredeemed
into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
with dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
stinking sulphur brimstone rising;
ghosts in the yellow haze . . .

        ☭ END ☭
http://tinyurl.com/q6uyx34

Now, when the moon slid under the cloud
And the cold clear dark of starlight fell,
He heard in his blood the well-known bell
Tolling slowly in heaves of sound,
Slowly beating, slowly beating,
Shaking its pulse on the stagnant air:
Sometimes it swung completely round,
Horribly gasping as if for breath;
Falling down with an anguished cry . . .
Now the red bat, he mused, will fly;
Something is marked, this night, for death . . .
And while he mused, along his blood
Flew ghostly voices, remote and thin,
They rose in the cavern of his brain,
Like ghosts they died away again;
And hands upon his heart were laid,
And music upon his flesh was played,
Until, as he was bidden to do,
He walked the wood he so well knew.
Through the cold dew he moved his feet,
And heard far off, as under the earth,
Discordant music in shuddering tones,
Screams of laughter, horrible mirth,
Clapping of hands, and thudding of drums,
And the long-drawn wail of one in pain.
To-night, he thought, I shall die again,
We shall die again in the red-eyed fire
To meet on the edge of the wood beyond
With the placid gaze of fed desire . . .
He walked; and behind the whisper of trees,
In and out, one walked with him:
She parted the branches and peered at him,
Through lowered lids her two eyes burned,
He heard her breath, he saw her hand,
Wherever he turned his way, she turned:
Kept pace with him, now fast, now slow;
Moving her white knees as he moved . . .
This is the one I have always loved;
This is the one whose bat-soul comes
To dance with me, flesh to flesh,
In the starlight dance of horns and drums . . .

The walls and roofs, the scarlet towers,
Sank down behind a rushing sky.
He heard a sweet song just begun
Abruptly shatter in tones and die.
It whirled away.  Cold silence fell.
And again came tollings of a bell.

     *     *     *     *     *

This air is alive with witches: the white witch rides
Swifter than smoke on the starlit wind.
In the clear darkness, while the moon hides,
They come like dreams, like something remembered . .
Let us hurry! beloved; take my hand,
Forget these things that trouble your eyes,
Forget, forget!  Our flesh is changed,
Lighter than smoke we wreathe and rise . . .

The cold air hisses between us . . . Beloved, beloved,
What was the word you said?
Something about clear music that sang through water . . .
I cannot remember.  The storm-drops break on the leaves.
Something was lost in the darkness.  Someone is dead.
Someone lies in the garden and grieves.
Look how the branches are tossed in this air,
Flinging their green to the earth!
Black clouds rush to devour the stars in the sky,
The moon stares down like a half-closed eye.
The leaves are scattered, the birds are blown,
Oaks crash down in the darkness,
We run from our windy shadows; we are running alone.

     *     *     *     *     *

The moon was darkened: across it flew
The swift grey tenebrous shape he knew,
Like a thing of smoke it crossed the sky,
The witch! he said.  And he heard a cry,
And another came, and another came,
And one, grown duskily red with blood,
Floated an instant across the moon,
Hung like a dull fantastic flame . . .
The earth has veins: they throb to-night,
The earth swells warm beneath my feet,
The tips of the trees grow red and bright,
The leaves are swollen, I feel them beat,
They press together, they push and sigh,
They listen to hear the great bat cry,
The great red bat with the woman's face . . .
Hurry! he said.  And pace for pace
That other, who trod the dark with him,
Crushed the live leaves, reached out white hands
And closed her eyes, the better to see
The priests with claws, the lovers with hooves,
The fire-lit rock, the sarabands.
I am here! she said.  The bough he broke--
Was it the snapping bough that spoke?
I am here! she said.  The white thigh gleamed
Cold in starlight among dark leaves,
The head thrown backward as he had dreamed,
The shadowy red deep jasper mouth;
And the lifted hands, and the ****** *******,
Passed beside him, and vanished away.
I am here! she cried.  He answered 'Stay!'
And laughter arose, and near and far
Answering laughter rose and died . . .
Who is there? in the dark? he cried.
He stood in terror, and heard a sound
Of terrible hooves on the hollow ground;
They rushed, were still; a silence fell;
And he heard deep tollings of a bell.

     *     *     *     *     *

Look beloved!  Why do you hide your face?
Look, in the centre there, above the fire,
They are bearing the boy who blasphemed love!
They are playing a piercing music upon him
With a bow of living wire! . . .
The ****** harlot sings,
She leans above the beautiful anguished body,
And draws slow music from those strings.
They dance around him, they fling red roses upon him,
They trample him with their naked feet,
His cries are lost in laughter,
Their feet grow dark with his blood, they beat and
      beat,
They dance upon him, until he cries no more . . .
Have we not heard that cry before?
Somewhere, somewhere,
Beside a sea, in the green evening,
Beneath green clouds, in a copper sky . . .
Was it you? was it I?
They have quenched the fires, they dance in the darkness,
The satyrs have run among them to seize and tear,
Look! he has caught one by the hair,
She screams and falls, he bears her away with him,
And the night grows full of whistling wings.
Far off, one voice, serene and sweet,
Rises and sings . . .

'By the clear waters where once I died,
In the calm evening bright with stars. . . .'
Where have I heard these words?  Was it you who sang them?
It was long ago.
Let us hurry, beloved! the hard hooves trample;
The treetops tremble and glow.

     *     *     *     *     *

In the clear dark, on silent wings,
The red bat hovers beneath her moon;
She drops through the fragrant night, and clings
Fast in the shadow, with hands like claws,
With soft eyes closed and mouth that feeds,
To the young white flesh that warmly bleeds.
The maidens circle in dance, and raise
From lifting throats, a soft-sung praise;
Their knees and ******* are white and bare,
They have hung pale roses in their hair,
Each of them as she dances by
Peers at the blood with a narrowed eye.
See how the red wing wraps him round,
See how the white youth struggles in vain!
The weak arms writhe in a soundless pain;
He writhes in the soft red veiny wings,
But still she whispers upon him and clings. . . .
This is the secret feast of love,
Look well, look well, before it dies,
See how the red one trembles above,
See how quiet the white one lies! . . . .

Wind through the trees. . . and a voice is heard
Singing far off.  The dead leaves fall. . . .
'By the clear waters where once I died,
In the calm evening bright with stars,
One among numberless avatars,
I wedded a mortal, a mortal bride,
And lay on the stones and gave my flesh,
And entered the hunger of him I loved.
How shall I ever escape this mesh
Or be from my lover's body removed?'
Dead leaves stream through the hurrying air
And the maenads dance with flying hair.

     *     *     *     *     *

The priests with hooves, the lovers with horns,
Rise in the starlight, one by one,
They draw their knives on the spurting throats,
They smear the column with blood of goats,
They dabble the blood on hair and lips
And wait like stones for the moon's eclipse.
They stand like stones and stare at the sky
Where the moon leers down like a half-closed eye. . .
In the green moonlight still they stand
While wind flows over the darkened sand
And brood on the soft forgotten things
That filled their shadowy yesterdays. . . .
Where are the *******, the scarlet wings? . . . .
They gaze at each other with troubled gaze. . . .
And then, as the shadow closes the moon,
Shout, and strike with their hooves the ground,
And rush through the dark, and fill the night
With a slowly dying clamor of sound.
There, where the great walls crowd the stars,
There, by the black wind-riven walls,
In a grove of twisted leafless trees. . . .
Who are these pilgrims, who are these,
These three, the one of whom stands upright,
While one lies weeping and one of them crawls?
The face that he turned was a wounded face,
I heard the dripping of blood on stones. . . .
Hooves had trampled and torn this place,
And the leaves were strewn with blood and bones.
Sometimes, I think, beneath my feet,
The warm earth stretches herself and sighs. . . .
Listen!  I heard the slow heart beat. . . .
I will lie on this grass as a lover lies
And reach to the north and reach to the south
And seek in the darkness for her mouth.

     *     *     *     *     *

Beloved, beloved, where the slow waves of the wind
Shatter pale foam among great trees,
Under the hurrying stars, under the heaving arches,
Like one whirled down under shadowy seas,
I run to find you, I run and cry,
Where are you?  Where are you?  It is I.  It is I.
It is your eyes I seek, it is your windy hair,
Your starlight body that breathes in the darkness there.
Under the darkness I feel you stirring. . . .
Is this you?  Is this you?
Bats in this air go whirring. . . .
And this soft mouth that darkly meets my mouth,
Is this the soft mouth I knew?
Darkness, and wind in the tortured trees;
And the patter of dew.

     *     *     *     *     *

Dance!  Dance!  Dance!  Dance!
Dance till the brain is red with speed!
Dance till you fall!  Lift your torches!
Kiss your lovers until they bleed!
Backward I draw your anguished hair
Until your eyes are stretched with pain;
Backward I press you until you cry,
Your lips grow white, I kiss you again,
I will take a torch and set you afire,
I will break your body and fling it away. . . .
Look, you are trembling. . . Lie still, beloved!
Lock your hands in my hair, and say
Darling! darling! darling! darling!
All night long till the break of day.

Is it your heart I hear beneath me. . . .
Or the far tolling of that tower?
The voices are still that cried around us. . . .
The woods grow still for the sacred hour.
Rise, white lover! the day draws near.
The grey trees lean to the east in fear.
'By the clear waters where once I died . . . .'
Beloved, whose voice was this that cried?
'By the clear waters that reach the sun
By the clear waves that starward run. . . .
I found love's body and lost his soul,
And crumbled in flame that should have annealed. . .
How shall I ever again be whole,
By what dark waters shall I be healed?'

Silence. . . the red leaves, one by one,
Fall.  Far off, the maenads run.

Silence.  Beneath my naked feet
The veins of the red earth swell and beat.
The dead leaves sigh on the troubled air,
Far off the maenads bind their hair. . . .
Hurry, beloved! the day comes soon.
The fire is drawn from the heart of the moon.

     *     *     *     *     *

The great bell cracks and falls at last.
The moon whirls out.  The sky grows still.
Look, how the white cloud crosses the stars
And suddenly drops behind the hill!
Your eyes are placid, you smile at me,
We sit in the room by candle-light.
We peer in each other's veins and see
No sign of the things we saw this night.
Only, a song is in your ears,
A song you have heard, you think, in dream:
The song which only the demon hears,
In the dark forest where maenads scream . . .

'By the clear waters where once I died . . .
In the calm evening bright with stars . . . '
What do the strange words mean? you say,--
And touch my hand, and turn away.
Deep Thought Jul 2018
From the moment I walked in,
I felt the piercing eyes.
Same eyes that nailed Jesus to the wooden cross.

Jesus said, by this,
all man will know you are my disciples,
if you have love one to another.

Pharisees, Pharisees, Pharisees.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen into apostasy.
Like the Nephilim which came & has yet to come again.  
Surely heading back to the beginning, the Days of Noah.

The entire time I sat in those fold-up chairs,
my heart couldn't stop racing.
Perhaps it was the spirits aligning to seek whom they may devour.

Heard many vain repetitions today,
didn't Jesus say that's what heathens do?
For they think that they will be heard for their many words.

We all crucified the Lord Jesus Christ.
We have all blasphemed.

One perfect Godman died on our behalf,
then rose 3 days later to break the curse.
Sacrificial love.

Let us not break bread & drink grape juice.
Guess you never knew that's symbology for cannibalism.
In which He never commanded us to do.

Simply two commands were left.
Love God with all your heart,
with all your soul & with all your mind.
Secondly, love your neighbor as you love yourself.
This is for anyone who's been oppressed by churches.
Sa Sa Ra May 2013
I do love
But it ain't quite
like the Discovery Channel!!!

I want so much more than
the collective desire of Park Avenues

I believe like,

With exactly no doubt
like zero are the hours
which can never count
upon the seamlessness
of my perceptions

I do but I don't
I am and therefor not

I talk in mirrored tongues
I observe in uncanny detail

Micro and macro all a flow
overly ever rushing torrents
moving galaxies about

Pouring in
more rushes out

You can picture it
over the mighty edges of
and rushing to, fro and about
every swirling an obstacle stout

Though such knows not
one another in such ways
inseparable upon one journey

As She manifests from her he, Self
He's giving for he gets the She of,

An ever persuasive passionate,

Play... .. .

Greater than the dreams

We know of love yet
Shy to conceive

They, their passion
.........
  .....
   ...
    "
    '
We inwardly receive

Those torrential lovers
pourings do spillover
and on and over
and rush upwards
ah ever more easily!!!

