Will you join me?
There's a party on the moon,
A dancing of the stars,
One by one they call out,
Singing to the midnight light.

Everyone is invited to
The party on the moon,
Dreamers dreamt the decorations
Creating the scene for
The perfect dance hall.

So why don't you join me
At the party on the moon--
You can dance all night
And I might save a dance for you,
A dance at the party on the moon.

Sitting in the quiet pulchritude,
In limerence, I am drenched,
Luculent from head to foot.
Watching people gallivanting -
Some agathist, impavid with life,
In eucatastrophe, they are.
The lollylags and misantrophic,
Dillydallying with humdudgeon.
The rugrats in constant bumfuzzle;
Stroking their rumpots are the drunk,

A man and a woman, and a bingle,
Then a belgard was exchanged.
No noise, just music in my ears;
No argle-bargle of the blatherskite;
No conniption from old hag.
No need to absquatulate,
Just enjoy the quiet festivities.

Tiny hairs on my arms stood on end,
As I felt the wind surround me.
What a beauty this place is,
The hoddy-noddies took for granted.
Melancholy, serenity, strangely nostalgic.
Pictures of the past and the future,
Disembogue, delivered from my head.
All this images ensorcell me, over and over,
With a final intake of breath and a shudder,
I took in the picture, forever encapsulated in my mind.

Why are others mouths inclined to draw the pictures I try to scribble out that form inside my mind?
A worthless, spineless creature- almost serpentine, wriggling on its belly baring cyanic, lachrymal eyes.
I want to squirm from this Stygian tomb, disenthrall my thoughts from the shadows swimming with me
inside this amniotic pool. I'm just a worthless fetus, a crumbling parasite and perhaps it becomes more
obvious when I try to keep it out of sight, like a stench you try to hide; Dulcify decomposition with a rain
of fragrant petals and slowly you'll come to find that magnolias smell of death, I can taste it
slightly on my breath and it whets their appetite, the demons that stink of ammonia that gather every
night orchestrating their symposia, their bellies full of laughter and drink while I'm full of minacious,
eternal thoughts that writhe through plumbless wrinkles and ichor, questioning motivation and what it  
is I fight for. I can never find the right answers... My tongue won't grasp the words, they just slip back into
their couthy throat where they can't be ignored; Left to die upon the shore, as fuscous waves that stain  
sand with rejection crash against my shattered form. My hands crack trying to flip the hourglass back  
and my eyes are constantly attacked by depression's thalassic pulchritude, a multitude of pains swaying
to and fro in veins, begging for escape but trying to stay encased. Life nulls and denudes, my aptitude  
for feeling- my natural ability to hold things close without unreeling heartstrings. Keep reading, there'll
be no eucatastrophe just endless pages of pointless animosity and tragedies accompanied by laugh  
tracks, everyone loves a jester with a proper act and I act a proper klutz futzing around with letters and  
spelling, trying to ensorcell any being to find my misery compelling.  

-SLuR

The mundane world
must yield to imagination.
Eyes are not microscopes,
nor lips but for drinking.
Facts do not make a life;
events alone cannot explain
a single, beating human heart.
Nothing exists so basic that
it cannot be expanded and exploded
by whimsy and effort.
A butterfly is just an insect
until the tale teller awakens its potential;
a lover is just a lump of flesh
until a story renders her beautiful.
Our fictions generate a reality
beyond the dreary limitations of mere truth,
and truth is always mere,
always waiting for the magic touch of more.
Knowing only the particulars
amounts to knowing nothing.
Lift your hand to the world
like an astonished magician
and cast your soul’s spell,
ensorcell the ordinary;
lift your brush and paint a scene
with huge, wild brush strokes;
shout your words into the chaos,
bring about a new order,
a vivid, lush world,
a world that echoes, on and on…

Being a rhapsodic (intensely emotional)creature, both gullus(bold and daring)and habil(deft and skillful).You strive for dehydropiandrosterone (achievement of full potential)in your  movements,and not expressing with coprolatia's (swear words). You refine yourself to be punurgic(able and ready to do anything)in your actions. You listen for euphonious(pleasing soft words),hopping always to not divigate(stray or digress)to what you are to become, a biblioclasm(spiritual creature) in your spirit. You are never gasconade (extravagantly boosting)in your words. But alas your neogenesis(production of knowledge )is you're  falter point (stumbling point). Your forehanded(prudent or thrifty)with your  language and badot(silly)  in feeling, but blive(right away)in your movements. Your actions are never abscitious(additional) but the pother (fuss) you give life can be an apple knocker)ignorant or  unsophisticated) and it comes to you very padsticks(very easy). Hold your kenspeck(view of one's self)to heart. Be a adroaphile (man lover)in life ,and you're always ensorcell(fascinated by someone)in man kind. Take care you might become accismus(into the opposite). Hold aponia(****** pain at bay),and always be self mindful to never Express your arcasia (lack of self control). Becase with this will be your downfall, and but as well never be forgetful of the past for this for to previse the pain(look into the future). Blively (write away) in the intermediate and live life  with an abstract vision of truth. Always remember you will never achieve a pedocock( a valve to reduce pressure) ever if you don't go to your favorite ways, being an vagarious( unpredictable  behavior) rhapsodic in you motions. Remember they can watch you with their argus eye(hawks eyes)and leave you natation(swimming)in your  Beoetian (dull) life. Always live life with a logomachy(a discussion of words)going,for with this comes success.