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Martin Narrod Jun 2014
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.
Aishwarya Ezhava Jul 2018
it's okay to experience
the worst things in life,
nothing other than it
can make you hardy.

it's okay not to be perfect,
as no one out there is,
you can't even be perfect until you
satisfy the beholder's expectations.

It's okay to fail sometimes
it tastes bitter, but not boresome,
ceaseless success can make you happy,
but to subdue lack of success is kinda reward.

It's okay to be lost
in your deep musings,
to wander the unsure ways
in quest of esctasy.
treacherously torrid and torrential torrents of totally tangential tumultuous tortuous ; tyrannically torturous adjunct viably salient seethe.    

procrastinating pandemic plenipotentiary prosthesis ; prosaically pragmatic parenthetical predication predilection premise prognostication
                                                                ­      
panoramic tableau preternatural propensity proclivity prestidigitation gesticulation :

gyration guidon ; ghastly gruesome grotesque hideously horrible horrendous heinous

grotty gnarly

diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abrupt

awful

amalgamated anathema analysis agnate aggregate aberrance
somatalogy virtuoso cognate obduracy

worse

rudiment ebullience , confluence effluent effusion affluent , prolific profusity opulence , cogent fecund secular secund , recondite redolence abstrusely obstreperous mesomerism resonance resilience

protractive perpetude futurity
  
blither blandishing blabber burnishing boresome blahs
lithe blithe jabber prattle chatter tithe
morose morsel moribundness
  stolid stoic
stalwart bastion bulwark
Mitchell May 2014
Made no comment
On the river front
She said she wanted love
And I gave her another name
Told her to sit a while n' stay  
Make no mistake
For there's too much at stake
The world is spinning
And she's still winning
But we don't know
What we're fighting for anymore

Got not road to walk on
Only the one in front of me
She said she'd never believe
What's under my left sleeve
But once she saw
Her heart thawed
And rested her weary paws

Absent eyes melodical mishaps
Everyone's got their hats
So...where's yours at?
Different faces other names
Someone can be one way one day
But switch like a light
And change again all the same
Lion tamers and fire breathers
The day of the true believer
Is dead, gone, and thrown to the sea

God sent a telegram from Costa Rica
He had a picture of him
Flexing his arms, rubbing his belly,
Really showing his STUFF.
I pitched it in the fire.
Didn't even read the text.
I knew he was gone from the get go.
I came out wondering
What was gonna' come next.

Took her hand by the candle light
She held mine a little tight
"Nothing ever changes, " She whispered,
"The snow never melts."
I lit her cigarette and smiled,
"What you've got to realize, my bird,
Is the only thing to live by
Is for nothing and everything by actions
And words."

I miss the moonlight
How it streaked
Through my summer window pane.
This pain gets boresome.
This pain gets lonesome.
I sit and I wonder
Where oh' where did she
Go off to?

No, I never question
What I'll do,
But I wonder
Gazing out my foggy window pane
Where oh' where did she
Get up and run off to?
The sky remains blue
The arrow shoots on through
But I wonder
Where oh' where did she
Run off to?

Minus the drama
I ran out of steam
Nothing is a dream
The waking life
Shakes like an August
Leaf over a
Running stream

When you're looking
You'll never find what you need
The speed to the distance
Is the remedy of
Kings and queens

Lessen your grip
Take that sip
Watch the sun set
Take that

Final bet.
Astrid Jun 2019
Wane is a shawl, i've stripped off
From the virulent heat.
Vain i've milled and crumbled
And poured into junket you'll eat.
Feast is a bait.
(I'm desirefully sanctite)
Feast is a bait–
Raged adverse hands
Gripped your neck ın lust of  suffocation

Polished mirror–
Nearby, just the wall divides
Bleak downswinging "nation"
Scrabing and crawling your hedge.
With malicious "regards",
Prominent vein,
Incinirate to ashes...by a cressels.
They are labourers
Who manure your ****** plains.
Polished mirror–
Bleeding river
Where your reflection is sublime
But decreasing, due to drought
(And dignity's profaned...)

Conscience dejects and impens,
Disables foul-souls to feast.
Dissapears in sudden–
Purified and peeled.
Cravings and ruinous temptations are rules,
Untill it's pestilent and boresome
And you beg for its rooting back
And returning.

Feast is a bait.
Admires hypocritical:
Human trade,
Quench of "Mature duration"
Truth gyrates from ear to ear– abruption.
Thats's how nobility cracks as a high-grade crystal,
But decayed grade.
Feast is a bait–
Raged adverse hands
Gripped your neck – one second to  suffocation.
"We wouldn't give half a penny for our own thoughts" :
they softly spoke, while feeling kinda bored,
as, perhaps they were even a little lazy like gummy jellyfishes
on land, when they knew that they nonetheless must have been the curious ones who stared in a slowed up tempo at the ebony book cabinet,
while they were also the ones who didnt really know
but who actually did try to guess which books
were installed there like a bunch of paper soldiers
waiting for better heights,
as the moon was a not so accidental,
bluish celestial body that shone
through the open windows of the closed house,
and, o, yes they mirrored the impressive impression it left behind,
before they watched themselves when grabbing a random heavy book out of the big closet
with the intention of ridding this mysterious book of being unread as the face of something like a future time,
however, the first few sentences they dug through
were so **** tiring, so sleep-inducing, even, that they must have decided to put the boresome book aside into an eternity, before they started reading the actual shape of the moon
as it beamed them blue, until they whirled down together on the red sofa that even glued them a little later down on a soft four-poster bed in dreamland,
that supposedly brought them a dream that read:
Tomorrow, New Day, Tomorrow, New Chances
if Allowed By God, but tell me, what did it even mattered to them or to Him, as if it even could hve concerned a gruesome thing like their very last song in life to sing?

— The End —