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And who shall care for that o'er which you weep
Or share the burden of this world's foredoom
Seen starkly? Behold, a haunting specter creeps
Among the binding fates spun on life's loom.
You’ll wake them not to that great misery
Which emptiness of pride has reckless wove
But pluck the web for loss and trembling
Of idols in the soul for which they strove.
Put off your glossy youth and early oaths
Devout nativity; raise up your cup
To ***** Lethe and thunder with the strokes
Of fury, treading out the ripened sup!
They will not bear to flay their sacred cows
But shades of death endure and prostrate bow.

Ages in their veins, more raging, whirl
As titanic potentials’ dreadful might
Turns girl to boy, conversely boy to girl
Unlimbing reason for unreason's fright.
That once gone right, here deftly ventures left
As self-conception staggers to its doom
Bursting the bonds of day and night, distressed
With desperate grasping measures, late and soon.
So set on generation's awesome curve
Of ageless heart and mind, how shall they bear
The die they cast at first when madly swerved
Into contesting congresses of care?
Dividing parts, dissolving in the same
The common wealth, no part the whole maintains.

Boast of the times and gilded privilege
Are these pretended guardians of State
Whose politics of power have sought to bank
Their future 'gainst dissenting arguments.
With rhetoric to foist a brave new age
They come as chaos mages on the brink
Of all disposing will, all ends betrayed
To serve their corporations’ nod and wink.
Auctioning the world, their goods are sold
Commercially with avaricious might
That sanctions lust, in quest of pyrite gold
And pirate earnings, staked upon deceit.
At last, the men of mock integrity
Luring the world to covert slavery!

Hurrah, the master men and lords of time-
From time brought forth, they are the world's latest
Whose overweening strut is in the best
Of culminating age, the mind refined!
Now to and fro they go, their lists increased
With every tally; line for line computes
Their beads of enterprise, the while relieved
Of tribulation, fate of hapless dupes.
Learning is theirs, precepts are theirs to bend;
Lawyers, clerics, politicians rest
Upon this pillar; they can split or mend
The finest lines; no guile their thoughts distress.
Step by step they round the universe
And finite lies to infinite converse!

What pride of theirs that strains for fleeting fame
Seeking to wrest from time the wasting plaque
Of recognition, host to every hack
That postures on the stage of the obscene!
Pretending worth, their practiced scripts dispose
In mocking light an empty dignity
While darkening intents; witless disclosed
On lips and brow their self-important glee.
As if full-wrought by truth's heroic wing
Their pride aspires; on vain conceits they soar
Up through the mist while private songs they sing
In self-made praise for deeds of phantom lore.
From belfries of the schools, in broken flight
They shriek away, hell's banshees of the night!

These timely wise, entranced of mind, decree-
Hear all you simple what we shall disclose
Which craft of our discernment is repose
Of wealth in understanding mastery.
A gift to all, these rich-invested beings
Pretending to resolve profundities
Decoct the world with learned fluency
Of torture ways, all gnostic knots untied.
A flair for comedy, their gelded self
Mounts every snorting bore of certainty
Then armchair resting, pants to yet indulge
Another ******* idol’s reckless scheme.
Some stowaways upon the open seas
And polished sextants of academe!

Here is their derogation, born from creeds
Of judgment in self-righteous confidence
That proves for nothing to the innocent
But swamps life's refugees with cruel conceit.
With ages they have built the edifice
Of dogma; every pit and lion’s maw
Is their contraption, set in consciousness
Of the condemning letter of their laws.
Cunning serpents, masquerading doves
They fashion argument, more vicious wrought
With rationales to blacklist those who strove
To flee their institutions’ heinous plot.
Enamored with a fascist benefit
The systems of the world they implement!