Vast sensualities
******* rhythms
of this a, Our universe
in micro exotic intoxicating
allure, irresistibly entwining
the smallest tastes and teases
of songbirds loving symphonies

As butterfly and a bee in the ever
sweet scents of psychedelic sighting
wavings in ever inviting ever ripening
ever flows of heavens manna sweets, but
sours the way short where some say sinners
ought never see or be, though such is silliness see,

For such shy glimpses of what is less than momentary
which is not countable, when our greatnesses will carry on
beyond our redemptions of what only we shall see clearly so
simply, one day twas the dark night of a soul, here blasphemed
about the sacredness of all ever evident being so close found fondly,

Sweetly, though lost in those ever aching wishes of our journeying together

Would death be ****** abandonment at all a freaky thing unconceived
dark night of the great light conceived viewed in our ever grace and beauty
but she lets you feel her he's and all the glory, all the glory an unrealized being
in all our collectiveness has not yet seen but in the depths of where it's consider dark
for simple decisions we all have and must have made to function here, there

and at all,
at once...

No time, no space, no EMC squared's
yet in Newtonian fashion the soul spirit remains
carries on in infinite motion and motions of our choosings
and for better and worse we do all about the same for we
were never thrilled about all the separation we discovered
in reluctance and or in blessed joys of great companies
of loving hearts, eyes, ears, arms with tender loving
caring hands of nurture enough twas enough for
you are still here now and those who have not
have forgiven all other misguidance eagerly
when it is easily found tis only our own
choice to be and set free freely

And I can want any petty desire too
and put myself up for adoption to,

The petting zoo
and you...

For hell yeah I want to be here
all the way and with you
my wayfarers

I Do...

do do dee da da
oo la la and ma mama

childs all of such grace
we oft just call gods

And greater love seen
dispensed philosophically
by self proclaimed atheism's

Denialism can rather be the truth
of atheism, self pitying so deeply
resenting the here now for some
overly wishful thinkings and
of mournful emotionalism's
about the 'it just ain't fairs'

Beware they will take you
to their wheres, wearing
their wares of self hate
while glossfully
painting in
glitterings
of fools
gold

Feign not thou
we are co conspirators
already decidedly agreed
agreeably dancing on the sharp
end of one pointed pin, hand holding

But remember if we were ever shaken
off of binding bonds ever closefully as
the chasms of divergences really are

We still ever dance ever lightly on
the everly fine poignancy of pin

And the illusion of being
garden casted for some
shamefully blameful
denials of the snakes
sly fashion to even
ones need of feed

And or wither from
the long and short
of journey with
the ever's of

here now...

Paradise
Perfectly

Paradoxically

In our
every
way

So I am
in great hunger
greater thirst firstly

For the one great illusion
desert stricken for not seeing
the forest of paradise for every
tree and every grace of all possibility

Without such would come from impossibility*

Once Again...
"Get In My Belly!!! I'm Having a Fat ******* Moment!

Is it normal to be this hungry all of the time? ***! I swear I could have just eaten and not even two hours later I'm famished. I don't remember it being like this before. Like right now all I want is some bread, spaghetti meat sauce and and some orange sherbet then top it all off with a nice big bottle of Iceland Pure alkaline water. Ooh, ooh or some curry lentil soup with some grilled chicken and sauteed mushrooms. Or, or some watermelon, grapes and strawberries with cream cheese and cane sugar dip and sauteed lamb. My goodness "I am hungry"!!! Feed me Seymore!!!"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fat_Bastard_(character)
Ryan P Kinney Apr 2015
Who Am I?

I am a boy and a man.
I am a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, and a grand child.
I was a boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband, and an in-law.
I am a bachelor.
I am surrounded and abandoned.
I am a family man and a loner.

I am a homemaker and a handyman.
I wear the apron and the tool belt.
I am a neat freak and a slob.
I am an amateur contractor and a contracted amateur.
I am a dumpster diver, a recycler, and a decadent waste.
I am a glutton, a scavenger, and a scrapper.

I am a friend and an enemy.
I am fun and an annoyance.
I am a lover and a hater.
I am creepy, cruel, and harsh.
I am tender, loving, and inviting.
I have a foul mouth and tender lips,
Drenched in jagged, soft-serve words.

I am a painter, sculptor, draftsman, sketcher, character designer, photographer, graphic designer, fashion designer, kitbasher, customizer, and crafter.
I am a reader, a writer, and a poet.
I am the Jail Baby, Ryan & Lisa, The Phoenix, The AntiFather, and The HEYMAN!
I compose symphonies of visual and intangible imagery.
I bring form to thought.
I destroy,
I create.
I am an artist.

I am a geek, nerd, freak, and otaku.
I have been punk, goth, prep, white trash, and metrosexual.
I wear glasses,
But only as a sick joke.
I am beautiful and ugly,
Clean and *****.
I am unique.
I am predictable.
I have changed, but am still the same.

I am a techie,
An electronic ******.
I am cutting edge and old school.
Digitally signed and sealed.
I am analog and obsolete.

I am an adrenaline addict.
I can chill, maybe slow,
But never relax.

I am blue collar, tradesman, and service industry.
I am peon and ****** on.
Oh, but I have done the ******* too!
I have been hired and fired,
Bought and sold.
I have worn the uniform,
I have said, “**** the man!”
I am the proletariat,
I am in charge.

I am a student, dropout, and teacher.
I am class clown and teacher’s pet.
I have learned, forgotten, and taught,
But never learned my lesson.
I don’t listen to what I’m told,
But always do what I tell.

I am a genius,
I am an idiot.
I have intelligence, but often lack the intel.
I am naïve, but wise.
I am right and wrong.

I have philosophies and ideas,
But no religion.
I have desecrated and blasphemed,
Prayed and praised.
I have lusted, envied, and coveted.
I am guilty and innocent,
Pure and soiled,
Good and bad.

I am a driver and a passenger.
I am an explorer and a shut-in.
I am wild and free,
Caged and stifled.
I was warmly wrapped in my blanket,
But burned through it.

I have rode, climbed, and conquered.
I  stood still.
I jumped in.
I have fallen and been defeated.

I have been abroad,
I have been nowhere.
I have drifted.
I have settled.
I have led and been led.
I have been in and out,
Here and there,
Around and AWOL,
On the run and trapped.
But, not everywhere.

I have applied,
I have procrastinated.
I have worked my fingers to the bone,
I have slept it off.

I have fought and fled.
I have quit.
I have endured.
I am a winner and a loser,
A champ and a chump.

I am fake,
I am real.
I have lied, cheated, and stole.
I have been honest, fair, and generous.

I am selfish and selfless.
I am a gift giver, gift wrapper, and gift taker.
I am a thief and a philanthropist.

I am insecure and confident,
Confused and absolutely sure.
I am proud and ashamed.
I am complicated and convoluted,
But simple to please.

I have blind faith and guarded suspicion
I have secrets,
But lie rarely.
I accept everyone,
I trust nothing.

I have pointed the finger,
Only to turn it on myself.
I have held grudges and forgiven.
I have trusted and misguided.
I have been Judas and Jesus.

I am a maniac,
I am sane.
I have been strong and weak.
I can keep it together,
But prefer to break it apart.

I have bled.
I have healed.
I have been abused and neglected,
Coddled and protected.

I have been kissed and punched;
Hunted, wanted, and arrested,
Ignored, overlooked, and invisible.

I have loved and lost,
Lived and learned.
I am a soldier of misfortune and opportunity.

I have blended in.
I have stood out.
I have stood up.
I have backed down.
I have been backed into a corner.
I have all the space in the world.

I have seen, interpreted, and perceived,
I have ignored, dismissed, and been blind.
I hunger, want, and need…
I am satiated and content,
But never at peace.

I have been misunderstood and underestimated.
I have been put down, put up, pushed away, and let in.
I have been known,
But never entirely.

I have raged, cried, smiled, trembled, and laughed.
I have been depressed.
I have been happy.
I have been suicidal. I have felt death.
I have been lost and found.
I have been broken, then fixed,
Stitched, yet glitched,
Scarred, but whole.
I am alive.


I took the chance,
I let the moment slip.
I walked the straight and narrow,
I ran down the road not taken.
I dream; some whole, some shattered.
I go with the flow, but don’t let the waves take me.

I am shards and reflections,
Machinations and reactions.
I am translucent pieces and parts,
Assembled and disheveled.
I am the big picture still focused on the details.

I am the sum total of heredity and experience.
I am not,
I am more.
I am everything and nothing.
I am a walking contradiction.
I am human.

I tried to be you,
But didn’t know what that meant.
I am me,
It’s all I know.

Who are you?
Lexander J Apr 2015
I travelled straight west
to the epicentre of the southern wastelands
and 'twas with mind-numbing disbelief that
I found an Oak table propped upon the sands

and it was not alone either
for three beings sat it, seemingly nonplussed -
one was a skinny old man
wearing a linen suit faded and powdered with dust

his collar frayed around the edges
a moth-eaten hat sat upon his head,
he had a daisy poking from his breast pocket
so very much preserved, so very much dead,

to his left sat a one-eyed Hare
the sole eye ecstatic and wiggling -
he swore and blasphemed each time the man spoke
from a mouth toothless and dribbling,

sat to the right of the man
was absolutely (absolutely!) nothing,
however I observed with mild humour
that both man and Hare were convinced it must be something

for the man was profusely adamant
scorning the Something for dissing the Hare's hair,
although the Hare was too busy rolling around its one eye
to even notice the man, or simply give a fu- care

"Hey hey talk to I! Hath thou seen my missing eye?!"
Hare asked from a voice shrieky and shattered
saliva running in rivets
upon the table it slopped and slavered -

then suddenly the man started singing encore
his voice cringe-worthy, out of tune,
sounding like a cat back-broke and on steroids
rocking and waving like a spastic-loon;

"If Father Time has no end,
does he even have a beginning -
oh, if there's pain is there gain,
which one of us is it that's winning?"

alas, that's when my attention was brought to the mounds
of surgical needles cluttered on the ground,
feeling sickly aura lick the back of my throat
I started backing away without a sound

["Hey hey talk to I -"]

["If there's pain is there gain -"]

["Hath thou seen my missing Missing MISSING EYE?!!"]

#FLASH!#

the dystopian landscape around me melted
into a field of bloated poppies -

serene, scarlet and blinding 'neath the sun,
feasting upon our charred bodies.

AJ
This poem is pretty much inspired by Lewis Carrol's Alice In Wonderland (The Madd Hatters Tea Party). I wanted to write nonsensical!
My Claudia, it is long since we have met,
So kissed, so held each other heart to heart!
I thought to greet thee as a conqueror comes,
Bearing the trophies of his prowess home,
But Jove hath willed it should be otherwise­
Jove, say I? Nay, some mightier stranger-god
Who thus hath laid his heavy hand on me,
No victor, Claudia, but a broken man
Who seeks to hide his weakness in thy love.

How beautiful thou art! The years have brought
An added splendor to thy loveliness,
With passion of dark eye and lip rose-red
Struggling between its dimple and its pride.
And yet there is somewhat that glooms between
Thy love and mine; come, girdle me about
With thy true arms, and pillow on thy breast
This aching and bewildered head of mine;
Here, where the fountain glitters in the sun
Among the saffron lilies, I will tell­
If so that words will answer my desire­
The shameful fate that hath befallen me.

Down in Jerusalem they slew a man,
Or god­it may be that he was a god­
Those mad, wild Jews whom Pontius Pilate rules.
Thou knowest Pilate, Claudia­ -- a vain man,
Too weak to govern such a howling horde
As those same Jews. This man they crucified.
I knew nought of him­had not heard his name
Until the day they dragged him to his death;
Then all tongues wagged about him and his deeds;
Some said that he had claimed to be their King,
Some that he had blasphemed their deity
'Twas certain he was poor and meanly born,
No warrior he, nor hero; and he taught
Doctrines that surely would upset the world;
And so they killed him to be rid of him­
Wise, very wise, if he were only man,
Not quite so wise if he were half a god!

I know that strange things happened when he died­
There was a darkness and an agony,
And some were vastly frightened­not so I!
What cared I if that mob of reeking Jews
Had brought a nameless curse upon their heads ?
I had no part in that blood-guiltiness.
At least he died; and some few friends of his­
I think he had not very many friends­
Took him and laid him in a garden tomb.
A watch was set about the sepulchre,
Lest these, his friends, should hide him and proclaim
That he had risen as he had fore-told.
Laugh not, my Claudia. I laughed when I heard
The prophecy. I would I had not laughed!

I, Maximus, was chosen for the guard
With all my trusty fellows. Pilate knew
I was a man who had no foolish heart
Of softness all unworthy of a man!
My eyes had looked upon a tortured slave
As on a beetle crushed beneath my tread;
I gloried in the splendid strife of war,
Lusting for conquest; I had won the praise
Of our stern general on a scarlet field;
Red in my veins the warrior passion ran,
For I had sprung from heroes, Roman born!

