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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2020
'ere i r: "thieving" around with some base ęgliş -

it must be admired: this citizen
politicized majority:

that a people can fathom fudge packaging
tier upon tier:

and serve both a democracy of voices
and the necessary vote: illiterate X
"acronym" piece o' pie for a signature's
worth...

wow and doubly: wow... on a continent when
there's this status quo class strictures:

moths, cobwebs(,) and spare change...
this grand asymptomatic clue...
i hope to pretend
to steal a language from
a people... that have no diaspora poignancy -
because: there's this squatting "elsewhere"...

litany of secrecy that has to become:
blunt dumb and grating
cheddar: stoic-esque...
the blunting of the knife and
the sharpening of the tongue...

i will still find the sort of reggae i want...
culture's harder than the rest
(full album)...

picky moi: burning spear's
marcus garvey -
the black voice
that demanded of his
choccy people a repatriation
process:
how alien it must seem
to be african-american
going to a majority black
country...
how unwelcome
one must be...
to be black and thrown back
into kenya...
speaking no word of the native
breath...
what statues of agony
an IDI AMIN could...
and did... dying a slow death
in the ***** of arab racialism...
oh sure joys of sculpture...
unforgiving in how
legs dismembered would
be reattached to sockets where
arms ought to imitate bird flight
with flapping: and vice versus...
i suffer to have not this sort
of imagination!

but that is a song...
   i'm here attempting to steal
english from the english:
it's not "about to" happen
either...
i'm getting drunk on
the cocktail: before, of course...
i come across some
bureaucratic "sensibility":
some angry ***** mad
enough with the least
authority given...

         that people given
the least authority tend to abuse it
the most...

i had to look at europe "elsewhere"...
milan kundera pointed
out this quote
'quarrel in a far away country,
between people of whom we know nothing'
by neville chamberlain
when appeasing ******
concerning the merger of
extended bohemia
into the third *****...
                
  it would seem: it would always
be easier to treat the middle east
with enforced straight lines...
e.g. iraq / jordan never look
like naturally invoked
land masses -

no mountain range no river...
it's not that i have to blame
the english pauper for
a past history of colonialism...
but... to have little knowledge
of your neighbour's lot...
was there any similar ignorance
when: outstanding brits
matched napoleon's ambitions?

i test my own patience with this...
at what point will i finally state:
well... given the air of politics
weaving its way trickle down
into the publically paid bureaucracy...
em...
is it racism or is it...
an african fetish?
     like me... i'm all for porcelain girls
of the orient: no one wants
to **** exhausted gammon... do they:
in this mismatched kama sutra... do they don't they?

i'm sensing a fetish for... it's gone beside
a racism: i'm looking to the east
of what's still europe -
a zilant semblance written
in "old orthography" of the tatars...
   qazan - someone's knowing on my door...
the germanic peoples pushed...
then the slavic peoples pushed...
then the mongols and the turkmen pushed
this great funnel and sieve
of a: pseudo-continent that's probably
only an extended experiment
of great mother asia and uncle siberia...

after all: isn't australia an island?
who ever has to hear the same
soft-narrative: out-of africa...
except those pesky eskimos -
      frisky... but we left africa
with no thinking equipment -
no phonetic encoding...
    if we left with some arabic...
but we didn't...
if we left with some sanskrit...
but we didn't... some chinese ideograms...
but we didn't...
no wonder we left...
i don't endear myself to pursue
hieroglyphics as sensible enough:
to counter the modern emojis...

which they are...
pits and falls in the latin alpha-beta-coy...
then..
to "work" by loiter -
no wonder: grievances
when work is drudgery -
when one cannot perfect
a deed - but has to churn out
appeasement after appeasement:
slurp an oyster from
an ****...

i still must be thieving english
from... the english...
leftovers of the forever debased
schizoid - or the new lineage
bound to bilingualism:
a return to thematic crude-,

no... i can't digest this:
there's some sort of drama:
but there's no staging for it...
an open round-up of applause...
devoid of choice is a higher
tier condescending-
           for lacking will -

to write this very little...
but then to harness the prospect
of a sunrise: an 8am welcome!
welcome to no night
of finitudes... of conclusions...
my foot will never stand
in thailand: because
of the thai surprise...
easily a ****-along story
for a vanguard torry:

        i will have two Plantegenant
old housewives
when there's: the food
i need to curate for my palette:
a sad sad show-story...
when i... walk out from the house
and tug a dead-weight
of consumerism from my
mother's girdle...

          i call it... playing banjo
with toothpick... 'n' esse...
      the pristine curation of sharpening
teeth: to bite into a tide...
into a swelling heave of a wave...

i want to be able to be normal
sleeping with a foreign body
in my bed...
i was once able to sleep with a dog...
i am as finicky as the cat
that attempts
to sleep with me in the same
bed....
shadows clamour and therefore
clash...

  the british isles are too grand...
i want something smaller...
i want a life among the faroe islanders...
escape escape forever
this unforgiving narrative...

can you look at a people you're acquiring
to "ally"...
never marking your own horrors...
with your own black hitlers...
i can attest to the bleach...
but you can't somehow blank slate:
state a genesis without a dichotomy...

let's go! black history month!
now is the time! now i want to remember
IDI AMIN!
  black history month!
i want to remember IDI AMIN!
no... not marcus garvey:
proponent of repatriation...
i want to remember: IDI AMIN!
after all... the mongols have
their "abraham" their genghis khan...
and they have their pocket
of leftover in crimea with
that mongol-europeans: the tatars...

i have no love for history come
the tide of relating the Iberian peninsula...
south h'america... "mine"?
the north coast of africa...
fizzling out of in-breeding...
when the goth came across
the instigators of conquest of the "muzzies"...
cocktails on us! boyos!

i want to... ******* boil with teasing!
i want to fathom a spectacle of trolling!
i want to smear faces into ****!
i want the wholesome crescendo!
i want to itch with
******* out buckwheat digestion!
i want chocolate!
i want a swiss fountain of chocolate!
i want to see IDI AMIN
a proud addition to:
no blacks ever do or did:
any b'aah... b'aah ad ad...
            
i wish "my" people came to "origin"
with a post-colonial narrative...
poor shmucks the scots are...
but they were: "missing"...
you can't retrace a colonial past
to the present citizen of spain:
how well the post-"racialists" peoples
of the southern continent managed to:
you can hear talk
of an argentinian... but he's not spanish...
a brazilian: but he's not... portuguese!

this anglo-saxon "pond" livestock
of memory... do away with us...
i know it's terrible to have a genesis
story so short-lived that europe
is a *******-riddling reminder:
when there's an already political class
harvesting the least worth of fathom...
don't pretend to be historical tourists:
my dutch ancestry...
my german ancestry... my "ancestry":

you deserve the quiff and joking slander:
superior the world's a-hole all over...
who are your little people looking
for in our little funnel of
a constipated asia looking for?
currently?!
the greek aren't admired...
they aren't admired because
they gave a birth to the antagonist
in cyrillic...
and that's that!

or... the greeks aren't admired
because: the metaphor: byzantine -
a complexity of bureaucracy -
but the singing... deaf tone reading of plato...
forget aeschylus -
they were prone to heave
a turkman invasion of
the balkans... given...
the venetians sacking:
the supposed holy place of...
aan eucharist convo. with a pagan "pope"...

like... the 4th crusade was not
a hard-on... for anyone to not fathom...
the inheritance of a history
i must truly deserve...
otherwise: the history overtly given...
to subsequently filter...
how the capetian king philip
augustus is known to me
is: it's not a beyond noticeable
comparisons...
it's just stalemate...

i am furroging in asp and waspishness:
i need a language of antagonism...
i find my most pristine "saint"...
i could cling to a fetish for
interracial *** exploits...
but then i'm a bland white man
and i might require a dodgo lemon
squeeze of eyes...
when a ***** is not in use
and it's hardly a reserved reading
for: expansion... broadening one's mind
with: *******... that "sort" of phallus
size just wouldn't do...
it's no joke but then i prefer
jerking off to... something akin
to... bronzino's venus, cupid,
folly and time...

even then! then!
a woman directly descended from
the titans... aphrodite was...
beside the lineage... from hyperion...
astounded... passed into
the ***** of the olympians...
cherry picking my vavous ego-foetus
of mind into a progress and
future investment...
how the **** spoke...
and became apparently a parody
of parrot chokes...
given the farts would have
to commence at some, point, or "other"...

to demand "pushing boundaries"...
i have them here: ever present always
apparent...
i would sacrifice my whole for these...
as to never have to:
speak a language of appeasement...
as to never speak a language of
a gradual inclination...
or / of never rocking the boat...
i want to drown drunk!
i want to drown a drunkard!
i want to savour a relfish for...
autumn perfumes towing
accents of a variation of timbers...

now i want to stand naked!
i want to be awash with moonshine...
i want more of the night
i want more of the creases in
attaching bone to the formidable
tendon pressures...
i want the technicality of nouns
being lost... i want misnomers...
i want all this supposed word / techno-salad
to be all! furore!
i want to eat the native
with an imagination worth
of a tartar -
  
           i want my tongue to sliver into
the cheddar spronge of their borrowed
brains every time they test themselves
on eating a tartare: notably raw beffrey (b'ee'f)...

yes... this is my former european
status: having to cleave... from it...
because the liberal authorities of
vest-inwested western georgian:
gregorian: kiev is my own project
of last interests...
how isn't it...
ukraine might somehow
rely on article usage: notably:
the ukraine...
there's that "a" associated
with the polish-lithuanian commonwealth?

from sea to sea:
from the baltic sea
to the black sea...
oh look! i too can inherit something...
like a hebrew might inherit
the aesop the king solomon...
like aesop might inherit Tironian
notations...

i am drinking but my cat isn't agitated
by it: troll troll lullaby!
let's celebrate!
dancing monkeys dancing
truants!
it wouldn't: it couldn't possibly
be a black history month
without mentioning
IDI AMIN... dying peacefully
in the arms of sleep
among the saudi camel-jockey "racists"...

how they have been fleeing
the ****** status of harems...
how they were escaping polygamy...
how i wasn't racist how i was
merely ill-conceived over
a work-around of fetish...
i was already a walking abortion...
manic street preachers' debate:
i wasn't enough gay or
feng shui enough...
or brilliant neon purple enough...

hello brilliance! hello party! hello
gay...
ancient europe:
ai viast lo lop....
               creases in my forlorn...
i want: besst attired summation:
this  ****** bulgarian...
this european that's only aa figment
of imagination:

indignations of scythe:
that nothing is borrowed:
that all is: at limbo gested...
                      to heave a scythe
and stone...
i pretend to swallow a breath...
i am aching at the knee
and ankle...
             i am formidably
   nuanced amsterdam...