Fanatic men, how bold they tempt the fates
That meet to each the fruits of brutish will
Redoubled, which they’ve spent in kind to date
Upon their brothers, sisters…other self.
They make an estimation, rule the span
Between men; lord over equity
With zero tolerance and brazen hand
To smash upon their consanguinity.
Such is the wicked priesthood’s confidence
In its own judgment, ever owning not
The wrong condemned in others, deep dispensed
To every heart, from roots of life begot.
More wretched they, and haunted with the shame
Of hypocrites, bedeviled by the same!

O law of learning, sum of thinkers' best
Now magnified, ensconced upon the power
Of natal worth and privileged social dower;
Once ruled by you, the Earth pleads for redress.
No scruple sought, no reservation found
To staunch against your certifying will
Which point of iron stylus now furrows
The world at large as object for the ****.
So cart away your pleading victim, mired
In ****** wallows of concupiscence
And grace deny, self-dubbed the doubtless squire-
Errant usurper of the human quest.
How dignified, the rake of your ambition
That promises continual division!
1279

The Way to know the Bobolink
From every other Bird
Precisely as the Joy of him—
Obliged to be inferred.

Of impudent Habiliment
Attired to defy,
Impertinence subordinate
At times to Majesty.

Of Sentiments seditious
Amenable to Law—
As Heresies of Transport
Or Puck’s Apostacy.

Extrinsic to Attention
Too intimate with Joy—
He compliments existence
Until allured away

By Seasons or his Children—
Adult and urgent grown—
Or unforeseen aggrandizement
Or, happily, Renown—

By Contrast certifying
The Bird of Birds is gone—
How nullified the Meadow—
Her Sorcerer withdrawn!
1685

The butterfly obtains
But little sympathy
Though favorably mentioned
In Entomology—

Because he travels freely
And wears a proper coat
The circumspect are certain
That he is dissolute—

Had he the homely scutcheon
Of modest Industry
’Twere fitter certifying
For Immortality—
Lauren P Mar 2016
I’d been reading about boy insemination in the Sambia, Papau New Guinea. As a ritual rite of passage in this war-torn enclave, boys aged 8 to 10 were taken from their mothers to become men. This ritual included things a Westerner couldn’t fathom doing to a child - shoving sugar cane up their noses until they poured blood, forcing them to **** flutes to mimic *******, and ultimately, swallowing “male milk,” their sponsors’ *******, which according to tradition will rid them of their evil mothers’ poison and make them warriors.

Heavy ****.

You know the response that happens in your body when you experience the luxury of your food begin too hot? You kind of breath in and out, rapidly, mouth open, until the food cools down? Sitting in the cafeteria, eating a bowl of vegetables and quinoa created in a vegan space certifying no cross-contamination, I found myself making this face. This stupid, *****, “oh no my mouth may feel weird for a day or two” reflex that immediately made me sick.

I decided to close my mouth. To lean into the fleeting, no-more-than-inconvenient pain instead of running from it.

I think it may have changed my life.
Empire Mar 2019
I gave it my all
That’s what you said to do
You said one hundred and ten percent
So I did it for you

That was fine
I was alright
Until someone else said those same words
Again, again, again

I thought I could handle it
At first
But slowly I drained myself
Like a battery

You gave me handshakes and high-fives
Awards and degrees
Certifying my excellence
Molding my existence

I pushed myself
I met my deadlines
I did what you said
I did what all of you said

After a time
All of me was poured out
Scattered
Empty

Everything I had held
Fell broken and scattered
And frantically I tried to rebuild it
From what was left

My hands shake as I try
To put the pieces back in order
A desire, a compulsion
To control my storm

Anything
Everything
Hold it together
Hold something together

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
Echoes in my mind
As thoughts spin and whirl
A tornado of expectations

I should…
But I can’t…
Well of course not
You’ve been drained for years

“Shoulds” and “oughts”
The poison in my thoughts
I just wanted to do what you said
To show you I had listened

I always had something to prove
I still do
But now it’s not about you
It’s about me