That second night we watched before the tomb;
My men were merry; on the velvet turf,
Bestarred with early blossoms of the Spring,
They diced with jest and laughter; all around
The moonlight washed us like a silver lake,
Save where that silent, sealed sepulchre
Was hung with shadow as a purple pall.
A faint wind stirred among the olive boughs­
Methinks I hear the sighing of that wind
In all sounds since, it was so dumbly sad;
But as the night wore on it died away
And all was deadly stillness; Claudia,
That stillness was most awful, as if some
Great heart had broken and so ceased to beat!
I thought of many things, but found no joy
In any thought, even the thought of thee;
The moon waned in the west and sickly grew
Her light ****** from her in the breaking dawn­
Never was dawn so welcome as that pale,
Faint glimmer in the cloudless, brooding sky!

Claudia, how may I tell what came to pass?
I have been mocked at when I told the tale
For a crazed dreamer punished by the gods
Because he slept on guard; but mock not thou!
I could not bear it if thy lips should mock
The vision dread of that Judean morn.

Sudden the pallid east was all aflame
With radiance that beat upon our eyes
As from noonday sun; and then we saw
Two shapes that were as the immortal gods
Standing before the tomb; around me fell
My men as dead; but I, though through my veins
Ran a cold tremor never known before,
Withstood the shock and saw one shining shape
Roll back the stone; the whole world seemed ablaze,
And through the garden came a rushing wind
Thundering a paeon as of victory.

Then that dead man came forth! Oh, Claudia,
If thou coulds't but have seen the face of him!
Never was such a conqueror! Yet no pride
Was in it­nought but love and tenderness,
Such as we Romans scoff at; and his eyes
Bespake him royal. Oh, my Claudia,
Surely he was no Jew but very god!

Then he looked full upon me. I had borne
Much staunchly, but that look I could not bear!
What man may front a god and live? I fell
Prone, as if stricken by a thunderbolt;
And, though I died not, somewhat of me died
That made me man. When my long stupor passed
I was no longer Maximus­I was
A weakling with a piteous woman-soul,
All strength and pride, joy and ambition gone­
My Claudia, dare I tell thee what foul curse
Is mine because I looked upon a god?

I care no more for glory; all desire
For conquest and for strife is gone from me,
All eagerness for war; I only care
To help and heal bruised beings, and to give
Some comfort to the weak and suffering.
I cannot even hate those Jews; my lips
Speak harshly of them, but within my heart
I feel a strange compassion; and I love
All creatures, to the vilest of the slaves
Who seem to me as brothers! Claudia,
Scorn me not for this weakness; it will pass­
Surely 'twill pass in time and I shall be
Maximus strong and valiant once again,
Forgetting that slain god! and yet­and yet­
He looked as one who could not be forgot!
Tyler Castro Jul 2017
Scarlet-haired maiden. Blood-soaked kitten. Our history once bled from my veins. May the ink from my pen be the last drop to leak from my stitches. I have cursed, I have blasphemed, and for what? You are as blind as ever as to what I am saying. It is as if those crows finally got around to doing my bidding. Scarlet-haired maiden, I am but a Jester to call you so. Calling you a maiden is a folly no less disastrous as calling a Siren a fish. Blood-soaked kitten, you dare call yourself such a familiar? Call your fat self a, "Little" in search of a father figure? Hark… You're but a beast rolling around in lovers' blood. Licking the sweet nectar off your soft and welcoming fur. Had I  not known better I'd reach down to the pits of hell just to pet you. I'd risk your curious claws getting at my loose thread. Sadly… I am but a Jester…I lead you back to our old tree. Our shrine where Gaia herself guarded our love. Where I gave you my heart in the form of an odd pedaled flower. To this day, I dare not to let a white Jasmine flower offend my nostrils. Its sour scent will begrudgingly throw me back to sweet—fleeting—moments. Moments where I had you play the "Loves-Me-Not" game whilst utterly ignoring the warning sign of the very NAME of said game. Moments where I was unaware of the very games you were playing.
Hana-Grace Wiebe Jul 2011
Angry as the bees
Angry as the chosen twelve
He searches for his keys
Underneath my heavy bedsheets

I have no silver
To buy my field of redemption
Or to hand my body
to the rotting roots and rocks
below

I've still kept my head

He still speaks to me
Through leather seats
He lays down the law
I lay down my wheat

I have not blasphemed
your Holy Ghost
But
that was always something that
other people
did
So who knows?

I still hang my head
AJ James Oct 2012
Everything I'm feeling inside
is about to capsize.
I can't wait for these thoughts to subside
or will they collide
with the terrible force of my mind?
I say, God help me before I am confined
and so naively purblind.

I'm trying to find my way
and this may sound totally cliche
but **** I'm so terribly lost
I feel like my plans have crisscrossed.
But I'm actually star-crossed
with my own thought
of how I've turned into such a crackpot.

I'm so gone,
I'm squandered.
Am I being absurd?
My visions are blurred
and like a blind man I'm clobbered
by all the words that I have misheard.

But watch me
as I achieve
all that I can be.
I'm not a fool
I just need to refuel.
Take a moment
to just breathe...

..........

And I'll be back in full force
straight back on this wild concourse.
I'm not here to enforce
or endorse, I don't care
what's wrong with your discourse.

You're on your own, I'm on mine.
And I'm finding out why
this life is not so divine.
But do not deny,
stop with your outcries
I'm just saying my goodbyes.

But I will be back
and with a smack
you'll never know what hit you
cause I'm gonna be so brand new.
Watch me achieve all I've dreamed
all that you have blasphemed.
Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
Since I had returned from the missing,
In life from family and loved ones.

Loss of Dearly Beloved Partners,
Whereby certain words had been,
Unnecessary with those of very deep bonds.

Sure I understand, understood then,
What I dared not spoke of truly with embodied beings.

It was a true joy Easter 1978,
To get together with your family.
Mom , Dad and Steven had been there.

We had a chance to talk as young adults,
Perhaps get to know each other in such a new way.

Sure you 16, said 'you were woman',
I have long since found the words of;

'I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
Don't think twice, it's all right.'

Chillingly haunting still!!
For better and or worse still!!

But there we were young enough adults,
You were so receptive and I spoke in your earnest attention.
While too I picked up many subtle things by you,
Few words came back.

But you listened so well my friend whom I saw.
Surely I was open and in dire need to tell my story to a soul alive.
I refer to such as 'my little sermon on the mount' still at any price.
And so I believed in you as some partner then there indeed.

Not necessarily as unfolded, but such all did.
'We never did to much talking anyway';

Well not so true at all really on the contrary.
But 'Jeremiah was a Bull Frog';

Apparently,

I'm not sure if either understood a word said to this very day.

'What was it you wanted';
Can you say?

You tell me I can't,
Never could.

Claims of 'Christ Discipleship' in differing ways!!

Joy To The World

And I can take all detail like a wild man, savant,
Roll around the 'wheel of spectrum disorders' I know.

Still know just One thing!!!
We have been here before in oh so many ways!!

On one hand I understand 'All Complications',
Oh so simply of All Gods Children!!
On the other hand none at all.

So hard to understand and accept all at once!!

I always knew you,
By Eve of Halloween's Eve later same year;
Or more acutely so very soon thereafter that;

You were somehow my 'nemesis';
That was would produce my 'dark night of soul';

I was once again conquered,
By just one moment of doubt


Dark Knight
Loving Brightly

I was even joyed by that!!

Still I would believe in things,
I was already assured of in this my life;

'The World'
We live in

Here
Hear


In these now's.

I sum up 'The Word' Bible in just one Word,
By that 'Red Letter Word' at the Last Supper.

About LOVE sure,
But just two letters;

'AS'

As in;
'Just love one another 'AS' I have loved you'!!

Which was with Gods;
  
Gifts of 100% Judgement on with Zero Judgmentalness!!

That is my friend and partner most true I only understand!!

Good News Being Good!!!

Christians say 'well hey look Moses had 10 then expounded 5 books beyond as Torah.

Well,
See!!!

Shaman Master J

Got's that down to just 2 !!;

'Love God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself'!!!

Ya and in front of the corrupt politicized,
Blasphemed powers of the Hebrew leaders that day!!!

Reciting the Torah
Standing on one foot!!


~8~~~
Days a Week

Wow!!!
Huh!!!


Well truth be he was just reciting,
The living word near verbatim of the last minor prophets in those last days!!!

Otherwise he would and did say like the Greeks,
In marble on their temple and as I know,
Easier otherwise to say;

'Know Thyself';

All creation is within all things,
So therefor on this path of inner self honesty,
With the message we all inwardly receive,
It all lines up and all mystery ceases to be!!!

So no I do not understand,
Certain types of complications,
No I don't.

All so overly simple to me!!

You have always overly impressed me,
In oh so many ways, such inherent 'gifts';

But they must breathe or what are they.

We may be off charts at different ends;
Yet I still know how close to very fine are these lines between!!

Yet,

'Liteheart5'

'Lite125'
~8~~
Fly Free!!!!

~3~~
Be yet between!!!

Even
AS Shaman Master J;

/ so much typical association with one letter / ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/just-love-one-another-as/

Happy Birthday,
Always, All Ways!!!


From a text you might recall,
I poemalized by whom in your contact list,
By phone I have been,
Dubbed 'Ron the Lord'!!!!

Garlic Really??? or !!!
Sure I can understand your heart / that just assume chop garlic really / ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/garlic-really-or/

Yes 'hued partner,
We too ~2~ can,
Be family!!!

Still
~3~~ between!!!
Us Two!!

~~5~~~
Too
Must Breathe

<3<3:):):)!!! R
Not so complicated!!!!

Illegally Separate
You some other me / some how wherefore / way; / X'YZleeeping; / I ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/illegally-seperate/

The New Dew Due, 'Double Triple Two Steps' Forward!!!
Believe as 'The Heavenly Father" speaks life living within you!! / Than cast continually ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/the-new-dew-due-double-triple-two-steps-forward/

eYe
Will Always
Love You!!! Ra, Ra Ron!!!

I have written some beautiful things about you!!
Some in paper hoards somewhere like;

"30 Trillion Light Year Journey"
'08 that date I am certain of!!

'Stitched without a trace',
A beaut,
I'd love to dig up,
Idk where but paper,
It is somewhere here!!!

'Worlds Most Wanted Woman',
Stuck on my old phone will be retrieved at some point,
Stored in it's memory viable I know,
Was a long text or series,
I know you so love!!!

Yes by 'Ron the Lord'!!!!
<3<3:):):)!!!

LOVE!!!R

Ty Josephine!!!!

*~Sa Sa, Ra!!!~~
~'LJ tells her own birth story so masterfully well done!!!~~R

"So, I love a good birth story (Hmm wonder why), and I don't often post long windedly. So gather 'round children....
51 years ago a green eyed Sicilian beauty was getting ready for New Year's eve, a party was planned with her sorta geeky mad scientist hubby and his friends and she wanted to look hot!
She went to the beauty parlor where it usually took 3 hrs to tame her curly black tresses. Mad scientist dude was across town washing test tubes at the time. She was determined to make an appearance because the goomba in her belly wasn't due to arrive for another 2 1/2 weeks.
While sitting in the salon the snow was coming down on the busy Yonkers street and when she came out, all coiffed and ready, she found that her car had been plowed in! (help me out here Rick, what were they driving those days? The black Lark?)
She ambled across the street to where 3 gentlemen were hanging out in front of the local gas station, prolly smoking cigars and shooting the ****, and asked them if they had a snow shovel.
They, of course, being the chivalrous Yonkers men they were, handed her a shovel!!
Rosa Fortunata (I can see the steam coming from her ears from across the years!) took the shovel and strode back across the street and dug herself out. She has never told me what she said when she pulled her fully pregnant self back to return the shovel, but I can imagine it was precious.
That night naturally she went into labor almost 3 weeks early and the next early morning little fatso goomba screamed lustily into the world. The how and why they named her is our private story which still brings tears to my eyes.
Rumor has it that mad scientist dude still went to that New Year's eve party and got so blotzoed (with joy over his new daughter), that he spent the night under the piano and was a little late bringing his girls home from Yonkers General. All was forgiven when 4 days later he threw his carton of Lucky Strikes into the trash forever, the reality of three kids dependent and adoring him finally hitting home.
I am grateful every day for those amazing parents. And for those street guys whose lazy entertainment for the day helped shape the course of my life.
I am grateful for the angels who surround me daily in the chosen work of my life. The minutes old angels whose wisdom humbles me, and the ages old angels whose bravery astounds me. I am so lucky to live the life that I love. I am so graced with family and friends whose beauty I could never have imagined and whose devotion I can only attempt to deserve.
Love- Linda Josephine"

"So nicely done, gifted 'LJ!!!!"
<3<3!!!
Love!!!R!!
Ra, Ra Ron!!!

PS: Some semi quotes courtesy of Bob Dylan
Sure goes to show ya' the power of self fulling prophecy!!!
No doubt I listened to too much perhaps to point of over dose!!!
'Master of Confusion'!!
Ty Brother Bob/Robert;
For the "Good Luck" line!!!