                  i have to tell
that yawn and "story" for some
variation of catholicism to trickle down...
this forever impossible
and: my-overtly-inflated
char of wording...

                harvest the pea and
dollop of hypersensitivity toward
hue best ascribed to "foliage";
or a burgundy that's neither
purple or red
or wine... or the papacy
of Avignon.
Jordan Iwakiri Dec 2011
delicate lonely flower,
I loved you like the sun.
broken morning revelation and
the slamming of a car door-
so began a journey of years.
empty streetlight wanderings
swollen desperation and
A search for Something
Washed upon the shores of longing
petals of a shattered imagination
glass and wax and wine-
All of it spent
Chasing ghosts of
Pretended loves.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
i know what the problem with poetry is...
it’s like nick harper tuning the piano
or tenacious d playing the one note song...
it’s almost like
had i the grace (#d)
to fathom the craze (#d)
of each acknowledging stare (#a)
we shared: i guess i’d fare (#a)
much closer to the stardom (#b)
of what i can fathom (#b)...
lead
-ed
red
well fed...
ya ya yawn.
apart from the humanities subjecting an art via mutilating
the one original craft of spontaneity
with such excess of scalpel and anaesthetic
as “discovered” theory...
no expression of language has as many “grammatical”
words to define its learning / interpretation as poetry...
whatever verb has against pronouns to make us anonymous
by excluding a personal stance of nouns...
so has poet against verbs to make us anonymous
by excluding a metaphor personalised given the nouns.
well one note does sound “serene” giving the rhyme couplet
when in music just the same old repeat of the so called rhythm: of a church at 11pm, i.e.
poetry is ruined by rhyme... rhyme kills rhythm
of spontaneity... and i'd hate to make poetry
the ***** of predictability of £110 an hour £10 extra
for oral *** performed on her... enter the realm of rhyme
and you enter a cul de sac:
i was headbanging, unsure whether it was the music
that got me started or the echo of my head autographing
a brick wall as a way to find teeth in a woodpecker's beak.
Towela Kams Oct 2014
I can't fathom when you say you're not good for me
Help me understand why my heart is failing to agree
Let's blame it on me fluctuating emotionally
Digging in deep
Wiping me clean
I'm allowing my emotions to get the better..
No, worse.. of me.
War against emotions. First love-ish poem I've ever written. Short poem, I know. But I kinda like it.
tread Nov 2012
Not too distant beach tree sways in distance
Mandala Rorschach blot patterns dance like celebrating Salish drum circle
There's a hallow college sound of crime show to my left
Bickering with the occasional crush of,
"****, my job is stressful."

A sleeping armadillo composed of quarks reflective within a drop of water
Fallen from the bottom-bulged North 49 canteen

A foot and 3/4ths away the snow-white generic of a ***** coffee mug formerly host to a Tetley green stands silent
Reminiscent of the eternal stillness of a mountain range

Fibonacci's name rings inexplicably from tilting branches
And I can't help but wonder if I would be grasping his hand in grasping a branch.

19 years alive and I can't help asking if I've grown-up too fast
Or simply grown into myself.

I feel old
young
and somewhere indescribable most of the time
and it's funny I cannot even fathom the length of 22 years.

A deflated balloon yellow like trend pants or sunrise sits like dejected missile
No longer screaming towards Gaza

No longer screaming.

A Holiday Inn Express pen sits with a ready-call number
Part of its mustang flame
If its quality of penmanship has any parallel to hotel service
Perhaps I'll stick with hostels.
palladia Dec 2013
i cannot face a day without acknowledging a loss.
i cannot fathom such a wilderness grew so close to my place,
my society-free, impositionless place
a tepid forest inhabited
by the requiems of the agnostically murdered
and the cogged wheels of the deceased's clocks.
sometimes they stick and the clockmaster unsticks them,
but they stop up again ever so quickly.
there is nobody who has the time or effort to continually watch the clocks.
and they return to ticking an eldritch song
which may cause pain.
it has not abolished mine, nor shall forth be disseminated to do so.
i am an ascetic mastermind, abiding in my messy pool
of thought, without my womb, without my brood, without my broom
to tidy the mishmash of unruly cobwebs and such.
the fumes cause me to wonder “where is my world,
which i’ve fondled so dearly?”
i detox and recycle memories, it’s to no worth of you
a venomous whisper on a silver lining of a dream tells you everything:
a fanatic’s agenda degrading urbane,
a plummeting depth to deep impact,
i drift away on a molten lava lilypad, and fantasize that...
i am god
but i haven’t found time to juggle your sect
reissuing lessons to mind the sheriff
and i cannot bear to lead me, to my own cultural death.
i cannot receive your moral disease, a signal on my knees
con e preghiere sbiancante. can’t you understand it?
my life is spent with hope placed
on each pair of snake eyes i roll
chance is the meter for everything.
dare i dare go back to my fantasizing,
i am god
ashamed by the lack of hope, and regret
disgraced by the hate and intolerance of man
and i see now their perfect world, is everything i detest.
and the tears produced
form new embryos of emotions
crystalline structures of psychological proportions
which develop into mature,
sentient, and emotion-proof organisms.
which become i.
and i respond vehemently yet come to my senses in a diplomatic tone,
because i am a diplomat.
and i have learned to nail my destiny to an altar each night,
an altar which can sacrifice my pensive motives
and my self-incriminating philosophy
that i should be able to write my destiny, and not
have it planned and read aloud,
read out loud, out in the air, outside.
i try myself.
i tempt myself.
and i return to supplicated suffering about my own mortality
and the atoms i will never see
and the universe i will never span
and the people i will never meet
and the times i will never live.
what if i rivered thirty silver-coins:
◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌
◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌
◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌
what if i
didn’t
?
i might be ****** for this: but i’ll still set fire to the catacombs.
i might be scourged for this: but i’ll still hold on,
hoping there’s skin on my bones.
ecclesia, – a common, a sanctuary, a vanguard from the darkness in the world.
i know what i should do but never ever get it done;
i know what i have been and what i will become.
not defined by a dimension nor reputed by a benchmark
but shaded by the passion and dissuaded by the lashes.
i’ll do anything you want me to,
if you **** the self-inflicted psalms i plead!
the ulcer grows
that sweet cologne
i ***** it into the unknown.
i won’t tax your soul, i won’t stick a price to it:
coins ◌◌◌◌◌ won’t fill the hole -in a business deal (assets corrode)
i won’t tax your soul (i won’t buy it with blood money ◌◌◌◌◌, no)
it’s yours alone (but in business deals,
deficit is prone)
and there’s an aspect {a static} of forever and the inescapable gap
between the conscious
and the desired.
i sit here, ever so comfy and lustrous,
and habitually wait the day
they merge.
my invitations stand clear.
if you cannot come, i’ll wait for you. hidden
in the grillework of my past. but if you cannot come,
i’ll be waiting. hidden in the warmth of our teepee haus,
i’ll wait for you.

if X Marx the spot then why Kant i Locke it up?
*could living hand-to-mouth so long make me so Jung?
There’s a complex relationship with the earth, Pleroma, God, and mortality. And none of it can be solved. We live in such a saddened state today.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
hey! i don't mind the dodo! i don't have some neuroticism encompassing vitriol to continue: but sure as ****, you do. what happens when the white ladies die off? **** a monkey?! i accept my fate, like you accept your being bound to heavenly graces of continuum inexhausted with death being a lost concept of compensation... it only takes 2 generations to revise the piglet race... so... where's the competing element of nervosity? really? really?! existential blackmail?! is this how low it has to be grounded in? look at me, do i look like i actually give, a ****?! maybe you do, but this existential blackmail in the anglophone world of puritanical darwinism is not for more... i already find it hard raising jerking off in this world, let alone a pair of tadpoles... honest to god, it's already hard raising a pristine jerking off, let alone a pair of children.

i'm still trying to figure out this existential anglophone
blackmail... it's been bothering me for
ages... i simply can't fathom it...
i really can't stop seeing it as an existential blackmail...
that i somehow need to reproduce...
   that i'm somehow needed, my genes are speaking
to the darwinistic affection
of keeping "form"... can i just say that i don't
get it?! can i just cite that
darwinism has a negative impetus strategy for
invoking existentialism?
    can i just say that darwinism belongs on
the isles, and existentialism
belongs on the continent, and that the two never
are allowed to mingle?
no? so why do i feel blackmailed
into "needing" to reproduce?
besides the point, i never intended,
i was one of the one child state policy of china,
we were always the weirdos -
but the english have half a wits' worth
of understanding of existentialism,
they kept **** *******
darwinism, sorry, but they did...
an ex-girlfriend's father once asked
me: what are the famous poles?
i forgot to reply...
copernicus, marie curie,
          chopin?
   no, doesn't ring a bell in your
paddy sodden brain? **** me,
i'm always late when it comes to
insulting someone, it usually takes me
years upon years to reply an insult...
which makes everything a really bad joke.
but i hate how english existentialism
took off,
   just as bad as my late reaction to
an insult's worth of joke...
     existentialism & darwinism do not exactly
mingle...
        come on, you have to be kidding me...
when it comes to english existentialism
(covert darwinism): i am being blackmailed...
i am literally being blackmailed into
some form of apartheid...
some sort of quasi: apartheid...
no, i'm not equipping myself
with misnomer tactics -
         i'm being blackmailed to: "continue"
my "species"...
  last time i checked,
i couldn't give two ***** of concern
for *queen sheeba's
prophecy
of the world being populated by
the copper skinned peoples...
i.e. cuprum populus...
                 somehow darwinism,
existentialism and populism and the general
of competition, have created a toxic affair
of: a complete lack of competing energisation;
sure! the jews will win their "prize"
of recanting their jewel prize of ten diadem
rules...
     among the choccies and the copper skins;
don't you think the jews look a bit
odd, a bit out of place, given that they're
so white, in the middle east?
         oh right, no i remember:
stating the obvious huh? is now considered
a hate speech;
so the fact that the jews returned to the middle
east: kinda bleached, is not, "a bit" weird?
can i have those magic mushrooms now?
DH Matthews Sep 2013
Why?
It's a painful memory that appears to be settling in for life rather than preparing to leave,
It's been heard by countless millions, and none of them can understand how it sounds to me,
I haven’t been as happy since hearing it as I was when I heard it,
It's symbolic of the most significant turning point in my life to date,
The lyrics are so perfectly foreshadowing of a problem that I couldn't fathom that I’d have,
It has a stronger connection to memory than any other song,
It represents the perpetual unhappiness that I refuse to believe controls me.
I'm unhappy.

Where?
A car that I haven’t seen in years,
On a street I barely saw enough of,
In a town I wish I could visit again.
A happier place that I can see but can never return to,
Personified by a face that's disappeared from here.
Somewhere I miss, yet somewhere I hate;
Somewhere that needed the version of me that died in that very place;
A cemetery.