Now, I excel when I can
When I want to
If I don’t,
It was my choice

I don’t care what you think.
I value your opinion
But now I also value my own
I know my limits

There is so much me to explore
I can’t believe I let you drive so long
I missed out on me
And so did you

So when you say to give it my all,
I might
I might not
That’s my choice

I know how much of me I have to give
Only I can portion my time
You don’t know everything
I am strong, and I have limits

I have the power to say, “no”
When you ask to take from me
But I also can say, “yes” graciously
Knowing that I don’t need it

See, that’s what’s changed
I know what I need
I don’t rely on your knowing better
Because I can decide for myself

Rather than giving everything my all,
I give it my best
Knowing that I need to save some for myself
A bit of extra bandwidth in reserve

This way, you don’t own me
But I can offer myself to you
I can still give with grace
But I can withhold with wisdom

I give it my best
next to never (a pair of ones)

squeezed between nuh-uh and fugetaboutit,

is that long gone notion in the nation of concepts,

like one true love, the connected lines on each of our

bodies, certifying we are a pair of ones, a strong hand.


there are chores to be done:

reread Guy de Maupassant,

delete two thousand unread emails

cry for my so lost children

let Walt Whitman wash over my body like oil

kick the guy out of bed so he can make us coffee.

a ton of stuff to do, good thing, we got a strong hand,

that pair of ones.

which I am now informed is called a pair of

Aces.

Who Knew?

7:51 Sun Jul 12
JS CARIE Nov 2019
1.)When imagination became infiltrated by sounds of the nocturnal
—— —— —— —— ——
2.)When negatives sabotage the nocturne to infiltrate imagination  
—— —— —— —— ——
Did...
Your wonder ever waver
from reflecting on the wholehearted feature in your possession,
then retreat back into fixed permanence lining every pondering moment with conditions?

If...
Disbelief loomed in your direction,
accompanied by a voice speaking phrases that shock...would you barter?

Over the most rigorous of hand in hand tribulations
Your hand picked heart continued on the loyal
As precursive voices shock that faith
Be open to obtain verbalized through summoned thoughts,
or whisper,
or even murmur such a combination of letters squeezed together

you wouldn’t barter your set mind
For the widest of riches or a trickling scrap of any gossips current scoop

you wouldn’t barter your set mind on
anything open ears didn’t hear
Focused eyes haven’t seen

In order to accept another truth that has no traits of convinces
So much they are willing to pay you a premium of immeasurable value
to reflect on
And waver wonder from wholehearted feature
This is now the lost swamp of fright that begins the next chapter non-being existence vacuum
Sadly there aren’t any shortcuts around this living read
Only the path of lonesome
Unraveling and hurling pelts of disgraced immediacy at your thoughts,
Your appearance,
Your confidence, and trust
running multiple scenarios through chronological process
Trying to spot the precise moment of derailment
internal bitter aggression is crowned result

Because your mind is doubtless  
Based on your belly that’s taken confirmation
By your unhesitating heart
Supported by the goddess
you began outlining on canvas
since your ears took in this echoing pain of disbelief
Certifying to the Triplex Elements
That your love runs deeply,
unconditionally,
unnoticed...

The triplex elements throughout our
seeing
being
meaning


(Mind)Restless with doubt and demands believing

(Heart)Personal justice pulsar until dotage rings out with excess

(Stomach) When swallowing ethos emits bubble gutted pathos pay no attention to almost

you wouldn’t barter your mind and open ears
For the widest of riches and a truth accepting order undefined
Solitary Frenzy
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Charming-tempering, same t'me
shine it all on and laugh - just laugh
like nothin' or nobody, -just laugh like U
Being placed, perfect as a crystal,
pointing
at the causal phase, shifting position
spine serpent stretch wetdog shiver,
toe wiggle heel rolls focus read
local order as close
to smooth as smooth
does tend to be
in crystaline stonefacings
------- otium -no sorrowitit, none
Arms down. Study war no more
-------- the word, neg-otium opposes,
usury
as time is money, otium accepts time,
one by one, dear reader roles renew,
as emptied, swept clean,
whistle, and find the birder,
cruel birder liming the mulberry,

whither the spirit was said to say yes,
to what the prophet promised.