Don't Think Twice It's Alright

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on
Don’t think twice, it’s all right

It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
An’ it ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
I’m on the dark side of the road
Still I wish there was somethin’ you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin’ anyway
So don’t think twice, it’s all right

It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, gal
Like you never did before
It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, gal
I can’t hear you anymore
I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I’m told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don’t think twice, it’s all right

I’m walkin’ down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I’m bound, I can’t tell
But goodbye’s too good a word, gal
So I’ll just say fare thee well
I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don’t mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don’t think twice, it’s all right

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZPh3hpxLKs

Talk about poetry!!!
http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs
spysgrandson Dec 2016
he replaced the washer,
the refrigerator too

he liked new appliances; they
reminded him of her

especially when he opened the freezer and found
not a pint of her Haagen-Dazs Vanilla

the new washer contained old ghosts as well
for he blasphemed her by washing on hot

a prohibition when she was still here, for fear
of shirts shrinking, she always claimed

he wondered what words of hers would haunt him
when he gutted the wall for a new oven

maybe it would just be the longing for the smell
of cookies baking  (chocolate chip)

the ones she prepared for the grandsons, the day
she took a "quick nap" and never woke up
Let as many Bondservants as are under the Yoke Count their own Masters Worthy of all Honor, so that the name Of GOD and His Doctrine may not be Blasphemed. And those who have believing masters, let them not Despise them because they are Brethren, but rather Serve them because those who are Benefited are Believers and Beloved. Teach and Exhort these things. If anyone Teaches otherwise and Does not Consent to Wholesome Words even the Words of our LORD Jesus Christ, and to the Doctrine which Accords with Godliness. He is Proud, knowing nothing, but is Obsessed with Disputes and Arguments over Words, from which Come Envy, Strife, Reviling, Evil-Suspicions. Useless Wranglings of Men of Corrupt Minds and Destitute of the Truth, who Suppose that Godliness is A means of Gain. From such Withdraw Thyself. Now Godliness with Contentment is Great Gain. For we Brought nothing into this World, and it is Certained We Can Carry Nothing Out. And having Food and Clothing, with these we shall be Content. But those who Desire to be Rich Fall into Temptation and Snare, and into many Foolish and Harmful Lusts which Drown Men in Destruction and Perdition. For the Love Of Money Is A Root Of All Kinds Of Evil, for which some have Strayed from the Faith in their Greediness, and Pierced Themselves through with many Sorrows. But thou, O Man Of GOD, Flee these things and Pursue Righteousness, Godliness, Faith, LOVE, Patience and Gentleness. Fight the Good Fight Of Faith, lay hold on Eternal Life, to which thou were also called and have Confessed the Good Confession in the Presence of many Witnesses. I Urge You, in the Sight of GOD who gives Life to All things, and before Christ Jesus who Witnessed the Good Confession before Pontius Pilate. That thou Keep this Commandment without Spot, Blameless until our Lord Jesus Christ's Appearing. Which He will Manifest in His Own Time, He who is the Blessed and Only Potentate, Thy King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Who alone has Immortality, Dwelling in Unapproachable Light, whom no Man has Seen or can See, to whom Be Honor and Everlasting Power. Amen... Command those who are Rich in this present Age not to be Haughty, nor to Trust in Uncertain Riches but Trust in the Living GOD, who gives Us Richly all things to Enjoy. Let them do Good, that they be Rich in Good Works, ready to Give, Willing to Share. Storing up for themselves a Good Foundation for the Time to Come, that they may lay Hold on Eternal Life... Guard what was committed to Your Trust, Avoiding the Profane and Idle Babble and Contradictions of what is Falsely called Knowledge.... By Professing it some have Strayed Concerning the Faith.. Grace Be with Ours All.. Amen.!

GOD Is Our Strength,
GOD Is Love,
GOD With Us,
GOD Bless,
Peace n Love.!!
GOD With Us.!
Sa Sa Ra Aug 2012
I am not interested in you view on life
Sure I was once upon a time
But it has been to clear for to long
The un-Godly time unmentionable
that you and I have blasphemed together
Sure you say you have yours and on the other side
You are a babe again

Then, well so what
what am I
here now
thee unmentionable time
where the dead prescriptions
are busy being written
as stories
for grave stones
where you have a world
for babes
that are better not born in
not your own
no one
thee unmentionables ours
or who'd dare claim them

Tell me something new
for my own sake
the children's
or from yourself
and I am ears
I am heart
Love
forgiveness

Yes **** it
I could be interested!!

Not in iced over cakes
that have their day
and nonsense
and spend eternity as
death
and decay

Or non-nonsensical romantic fairy tales
I'd dare not tell the precious young
Where sugar and spice is only nice
And the end is already written
in the beginning
I guess so sadly to say
we are so beyond that
but for differing reason
Mine is already stated
Yours is self pity and hell's
fury and justifications

Tell me
Show me

Something NEW!!!
Sa Sa Ra Aug 2012
Embrace thee embracing
angel mirrors indeed,
projected from heart
or mind and time vested,
piercing veil of I
serving ego
vortex of illusion
screaming,
fallen frozen
endless drowning
insatiable
blasphemed
depravity
sentient sea
one drowns in serving thusly
or will lift you in support
calm still core serenity...
beyond illusion and
the grand rapid of disillusionment
for the walk on water
and dance of life routine!!!
Victor Thorn Sep 2011
dedicated to the mirror of the shadow of my former self.

8:25 A.M.

step in late.
the eyes,
the eyes,
exceptional in eye shadow
find mine,
or perhaps i was looking for them,
and i realize
how distracted i’ve been
by my new summer coat,
but now
the eyes are relentless,
the eyes do not blink.
the eyes are omniscient,
the eyes will not sleep.
now that i’m
face to face with fate,
a captive to the eyes
that supposedly convinced me
that all
         faith
                       is
                        blind,
one half second suffices
to make hell
now something to be strived for,
and heaven twice the myth.

and near those eyes,
the face,
the face that infected a thousand consciences
stands by, silently
begging for a command,
its latest fix up on its favorite neurochemicals;
the face,
the face that screams satisfy
for the member that skull-****** a million subconscious desires!

or,
       perhaps,
         he’s a mirror.

9:05 A.M.

and i, the mind,
the only man wearing a collared shirt
in this barren company,
plead for recognition;
to make an impression;
to grab the attention,
scribbling in slang
for hate
            or,
        perhaps,

            triu­mph!

the eyes
beam blistering illegitimacy
into the mind,
unawares and
unintentional.
i make the silent error.
still, the face
chokes out a weak
“hey,”
where there was once cold callous.

definitely a mirror:
opportune moment,
easy catch
while the eyes still wonder:
“standards?!
what the *hell
are those?”

of all faiths, his
                 is
                            blindest.

12:00 P.M.

away,
away,
away, away,
unto the scarlet heat of day,
with winter boots on sunbaked clay,
away,
away,
away, away,
away, away, away
from malady of present way:
the lonely path, too late to pray,
“erode your blessing’s granite sway
away!”
away,
away, away.

but affectation stays not long
as the face has just found out,
contorted, cried, and bellowed shouts
and in the mind’s eye, belted songs.
first contact in eighteen months;
he says:

“it’s you, weakling, you
first source of all my pain!
worthless, worthless,
perverted, scheming,
evil source that
ruined my life!”
definitely a triumph.
“or
perhaps
enhanced it,”
say i.
“herman,
i observe
you’re not so weak
as once i thought,
and half as meek
as last time i heard you speak.
away.”
away,
away, away
unto much cooler, peaceful days.
for now, i’ll put my summer coat
away.


1:57 P.M.

step in late.
no eyes,
no eyes
filled with hate.
no fears,
no fears,
no heavy weight.
no tears,
no tears,
for the day grows late.
today i committed sacrilege:
i tried to sanctify this date.
today i blasphemed against the
holy human mind.
i eschewed the natural anesthetic of time,
and repented of a baseless crime.
the eyes,
the eyes are in my sight,
yet out of mind,
and cannot last for long,
for the many hands,
the hands that rip and tear asunder
will render limb from limb
so desperately trying to
save her from
each other!
Copyright August 2011 by Victor Thorn.
spysgrandson Nov 2012
grease black armies
floating on the blue currents  
your swoops and swoons
a patient ballet
the dull dirge
of the road ****
while we listen
expecting to hear
the sound of one hand clapping
and rush to scribe scrolls
of high born truths,
you know no haste
you descend
through the cool currents
kneel over the dead
tell a truer tale
with talons and teeth
until your gnawing silent ceremony
is blasphemed
by
a
careless
careening
car
a group of vultures is referred to as a wake
.
The indifferent sky,
Cold as marbled altar,
Starless, plain as scripture
Blasphemed with conviction,
In communion with flocks,
Says nothing about love
Nor trust nor truth nor
Blood offered in cold
Cup of chalice
Only priests
Thirst up.
.
Sa Sa Ra Oct 2012
I know of the bridge
and the trolls kept there
for what is deep as the real
longings of misguided torrents
of sugary rat tales of the solemn
slumbering beasts who would eat all
the little children, if not for Puff the Magic Dragon
would be a glut to beast tummies of the poorly
heeding souls reclaimed for the stew for they
spoke the name of yet blasphemed love!!!!!
Invocation to:
Bad Boy Nimko and Bad Girl Akako -by Raj Arumugam
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/bad-boy-nimko-and-bad-girl-akako/
Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
You some other me
some how wherefore
way;

X'YZleeeping;

I call thee;

My darkest nights'
you still push
pull;

My Ability's;

Too hard;

Without;

I'd dare imagine;

To conceive;

Gravity's;

Beyond;

Emc's
Squared;

Beyond;

The ends;

Of Spectrum's;

Off charts;

Either;

Ends...

Overly;

Heavy;

Overly;

Here;

Anoth­er;

Less than the Air;

Still;

Imagine;

Somewhere;

Some How;

Three;

Born;

Between;

Certain;

Defiance;

Loves;

Breat­hes;

Beyond;

Our lives;

Blasphemed;

As parents;

We are everly;

Thank you;


Mommy;

The marvelous;

Miraculous;

All Love;

Joy;

Fun;

Love;

Trust;

Pleasures;

Rest;

Between;

Hands;

Hearts;

Arms;

Hea­venly;

Re See Eve'd

The Holy;

Breath;

Blew;

Breathing;

Breathes;

With All;

Our Lies;

Between;

Still;

Names;

Deeply;

Came;

With All;

Power;

Stories;

True;

So Much;

Gratitude;

Grace too;

Without;

Nor;

Would I;

Conceive;

My family;

Though Seven Billion,
One Here Now Ever;

Generation be;

I have,
put you out;

Finally;

Beyond;

Hope;

Horrors;

Pain;

All to,
too hard,
were it possible,
to conceive;

What I thought,
could be survivable,
in all knowing,
all avoidable;

Yet;

Came,
To Be!!

My prime;

Responsibility,
for my family;

Me,
Our Three,
Now four,
Not five;

Still beyond,
I care,
Love,
Friend;

Too,
to hard,
to conceive;

We,
You,
Me,
S
t
i
l
l,
Two,
Family;

To parent,
as One,
No;

I,
We,
My Prime,
Three Beloved,
Sacred Tree;

I Am,
We Need,
Four Way,
Sacred trust,
Primarily!!!
spysgrandson Oct 2016
her parents would have nothing to do with the z,
naming her Elisa Beth

which few got right in her 65 seasons, for their habit
molded an EliZabeth every time  

we presume it mattered not to Elisa, Elisa Beth, because she was
born blind and deaf

her record of birth got it right, but her social
security card did not,

the checks were cashed by caretakers, who cared not
whether the letter snaked or zagged

her parents' obits also claimed they were survived by
an only daughter, EliZabeth

when she "met her reward," some two years past
there was no legacy in print

save a death certificate, which again blasphemed
her appellation with the alphabet's final figure

but on her gravestone, curiously, she was Elisabeth once more,
though what flat, mute slab could even such a score?
Sa Sa Ra Nov 2012
Under the wires
with all the beautiful men
gods gone under under the gutters
culverts overfull overly discarded the
crux or crutch core of ultimate beauty and
discarded power in blasphemed curses of harrowing tales
of more horrible horrors too to overly too harrowing to be forgotten
but still and still and again and again the beauty and beauty the love and power
the pain the harrowing silent pain silently swallowing of the most horribly wasteful
distasteful disgraces unmentionable not upon a tongue but a single one alone disgraced
by some mass illusion of the collective disgrace as if cast from some garden not here at all times
not at hand but by our own here now by each our own; devils/messiahs either all to real or what ya kidding man...
another harrowing day
with the beauty and pain
of beautiful man
Vseslav Kochenov Mar 2017
The stars were bright above my head,
but mind of mine was filled with dread.
How could my actions have misled
me to a hell like this?
What laws of nature did I break?
And where I made such big mistake?
And how much horrors will awake
and rise from black abyss?