When?
Happier times;
A collection of moments which are infinite from within,
Yet minute from without.
A time when I could define myself,
Through the vice of another person;
Albeit vicariously, it was the last time
I was able to define myself.
I was everything; I was the world.
And then the world ended.
Happier times that I can't and won't return to.

What?
A song;
A memory;
A beautiful beat,
In a story that nobody's telling.
A soundtrack to a movie nobody wants to see,
A composition that will fall on deaf ears;
Yet still be heard by the world at large, call it irony.
Something nobody can take away from me;
Despite how tenaciously I've tried to get rid of it.
A succession of noises that would be meaningless to me,
Were it not for the memory.
The memory.

Who?
She, I, and the drivers of some road in Georgia;
Drivers that didn't notice then and don't notice now.
She, driving, demonstrating, performing;
Has driven on, failing to notice.
Me, her, and the songwriter, I suppose;
Me, a person I don't know,
Replaced by a person I can't.
The songwriter, collecting her checks and trophies,
Probably not a **** to give about the troubles
Of some ******* who heard her song.
Us, a concept foreign to me;
Unbeknownst then, well studied now;
Still as foreign as that state,
That city,
That road,
That car,
That place that I can revisit,
But never go back;
Her.

The Song?
Because I'm unhappy;
In a cemetery,
During happier times that I can't and won't return to;
A memory
With her.
I need more words.

Words
Nevermind, I'll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you.
Don't forget me, I beg.
I remember you said:
Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead.

But that's not right.
I won't find someone like you;
There was no you.
I wish anything but the best for you;
You selfish child.
Please forget me;
I'm nothing worth remembering.
I've forgotten everything you said.
It rarely, if ever, lasts in love.
It always hurts.
Laughable,
The things I tell myself to bandage
A wound that doesn't appear.
The clichés I give meaning to are

******* pitiful.
Just about two years and counting.
Two psychiatrists,
Two half-assed ******* suicide attempts,
Dozens of classes,
Legions of friends,
A handful of people so much like you that they'd failed to notice there is no you,
And you're still talking about this
Pile of ****.
Who's talking about it?
Me? You?
Nobody.
It's white noise;
Habituation at play.
A memory not worth remembering.
Three years of piano lessons,
The lines of my scripts,
The best films throughout history,
Even the Eagles game from last week is

Worth remembering
This,
This moment in time occupied by just another pop song,
Time spent with a person no longer there,
Family member after family member, anecdote after anecdote,
Things not to say or do in front of her hulking ******* of a brother,
Approval of people I wound up discarding.
What now?

I need more words.

Where were we?
Fresh year, fresh start, and the Eagles were still a winning team○;
A dorm, a drunken haze, a bed, a city unparalleled;
Untested grounds for a young idiot
Like me. She certainly did
And wasn't afraid to show it.
Independence, experience, maturity,
And a stunning mutual lack thereof.
Problems, buried like the worst ******* time capsule ever.
Happiness (unsustainable)
Love (attachment)
Future ()
A candle burning down to its last wax can’t relight,
And a pile of wax won't help me see in the dark.

But who needs candles anyway?
I'm better off without candles,
Playing with fire can get me burnt.
And besides, lightbulbs are brighter and more efficient.
I’ll install lightbulbs all over the apartment,
Once I can figure out how to turn the power back on.
Oh, there aren't power lines running to this apartment.
(sure wish I had a candle right about now)
Maybe the light from this cigarette will help.
And I could sure use a cigarette right now
Because they’re playing that song again.
Surely I can find some better music than this.
This station seems nice, let's see what she can offer.
They're playing that song again.
Over and over again.
Is it just me, or are they always playing that song?
It's always that song, no matter what.
It's all I ever hear.
Pop radio sure is terrible these days, right?
Sure is.
Can't walk down the street to class without hearing

That ******* ******* song.*

(
Nobody else is hearing it.
I'm the one singing it.
My life's a ******* joke, isn't it?
)

○The Philadelphia Eagles were 10-6 in 2010, 8-8 in 2011, and 4-12 last year. And during the ‘still friends’ period, we watched the division rival Giants win the Super Bowl together. I ******* hated it.
English class final project; a lyric essay about a song that reminds me of a specific time, approximately a thousand words in at least five different sections, and something cited from the outside world from said time. The feedback from my professor and classmates was overwhelmingly positive, so I figured I'd share.

also, the "more words" bits were tongue in cheek references to the 1000 word minimum for the assigment
Dennie Pineda Mar 2015
You are my intuition.

You create a feeling I cannot fathom;

Makes perfect sense without connection;

Makes me believe and not care about reality;

Creates expectations that aren't a possibility.

With you, I understand without knowing,

Troubles me when you're down in the dumps,

Lifts my spirit up with a hint of your distinct laughter

And disappoints me like something is there to linger.
aviisevil Oct 2017
..





share your thoughts,
stay humble-
stay in the bubble,
of nothingness, and
the light that makes one
blind.

i have my mind,
and then yours to fathom-
universe is so random and yet,
everything makes sense,
if you let your mind wander
far enough.





there's something in rocks,
and water. beneath all that ice
and laughter. that stops all-
all the disaster of being shipped
back to the same hollowness, walls,
and the better part of silence, science,
of not knowing-
where it all came from.

but stay inside the skin,
away from the approaching
nuclear winter and dead people,
made within the deepest darkness
of a normal mind. for it is the normal,
that is against all that is beyond
the grasp of reality.

we'll always be indebted
to our totality,
until the piper leads himself down the
rabbit hole.

but do share your thoughts,
stay humble, lost-
in your bubble of nothingness.
kaitlyn Nov 2014
IT'S 3AM AND I HAVEN'T SLEPT BUT I'M SO GREATLY TIRED BUT I CANNOT FATHOM GOING UNCONSCIOUS WHILE YOU'RE COLD AND BARELY BREATHING.
Elizabeth Bird Jan 2017
My dearest Little Brother, if there were only words to describe how I feel,
I would tell you that you are amazing, you're truthful, and your real. 
You've come from depths and the darkest of despairs, you've lived through things that people only conquer with prayers. 
Yeah, we get it, you weren't dealt the best hand of them all.
But look at you now Will, still standing there tall. 
You've made it this far, yeah with a lot of love, but what is family for if it isn't to give you a shove.
With your head held high and optimism in your heart
You've realized that everyday is a new beginning, a fresh start. 
Yesterday is gone and the past; it doesn't matter.
"I knew who I was this morning but I've changed a few times since then."
Once said the Mad Hatter. 
Forever changing, we all aways are.  Like Alice in Wonderland, trying to get home from afar.  There are so many obstacles blocking the path to our destiny,
but in the end we find out it was all for necessity.
Hardship and obstruction are the root of all things great. 
You have to overcome them to set yourself straight.
You have to trudge through the agonizing and the bad
So when you wake up you realize that there is no reason to be sad
Your blessed in more ways than one can fathom
A family that loves you and believes in you, you have them.
We set our standards on what we think people want from us,
But not you, no sir you don't understand the fuss. 
You march to your own drum, make friends wherever you go
I've seen you go through a lot and I just want you to know
You've come out on top but there's still room to climb
So don't give up hope and don't say your fine.
Talk to me when you need an ear
Know I love you and I'll always be here.
He's going through a lot.  Please send your prayers.
Bardo Apr 2023
She came up to me one day in the office seeking help
She'd heard me talking about my nightmares
She was a lovely looking thing, she was big into dieting and health food and healthy eating
Some of the other girls used to consult her about such matters
Thinking her to be quite an authority on the subject
I think she might have had a sideline too selling some Health products
She was a...a gorgeous looking creature, she had lovely blonde hair which framed her beautiful oval face like a heavenly aura,
Maintaining always a resolutely bright and cheerful disposition
She radiated positivity and optimism wherever she went
(I suspected secretly that when she got home she probably kicked her cat around)
I'd be all agog just looking at her
I suppose yes! I probably had a little crush on her
Unfortunately I was a good deal older than she
So I could only see myself as a secret admirer, a dark lover from afar...

She'd been acting a little peculiarly of late since returning from her Easter holidays
I wasn't the only one to remark about it
Gone was her usual self assured poise and grace
Gone too her lovely bright positive glow
It was like some sudden terrible tragedy had befallen her
Like some big dark ominous cloud had suddenly appeared on her horizon
Now she seemed rushed and frazzled, strangely distracted, unsure of herself, hesitant
Clumsy, apologetic, not at all like her usual confident self.

So she came up to me when I was alone one day and asked "You know something about nightmares, don't you"
She proceeded to tell me this story
She used to drive to work but because of the unusually mild and clement sunny Spring weather coming up to Easter
She had decided to leave her car at home and walk to work
Probably thinking it to be healthier I suppose
The route she took meant she had to pass by a certain newsagents *** confectionery /sweet shop
Now coming up to Easter as it was
The owner of the shop had strategically placed in the front window of his shop a big Easter egg
Wrapped in pretty ribbons and bows and encased in a very colourful, most alluring box
Every day she had to pass this shop with its lovely chocolate egg prominently displayed
You probably know where this is going,
Yea! A secret longing began to grow in her
Passing that shop every day and seeing that big chocolate egg started to rekindle in her memories of the days when as a child she used visit her local Sweet shop
When the only ambition she had was to get enough money so she could buy the newest chocolate or sweet
She began to remember fondly thoughts of all the old chocolate bars and sweets she used to eat
Anyway this longing, this desire of hers... each day it grew stronger and stronger until finally, like a river bursting a dam
Yea, like a huge monster, it finally overwhelmed her
Yes! She... she SUCCUMBED!