I could do that.
Where I live, I could offer fleeces,
for folk who know the right thing,
but need a sign,
that
is
what
Gideon is, in the Bible and its sources.
An ensample,
a hero to judge by, some of what he did,
well, he was not saved, so, what can ya say.

Shoulda read Steinbeck, more and
Steinbacher less {The Child Seducers 1974}


The soft life, never taking up arms,
never losing everything,
struggling, some times for minutes,
hours, days, weeks, months…

years, decades, if you count upping
from flat, lowest low a man can go,
no money, no means, no rare talent
to sell, no helpful uncle with a business,
selling chotskis, laundering cash,
selling art to hold such whited money

Building grand extended universities,
certifying sticktoitifity tested and ranked,

draft picks, in the game, good old chums
bet with, each owner of a team, seems
above us all, too far to wish to be, really

if you have reached a pleasant enough
spacetimemind encompassing interesting time.

Sorting sales pitch from product performance.
Every body must get ******, by all those who
never missed the mark,
hell, they never allowed the story told whole,

caused, most assuredly,
by heads of states, human crystaline structures,
held in touch, kept in constant we mind,
for the people,
for the lost,
for the rich… who lead us toward good just wars,
to settle trade deficit disputes,
by all rights granted priests, to anoint kings,
anointing, soothing balsam balm.
Those trees are gone, the village oath kept.
Set aside, sacred, set apart the holy, who
form the aspirations fed early flocks reformed,
oleo, for butter, it's better.
frogs fall in this fat, sizzle, sells it like anointed
deep fried chicken
under pressure
churches, ch ch changes, ur between ch
charges against the foe,
because the Queen said it must be done.
'their persevering valour and chivalrous devotion'

The British and French, in turn, saw Nicholas’s power grab as a danger to their trade routes, and were determined to stop him.

The spark that set off the war was religious tension between Catholics and the Orthodox believers, including Russians, over access to Jerusalem and other places under Turkish rule that were considered sacred by both Christian sects.

From <https://www.history.com/topics/british-history/crimean-war>

Back to Radioman, during one of these days

From going up and down
on the face of the earth
the prosecutor brought witness, face to face,
as one abstracted
from the host, all the sons of God,
- the devil's in the details
the real mind behind the JWST, allowing any
with seeing eyes,
to see as far as any human in ever, has ever seen.
Elucidation, light, where none was known to be.
{had me at Gobekli Tepi} wiseasany, se si
Is this not the truth loosing locked visions,
as all the minds involved
in the current global wedom,
we, each thinking individually,
at the point
of being you, deepest sorrow, highest joy, exper-
i-ence, me the imaginary number, clickt
science if cient
to snap
a tense, taut, tight, too high to hear, note
of dispairing singularities, wedoms,

crumble, leaving you,
there alone, wondering, if wondering is worth
any time, taken
from your ever
upto
when

words, writhed, deep as wonder, once,
as a child, on track to experience,
Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, when Disneyland cost $3…

Today all who paid $3 still say it was worth it.
At the time.

--- Ma Joad said

"Lots of things against the law,
we cain't help adoin',"

some laws make means and meaning,
seem too much for mere mortal,
to imagine,
the smart ones, we imagine, they
was aknowin' all the perfect will
of a god
who used a few real learned men,
to round up all the pieces,
of the nation we was, were,

when we were the only chosen to survive,
as far as we could see,
at the time,

I alone was left to tell thee,
each time, providence left one messenger,

go tell the man enlisted to proof the whole
mind of man used to do what seems right,
-proof it
behave have and hold being had, by holding
us, the we we would die for, that we,

is free, but from fear, and most fear is tied
to lies about a meaner than hell God.