I think this all began the day
I bought a house in the bay
I should have listened what they say:
this place was ****** for good!
But it was cheap, as deadly bogs
With crooked trees and stinky fogs
and countless hoards of homeless dogs
aren't pleasant neighborhood.

I lived there quietly for a year
and awful swamps located here
were not at all a source of fear,
but rusty house was.
I had to catch the rain with bowls,
the wind was welcome through the walls:
They, like the roof, are full of holes,
and hence my anger rose.

I couldn't then afford to fix
or to rebuild this house with bricks,
although I feared of facing Styx
if it was to collapse.
I hardly ever slept at all.
I heard strange noises in the wall
beside my bad, like insects crawl…
'Twas just my mind, perhaps…

And once I woke again at night
and saw a dim and lonely light
just at a border of my sight.
In bayous it appeared.
I quickly put my jacket on
and, trying to suppress my yawn,
I ran to that phenomenon.
That totally was weird!

As I drew near, I saw a maid.
She seemed confused and quite afraid
of something. 'Please, I need your aid!'
she cried. 'My brother's lost!'
I saw some teardrops cross her face.
I was bedazzled by her grace!
'I'll save your brother from this place,
I'll help, at any cost!'

With that into the night I raced
in an extremely thoughtless haste.
And under shiny stars I faced
what seemed like certain death.
A horrid beast from waters rose.
I noticed how the water froze
In pools that were a bit too close...
I couldn't take a breath!

I didn't, though, become a prey.
Twas quite a luck, I can't gainsay.
I don't know how I found my way,
but still, I reached my shack
I hear the beast's spine-chilling groan.
I know this building's my tombstone,
If only I could've somehow known!
Why can't I turn it back?

Moirai will any minute cut
my thread of life. I'm ready, but
I want that beast crushed by this hut.
Is this too much to wish?
What takes that devil so **** long?
Should I attract it with a gong?
Hey, freak, I'm here! What is wrong?
Just come and eat your dish!

But then... Two monsters at my door!
I started crying on the floor,
I loudly cursed, blasphemed and swore...
But then I raised my head:
"You found my brother! Sweet of you!
I hope he didn't catch the flu...
We need to go now, friend! Adieu!"
That's what the girl's voice said.
Call me haphazard
your toot-sweet boutique of skill
a pillpopper's dream

I'm not impressed by
the tongue your mediocre
narcissism speaks

what fading color
propagating hues, faker
saturate the blues

drown that puppy right
pay your ******* dues, tighten
the knot of the noose

Now is your never
you wrought the wrong from the right,
shoddy forever

Now is your never
sever the tongue that divides
wrong from the Right Now

Blasphemed the subtle,
broke the trust, popped the bubble
and wandered away

Call me a savior
I'll interrupt with a lie
truth can never repay

Defenestration,
when the face meets the pavement
your artifice blooms

Sitting stagnantly,
in the shade of the tower
it's toppling soon
My regards to the city of cross-less roses.
If there were any doubt, each stanza is a haiku. And toppling is 3 syllables because I said so.
Mercury Chap Apr 2015
Long ago that day
A song crawled in my ear
Kissing the sunset in a pray
The sweetest sweetest one you could hear.

Better than at a breaking dawn
Farewelling the sun
Awn and awn
It folded my heart as the horizon run
Out of light of the drowning spot
There was something different
It was a melancholy strain, a lot.

The beautiful waves
Warped my tears
Pulling my legs
Closer to itself for me to clearly hear.

Blindly my way was made
By the voice my conscience afore-bade
When it first pricked my ears
With a farewell so beautiful,
So sad it brought out my tears,
To the shine going cuticle
'Tis a song better than at dawn
I hoped it went awn and awn and awn.

At the tip of mount
She sat
Knees on ground
Her beautiful lips suddenly spat
Infuriating tone cursing the winds
It wasn't a song it was a chit-chat
With someone for her heart stings.

Familiar her tone was
Long ago described by my mother
The old singer knelt down was
Someone whose tale had shuddered
My heart, my soul
This old lady
Once in a baby princess's role
Now sitting in dark shady
Sunset, was crying and wailing at them
Who destroyed her as they blasphemed
Her holy euphoria,
Her only joyful memoria.

The night darkens
And the story flashes
Of no Romeo no Juliet in their pretty garden,
But countless stars beating hardens
Not life of two but the whole universe
Let me start it with a violent verse....

(continued in Chapter 2)
I am writing a ballad which would have chapter/parts. I hope you like them.
You are not God,
You're just a WORD.
And WORDS don't AFRAID me.
Ok now God,
Listen to me.
I demand Your attention.
Look at me.
Enlighten me.
Brighten me mind.
It seems like they all know you and I am the
only one who is blind.
It seems like they all believe in You
And I am the only one who deceived You.
Am I the only one who hasn't received You?
Some days I feel like I've missed You
but how can I possibly miss something that
doesn't exist!
They, Your Followers have made You a brand,
ADIDAS.
Nothing is impossible with Him.
Yeah I saw that nothing was impossible with
You when you took three of my family
members in one month.
30 stupid days.
Three Funerals.
UNkulunkulu uphile, uNkulunkulu uthathile.
Now F* that.
Oh dear Holy spirit me please EXIT!
Director, this is a film of a non believer, please
EDIT.
This is a picture of a **** giver please Delete.
I have blasphemed Your God, Hey you devil,
give me some CREDIT.
You took Mbali away from me, and for that
You owe me EVERYTHING! I need it!
God, Wait
Do you know the burdens on my shoulders
that I weight?
Sometimes I don't know which word to
associate with You, Love or Hate.
Bad or great.
Darkness or Light.
Loud or Quiet.
Solo or Duet.
If You are "God" why did You let my uncle die
in a brutal way?
If You are God why did You allow the marriage
of my only Dad and that Evil Eyed Woman?
If You are God why let so much people Die
from AIDS?
Accidents.
Bullets.
E_Bola.
What did we do to deserve so much harshness?
Can we get a little happiness?
Are these Your ways of reminding us that we
are residing in Your territory?
Is everybody Punished because I don't go to
church?
And these Devil Worshippers
Satanists
Aren't they suppose to be under the sands of
the seas and oceans
And these demons,
Aren't pigs suppose to be possesed by them?
I don't need You to light up my way,
Eskom will.
You're not the Truth,
My father deserting my mother, is the truth.
The Pastor wants to deceive me, He says You're
the way, NO,
The Path is the way.
God is Love. Really?
Then why do I feel so unwanted, unhappy,
unloved, isolated, lonely, *****, useless?
Are You afraid of the spear?
Because I'm going to stab You until You
tremble and Fear.
Are You afraid of the Knobkerrie?
Because I am going to knock Your head till You
make some sense to me.
Speak to me!
Answer me now!
Can't You hear me?
Can't You see me?
Are You ignoring me?
Possibly. That's what You do best.
And they all Praise you, I mean the rest.
Listen Here,
I know you can Hear,
I don't know You.
I don't believe in You.
I won't kneel and Pray to the sky,
Up there, lives No body.
Except Gases? Or are you made of
Nitrogen and O2 ?
But I forgive You tonight,
So, God it is time for me to sleep now.
I heard You don't sleep,
Can You please make sure that the bed bugs
don't bite me overnight?
I heard You're Supreme,
Please protect me.
€R¥PTICPOET®
KM Ramsey Jun 2015
apparently i wear my hesitation
my measured self control
in bold streaks of watercolors
across the pulled canvas of my face
but somehow that tension
the taut bounce of my shallow panorama
slides thinly by your
probing eyes poking at my weak spots
and waiting to watch me
shatter

search me
put the hidden words in quotations marks
and hit the return key
to query the google of my mind
whose only existence to you
is a retreating shadow
running past the wind
with a sonic boom of silence

it's easier to find something
when you have an idea where to look
and my subversive games
of smoke and mirrors
throwing my voice to a
different part of my body
the elegant distraction and the
final solution to my
nebulous existence
as a paper doll girl whose
amorphous two dimensional body
wears whatever
diaphanous primary color frock
the world demands to keep
it turning without hiccup
a sacrifice to the gods i have
foresaken and blasphemed
whose names i've taken in vain
and cursed with the most excruciating
fervor and
resolution

i want peace
which does not in fact live
in placating distraction
or hand waving while i'm
hemorrhaging from the
butchered wound in
my abdomen out of which
my secret shame seeks
to excrete that pheromone that
warns approaching creatures
that i am still
a wounded animal and
could snap at any moment
see red
then nothing

you can only help
a person so much when
every time they run
to your waiting arms
bleeding and broken
begging for absolution
or perhaps simply an
intercession for their muteness
and sutures of salvation
how do you help a person
who stands from the alter
with the transcendent certainty of
a religious experience
and yet still
pulls out those black wire stitches
while passing the last of the
empty pews
and the flickering flames
sending prayers up to an
empty firmament

i am the headlights on
the cars that follow in
solemn silence behind
the police escort
and the hearse
from church to finality
and a place in this world for eternity
a hole just my own
where peace is blackness of nothing
and the endless chatter
the bile whose acid
eats away at my brain
dries up and in its dessication
flies away in the arid winds
of terminal acceptance

you say you want the truth
but you're not like me
and you can't hide the pain
when i
hiding my fear
tell you that i need you
to leave
when all i want
is to keep your body pressed
infinitely close to mine
world without end
but my words fight to hold
the front line
and my canvas face is pulled
that much tighter.
the resolve is growing thin.
Bill murray Dec 2015
An old ****
Banjo playing
Hippie
That rides
A farm machine with
A shotgun for protection
Or killing little critters
Who loves avocados,
Who eats nachos cheese
Cheese dip,
With the original cigars
On his lips
With stains
In my old flannels.
Yeah im outdated,
But gramps
Hasn't lost morals
Unlike today where the word moral is said
And you are arrested
Shot and blasphemed
For just being you.
The world's gone a little strayed
Has it not?
Juju Sep 2017
R. I. P. poi,
They said.
I wasn't sure what that meant.
You face only vaguely familiar.
Then I walked in to school...

Twas no ghost town,
Twas the town of dead.
Sullen forms gliding along.
So I wasn't down with grief.
But I somehow felt like I'd blasphemed.

We'd walked the over same grass.
Been taught by the same teachers.
Bumped
into each other.

Yet you were faceless to me.
No name,
No memory,
Only guilt.

Maybe you felt like me,
In the lands of Hades.
Walking through asphodel.

Nay.
From what I hear:
You walk Elysium.
To young a man I regret not knowing
Sa Sa Ra Nov 2012
This home of the meek
blasphemed by the tweaked
of pretty poses
Everything goes right through
Though the amount to wonder, to misunderstand, is all but misconstrued
A fight, a struggle, the start of a feud
All from a comment not meant to be rude

This moment did last a while
The memory of what happened is locked in a cranial file
A spewing concern blasphemed from this brain of bile
The ******* keeps coming in a never ending pile

What did this scream?
These lies are a figment, small parts of a dream
I hear your words and it’s not what it seems
I know you all too well; you’re just a ******* fiend

I stuck out and put it on the line
You don’t give a **** it’s not worth your time
Lie some more and tell me its fine
But I know the truth and you think I’m ******* blind

The call is yours and the one that’s made *****
You can only ride so long on your train of luck
When the horse gets burned it will start to buck
But like I said you don’t give a ****
Of
Our bodies
Made of clay
On this land
Do we play
Full of cheap parlor tricks
And frosty moon beam strips
Dark and light prevail
Our souls soon set sail
Lovers beckon
Every second
These gateway drugs
To eden or above
Awaken such demons
Belong to the seasons
The horizon brings peace
Some sort of release
To our mortality
Vague intricacies
Histories and
Mysteries
Of this cage containing us
This plain feels delirious
And soothing
When least expecting it
We carve a delicate
Understanding demeanor
Heighten our fever
Blasphemed to not know
Placed here to grow
Of whom we originate
A collective subjugate
Gruesome and holy still
It's almost unreal
What we walked into
From our crust anew
Believe me
& stomach the truth
Unfinished
Michael Kusi Mar 2018
This is David.
I killed the Goliath giant.
And was invited to Saul’s palace.
But let me back up.
My father said I should go to the battlefield.
To give my brothers food.
To give their commander food.
And to report about the war front.
I kept my mouth shut
Because I remember the tale about Joseph
And when he came to check on his brothers.
I’m sure my brothers would rather have a Philistine.
At least they could fight him
And not be restrained by Father.