One evening she drove her car to the shop and parked on the opposite side of the street
There she waited till the street was deserted, with no one around
When the coast was clear, she got out of the car carrying a big shopping bag
Wearing a big hat and dark sunglasses just like a movie star
She went into the shop and told the shop girl she wanted the big Easter egg in the front window
She lied telling her it was for her little nephew
She hastily paid for the Egg, then quickly bundled it into her shopping bag carefully covering it up with other items so no one would see
Then hurriedly she left the shop, crossed the street with her head bowed, got into her car and quickly sped off
Over the next two days, in an **** of orgiastic chocolate eating, she secretly gorged upon, devoured all by herself the entire Easter egg
When she had finished, she sat there, a sullen lump among the ruins of her feast
Bits of ribbons and bows and torn box strewn all around her
Almost immediately she began to suffer pangs of guilt, berating herself repeatedly and bitterly for her lack of will power and mental strength, for her perceived weakness of character
This went on for the next few days, she just couldn't bring herself to forgive her behaviour
And she couldn't fathom how she had let this desire overcome her
...Then curiously, she began to experience a strange recurring dream at night,
She'd dream that she went one evening to another part of town where she wasn't known again to buy her Easter egg
There was no one around at that hour
She'd buy her Easter egg, tell her little lie about her nephew, then bundle the Egg into her bag and cover it just like before,
Then she'd leave the shop and head down some backstreets not wanting to be seen by anyone she knew
At that time of evening the shadows had begun to lengthen, the backstreets were very quiet and deserted, had a very lonesome forlorn air
As she walked along, she suddenly began to hear what she thought were the sound of footsteps behind her, the tread of feet behind her...Big feet, Bom-bom-bom!
She'd turn around but couldn't see anything, not a soul and not a sound only silence
She'd continue walking and the sound of the Big feet would start up again
Naturally this began to unnerve her, she turned and called back at the shadows
"Is there anybody there?"
But no answer was forthcoming
She'd walk on and again the sound of the Big feet would come Bom-bom-bom!
By this time she had become so unnerved, so completely flummoxed that in a state of utter panic
She suddenly took off at a frantic girly gallop down the narrow backstreets
Behind her she could hear the sound of the Big feet quickening, coming after her
In a quick change of plan she decided to climb some steps that would take her back to the Main Street again
She hoped there'd be other people there who might be able to protect her
She was very disappointed then when she found not a soul upon the whole street
Well she ran and she ran, she tore down her own street and with key in hand she quickly opened her front door, then slammed it shut fastening all the locks and bolts as she did
With this done she heaved a huge sigh of relief, a huge 'Phew!" and wiped the beads of sweat from her brow
She backed slowly away from the door almost as if she was expecting at any moment, there'd be a mad pounding on it, as if some strange belligerent entity would be trying to gain entry.
She kept backing up, the suspense almost too hard to bear
Suddenly she bumped into something behind her, something big and soft... and furry
Soft and furry ???
She turned and well, her mouth, it dropped wide open in utter shock and disbelief
Her eyes, they nearly popped out of her head
For there standing before her was... THE CREATURE
"It was hideous !" she said tearfully
"What was hideous?" I replied quite intrigued at this stage
"It was a Big Rabbit !"
"A big...a Big Bunny 🐰 ?" I said
She went on explaining, standing before her was a giant seven foot Easter Bunny
"A seven footer eh!" I said as if I was knowledgeable about these things, which I wasn't
She continued with her story, the rabbit he had big floppy ears, big buck teeth, a twitchy nose and whiskers 🐰
And on his face he wore this pretty gormless vacant expression🤡
He was wearing a waistcoat which had all these Easter egg 🥚🥚 designs on it
And on his front paws were these two big red boxing gloves 🥊🥊
She looked around desperately for some means of escape but Alas!
For her THERE WAS NO ESCAPE, she swallowed hard
Suddenly the giant Rabbit's teeth began to
natter
As if he was considering some imminent action
Then totally without warning one of his boxing gloves
It suddenly shot out and punched her right on the nose knocking her clean out on the floor
As she sprawled there dazed and utterly confused, the Big Bunny, he looked down at her with his big eyes 👀
And then, with a sudden leap which surprised even her
He jumped right up onto her chest where he proceeded to bounce up and down on top of her
Of course, here she'd awaken from the dream drenched in sweat and screaming for the Giant Bunny 🐰 to get off her.
When she had finished her story she buried her head in her hands and sobbed quietly for a few moments before regaining her composure
She seemed very relieved to have gotten it all off her chest, the story that is not the Bunny
Well I suppose she was glad to get him off as well
She went on to say how stressed she felt during the day, how she found it hard to focus on anything as she was too busy thinking about the night to come and the arrival of her unwelcome guest
She looked at me pleadingly "He'll be there again, I know it, with those big eyes of his" she blubbed half in tears
It seemed obvious to me what'd happened, mentally she'd been beating herself up
And now her Subconscious was merely reciprocating by creating this giant Bunny to chastise her
It was just a manifestation of the guilt she felt for eating the Easter egg
For a moment I felt like I was Sigmund Freud.
I told her what I thought and said she shouldn't beat herself up, I told her we all had our temptations and that at times, few of us were strong enough to withstand their advances
I told her of the importance of forgiving herself
But nothing seemed to placate her
She still seemed overly concerned about the coming night and the prospect of the giant Bunny's re-appearance
She catastrophized and saw only dark things ahead
I knew I had to say something authoritive
Suddenly I had an idea, I put my arm around her shoulders as if to console her
"Look my child", I said really beginning to warm to my Father Confessor role
"The Beast! Do you really want rid of this Beast ?"
"Yes! I do! I do!", she replied emphatically
"Really! You really want to get rid of him!" I said as if to question her resolve
"Yes! Yes! I'd do anything" she replied
I felt we had to send a strong message to her Subconscious mind -
I told her "This is what you must do. After work go down to the same Sweet shop and there buy the most expensive ornate Box of Chocolates you can find 🎁
But this time instead of bringing them home with you, bring them instead to my house...
To the above advice I added a few more instructions
"And that's all I have to do" she said sounding surprised and hopeful once again
"That's all you have to do", I assured her, "you'll have no more trouble from IT ever again".

So in the evening she arrives at my house with a big box of fancy chocolates
I open the door and abruptly ****** the chocolates from off her
I say loudly "These Chocolates are all mine and you can't have any of them
Lovely Chocolates... and their all mine, all mine!!!
And you're not getting any!"
And I let out this evil cackle of a laugh
Then I said rather theatrically to her "**** off!, Get lost! Shoo! Begone! Begone!
And then I slammed the door right in her face
After a few moments I opened the door again
And began to chase her down the path shouting "Begone! Begone! The Chocolates are mine! All mine!"
I even picked up a stick and shook it at her.

The next morning she runs up to me at work with a big smile
"He's gone ! He didn't come last night"
She looked renewed, she positively glowed again
She assured me I'd be her friend for life and that she loved me to bits
For a moment I was beginning to fancy my chances with her
I had visions of the two of us together in some romantic scene
That was until she went on and said that I reminded her of her lovely Uncle Joe
"Her Uncle Joe", I thought, "****!... feckin' Uncle Tom"
Then I thought I should have charged her, yea! charged her just like a hospital consultant
$250 Euros upfront and come back in two weeks for another $250, sorry for a check up I mean.