And that lie fails, about the time,
you up and ask your father, what
is tempting about stupidity,

worship and praise, glory and honor,
for attaining mind numbing skill,
in will worth- pulled taut on all sides,
and your bit

your one eight billionth, hangs by this thread.

It hurts to feel another's pain,
to feel it in vain, hurts worse,
to not stop
and think, full selah, sit and wait,
real people
hurt
when the bubbles pop.
Some others win, like,
there was no bubble, so this
is as real as any angel ever sent,
to find the cause, the pain, signals,
some ongoing cause, a burr,
a sharp, broken edge, a piercing barb.

A broken river bank, hold sand filled bags,…


Floods of wish I was, wish I was
floods
of wish I was, wash me on
down
the drain, by and by, by and by,

we reach the wetland preserves,

and most any kind
of disney-designed hook, spooky
place,
make believe
is the happiest place on Earth,

make 'em all believe,
yeah,
but
something broke, boss, we adrift.

--- it's dramatic, audience wide angst,

we make old men weep,
then
we know their kids shall not forget,
that
once when Dad broke, and he was
screaming

every thing I did, I did for a lie!

--- yeh, drama, we all got drama,
we come to see where Jesus was stayin',

the next day, whither he had been led,
it is said, by the spirit, in English

--- None of me, experienced the Seventies, that is
on TV… so, I must not have been there,

that's what I am saying,
I prove me to me, as I take my measure,
imagining
stretching that first point, eh, you know,
the point of any thing
the point of you,
piercing every thing, and the augmentation,
mental re-co-owning knowing used right,

once before, when we were thinkinking Dharma,
thinkinking the plot, yes, yesh, si da
not drama, Dharma, got it… rolling
we manifest best in the instant, that
we both knew, we co-knew, we re-co-gnosticated.

Mindtimespace rushes at us.
Poetically, not prophetically.

The game believers make evangelists, to play,
as pawns,
and we all know this game, most better than
many know the first reason to ever play go.

A tale, certainly, but only by the surrounded
resources rule, the living using up the dead,

and the tendency to chaos looses all hell,
for a season, some say, a thousand years,
and more say some,
learned in the kino, kiva cinema, state theater,
{Kingman, in Arizona, the 48th star, so State
hood- Thus State Theater 25 cent matinees
6x8 or 8x6, how's it hangin'
stripes below
or to the left, like from a balcony, Old Glory.
Privilege it was,
to a child from sixth grade, to serve,
in the daily flag furling and final folding,
at the first and last bells.
Routine as was the Pledge and faithful fold,
each fold with a moral - added at funerals,
-you learned that late in life, really, then

Noon was signaled by the air raid siren,
traditionally, for how long?
I can't recall knowing
it ever stopped sounding at noon, to train time.

I had some friends one season, late high school,
through the first few months stateside, yeah,
what's with the hippyshitsfirst thing, every time,

Sgt. Whykill, meet Pyro, we all three served,
with Puso Perez, and Kid Wesley, and Tom Green,
and Wierder Harold, the radar guy…

SO, Pyro, what brings you to mind? Gotta point?
Hippyshit. Yeah, 'made my peace, knowmsayin?

Jesus remains, just alright, aight, a we, we form, agree,
or deem me the fool. And he the liar, and you

bought your map from a comedian,
on youtube, working in context of attention callibration
sigh and think it so SYTF, too true to retell,
but where there's a will to prove God's right use
of Hellfire and brimstone, hit me,
as my friend Johnny Whykill,
Forcer Recon, Airborne Ranger, Security for Leon Spinks,
who has not walked, since,
oh some time, around Obama, maybe, today, le'methinks

So, Sergeant Whykill, what did you and Pyro,
adjust to hook now and then in my book of life,
one point last total loss.