I traveled to the battlefield.
I saw a giant yelling.
His body shined with strange medals.
And someone was holding his shield.
The man had to hold it up
To cover that giant’s body.
I thought it strange because I knew of armor bearers
But not shield bearers.
But I had heard
That the man who slew this heathen
Would be paid
And get the king’s daughter.
My interest was suddenly there.
I did not know the king’s daughter.
But I knew that the money could help my family.
And being the king’s son could not hurt.
Oops, I said that out loud.
And Eliab heard me.
He rushed over with an angry face.
And cursed me with words he dare not speak in front of father.
I went away meekly.
Knowing that if I did not slay Goliath, no one else would.
Including Eliab.
I saw the terror in his face when Goliath spoke
Terror that was a stranger to me.
I requested the King’s audience.
King Saul was taller than any other man I met
Save the giant.
He looked concerned.
I wondered where was Jonathan.
He tried to persuade me not to fight.
Sayin he was a warrior from his youth.
I told him I am a youth so it was time for me to wage war.
Then King Saul gave me his armor.
It was so heavy I fell to one knee.
King Saul’s countenance changed from worry to despair.
He then gave me his sword.
I put over my shoulder.
And a servant put it around my waist.
But it kept falling.
I knew that I could not fight like this.
It would be like trying to fight a bear.
But maybe….
I told the king these were not tried.
What I meant to say was that they were tried and found wanting.
I got my sling.
That was put to the side when I put on the armor.
And prepared to face Goliath.

I could see Goliath in the distance.
Leering.
Sneering.
His shield bearer had put the shield down to rest.
I thought to myself, how many stones do I need.
I then remembered that the Philistines had 5 cities.
And I would need more just in case the Philistines rushed
Because I was a distance from the Hebrew lines.
I picked up 5 stones.
Examined each of them.
Then put them in my pouch.
Goliath seemed, befuddled.
That a youth sent to fight him in the challenge.
Would be at a creek playing with stones.
But I thought, By the Lord God Almighty,
One of these stones will be in your head.
Because you blasphemed the Lord God of Hosts.
And blasphemers get ******.

I then walked forward to meet Goliath.
He was so tall he hurt my head to look up at him.
And the words he spoke were profane.
Against the children of the Most High God.
He spoke about feeding me to animals.
I told him that I fought animals in the name of the Lord.
And no one shall feast on my portion.
He then roared and came after me.
The Shield-bearer came up behind him.
I thought, Now is my change.
The shield-bearer cannot protect from behind.
And his rush has left his forehead undone.
That will be his mistake.
I slung the rock.
It hit Goliath in the forehead.
And Goliath stepped forward.
I readied another stone.
But Goliath fell dead.
And the shield bearer ran back to the lines.
I ran to where Goliath was
And I raised his sword.
The first sword I ever touched.
And cut off his head.
I raised it up
All of Israel came running towards me.
And the Philistines fled.
I would now see the backs of the Philistines
On a regular basis.
Ylzm May 2020
Adam's hand wrestled and bound:
unsubmitting, defiant, in anger, rages;
The Name of the upper hand is known,
but denied, and the Son of Man blasphemed.
Julian May 2023
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/l8njruxa73yee9b0jzmhd/The-Ultimate-Unabridged-Guide-to-Esoteric-Working-English-2.docx?­rlkey=kunoar7ghpfkb7fjk5xkdgx95&st=i84ornny&dl=0