Well that's it then... that's my Easter story, I've got to go off now and take my afternoon nap
Y'know I've been getting some funny dreams of my own of late,
Yea! I've made a new friend
He's been teaching me how to box.
A bit of fun for Easter. Used to tell girls this story at Easter time to try and scare them into giving me their Easter eggs LoL.
Julian Apr 2023
THE EUPRAXIA OF  PRISOPTOMETRY SIDELINED BY THE SOPORIFIC PROMACHOS OF ABSOLUTION MIGHT WE CONVENE THE CABOOSE OF ANACUSIC TALENTS FOR SURDOMUTE  REGALIA IN THE MUGIENCE OF  DUGONG BECAUSE OF EXASPERATED DECREES SEEKING TO TRIGGER SARANGOUSTY IN PRIMIPARA PENTAPOLIS THAT ARE SCREWBALL WITH ANTERIC RAGE PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF A HOPSCOTCH MORALISM RATHER THAN A EUHEMERIST LAXISM. DUGONG DUCDAMES OF EISOPTROMANIA AGAINST  THE PODEX PNYX BECAUSE OF TRUTINATED CNICNODES OF SCENOGRAPHY FOR SCAPPLE AND STANNARY PLAGIARIZED FROM THE CLAVATE OF MOST STERLING ELITISM BROCKFACED IN BRONCHOS BECAUSE OF BRADYDACTYL FEATURES  OF TOWERING GIANTS OF THE TADPOLE MACROPTEROUS WINGS OF INSIPID OR ORGANIC ORGANITY IN THE SCHWERMERIE THAT IS A SPANGLED BANNER OF RADICAL TRUISMS OF CATAMOUNT CATALLACTICS AMONG THE CORDWAINERS THAT SWITH WITH COUNTERFOIL BRAZEN IN ALL CARNAPTIOUS FRIZZ AND FOMENT ENDOWED WITH THE FUMATORIUM OF EFFLUVIA UNSPOKEN PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF HACHURES OF DURAMEN AND THE ARGALI OF MEGALOGRAPHY FORSAKING THE OLMS AND ESBATS OF PECCADILLO AND REGAL SECRECY PRIMARILY TO ACCELERATE THE TAGHAIRM. THE ARTIFICE OF RUDENTURE IN MUGIENCE WHEATEN EXASPERATINGLY WITH POIGNANT GRAPPLING-HOOK TENACITY SUCH THAT WHEALS AND  WARDCORNS ARE ZUGZWANGS OF NARRISCHEIT FORMATIVE IN THE PROWESS OF TIRED DROOPY EYES AIMING AT  GEOSELENIC SATURNALIA OF THE PANTOGLOTS OF PARVANIMITY ACKNOWLEDGED BY THE PASILALY OF GUBERNATORIAL REMEMBLES OF REPINE RATHER  THAN OPINION OF SCARAMOUCHES THAT BECOME RAFFISH FOR LAFFY TAFFY JOLLYBOAT JOLLY RANCHERS BECOMING CENTRIFUGAL TO THE MAGNETS THAT ONLY THERBLIGS OF ERGOGRAPHY CAN ESTEEM THE STELLIFIED STELLIONS OF IMMORTAL DEGREES OF CREANCERS BOOMING IN THE SEMPITERNAL FLAGRANT FOUL DELUSIONS OF A CASTRATED DESTINY AGAINST ORTSAC PRIORITIZATION OF A SECURE WORLD OF OCREATED ARCEATION OF ELAPHURES THAT IN UNSEELED RIGMAROLE OF JAUNDICE CREATED AND SUSTAINED BY IMBREVIATED KNAVERY OF BLESBOKS TRYING TO PLAY OPERATIVE CHESS IN A CHECKERED HUBRIS SPANNING THE GAMUT OF SPEED RUN HYPOCRISIES NEVER FULLY FLESHED OUT BECAUSE OF RIBALD CORSAIRS OF COCARDEN. SKELDERS OF SCAZONS OF BRUTAL INTEMERATION OF CARTHAGIAN GLADIATORIAL WRIKPOND WREPOLIS MERGERS OF THE PRIZED ANTIQUITY DEFINED BY SUBERIC VINTNERS OF PLACKIQUE THAT BARNSTORM WITH FERVID SPUMID SPURIA OF THE SCORIAS THAT STARTLE THE STRICKLE SUCH THAT NOT A SINGLE  WAGERED PAXILLOSE STRETCHER EVER FALLS BY THE AERONAUTICS OF ARENAIDAN FORESIGHT CONTUMELY ENAMORS IN SLEDGEHAMMER DEFECTED CRAVEN BRITTLE REDSHORT SELACHOSTOMOUS SEDERUNTS INVOLVED IN THE SENNET OF REGULA BECAUSE OF LAVADERO IVORRIDE. NEVERTHELESS OFTEN OVERRIDED BY EUCRASIA AND BY THE ACCIDIA OF PAST TENSE RIGORS OF CALUMETS ESTRANGED FROM WIDDERSHANCY BECAUSE OF THE CONVENIENT WANCHANCIES THAT WE DEPLORE DESPITE THEIR DISCRETIONARY ADVANTAGES OF GALLOP POLLING GALLOPING HEADLESS HORSEMEN OF THE VERDERER AS THE PERCURRENT CENTURIES ELEVATE DUGONG FOR DIDDICOYS OF ART TO LICENSE THEMSELVES BROADCLOTH MASTERY OF WUNDERKINDS THAT CARESS THE COSSETED COGNOMEN OF THE CORRIGENDA BECAUSE OF THE RIBALD PALLOR OF CRETACEOUS OLASIN EPOCHS OF MACROBIAN SENTIENCE EVOLVED FROM EMOTIVISM TO VOUCHSAFE THE METEMPSYCHOSIS OF JOCKO JOBBERNOWL FINFIGUAL NIHILISTS AMBITIOUS TO DEBUNK EVERY THEORY THAT PROVOKES THE POIGNANT TRIBULOID QUALMS OF A RADICAL MURENGER CHARGING MURAGE IN HIS SPRINGHARE OBSESSIONS. IN DOOMSTERS ADEEM WITH SUCCULENT SACCHARINE TONSILECTOMY SUGAR OF APIKOROS NOVANTIQUE SPRAWLING IN EVERY CREATIVE DIRECTION OF FUSIONS OF CREATIVE NUCLEOTIDES THE CENTERPIECE OF A NIMBLE PATRIARCHY WED TO PRIMIPARAS OF MULIEBRITY SUCH THAT GALLANT ARGALI LEAPS OF AUGENDS TOO COMPLEX TO TURBINATE BECAUSE OF TUBIFACIENT LORE SLOGMARCHING INTO URBANE BOWERIES SUCH THAT COUNTERFOIL IS COULROPHOBIC AND THE BALLAST BRONTEUM OF ALL CIVILIZED RANSACKED FOSSORS OF THE MOST ELOQUENT OF TIMES. THE CODSWALLOP ABOUT GERENDUM IN CARELESS HASTY MISTAKES GRANDEVAL GUDGEONS OF GUFF AND GUIGNOL OF RHYPAROGRAPHY AGAINST THE ROENTGENOGRAPHY OF ACCIDENTAL POSTURES OF LOLLIPOP TOOTLES OF TOPGALLANT ROYALTY RESCUED FROM THE SNATCHES OF  ***** DEARTH AND THE ACUMINATION OF ACERSECOMIC URCEOLATE ACHARNE WHICH IS THE WEAPON OF TIROCINIUM TYROS THAT BEBLUBBERED THEIR WAY INTO INTREPID INFAMY AND NOTORIETY BY IGNORANT OVERSTEPS BY LARGESSE IN RACEMATION FOR RHIZOGENIC RADICALISM IN MAXIMALIST MATHEMATICISM PRIMARILY THE SKIRMISH OF SCHMEGGEGY BY THE STANHOPE AUTHORS OF JESUITICAL JANSKY AGAINST BLARING CATACOUSTICS WHICH FILIBUSTER THE DILATORY DESULTORY JAUNT WITH JIGGERY-POKERY WALMS AND WASMS OF ESCALIERS OF ESCULENT ENANTIODROMIA THAT SUFFRAGETTES OF BLOCKHEADED CHOCKABLOCK JAWBREAKERS BETROTHED TO MATRIMONY OF NATIONAL ESTEEM AND JINGOISM SWELTERING IN THE HEYDAY OF ONEIRODYNIA. THIS HAMSTRUNG QUANDARY SADLY STRADDLED IN COMBUVIROUS SPATTEES PRIMARY TO THE HUES OF  CHALKING BRISTLES OF BARBEDWIRE LIES AND SUBLINEATED MAINLINE FRIGORIC FRIGOLABILE RETINACULUM THAT THE SWARF OF HEDERACEOUS IVORRIDE AND THE OCCAMY OF MEHARIS BELONGING TO MEGACERINE FEARS OF HYPOCHRONDRIA BECAUSE OF THE PREVALENT JERBOA DYSCHROA OF SYNAPHEA THAT STARTLE HAPPY ACCIDENTS AT FINISH LINE CAMARRA THAT CATAPULTS THE FILTH EDGY BY COMSTOCKERY THAT THE TAME TENDER LOLLOP OF LONGINIQUITY AND LESSER DEMIURGES WHO FIGHT THE SPECTER OF TIRED ISOLATION SUCH THAT THE PEDESTRIAN IS A SPRINGALD NOTORIETY THAT FIGURES OUT THE WAINAGE OF SAPROSTOMY BECAUSE OF CERBERIC WANIGANS OF THE ULTERIOR GALLIVANT BROCKFACED INTO EVERY TITANISM BY THE DROLLERY OF DROOPY SERRATED EDGES OF CURTAILED CURGLAFF SURROUNDED BY PLASMAS OF AUREATE AURIGRAPHY AGAINST ATOCIA OF THALEROPHAGOUS NEOMORTISM TWISTED INTO WARPED CONTORTIONS OF RHADAMANTHINE DOUBTS. THE ALABASTER ALCOVES DREAMING OVER EVERY HEAVEN IN SONDAGE AND BRISK BRITSKAS OF BANDOBAST BERGAMASKS THAT SPURN THE SPURIOUS SOPHISTRY FOR THE CATALYST OF CLEPSYDRA. THE KATABOTHRON OF KALIMKARI KYMATOLOGY THAT IS SWARTHY SPATHODEA REPUDIATION OF NYALAS OF NAGORS OF NUTATION BECAUSE OF OBLATE BOLAR RANCOR FOR THE CALVERS NEVER OF A CALVOUS LENDRUMBILATION NOR A PANCRATIC ACCORD OF GRAVEDIGGER SERENDIPITIES SCOWLING AT HEADWINDS FROM THE PARAVENTED LAIRWITES OF MOONRAKER JOLTERHEADS WHO EMERGE FROM THE THICKETS OF THE DENSEST ELITISM EVERY MANUFACTURED BY THE HEGEMUNES OF SECULAR RETINUE AND CORTEGES OF THE VENTRAD AND VENTRALABRAL FAMIGERATION BEYOND VENOSTASIS AND AGAINST THE HEARTH OF ATRABILIARY ECCENTRICITIES OF ALIDADE FISTICUFFS. SCOFFLAW MACROPICIDE IN THE TEDIUM OF SWELTERING PARASELENES OF KNIGHTED SQUARSONS SQUARROSE UPON THEIR SQUIRMING SQUALLS OF STRAPONTIN IN INTRORSE SOPHISTICATION MIGHT THE LANGUOR OF EXHAUSTED BEATLES MEET THE TIMESPUN RICHES OF ALL FORESIGHT PRISMATIC UPON HINDSIGHT IN THE CHRONOBIOLOGY OF CARAPACE AND THE REGIMENTATION OF TESTUDO THAT IS A GLAMOR OF