Here we are having what has been termed,
one hell of a good day, as when what the hell,
became what th'phucghk ai choke joke human element
in audio, we aspire to number in the first eight billion,
ai audiobook epic poetry reading to Warhol movies,
on eight year loops…
and so it is, dear friends, we bid thee fare, well as you may
wish the rule were otherwise,
it isn't currents reoccur, same clouds come and go,
the throbbing beat
means life, has a next minute, you dead, you think.

Shoulda been, not morbidly, just
why not me, why those others, each killer turn,
mark twain say turn they still calling ramming speed…

selah, when
ever when one frames a mind to filter on patterns,
this one, the mindtimespace constructs using these,
give one
a very pleasant, yes, please all granted, all thanks accepted,
all the glory goes to god, Your call, think a name,
bet me, this atmosphere, as we live and breathe, one name

sh- listen, hippyshitgoneguru, oh K'we got at linkmlook


CAN and do or may and do we not know so much less
rationally

relative to today, starting all day ago, and I am fine,
thanks,
for asking… Pyro, met Johnny Why. and they had
a sheershitshow, Pyro having been named pre-Nam,

this is all after, this entire sheltering structure,
think Chatahoolic said right, deep shelters upslope,
dug from softer tufa stone, layers of ash weight
long after the last aligning tides pulled life from higher

than the last high-water mark,
you see,
that is my east horizon, Arizona is my back yard,
this is like heaven to, me and when I sleep I sleep,
I have not dreamed in years.
Having a bag, a bundle of knowing, shown worthy
of some spec of attention,
by riverminers someday riverwisemen say, someday.

Drift away, weigh my day, sweet dreams, if you do.
no where else to go, worth the trouble to find
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2021
the body is atrophying,
rising from the bed is an
exercise in handholds, comedy physical
wall-grabbing, flail to fall, laughing at myself, still

my super quiet whispers in the bed
of imminent death go unheard,
as somewhat desired, but not entirely,
3/4 tween unsure and surely and surly.

the blood don’t circulate fast enough,
streams slow, sad songs Pandora accumulates,
and Spotify artificial intelligence finds more,
certifying a usual unusual, feel dust mites breaking off of me

<>

mind running in rivulets, fear floes,
courage-drowned, easy stuff
impossible, hard, beyond pale, summer melt,
drowning in self-disgust, hapless hopeless harmonic wastage

every deadline passes, dying,
easygoing no screaming, the
minimal, hard, past the behind, the pale,
the poetry is untraceable, untranslatable and never-good-enough


the easy out is steps away,
illusions are illusory, delusions offer no comfort,
stories you tell for amusement, leaving whimsical
dreams are practice runs, for the longer run, will shortly come do-due

the poem words die on the vine,
scorned silence, best is past,
appropriate ignominy is red-****** iced,
so it goes, no minyan for the funeral, no ten friends


the query repeatedly reappears,
how did I mess up so bad, some part
lazy, part afraid, humans, so much effort,
the voices-in-head saying, we’re plenty good enough

shelter can become a prison, an island,
fortress or prison, a salvation pretense,
osprey overhead, preying, feeding next gen,
hear-’em discussing options when “sleeping,”
his affairs in order?, which smile provokes the provocateur


my affairs long dustbin guests,
sand and atmospheric disbursed,
your next poem probably, granules contained,
for this is how all life is transferred, I’m in a tiny minute, in you…
July 2021
Arlene Corwin Jan 2020
Clearing up and out I came upon this, “The Personal Joys Og Ageing from 2016.  Now totally rewritten.

              The Personal Joys Of Ageing

I enjoy not being steered by ardour’s ***** drive,
The appetite for lots of food and varied such:
I enjoy not wanting much of much
Which qualities all counteract, exacerbate
The facts of fate.

It’s late.
I cannot sleep
But revel in the hours I keep.
Awake at night,
It is a most creative time to write.

In younger days there was so much I’d have denied,
Tried to get out of, lied about,
Taboos and mores* certifying,
Classifying wrong and right.