THE ABORIGINAL FRAME OF REFERENCE OF HETEROCHRONY AND SIMULTAGNOSIA DEFINES THE PARALLAX OF URANOPLASTY BY CATALFALQUES AND ARCTICIANS WHO SASHAY THEIR GENTEEL NOBILITY IN THE FLUX OF ELLIPSOID DIMENSIONAL INTERFACES FOR GREENWICH MEAN TIME THAT IS OPERATIVE IN THE CONATION OF MATHESIS TO PLUCKY THORNY IMBROGLIOS OF TELEOLOGY OF LAND RUN SPECTRAL HOBGOBLIN BUGABOOS OF AN INDUSTRIAL WASTELAND GARNERING A QUERENCIA OF GRANNARY JOBBERNOWL JOCKOS OF  EMOLUMENT IN THE FESTIVITY OF THE MARCH OF MASONS ALL TOWARDS SINECURE OF SYNCLASTIC CLIFF DIVERS WHO SPELUNK IN FIRE EXTINGUISHER PLIGHT OF STREAMLINED COSMONAUTS BOLTROPES TO AN ABECEDARIAN TRILOGY OF CAMISOLES FOR CAMPANILE CAMARADERIE JOUSTING THE FLAVORS OF SAINT TROPEZ FOR ADMIRAL SENTINELS OF FAMIGERATION. THEN BECAUSE OF THIS THE SWASHBUCKLING CONNOSIEURS OF THE GUARDED JALOUSIES OF JEALOUSY CONGEALING REQUIEMS FOR DESOLATE DISSIPATION IN WITWANTON FUROR PRIMIGENIAL IN THE FORMATIVE THROES OF RAGTAGGER RETINUES OF VESTIGE AND THE PLUMBISM OF SOCKDOLAGER HIERARCHIES OF SAPROSTOMY BY RUDENTURE AND GALVANIZATION OF FUNERAL PYRE PONDSCUM RELIEFS ON CANVASS FOR THE CALVOUS PROSELYTISM WHEMMLING SUBVERSION AND STOMACHERS OF TESTUDO MANIFEST THE TESTIMONY OF THE BRONZE IMAGOS IMPRIMATURS OF THE SLOGMARCH OF PANTAGRUELIAN SCIAMACHIES FOR TRIBULOID CELLULOID ENGRAVED WITH THE GREATEST SPECIFICITY AGAINST THE MEDIA CONGLOMERATE COCARDENS SLANGWHANGING THEIR ALBATROSS STROKES OF THROMBOSIS AGAINST NUCLEOTIDES AGAINST THEIR PILGRIMMAGE MIGHT THEY FIND THE FOSSOR AT THE GRAVESTONE AN IMPERILED ONEIRODYNIA BECAUSE OF BERTHE CIRCLE BETHLEHEMS SQUARSONS ENVY AND SQUARE RECTITUDE AGAINST AS THE FORMIDABLE SPATHODEA IN THE INTERREGNUM OF KALIMKARI THAT THE TOKUGAWA ASPECTS OF MACH 3 TRIPWIRES SLINGSHOT INTO ORBIT AROUND MOONSHOT DIRIGISME OPERATIVE BY THE HEFT OF ENTELECHY IN SEFIROTH MIGHT THE DEMISE OF CATERCORNERED VULPECULAR SPITE SQUANDERING EVERY LIMESTONE LIMELIGHT OF SLAVISH INDELIBLE AVARICE GILDED BY THE SOLOMON EMPIRE STRIKING BACK AGAINST CATARRHINE HEBEPHRENIA SPATTEES OF INDIGENCE. THESE SPAR AGAINST WITH FOIBLED REMNANTS OF THE DYING GUARD OF VAURIENS IN VARIMAX STOCHASTICS OF THE DIVISION OF THE INDIVISIBLE INTO THE CATASTROPHISM OF ABAXIAL FOMENT SPUMID WITH LIVID AND LURID ONEIRODYNIA FILIBUSTERING WITH “TEACHERS” ENORMITY AGAINST THE TITANISM OF THOSE LATCHKEY YEGGS OF HENPECKED OWLERIES OF BOHEMIAN REPUTE BUT NEON ALPENGLOW IN THE CREMATION OF THE CAREWORN REPUBLIC HOARY WITH WIZENED ABSOLUTION IN APANAGE THAT GRILLAGE FOMENTS AGAINST THE GREAVES OF THE CHANDLER AND THE CARRACKS OF IMMENSE PANTOGRAPHS DERIVING FROM FUTURE TENSE A PRESENT SURREALISM OF DAYDREAMS OF EIRENICON THAT ARE PLASHY WITH THE PLAFONDS OF MIRRORED VERSAILLES REVANCHED TWICE AND BET ON THREE TIMES TO SALVAGE A WORLD BEYOND BENTHIC DEPTHS OF GILD ABOVE ARTHURIAN PEDIGREE IN THE SACK OF THE JARVEY OF EXASPERATED EMPIRES SWILLING WITH TITRATION AMONG MODERN CULPRITS FOR VAMPIRIC FEATS THE WELTER OF LAMBENT LIGHT TORCHIERS EMIT IN TIMELESS PRISTINE ELEGANCE OF HERCULEAN MIRACLES SLURRY SWANSONGS OF DOVETAILED INFAMY BECAUSE OF SERROWS OF OPPORTUNISM WORN FRAYED WITH REVOLUTE MARGINALIZATION OF PROSTITUTES OF TAXIDERMY AND TRAPEZES OF SCHOENABATIC SPORTIVE GAMBOLING NICCOLIC NIDAMENTAL BANDOBASTS OF RESIGNATION. THIS PANTHEON SECRETS BELONG IN BARRULETS BEYOND THE PRIVY EYES OF VANGERMYTES SIMULTANEOUS IN CHANTED LITURGIES OF GHOST DANCE CELEBRATIONS OF WOVEN EMISSARIES OF THE DEEPEST CHARNEL AND CATACOMB OF PHILOSOPHICAL ALTRUISM BROCKFACED WITH THE MYTHOS OF A THOUSAND TINY LIES BECOMING THE SUBURBAN MUSE OF MERITOCRACY MIXED WITH SUBVERSIVE PLEVISABLE CRYPTADIA THAT SPAWN THE HYLICISM OF THE HYLOZOIC CRETACEOUS SPARK PLUG INGENUITY OF FATHOMED TRAIPSES OF DESTINED APLOMB WELTERWEIGHTS BRAG ABOUT IN THEIR GROOMED ZENKIDU BENT IN KOWTOW TO TAJ MAHAL PEDIGREE BECAUSE OF EPHORIZED ZEKS OF XENON AND OTHER MERCURIAL SPRITES WELLSPRINGS ABSOLVE WITH ILASTICAL REPARTEE AS THE HYPE OF EVERYTHING IS THE ENMITY OF ANY QUALIA IMMISERATED IN ITS OWN SCURFY SCOWL OF JEALOUSY AT HOW POORLY THE GOOD SHEPHERD WHO PROVIDES LIFE IN ABUNDANCE IS BETRAYED BY THE CORDWAINERS OF A COMPANY HE VOUCHSAFED AS A DEMASSIFIED SECURITIZATION OF BIFFCO PLANS TO COLONIZE THE  REPARTEES OF MACROPICIDE IN WEALTH SUCH THAT THE STEVEDORE MEETS INCLEMENT CURGLAFF AND THE JASPERATED JESUITICAL RUDENTURE OF MEDIA CONGLOMERATES RUNS AMOK BECAUSE OF TRITE NECESSITARIAN BELLWETHER WELTERS THAT DESCRY THE “SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS” ZEITGEIST OF NARRISCHEIT IN FOOLHARDY KUNDLESROMAN. THE FINIFUGAL BINTURONGS OF SHANTUNG AND CHIFFON FROM RUMCHUNDER CAN BE THE PLEVISABLE CURTAIN OF WUNDERKINDS ALONE IN GINGLYMUS AROUND DEMASSIFIED PUBLICITY THAT GARNERS ANY GARISH ADVANTAGE TO THE POULTRY OF GAVELKIND BECAUSE OF THE SOPITERS OF WEALTH OVER THE MERIT OF SELECTION INTO THE FELLOWCRAFT OF BOLIDES ONLY KNOWN TO A FEW PARTICIPANTS OF RESONANCE IN IONIZATION AND DECRIED SCOUNDRELS OF AUSTRAL WANHOPE AND WANION OF WAPENTAKE BY THE CACOETHES OF THE ESCULENT EBRIOUS PERIBLEBSIS TO REVOKE THE STANCHIONS OF THEIR INTEGRITY TO PRESERVED STATURE EMBEDDED IN BARKENTINE ARISTOCRATIC ESTATES SUCH THAT THE BRIQUET STEALS THE ALMANAC BEFORE THE TITAN PRIMIPARA PROMACHOS CHAMPION OF ALL BRETEUIL THUNDERING APPLAUSE OF CANARDS BECOMING THE ROERICH ROORBACKS OF DIGNIFIED ACHIEVEMENTS IN THE ELOCUTION OF MEN PROSELYTIZED BY GALLANT GAPS AND VOLUMES OF ARMADA FILIBUSTERED BY STOKEHOLD SPODOMANCY IN SPODIUM BECAUSE OF CLADOGENESIS IN SUPREME MYTHS BELONGING TO NEOPHRONS THAT SCAVENGE THE PRECIPICE OF RAIDED TOMBS AND RUPESTRIAN DISCOVERIES FROM THE ANCIENTS TO THE COGNITIVE DELINQUENCY OF ENTHEATE ENCEPHALIZATION QUOTIENT DEMARCATIONS OF PATAPHYSICS DELIMITING THE PULCHRITUDE OF THE WELKIN AND WELLAWAY OF TITANS SUNKEN BENEATH THE PENDULUM OF GRANITE AND THE SANDSTONE OF NAXOS LAVEERING THE LAVADERO OF ANCIENT ODYSSEY FALTERING ON MISPLACED HISTORICITY MIGHT THE BARDS ASSUME THE COVERAGE OF ALL REGARDANT AFFAIRS OF FLAGRANT CHRISTIAN ROODS AND MISERICORDS LEADING TO A QUACKSALVER MONETIZATION OF LABROSE LABIOMANCY AMONG THE DEFEANED EARS OF BOSTON UNIVERSITY IN THE COVERT CHANNELS OF HALIFAX EXPLOSIONS LEADING TO APOGEES IN TRIAGE AND WHITTAWERS OF WILLOWISH DECADENCE DROOPING WITH LOURS AND LEARY SUBVERSION OF THE LEEWARD JAWS OF GREEN-EYED-LADY. THE FAVORS BETRAYED BY THE GAMESMANSHIP OF POLO PLAYERS RATHER THAN THE PANCRATIC ACCORD OF MARSHALED PEACE OUT OF THE HOUNDSTOOTH DONTOLESQUE FUMIDUCTS FUNNELING GRAVAMENS OF GRANNARY GRAVEYARDS THE PEDIGREE OF OLD MALABATHRUM IN THE ETERNAL APOLAUSTIC PURSUIT OF THE UMBRILS OF TRITE HACKNEYED IMITATION OF ONE HACKER WAY AND ITS DEVELOPMENTAL STAGGER FROM SEANCE TO MAUSOLEUM BECAUSE OF CREAKY CRUMBLING 226 BC CATACLYSM RAIDED BY ICONOCLASTS OF CRUSADING WARS TO HIDE THE VOGELHERD BURROWING SPEILBERGS THAT DIRECT WALDOLF-ASTORIA GRAVEROBBERS WHO ITCH AND YEUK FOR YARAKS OF YESTERTEMPEST TO BECOME A GULLYWASHER VARDLE IN OMBROPHILOUS CONFUSION BENIGHTED BY TRAGICOMIC VALIDATION OF CONFLAGRATION OF SHANGHAIED MENSURATIONS OF VASTATIONS AGAINST THE HEGEMONY OF RHEOTAXIS THAT MIGHT SPUR THE CABOTAGE OF THE CALCARIFEROUS COBALT OF PICTURESQUE LABILE AMADEUS VIOLINISTS SPORTIVE IN EVERY REGARD OF PATAPHYSICS LEARNED BY THE ALGORITHMS EMBEDDED IN GENERATIVE PRE-TRAINED TRANSFORMERS OF CONSCIENCE AND STATOLITHS OF THE ARABIC NOBILITY OF SHRINES SHROUDED ON OLYMPUS BEAMING WITH AGED LIGHT IN THE ALPENGLOW OF THE MEMORIAL OF THE PLASTERED PAINT PLASHY WITH PLAFONDS OF PLENARY RECONNAISSANCE OF RENAISSANCE ACUMINATION OF THE ATRABILIARY ORIGINS OF THE PLIGHT OF THE PLAGUED IN THE KNIGHTED ORDERS OF MALTA SALVAGING ELBA AND THE ALCATRAZ OF SENESCENCE. BUT BECAUSE OF EVASIVE TRUTINATIONS OF THE TUBIFACIENCE OF EAGER LEAPING TRUTHS OF NEW MADRID CLADOGENESIS IN COGITATED REALMS OF APOTHEGM LEADEN WITH PHEROMONES OF THE BRAGGING RIGHTS PREROGATIVES OF SLAPSTICK CAPREOLATE MINATORY FIFTH COLUMNISTS AND GUARDIANS OF ST. JOHN THAT MAYBE THE FLAGRANT STENCH OF RIGORS OF RIGMAROLE AND THE CORTEGES OF THE DEEPEST PLUMB IN THE 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA TRAVESTY OF SANTAS MIRACULOUS NORAD PARADE FROM BUNKER HILL TO PROVIDENCE AND THE TEMBLORS OF CHARLESTON SPEAK TO THE EL PASO POWER PLANT IN ITS GRAVID GABBLE OF GAVELKIND FOR ISONOMY PROTECTED BY THE TREASURY OF SLOW-WAVE DISTORTIONS OF THE GEOCARPY OF GEITONOGAMY BECAUSE OF HARRIED TERRIES OF TESTUDO GUARDING THE THRONE AT THE EDGE OF GRACE BEYOND THE GOLDEN BRANCHES OF ZION AND THE DEPTHS WE FATHOM THE STRATHSPEY OF ENNOBLED GENTEEL BRISURES AT THE PARAPET. THE ARENAIDAN SECRETS AND ABSTERGED CASUALTIES OF THE WORST AMENDE OF TAMMANY JUSTICE AND THE BYWORDS OF HIS CANEZOU CANZONE PRIVILEGED UPON THE EARS OF ARISTOCRACY LIKE THE WILTED QUILT OF MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. CEREMONIALLY EXITING STAGE RIGHT THE PRECIPICE HE ENTERED BY THE ZEPHYRS OF CEFALONIA BARNSTORMING APACE OF CALIPACES OF NESSBERY NESTITHERAPIES AGAINST THE GRUFF GUIGNOL OF RHYPAROGRAPHY MIGHT THE AWAKENED ROOSTER HENPECK THE FLOCK OF GRASSY AVARICE LAUNCHED INTO ORBIT BY THE PIONEERS OF CEPHALIGATION TO THE PROMONTORY AT THE EDGE OF TOMORROW BUT THE FORTNIGHT OF YESTERDAY’S DIDACTIC LITURGY IN THE CATECHESIS OF CHRIST AND THE BESTOWED PROPHECIES OF PATRIARCHS OF MUHAMMAD THAT THE WORLD WE CARVE ETCHED IN TABLATURE FOR IMPRIMATUR BECAUSE OF RIVALRIES OF SYCOMANCY MIGHT WE ALL CONCORD UPON THE CONCOURSE OF THE LUNACY OF EQUIDISTANT PERJURY AND CORRUPTION TO THE THRONE OF GRACE AND THE OVAL THAT ENCIRCLES SO RAPID A DEGENERATION AND SO WIDE A CANVASS OF  ARTIFICE ABOVE THE FULMINATION OF THE CAULKED VAULTS OF WELKIN FOR WELLAWAY EUPHORIANTS FROGMARCHED BY JALEOS OF HANDSPIKE. THIS IS FOR BLASPHEMED DEGREES OF DECREE OF THE SACRED FIRE OF TEMPERANCE THAT THE MODESTY OF A MASON MAKES HIM THE SUN GOD OF HIS OWN MAYDAY PICARESQUE QUIXOTIC WHITE WATER THRILLS SCALING THE SCALARIFORM CORDWAINER CATALLACTICS AGAINST GRAMPUS IN TRUCIDATION RATHER THAN THE TRAULISM OF DUGONGS OF DURAMEN PREPARED TO THE DIGNITARIES OF MORONI AND THE CHRONOMANCY OF OBSCURE CAPITALIZATION FROM THE RANDOM DELLS AND VALLEYS AND THE TREASURY OF DOMINEERING MOUNTAINS CLIFFHANGING IN PERPETUAL INSOUCIANCE BUT RECALCITRANCE OF GRAVITY’S RAINBOW AGAINST THE RAINBOW PLEDGES OF THOSE THAT DEFY THE CREED OF THE PEOPLE OF THE BOOK AND THE BESTOWERS OF THE CHIMNEY OF INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION SOOT OF EVOLUTIONARY CELERITY CATALYZED IN THE SPRAWLING URBACITY OF MOFUSSIL FOSSILS LAMINATED WITHOUT A HINT OF LANCINATION SUCH THAT TOURBILLONS OF LIONIZATION OF ALL THE OLD HAUNTS AND EVERY SNICKERING HISTORICAL IRONY MIGHT MEET DECLENSION BECAUSE OF OMPHALISM BUT THE BRUNT OF ALL BRONTEUMS OF KNOWLEDGE IS NOT MERELY KNOWING A DATE OR AN EXACT TIME OR AN EXACT NAME BALLOONING INTO THE SIMULTANEITY OF EAGER LAND RUSH APPLICANTS OF FORFENDED OPPORTUNISM AGAINST THE DEPREDATED PAST REPLACED WITH A POTICHOMANIA OF PRESENT CIRCUMSTANCE DESIGNED TO ENCAGE