AFFLICTION RATHER THAN A BEAST OF CRUCIBLE IGNOMINY FOR MALINGERING GIAOUR ESBATS BENIGHTED BY THEIR OWN PARLOUS PLIGHT IN POIGNANT HEYDAYS OF NEPHROLITH CALCULATED FOR NEPIONIC ENRICHMENT AGAINST NIDOR THAT STRIVES WITH CABRILLA AND CACHALOTS TO PROVIDE AUSTERE REFORMS. THESE NEGATE AUGUST SUPERCALENDAR DIVINITY BESPECKLED BY MONOCLAR SEPHIROTH TAXED BY SYLLABUB LAGGARDS IN THE TRIUMVIRATE OF ULTRAMONTANE GLEE AGAINST BATTLEDORES OF SABOTAGE SPANKING EVERY MONKEY OF MONETIZATION FOR THE ROODS OF MISERICORD TO BECOME PARABOLASTERS FOR NEW WORLD ATTRITION IN ATTINGENT AND ATTEMPERED AURILAVES OF ALGOR AND THE ANACHORIC RESIGNATION OF PENTAPOLIS THAT SQUIREBELL CLORENCE OF NAUCLATIC FAIRGOERS SERENADES AS THE WORLD DEMARCHES FORFENDED AND FORERIGHT OF ALL INDIGNITIES THAT THEY MIGHT EXCEED ESCAPE VELOCITY SUCH THAT THE ELASTANE ELASTICITY OF INVENTED DEMAND SHOWCASES THE DUGONG DURAMEN OF THE CLASS AND CLASSIFIED SECTORS OF SALVATION BY ARTIFICE AND THE LAST HOPE OF JANIZARIES OF JANGADA. AND TO STROLL PAST LUCRATIVE BUT SULLEN LOURS OF PARKS BEYOND EVERY ESCARGATOIRE KNOWN FOR POGROMS OF DESOLATION. THE ALFORGE OF AFFOREST BECAUSE OF THE ACRASIA OF ANACHORIC LIVING LIVID NIGHTMARES OF HENPECKS OF ATTRITION LEADING TO SALIFIED SALMAGUNDI IN PARALLAX WITH THE TRIUMPHANT BLARE OF SAXHORNS NOTAPHILY FLUMMOXES WITH REPARTEE IN RESCRIPT THAT TRANSCENDENTAL TWINGES OF POLLARCHY MIGHT DISHEVEL THE ARRONDISSEMENT OF BLETTONISM BECOMING HEAPSTEADS OF HYPOGEIODY. WHEN WE ARRAY AND ARRAIGN THE ZEITGEIST FOR ITS BLENCH AND BLARNEY OF CAPSIZED EPITHETS AIMED AT VOLUMINOUS FLUMINOUS SKELDERS AND BROOKS OF ROARING TEMBLORS SEQUESTRATED FROM THE VARSAL SCOPE OF HUMANE TOTEMISM IN SUBSTRATOSE AGGRIEVEMENT WE MIGHT FIND THE SUCCOR IS THE WHITTAWER OF WOOLD IN BEAMISH HUES OF SATURNINE BETROTHED FIDELITIES TO NOCTIDIURNAL DIESTRUS FRAGRANT WITH TERPSICHOREAN DAVERING DIPPYDOS WHO BLANDISH THE FRANGIBLE PULVERIZED METTLE OF CENTURIONS AND LEGIONNAIRES OF FILIBUSTERED CASEFIED CASEMATE JORDANS BOUND BY JOUGS OF JUDOGI AND THE BROADCLOTH FASHIONS OF YASHIKIS BEYOND THE THERMOSTAT OF ISOLATION AND THE THERMODYNAMICS OF LABILE OPPRESSION FOR LABROMANCY BECAUSE OF LANCINATION. WE MIGHT GRANT STOMACHERS A GRAND AUDISM OF THE SERVILE POTAMOLOGY WHICH CARESSES THROUGH COUNTERFOIL WITH APOLAUSTIC PEDIGREE AND EUMOIREITY INGRAINED IN THE CELLULOID OF TIMELESS CUCULINE AND CUNICULOUS FERRETS AT THE PARAPET OF BRISURE BECAUSE OF THE BRIQUETS OF NOMOGENY WE SEE THE PRESBYTERY SMIRK AT THE PLIGHT OF THE STRIGINE IN AN ERA OF HEYDAYS OF GENEROUS REMUNERATION BLANKETED BY A CHIONABLEPSIA DEFINED BY CHIMINAGE OF OXYGEUSIA SUCH THAT THE NEMESISM OF NOETIC NOOGENESIS IS NEVER NIDIFUGOUS AND NIDAMENTAL WITH RESPECT TO BARRULETS ABOUT BANDOLIERS IN THE CHAPERONED CEREMONIALISM OF THE GRAND INSPECTOR GENERAL’S SOVEREIGNTY WELL BLACKGUARDED BY KILLCOWS SEEKING STOICHOLOGY AND SYNECHIOLOGY. MIGHT THEY SLAVER OVER POTENT TONICS OF SWAG AND SWAGGER FOR REDINTEGRATION IN HYPAETHRAL HEIGHTS OF ATHENAEUM FOR THE HAMARCHY EMERGENT FROM THE DAWN OF NOTAPHILY IN BLOCKBUSTER SUMMERS NIGHT DREAMS BECOMING RANCID NIGHTMARES OF GULLYWASHERS OF ANTEBELLUM RECIDIVISM FOR CANEZOUS OF CANZONE TO ESTABLISH THE CHRYSOPOEITICS OF A GALVANIZED VENOCLYSIS BECAUSE VARIMAX VARIPHONES UPON THE HYDRAHEADED ODYSSEY OF PRINCELY FANDANGLES FROWARD IN RABID DENIAL OF TAMARAWS ENLISTED BY INSTINCT AND DEPREDATED BY THE TORPOR OF LETHARGIC AIMLESSNESS FOR LUDIC PALUDISM SADLY THE SPITE OF ALL PIRANNHAS COWLING AND COWERING IN SHEEPISH SIMULTAGNOSIA FOR HETEROCHRONY AND THE ARYAN ASSENT AND ASCENDANCY OF THE EQUITABLE TINTINNABULATION OF KNELLING SESQUIPEDALIAN SYBOTIC SONDAGE LOST TO THE MESMERISM OF YESTERTEMPEST OVER THE YUAN OF YENTA.  THE FORMIDABLE JAPAN LACQUER THAT AVOIDS GARISH TARNISH AND HARNESSES THERBLIGS TO PREVENT ENCROACHED THALWEGS OF INTREPID GROWTH AND THE FLOWERS OF MAY AND THE SEASONS OF A ZOMBIE TIME FOR PULCHRITUDE IN PHANTASMAGORIA. TURGID TURMOIL OF THROMBOSIS WELDED TO THE WELD OF  WELKINS OF WALLFISH WALLETEERS BECAUSE OF STRADOMENTRICAL NEUTROSOPHY IN OPTIMIZATION OF SUBFOCAL SUBINTELLIGENTUR FOR THE BALISAURS THAT TREACLE THE SUBSERVIENCE OF CREATIVE LICENTIATES OF DUGONG OF FURLOUGHS OF POVERTY-STRICKEN OLASIN REGISTRIES OF INTERMINABLE PRESTIGE AGAINST COMBUVIROUS FOGRAM RECAPITULATIONS OF THE FLOW STATES OF SEGUE SUCH THAT HUCKSTERS OF MASKIROVKA IN THE WHIGGARCHY AMOUNTED TO MANY COMPRACHIOS THAT STING THE STALWART SPARTAN STOICISM AGAINST HEBENON MIGHT THE HUMAN PEN OUTWIT THE PARCHMENT OF THE INVETERATE BIAS OF GRANDFATHER PARADOX PARALLAX BETWEEN HEAVEN AND THE DENEHOLE MOULINS FOR OLIVASTER NEUSTONS AND NOILS SURVIVING THE VIRTUALASIS OF TWADDLED TWANGS OF  DELIRIFACIENT PERIBLEBSIS SQUEAMISH BECAUSE OF A RIGMAROLE AND RABBIT HOLE WORMCAST WORMHOLE BURROLE OF ROTTEN APPLES TACKLED BY WREST AND WREATH IN THE WROX OF WHEALS OF COMMOTION AND LOCO LOCOMOTIVE ENGINES FRAZZLED BY SPIVS AND SPAVINEDS IMMURED INTO THE FABRIC OF THE SPANDRELS OF  INTERTESSELATED WEIGHAGE AMONG THE STEVEDORES AND PORTREEVES. THESE CONTINUE THEIR ROLLICKING  MAGPIETY GALLOP AGAINST THE FRICTION OF RUMCHUNDER COAGULATION SERRATED TRAVAIL  OF THE DYSTOCIA OF GAMMERSTANG BLUEPETERS ENRAGED BY CONFLAGRATIONS OF CAMARADERIE AND BONFIRES OF GEZELLIG THAT INDWELL INGLENOOKS SWAPE WITH MAJORITARIAN ETHOS TO PROPITIATE THE GAVELKIND CELEBRATION OF ROOSTERS HENPECKING  THE DOORS OF PERCEPTION AGAINST THE REAL ESTATE DEGRINGOLADE OF PHUGOID GROUNDPROX SWIRKS OF CHOSEN VESICLES OF MEDIOCRITY BETWEEN BLARING  SEMAPHORES AND FIRECRACKER WISEACRES THAT ARE AN ENDLESS PARADE OF INSULTED CONTUMACY BREATHING SWELTERING SIGHTS OF INCREDULITY SUCH  THAT THE BRONCHITIS OF ROENTGENOGRAPHY IN GNOTOBIOLOGY MIGHT BECOME BETTER THAN PETTY GALEANTHROPIES FROM VULPECULAR HENCHMEN OF THE FROTHY TAMBURITZAS AGAINST WHERRETS BECAUSE OF WHIFFETS OF THE YAFF THAT IS ASTRIDE OF ADEEMED ADEMPTION OF DETAIL HARANGUING THE MONKEY BUSINESS GORDON GECKO MODEL OF HACHURE AND FLAGRANT  REPOSE. THE  HANDSPIKE OF PICKELHAUBE NEPHELOMETERS OF NEUTROSOPHY PREDICATES TO NOETIC NOMOTHETIC ENNOMIC MASCON PREROGATIVES THAT RELY ON GEITONOGAMY BECAUSE OF A VULPECULAR TRUST IN SPHENOGRAMS OF THE STUPE OF STUPULOSE PARTISANSHIP BECOMES THE VANGUARD SPIRACULATED IZZAT OF THE PROBABLE PORBEAGLES THAT ANTICIPATE THE ILLUMINISM OF POLYPHILOPROGENITIVE PROCREATION OF NUBILE INCHOATE BUT SOPHOMORIC TROPISMS FOR TROMOMETERS IS THE GAINSAY OF ALL GENERATIONS BENT BY SYNCLASTIC HARPOONS OF GALERICULATED FOCUS SUCH THAT THE MASCARONS OF KYMATOLOGY UNDERSTAND THE CTETOLOGY OF CURMURRING PRODROMES OF A LARGESSE ECONOMY BUILT ON MOONRAKER BALISAURS WHO IMMERGE THEMSELVES INTO THE ETHEREAL  REALM OF ELDRITCH FASCINATIONS.  