Sleep, food, *** vacate the drives,
Each space replaced by something fitter.
Without daily nose dives
Life is definitely better.
                                                      
Say, dear reader
What you’re free from.
I would love to hear from
Any reader sitting there.

The Personal Joys Of Ageing 12.6.2016/rewritten 1.16.2020
Circling Round Eros II; Nature Of Reality; Circling Round Ageing; Arlene Nover Corwin

*mores (pronounced morays) customs, conventions, ways, way of life, way of doing things, traditions, practices, custom and practice, procedures, habits, usages; formal praxis.
Greetings reader from a cross between an aging seventy inch long (ringing ding ****) haired pencil necked geek and a Norwegian bachelor farmer wannabe; meaning yours truly actually a virtually married Pennsylvania man, who crossed his sixty fifth year young threshold on January thirteenth 2024, nevertheless despite rancor from the missus who frowns on me favoring female for acquaintanceship/friendship ideally while taking a ride On The Good Ship Lollipop.

if nothing else germinated
adult language affections
inexplicable tummy why
(approximately three quarters
of my lxiv roy hull orbits ago),
I can still vividly recall
names of girls from mud
trickle hull hating as a Methacton
High School graduate,
plus the two semesters completed
at Montgomery County Community College,
which diploma worth less than
the paper certifying completion
of requisite credits.

Unbeknownst tummy if
(Susan Bishop, Cheryl Hahn,
Judy Jacobs, Donna Keckley,
Fay Landis, Sandra Ray,
Julia Ward, and a handful of others)
gleaned any hint that an intense desire
shutter flying within thy solar plexus
to blurt (in a bumbling fashion)
even a feeble hello
dogged each day of classes.

Nothing about this then
awkward, blimey clammy, dorky,
edgy, friggin gawky, *****, ipsy,
jumpy, kooky, loony, moody, nerdy,
okay, plenti quirky, ratty, sulky,
timidly undersized very withdrawn,
xpn yankee Zeusian.

If familiar during my prime numbered days,
with either powder milk biscuits
(which according to Garrison Keillor -
gives shy people the courage
to get up and do ***** deeds
done dirt cheap (in honor
of the late Malcolm Young,
the pulse of AC/DC),
or raw bits, and additionally
adroit crafting, expostulating
gross iniquities keeping maidens
overly questing regarding taming
uber vibrant ***** wonka
your all time cerebrally enlightened,
guy initially kindling manifold
oppressed quaking ****** undulations
wracking yawping aspiring
corpus dictionary epicurean.

Yes, that tis quite a mouthful,
but then this ardent devotee, gamboling
jousting literary nonsensical
philosophical reader, tenderly tinder
verizon wormy yakking arboreal
cloven earmarked, graciously intelligent
kibitzer, modest opportunistic
questioning statecraft,
unpretentiously warbling bupkis.

Though verb boss this poet manque
doth strive tubby re: noun,
or at the least beak comb knighted
among his majesty (HMS) –
cutting (thru the figurative iceberg) crew,
which pronoun smint foments
hostile interjections, whereby
grievance addressed by my
reciting constituent articles comprising
English Language.

As a result of assiduous, copious, exodus,
grammar grappling, inchoate knowledge,
mastery of quirky syntax
underscored unpretentious
versatility with words.

Adverb beal concupiscence endowment
grows ineluctable kickstarting
my obvious quest shunned unfairly
without your adjective choice
entirely granted.

Infinitives key mordant obscures
quasi rhetorician traversing ultimate
vernacular wordsmith zeroing
at becoming catapulted
**** eminently fructified.

Caterwauling causes
champion colleague Collins collision,
collusion, conjunction conspiracy,
demanding expulsion, forthwith
groupie Harris insinuating, juxtaposing,
keeping lowest mediocrity necessitating
one principle question.

Reddit slated tenure unified vicars,
wherein xfinity yielded zing along.

— The End —