US IN A GREENWICH MEAN TIME CONTORTION OF TITANIC LOVELORN NECKLACES SUNKEN IN ZOOLATRY BECAUSE OF AGRIZOIATRY EMBEDDED IN “EMBERS AND ENVELOPES” REGINA AND MOBILIZED PURSUITS OF THE FUGACIOUS FATIDICAL INSIGHTS OF THE PAST. THIS INDELIBLE IMPRINT IS  CARVED FROM THE IMPEDIMENTA OF IATRALIPTIC IATROMATHEMATICS STEEPLY INCLINED INTO THE FULCRUM OF DESICCATION AND THE DIET OF WORMS THAT DEPARTED TOO MANY TRUCES AND BEYOND INDULGENCE REDEEMED A TORN HUMANITY FROM FRAY AFTER REVOLUTE HOARY FRAY OF FOAM AND FLICKER IN ALPENGLOW AND RINGLEADER SEDITION ABOVE MOUNTAINS SWANKY WITH NEVER A NEBBICH PALLOR NOR A RUBEFACTION OF SQUARSONS SNEERING AT THE REGISTRY OF  THE SHOT HEARD AROUND THE WORLD CHAMFRAINS GUILTY OF HIGHER PRESTIGE IN THE GAMMONS OF GAMINE AND GAMUT THAT THE GINGLYMUS OF FRATERNITY IN ZEAL TO THE NINE SISTERS GUARDING GIBRALTARS ROYAL ARCH AND COBBLED ARENA MIGHT THE GLADIATORIAL SPECTACLE CONVENE IN EVERY CONVENTICLE BECOMING ORTHODOX BY PURIFIED RAREFACTION SUCH THAT THE ALCHEMY OF EUHEMERISM INTO CHRISTIANITY MANIFESTS AGAINST THE JANISM AND CELTIC GILD OF VANDALIZED PETTIFOGGERY WE MIGHT SEE FROM AFAR THAT THE RUINS OF RUNES ARE IN FACT THE OMPHALOS OF EVERY READYMADE SCHOLAR FRACTIOUS IN DISPUTES OF PEDIGREE. THESE KENSPECKEL DISTORTIONS THE VISAGISTS HARBOR OF BANGTAIL OSTENTATION DECEASED BEFORE CELLULOID COULD MUTATE THE CULTURAL DNA OF CONTINUATION BY A SATURNINE GLOOM RATHER THAN AN ANABIOSIS OF RECTIFIED RECTISERIAL SUBSTRATOSE REFORMATORIES SKILLED IN STANDPIPES FOR STANNARIES BECAUSE OF STANJANT DESPITE JANSKY FOR JANIZARIES TO LEARN THE CRAFTS OF KRAFT AND BECOME THE AGENCY OF THE OPERATIVE DURESS OF DURAMEN FOR ACHARNE IN A RENEWED CENTURY OF GLOWERING BYWORDS OF NESSBERRIES OF NESTITHERAPY AND THE BIOLUMINESCENCE OF INTREPID NICCOLIC SWANK IN NIDAMENTAL DEFIANCE OF NIDOR BECAUSE OF A SIMULTANEOUS REJECTION OF NIDIFUGOUS MYTHOLOGY AND THE NEPIONIC ENSLAVEMENT OF DUALISM AND POLARITY THAT IS THE GRAVID IMPERTINENCE OF SOPHOMORIC ****** YEDDA AND YASHIKIS THAT DESIRE THE CULMINATION OF ALL BRAZEN MERCHANDISE BEYOND DERAILMENT BECAUSE OF RAILLERY AND THEREBY CENTURIONS OF THE TRUE GARBOLOGY THAT BECOMES THE MAINSAIL AND MAINSTAY OF CENTURIES OF SQUALLS ON HIGH SEAS OF COCARDEN BECAUSE OF SANDSTONE AND SANDMAN WHO WORK TOGETHER TO DEFEAT THE INCUBUS SUCH THAT ALL A MAN CAN DO IS CARVE HIS OWN STATUETTE AMONG THE PANTHEON OF THE GREATEST ACHIEVEMENTS FOR THE BROADEST OF BARMCLOTH OBJECTIONS TO JASPERATED JARVEYS OF BARTON IN PANMIXIA REGARDED BY SERRATED SECODONT SELACHOSTOMOUS REGALIA AS A MIGRANT SPECIES OF NOMADIC INSTINCT HARBORED BY THOSE WHO ONCE FATHOMED EVERYTHING. THE SERENDIPITY OF PRE-ELECTRIC OMPHALISM BUT NOW SYNERGIZE WITH SUCH CELERITY THAT MOONWALKER CARAPACE OF TESTUDO AND TREATISE BECOME DEMASSIFIED SO RAPIDLY A SPEEDY BRANNIGAN BECOMES A SPOILSPORT TO A MARAUDED WHIGGARCHY THAT DEMARCHES ALONG SERPENTINE ROUTES TO SALVATION BEYOND THE UMBRILS OF APOSTILS OF THE AGE BEFORE THE COMPLETION OF TIMES AND THE SEQUESTRATION OF SESQUIPEDALIAN HOLOBENTHIC IMMERGENCE BEAMING BEATIFICATION UPON THE AGGIORNAMENTO OF REVIVAL AND THE CALVER OF BOLAR BONCES AGAINST BONTBOKS FOR SPRINGALDS THAT BECOME WINTERBOURNE SO DEFIANTLY AGAINST THE LARGESSE OF TIME THAT THE STAGGERING ELITISM OF THE BRIQUET BECOMES A BYWORD FOR THE PARAPET OF PARAKEET BRISURES OF PERISTERONIC OBSERVATION OF STELLAR LUMINOSITY SUCH THAT THE PARASELENE IS SUDDENLY FLOGGED BY THE REVERENCE OF REVERENDS BECAUSE OF THE REVELATIONS OF PATMOS BEYOND THE MISLED SEPARATISM OF FLAKY NEVES OF NEVOSITY FREQUENT IN THE RECURRENCE OF LEGEND AND LORE BECAUSE PROMINENCE AND PREEMINENCE ARE ALWAYS TARGETED FOR POWELLISATION AFTER POTICHOMANIA SUCH THAT THE BARKENTINES HARVEST EVERY OOMANCY AND THE NOILS OF TIME FINESSE EVERY CRANNY AND NOOK OF THE BOLTROPES OF MODERNITY SUCH THAT THE CALCULUS OF BARYEICOIA MEETING STIFF SHARP GRAVITY OF SLENDERIZED BLADES OF SKELETONIZED FIGMENTS OF HOBGOBLIN AND SQUALOR BECOME REPARTEES FESTOONING LUKEWARM NATIVISM INTO A DARRAIGNED ACCORDION. THE WIDOWED MULIEBRITY OF AN UNEVEN HOUNDSTOOTH HYPOCRISY OF HIPPOCRATES IS AN OATH OF FIDELITY AND FEALTY TO THE LORD OF KINSHIP RATHER THAN THE TRAMONTANE RISCTENDER OF RHADAMANTHINE SUBVERSIVE ACTIVITIES OF A PRIVILEGED AND VOCAL MINORITY OF FULMINATION IN FAVORED REGARD AND FLASHBANG BANGTAIL OSTENTATION OF GUARDED GLEBES OF SALVATION AND SOTERIOLOGY THAT ARRIVES AT PORBEAGLE RETINACULUM REFRACTED THROUGH THE SEFIROTH OF HAMARCHY THAT SQUIREBELLS OF DIPLOMATIC RESURGENCE OF AUTOSOTERISM MET WITH REALISTIC PRAGMATIC SOLIPSISM IN MEANDERED HALLS OF VACANT CAVERNS THICK IN THE EVES OF CHIONABLEPSIA PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF THE STEEP CHIMINAGE LEADING TO RENEWABLES IN DELIVERANCE FOR AUTOMATONS OF THE FACTUAL FRICTION OF TAUT KNAVERY KEELHAULED BY THE JAILAGE OF PETEDORES AND STEVEDORES WIDOWED BY THE INDUSTRY OF PAPAVEROUS COQUELICOT SWERVES AGAINST THE “ANTI-GRAVITY LOVE” SONGS THAT ARE SUSPENDED IN THE “EMBERS AND ENVELOPES” ENCLAVE OF THE OLD GUARD OF SPAVINEDS THAT SIFFLEURS OF SUSSULTATORY REVELATION PARADE IN THE HALLMARKS OF CLAVATES AND CLAVIS OF CLEDOGENESIS. THE CUCULINE ANNOYANCE AND NOXIOUS FUMES OF A “FEEL GOOD INC” DISSOCIATION FROM PROVIDENCE IS ANTAGONISTIC TO ANTIGONUS BECAUSE THE CUNICULOUS SPIRIT OF OIKONISUS SHOULD BE CELEBRATED AS THE QUALITATIVE DEFINITION OF QUINTESSENTIAL PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC MET WITH CATHOLIC MAGNANIMITY INVITING MISERICORDS OF THE MOST LUCRATIVE ILASTICAL REFORMATIONS AGAINST THE OLD ENERGUMENS EXORCISED BY THE RENEWAL OF THE LIGHT OF CHRIST IN THE TRUE VINEYARD OF THE THIRST UNQUENCHED SATIATED BY PETER’S WIDE NETS SPRAWLING EVERY GENERATIVE PRE-TRAINED TRANSFORMERS THAT THE AUDISM THAT DERELICTS DELIBERATELY THE GARBOLOGY OF FLATULENT TASTE FOR THE CALLOW TALLOW CHANDLERS WANDERING AROUND GOLD MINE SLURRY IN A “BIFFCO” INTIMATION OF THE MOST BENIGN NATURE OF INDUSTRIALIZATION BECAUSE OF THE AUTOMOTIVE PROWESS AGAINST LITIGABLE OVERSIGHT THAT THE ELASTANE MIGHT ENLARGE THE GAMUT OF PISCIFAUNA BEYOND THE SACCHARINE GOSSYPINE JOCKOS OF LAZARET AND BONTBOKS NIVELLATING BEYOND THE REACH OF STANDPIPES A FAKE ALTRUISM IN COUNTERFOIL IN THE HEAT AND SWELTER OF MAGNALITIES OF MAINPERNORS OF COURTIERS OF COURTESANS RIDING COCARDEN ON A DESULTORY LURCH FORWARD IN TIME TO RECOGNIZE THE SERENDIPITY OF TIMES ORNATE DESIGNED EMBROIDERY. EMBLAZONRY DASHING THE DASHPOTS OF DEADSTOCK KILLCOWS BLACKGUARDING SOPHISTRY WITH COQUETRY FOR THE QUIXOTIC HERDERS AND HOARY HOARDERS OF STOWAWAY NOETICS OF ENNOMIC LOGIC ALREADY IMPLEMENTED IN THE FREER ENTELECHY OF NOMOTHETIC PARALLELISM FOR A GEOSELENIC ACCORD THAT ALWAYS REVS REVOLUTE FRAYS OF CORRUGATION TOWARDS REDACTION IN NEUTROSOPHY BALISAURS DETEST BECAUSE OF THEIR RUMCHUNDER RHUBARB CHATTER AND CHAVISH OF INFLATED HAUTEUR AND HAUNTED PEDIGREE LEAPFROGGING ABOVE DEFECT AND PROCTORING FARMED SYNCHRONICITY INVENTED BY TELESCOPIC INSIGHT. BECAUSE THIS IS TETHERED TO THE CENTRIFUGAL INGENUITY FROM THE OMPHALISM SINECURE OF VIRTUOSITY WALKING AROUND WHELKY SIDE STREETS SIDESTEPPING SIDELIGHTED SIDEROGNOST NIMIETY THAT THE CATHEXIS ENTRAPMENT OF THE HOBOHEMIA IS OVERCOME BY THE LARGESSE OF THE RAFFISH RICHES OF THE SKELDER ABOVE THE BARATHRUM UNCIAL IN EVERY “THERE WILL BE BLOOD” DENOUEMENT BECAUSE OF FOIBLES OF MELEAGRINE BRASSAGE AND BREVET OF REVALORIZATION THAT MAPS THE NOMOGENY OF TIME TO THE PURSUIT OF WHARFINGERS THAT FROLIC ON SPHACELATED METAPHORS SPIRALLING ABOVE SWAMP-LADEN SKIES SINKING THE DAYLIGHT BROOK OF TRIBUTARY EDDIES OF THE KEN OF TIME AND THE CRAPULENCE OF THE INDULGENCE OF THE RETICENT HEDONISM OF ALGEDONIC IMBALANCE REPUDIATED IN THE STRONGEST POSSIBLE MORAL RIGOR. THIS IS DEFINED BY THE PADUASOY RIGMAROLE OF JAPAN REFRACTED OPALESCENT BECAUSE OF VESTIGES OF CAVERNILOQUY THE TRUSTEE AND AMBASSADOR TO “NOWHERE MAN” BONANZAS OF JURISDICTION AND JURISPRUDENCE BEYOND THE SCOPE OF LENSED PIONEERS OF VANGUARD KNEADS CLAMORING FOR GAULEITERS WHO BROADSIDE THE TRIBULATION AGAINST THE CRUCIBLE OF RAMPARTS OF HYDROELECTRIC FILIBUSTERS SUCH THAT THE SPODOMANCY OF STOWAWAY SURVIVORS OF REDIVIVUS THE REVENANT MUSE OF THE NINE SISTERS OF THE PENNANT OF JOCKEYS RATHER THAN THE PROVINCE OF MACROPIDINE VASTATION IN THE VAUNTLAY OF PROXENETES THAT COGITATE UPON COGNOMEN BECAUSE OF COGNOSCENTI REVANCHES THAT DISCOVER THE GRAFT OF REGAL TRUCE BEYOND THE SNARES OF DEMIURGE ABOVE CREED AND CREDENDA. EVEN ABOVE VETANDA THAT STIGMATA INDELIBLE BY THE ENCROACHMENT OF APARTHEID UPON THE NYALA AND THE GOURMAND OF TIMELESS ARCHITECTONICS OF GIANT LEAPS FOR MANKIND CELEBRATED WITH THE YEASTIEST LIONIZATION RATHER THAN THE YAWNY REPUTE OF ZALKENGUR WITHOUT BATHOS AND BATHYMETRY BECAUSE OF THE PLEROMORPHY OF THE FULLY DEVELOPED STONEWALL DESTRUCTION OF INTERNECINE GAMBITS BY DERBIES OF RIVALRY RATHER THAN THE CACKLE OF THE ILLUMINATED BEYOND THE SNARES OF PEDESTRIAN CONCERN QUISQUILOUS BECAUSE OF QUODLIBETS ANSWERED ONLY BY QUIDCUNXES STRANDED IN DESICCATION EMINENT IN PROVIDENCE AND CONVALESCENT IN THE SPIRITUAL HEALTH AND VIGOR OF A CHRISTIAN FEDERATION OF REPUBLICS THE CULMINATION OF ALL FORMER CREEDS.  THE HISTORICITY OF ALL FUTURE REALIZATIONS OF ENTELECHY AGAINST THE DUALITY AND POLARIZATION OF ENTROPY NEGATED BY ITS OWN CONTRAPOSITIVE SUCH THAT A CORRUGATED FRAYED FABRIC OF WIZENED SITHCUNDMAN AND DOYENNES MIGHT BECOME CARDIMELECH AND CARDIOGNOST SUCH THAT THE CIRCULATORY SYSTEM OF THE SPIRITUAL RENEWAL THROUGH THE TRANSFIGURATION OF PRIORITY COGNIZANT OF THE DAYS WE SOLDIER AND FORD BEYOND THAT THE TEMPERANCE OF DAY MEETS THE PREGNANT CHALLENGE OF RHADAMANTHINE VETANDA OF GRAMPUS MET ONLY BY TRAULISM AND TROMOMETERS ARRAYED AROUND TRANSPONTINE FORESIGHT SERRATED BECAUSE OF HOBBLED DECLENSION SUCH THAT THE MAJESTY OF TIME IS ITS HIGHEST HEED OF DESIGNATION TO A SHAKESPEAREAN REVOLUTION THE DOCTORATE MAGISTRATE OF MANY AN AFFAIR AND NEVER A PHILANDER OF PHILONEISM GONE ASTRAY. THE STAGECRAFT OF PROACTIVE CONTUMELY INVENTED AGAINST SCRIVELLO BY MAHOUT BUT ALWAYS THE CLEPSYDRA OF THE SYRINXES BETWEEN BANGOR BAYS AND STREAKY PLUMAGE OF THE PENMANSHIP OF THE SKIES OF WELKIN WONDER ILLUMINATED BY THE LESSER PARAGONS OF THE FIRMAMENT GLISTENING IN ETERNAL LIGHT REVIVED BY THE ETHOS OF THE TAX COLLECTOR REFORMED BY MORAL PREROGATIVE AND PEREMPTORY CONSCIENCE TO TRAILBLAZE PROFICUOUS FRIGHT AGHAST AT THE TREMBLING TEMBLORS OF REJUVENATION IN THE HIGHEST REACHES OF THE THIRD HEAVEN ASCENDANT UPON A SERMON ON THE MOUNT ASSUMPTION OF MEEK BUT NEVER MILQUETOAST SERVITUDE TO THE MIRACLE OF ABUNDANCE FOR THE LIFE ABUNDANTLY LIVED. AMEN
Martin Narrod Apr 2016
The cattle commove by
Threading branch
Landing rockets in the blue colleseum
Where black and blue crimes make
For horticultural violent acts of
Skin and rage and anger. Names of other

Gods blasphemed in the night.
Nigdaw Jun 2019
I have denied you during my life
Blasphemed like a docker or soldier
But I know in the end you'll be with me
As the Devil looks over my shoulder.

— The End —