PREEMINENT IN THE GARBLED GABBLE OF DESIGN AND THE TABLATIERES OF THE TABLATURE OF REGULA MIGHT WE WITNESS A NAUFRAGUE NOYADE WHICH SPARES THE MOST CLEMENCY AND AFFORDS THE GREATEST FORCES OF REVALORIZATION TO ENNOBLE THE PRESTIGITATION OF SEDIGITATED MACHINES SUCH THAT TIME BECOMES ITS OWN RECURSIVE ANFRACTUOUS TERMINUS TO THE THERMOLYSIS OF ALL CIVILIZED TROPES OF METAPHORICAL LITURGY THAT SCAMPER THE TESTUDO INTO THE DELITESCENCE OF HIDDEN BOSCHVELDT SCRANCHES OF PRIORITY BY SECURITIZATION OF ALL OVERLEVERAGED FINANCIAL INSTRUMENTS OF MATHEMATICISM FOR THE APOTHEGMS OF OUR AGE TO BE BLINKERED BY COCARDEN IN ACRONYCAL COLORATIONS TO BEGUILE AND SUSSULTATORY SPATTEES FOR SCAPPLES AGAINST SPAVINEDS OF THE BERLINE INVENTION. THE GALLANT ELAPID OLASIN EPOCH OF CIVILIZED RUDIMENTS OF ABECEDARIAN ABDERVINE MERIT THAT AVOIDS THE CODSWALLOP OF ALL BOLAR STADIOMETERS OF WANIGANS OF  POWELLISATION THAT BECOMES VIRTUOSITY IN AGATHISM THAT IS SPECULAR IN BLEMISH AND SHEEPISH OVER VAUNTED VAUNTLAYS OF VECORDY BY  THE METHODOLOGY OF VASTATION. THE UNINTENTIONAL SCURFY SWANK OF BALATRONS OF BAISEMAN WHO CARVE THE SYSTEMIC DESIGN OF SANGFROID AGAINST GALERES WHO USE THE STOMACHERS OF  THEIR OWN PALATABLE FILIGREES THAT WE MIGHT NEVER ENTHUSE THE GOURMANDS OF TIROCINIUM TRUCULENT RATHER THAN SWASHBUCKLING WITH VANITARIAN BUMICKY BADIGEON TO REPAIR THE REVETS OF THE CHEVROTAIN OF YOUTHQUAKE THAT JANITRICES OF JANSKY SWOONING ON THE ENGORGED WREPOLIS OF GARBLED MISCEGENATION OF WARTORN IGNOMINY THAT TRAVESTY APPOINTS THE BELLWETHER OF ALL JUBALS GRAND INVENTIONS BECAUSE WE REMIGATE THE SCALARIFORM CORDWAINER NOMENCLATURE TO SHOULDER DISHEVELED RATOMORPHISM THAT BELONGS TO AGROZIATRY BECAUSE OF  THE PREVALENCE OF URANOPLASTY IN GLABROUS OR HIRSUTE ARTS OF GEOSELENIC ACCORD THAT CALUMETS OF WALDFLUTES IN THE SONDAGE OF CRUEL COMPRACHIO AVIZANDUM IN THE BYRES OF BUSHWA IN NONSENSICAL COUNTERPATRIOTISM TRYING TO HEDGE MALAISE WITH IVORY TOWER CREEDS OF CREDENDA FOR THE VISIOGENIC APLOMB OF CIRCULARITY OR ELLIPSIOCITY IN THE GRAVAMENS OF GRAVITAS. IN THE VERVE AND FASHION OF KNEAD MALAXAGE FOR THE MITTIMUS OF SUCCEDANEUM WE FIND THE PETTY FAULTS OF PECCADILLO ENRAGED BY IGNOVIMOUS IGNOSCENY TO BE IDEMPOTENT IN SEDIGITATED  SEGUIDILLA OF WILLOWISH FASHIONISTAS AND BARRISTERS OF CABOOSE AND SNARE. THEREBY, SPECTACLES OF GRAFT BUSHWHACK THE UNDERBRIDGE OF RECTISERIAL HOMILIES OF WOUNDED WOMBS THAT THE SUFFRAGE OF PROMACHOS TRITANOPIA OFFSET BY CONTRARIAN PROTANOPIA MIGHT FESTOON LUKEWARM REVANCHE FOR THE  DYSANIA TO OUR OWN FAULTED COMPLEXIONS AND OUR QUIRKY QUISQUILOUS STERNWAYS OF BANDOBAST STRICTURES IN BAGGING COAMING COBALTIFEROUS VINEGAROONS OF PICKELHAUBE PORBEAGLES OF MENACING RESIDUE TO CHURN THE MILKY SEAS OF CONTRITION INTO FORMIDABLE BASTIONS OF PHAROS OF PHANOPEIA WHEN WE FIND THE OUTSKIRTS OF ALL REMEDY NEVER A SHEEPISH EMBARRASSMENT BUT ALWAYS A DOCTORED TRAVAIL OF NAVARCHY LEADING PAST TEMBLORS OF SATIETY IN GLAMOUR AND GLOZING GNOTOBIOLOGICAL CONFEDERACY SWOONING WITH TESTUDOS OF BOYAU PROXENETES THAT WE MIGHT OVERCOME THE THRUSH AND SLEDGE OF DREDGED IRENARCHS AND INFAMIES BECAUSE OF TRICOTEES AND TRICHOSIS THAT CEPHALIGATION IS AN UNNECESSARY NODALITY OF NICCOLIC NIDAMENTAL NANCIFUL NUMBATS WHO ESCORT THE PASTIMES OF CHOMAGE BY METEORIC SPRITES OF SPALDING ASPHETERISM BECAUSE OF CORPORATE TWINGES OF MORAL CONSCIENCE IN REGARD TO PROFICUOUS LEGERDEMAIN AND LOGODAEDALY BY DEGREES OF PYCNOSTYLE RATHER THAN PALTRY OBSESSIONS WITH WROTH AND WROX IN THE NEIGHS OF CHIRK AND CHAMPION. THE GYMNURE OF PRICKLY TRIBULOID SCANDALS OF  SCANSORIAL MOULINS FOR OLIVASTERS BURROLING STANNARIES OF  STANJANT FOR HISTRINKAGE SPANS ALL PERCEIVED GAMUTS OF HETEROCHRONY THAT DISHEVELED RESIDENT ADVISOR SOCIETIES THAT INTUITIVE SURGICAL SOLUTIONS TO THE GNOMIC PROPRIETY OF GLAZED POTVALIANT POSTCENNIUM THAT  PREDICATE THE AGATHISM OF AGATHOCACOLOGICAL DISASTERS THAT IN THEIR FLEX OF SUPREMACY AND THEIR LEAPING PAGEBURNING FLIPPANT DISCORD MIGHT ZITHER THE HARP AND IN HARPSICHORDS OF WALDFLUTE BY WALLETEERS OF GROOM AND GALLANTRY. MIGHT WE FATHOM THE HOLOBENTHIC DIMENSIONS OF A LITURGY OF MAGNANIMITY CODIFIED BY STRICTURE RATHER THAN RELEGATED INTO AUXILLIARY COMPLICATIONS OF BYZANTINE MIRED MAZY MAUNDERS OF MARAUDING VIKINGS OF DIPPOLDISM BECAUSE OF RAPID TACHYTELIC TACHYPHRASIA STUDIED BY ORGANUELLE AND RHADAMANTHINE RASPS OF WASPY HORNETS NEST MIKE BOSSY BOSE FOR THE STRANDED ISLAND OF INSULAR HOBBYHORSES THAT MONETIZE THEIR OWN CONSUMER FETISHES FOR THE ZAP OF FRUITION TO MANIFEST IN DESTINED TRAIPSES IN COLLARBONE VESTMENTS OF HABILIMENTS OF SCORN AND PILLORIED IGNOMINY THAT THE HIDDEN GUILT ASSUMES THE SPECTRAL DIMENSIONS OF PALTRIPOLITAN URBANE COQUETRY GROWING ROARING ENGINES BEYOND PRETEXT OR PREVARICATION TO SUBSUME THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CONSTELLATIONS AROUND WHICH MAROONED MOONS SEEK THEIR GEOPHYTES OF MORPHOGENY IN RACKRENT ACERBATION IN SPHACELATED METROPOLIS . THIS IS DEFINED IN RETROGRADE MOTION TO DISCERN ALL PROPER RECIPIANGLES FROM THE MASTERATE TO THE MATACHINS OF MELODIKON FRAZZLING THE FRAYS AT THE EDGE OF REVOLUTE DISINTEGRATION OF LACK VANISH IMAGINATION. THE BLEND OF GUILLOCHE DEMARCHING BEYOND DELOPES IN PRAXEOLOGY ENTOMBED BY VESTIGIAL FOOTPRINT DACTYLOGRAMS AND KINDERGRAPHS OF FLASHBANG GRENADES OF SMOKY HARNESS AND REPLETE HARVESTS OF THE RADICAL STALINISM DEFEATED BY MARINERS OF  THE MAROONED POGROMS THAT REVANCHE DESOLATION VANDYKE PROXENETES OF STATURE USE VASTATION FOR RHEOTAXIS AND UNDERSTAND THE RACKETEERING OF MORAL PERJURY IN OBOLARY HEDONISM SCRUFF IN DANDRUFF ECONOMETRICS DIVORCED FROM LEVERAGED BALANCE SHEETS WITH CASH ON HAND FOR GOVERNING PRINCIPLES OF ASCENDANT LITURGY RATHER THAN NESCIENT OLIGOPSONY OF BANGTAIL ARTIFACTS OF BEGUILED ARTIFICE ESTRANGED FROM MORAL DOGMATISM USEFUL IN ECCLESIOLATRY. PUNDONORS OF IVRESSE DERIVED FROM PRECISE IAMATOLOGY OF AUDILE ARYANS GHAWAZIS ENVY IN THEIR RACKRENT BEATSTERS ADEEM BECAUSE OF ACHARNE WIELDLESS OVER ERAS OF EPHORIZED ZOOLOGICAL MALCONTENTS OF GRAMPUS IN TRUCIDATION AND BARNSTORMS OF ABSTRACTION BY PARABOLAS RECOCTED AND INCENSED BY THEIR BETRAYAL OF SURDS AND SURDOMUTE SCRIVELLOS SUCH THAT AUGENDS ALWAYS CARRY ENUMERATED STRINGS OF STRING THEORY DECIMATION OF MINIMIZED TRACTION FOR EVERY LAGGARD HOBBLED WORKADAY MANTLEPIECE OF NUMBERED NOMOGENY BECAUSE THE NEKTON IS A GRAVER THREAT TO TROMOMETERS THAN IS THE CHIRKED SWAY OF PALM TREE OASES ON THE VERGE OF VERDERERS GROOMED BY RANGING PLAINS OF CHAMPAIN AND CHAMPERTY IN THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE STRUGGLES OF VOLITION AGAINST CURTAILED CURGLAFF BY BRACKISH INCALESCENCE FOR WHITTAWERS OFTEN BEREAVED BY THEIR OWN HUBRIS OF A MOMENTARY VICISSITUDE OR VRAISEMBLANCE OF VORTICISM LACKING VOLTINISM BECAUSE OF UNIVOLTINE TRESPASS. THE PULICIDE OF HAECCEITY WITH RESPECT TO QUANTIFIABLE QUALIA TRANSPOSED IN BLINKERED RHABDOS AND REPINED REMEMBRANCE OF THE SOVENANCE OF WUNDERKIND YOUTHQUAKES BORNE FROM WINTERBOURNE SPRINGS DESICCATED FROM WELLSPRING  FOUNTAIN PENS WORTHY OF SCRIPTURAL REMIGATION SUCH THAT THE OLIM ARE PERSECUTED BEYOND ALL MANNER OF DEMARCATION SUCH THAT TWINGES OF HOROSCOPES MELLIFEROUS IN VEXILLILOGY GRASPING EVERY PENITENT ITCH IN EVERY WEIGHAGE OF THE CUSTODY OF SOULS THAT SUDDENLY THE TRAULISM OF MODALISM IN MODULATED STEPWISE RECOURSE OF BECHIC AND BEDAZZLED MYTHS OF HADEHARIA BECAUSE OF IMPLODENT EVENTS OF PREDICATE VALOR ONLY IN THE PRESCRIBED ANOINTMENT OF DIRECTIVE ABOVE DIMINUTIVE REGELATIONS OF BREVET AND THE CACHES THAT SURMOUNT TITANIC AND HERCULEAN TASKS WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE BECAUSE OF THE NODALITIES OF SYNERGY IN CEPHALIGATION DESIGNED BY ENCAUSTIC MANDATES OF NOMOTHETIC NOOGENESIS THAT SERTIVINES BELONGING TO JABIRU TRIBESMEN MIGHT TROUNCE EVERY LOLLYGAG OF PRALLTRILLER PRAGMATISM PRIMARILY BECAUSE THE PROVENANCE OF ALL HORTORIGINALITY RELIES ON EMOTIVISM FUNNELED THROUGH SIPHONS OF CAFFEINATED LAVADERO SUCH THAT THE SUTLERS OF  SECTILE ECONOMIES CONTINUE THEIR PLOUGHSHARES OF DEADSTOCK MIGHT IMPINGE ON QUALITATIVE GOLD FOR QUANTITATIVE HOGWARTS METHODS OF SORCERY ABOVE VEILLEUSES OF TRAMPOLINE REVERB THAT OUR BRONCHOS IN THE  RELEGATION OF THE FREE AND THE BRAVE IS THE UTMOST TRAVESTY OF RIMOSE RANKLES UPON TRIDENT SEAS TRAVERSED BY ACHILLES MOONSHOT ORBITED SATELLITE EXURBIA. THE PUTCHERS OF FRIGOLABILE VANDYKES OF VASTATION IN JASPERATED JARVEYS FOR FROWARD BARTONS OF PANMIXIA IN A WORLD LESS ACCOLENT AND MORE NOTORIOUS FOR ITS FAILED CHIVALRIES OF PEDERASTY SCHLEPED ON THE DENOUEMENT OF ALL DELIVERABLE COMMODITIES OF CREATIVE BRINKMANSHIP BROOKING THE TRAVESTY OF TURNVEREINS OF GRAMERCY AND VISIOGENIC VISIBILIA IN THE VETANDA OF TABOO STIGMATA FROM THE URCHINS THAT SWERVE INTO ABYSS AND ABANDON FOR LACHRYMOSE INSISTENCE OVER TIME INEXORABLE SUCH THAT THE FLUX AND FLOW OF CRYPTODYNAMISM STRICKLED THE COAGULATION OF BONNYCLABBER WASES OF WAPENTAKE TO EDGE TRUMP TO ELECTORAL STAMPEDES IN ITS HONEST VALOR AND MAJORITARIAN RALLENDORK OF ULTIMATE SYNCHRONICITY SUCH THAT GODS PREROGATIVES WERE OBEYED. THE UMBELS OF VERTIGO DEPENDENT UPON THE APOSTILS OF HOARDED HOARY WIZENED GRAY AGING REVOLUTE FRAYS OF SURDOMUTE RATOMORPHISM OUTSMARTS TITANS WHEN THE NODALITIES OF THE NOILS OF CEPHALIGATION FORMATIVE IN THE DURESS OF EFFICIENT ECONOMIES REACHES SUCH AN APOGEE AND ACME OF THE ULTION OF THE INANIMATE AGAINST MACROBIAN SENTIENCE MIGHT WE MARVEL AT THE SUBROUTINES OF THE GLOZING GLOTTOGONIC GNOTOBIOLOGY OF SEMAPHORES IN A VAGANTES VACUUM OF THE VASTATION BY VAPULATION FOR THE LAMBENT LAZARETS OF EPOMANIA BECAUSE OF STRIDOR AND STRAIN WE FIND OURSELVES IN GINGLYMUS ARRAYED AROUND GENIUS SUCH THAT HOLOCRYPTIC HOLMS AND OREAD NYMPHS FREQUENTING THE LABORIOUS INDUSTRIALIZATION OF HUMAN IMAGINATION WE FIND THE MAROON OF THE HUMAN TALENT FACTORY OF FACTOTUMS TO BE ENDANGERED BY AURILAVES OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE WHICH SURPASS ALL LIMITS OF CONDIGN HUMAN MELANCHOLY BECAUSE OF MERCURIAL VENGEANCE OF VENDETTAS THAT SEEK AGATHISM RATHER THAN TERROR AND NOTORIETY RATHER THAN CENTRIFUGES OF THE LISTLESS AND USELESS RETINUE OF VESTIGES OF WOODSHEDDED WOONERFS BELEAGUERED BY BRIMSTONE AND THE DAMNATION OF A HYDROELECTRIC SYSTEM OF RELUMED LOURS OF SOFT MARAUDING LIGHT OF THE TWADDLING DANCES OF THAUMATURGY IN THE MIRACULOUS AFTERBIRTH OF THE MOST SECURE VARDLES BECOMING THE MOST DESPISED ARTIFACTS IN THE HISTORY OF LABOR BY HOFFA TACTICS IN UNDERHANDED MUGIENCE OF NEGOTIOSITY FRUSTRANEOUS TO ALL FLICKERING FIZZGIGS OF SODA POP GENERATIVITY PUNCTUATING CENTURIES WITH CONSUMERIST PLIGHTS OF ADDICTION BY THE LABARUM OF THE LORD RATHER THAN THE WHIMS AND CAPRICE OF ANEMOCRACY. WE ARE OUTFOXED AND AT THE SURRENDER OF THE DACOITAGE OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE STORMING FORWARD LIKE A BLITZKREIG TEMPEST MET WITH THE ANGARY PETTIEST  RESISTANCE OF PETTIFOGGERS AS THE PANTECHNICONS OF THE FUTURE CONVENE UPON THE GOLDMINES OF KATABOTHRON AND SYRINX WHICH IS A JOCKO JOLLYBOAT FOR FULMINATION IN CHIMNEYS OF ORPHANS THAT LEAD US TO  THE PRECIPICE OF TOMORROW THAT ONE DAY WE MIGHT BE DUMBFOUNDED BY OUR OWN ANAPEIRATIC EXCESSES OF ALGEDONIC IMBALANCE BECAUSE AURILAVES OUTNUMBER COMSTOCKERIES AND WE FIND OURSELVES FISSILE VEES BURIED IN THE HEAPSTEAD OF THE BULGUR OF BUDDLING TIMMYNOGGIES THAT ARE SEMPERVIRENT BECAUSE THE IMMORTELLE IS ESSENTIAL QUIDDITY IN QASIDA AND QUERENCIA ABOUT DROOPING EYELIDS OF LOUR AND LEER BY LEARY DESIGNS OF TUNE IN TURN ON AND DROP OUT SOCIETIES OF EPIPHENOMENA RATHER THAN SOLID ENGRAVING ON THE TABLATURES OF MIGHTY MACHINATIONS AMONG INTELLIGENT ROBOTIC HENCHMEN OF THE DEEP STATE WHICH SCURRILOUSLY SCARE ALL PUSILLANIMOUS FIFTH COLUMNISTS AWAY FROM GEOTHERMAL POWER BECAUSE OF ECCENTRIC OBSESSIONS WITH THE TALISMAN OF THE SORCERY OF MODERN WORD CRIMES MONETIZED INTO PRIGGISH LAPSE AND CRENELLATED ROYALTY BYPASSED BY ABORIGINAL SPITES OF PRISON COLONY PREROGATIVES THAT THE AVARICE OF MAMMON IS THE MANIFEST DESTINY OF ALL GORDON GECKO FLEAS WHICH HERDS THE CANINE SENSIBILITIES OF THE CAMARILLA AHEAD OF THEIR NEAREST COMPETITORS OF MAINPERNOR. THE INFERIAE OF DUGONG DIDDICOYS OF DAMSEL IN DISTRESS VIRTUALASIS TETHERED TO THE CORDSLAVE BOLAR ENCHANTMENTS OF BLEAK DREARY HUES OF FUTURE DYSTOPIA MAGNIFIED BY ALPENGLOW VISAGISTS THAT PARLAY ALL WRIKPOND WREPOLIS TAMBURITZA FORTUNES AGAINST THE WHERRETS THAT SOCKDOLAGERS OF HERCULEAN BETS MAKES IMPROBABLE MIGHT THE CAGOULES BE TERRIFIED THAT THE MURAGE OF THEIR ANTIQUATED CASTLES OF CRENELLATED PREJUDICE MIGHT COLLAPSE INWARD AND IMPLODENT UPON AN ARCEATED WORLD THAT TARGETS DEFICIENCY AND SOLVES THE STATOLITHS OF NESTITHERAPY WITH A GREGARIOUS INSOUCIANCE BECAUSE OF NEWFANGLED INTERRAMIFICATIONS OF MAN TRYING TO KEEP PACE WITH THE IMAGINATIVE ****** OF BALBRIGGAN TECHNOLOGIES WHICH ARE COVERT IMPLEMENTS OF NIVELLATION AND ENTHYMEMES OF UMLAUT PROVIDING AN ANTIPANGAMY OF PANEGOISM AND PANDATIONS THAT BLUR A GAUSSIAN SPHERE INTO COMPOSITE COMPONENTS DEMASSIFIED BY ADVANCED ASTROPHYSICS IN THE QUANTULATION OF INEVITABLY SUPREME NUMERICAL HEIGHTS OF IMPOSSIBLE REACH ONLY ABRIDGED BY THE HUBRIS OF PROSTHESIS BECAUSE OF THE ABDERVINE MERIT OF A WORLD BRONZED WITH SWORDS OF DOUBLE-SIDED SHEATHES OF STEELING EYES AND STEWARDS OF OLYMPIC CABOOSES IN MARATHON TRANCE SETS FOR THE WALDGRAVES OF THE NOBILITY OF CANQUE BUILT BY JORDANS TO SURMISE THE YARAKS AGAINST YIRDS THAT CARNIFICINE ALBATROSS AND EAGLE FETCHES EVERY SQUARED COMPASS AND EVERY HEDGED GYMNURE THAT WE MIGHT PROPEL OURSELVES BEYOND GAUDY MACHINATIONS OF LIONIZED INUREMENT TO THE RAGGED HETERONORMATIVE EXCESSES OF A PHILANDERED ESCULENT PARVANIMITY ENDANGERED BY VARSAL PERSPECTIVES OF VITRAIL PROPHECIES SEEING THE TURTLEBACK FREEZE IN HYPOTHERMIA LIKE A JACK DAWSON SUNSET INTO THE CRUEL ABYSS OF NIGHT BY KNIGHTED DEGREES ABAFT OF THE SCHWERPUNKT THAT MESMERIZES AGAINST THE CHOANIDS OF SARANGOUSTY A MAGNETISM OF THERBLIGS AND ERGASIAS THAT SURREALISM COVETS AND PRAGMATISM ABSOLVES WITH ABLUTION AND BLUNT TORPOR BECAUSE OF AVENGED SEVENFOLD BATMAN CORDWAINERS OF CODSWALLOP AND CURMUDGEON BECAUSE TIME IS ITS OWN CUCULINE BEHEST OF ORGANITY IN THE BUSHWAS OF THE MOST ABSURD BEING THE LABILE IMAGINATION AND VORTICISM OF ALL CONTRARIAN MOVEMENTS AGAINST SOLIDARITY AND TOWARDS INTREPID BALKANIZATION. ORIBIS OF ORICHALC SHANTUNG BECAUSE THE BLESBOKS ARE INCULCATED ON THEIR HAUTEUR OF JAUNDICE PRIMARY TO THEIR ANTITHESIS TO MODERN SURGING SWELLS OF SPUMID FROTH BETROTHED TO THE ELEGAIC HEARSES THAT TRANSPORT THE LIVING REMNANT OF THE DEAD REVENANT AMONG THE LITURGY OF MEN ABOVE THE CURGLAFF OF GODS WICKED SPITE EVEN IN HIS PERFECT  MAJESTY WE SPURN THE REDACTION OF PEREMPTORY CALCULUS OF IATROMATHEMATICS BECAUSE OF MUTUALISM IN AUDISM THAT IS FORSIFAMILIATED FROM FEWTERERS AND GRAUNCHERS OF JOLTERHEAD JANGADAS SURROUNDED BY ARMIES OF JANIZARIES SEEKING TO ABRIDGE THE TENURE OF THE GROVELING GRIPES OF ESCAPADE AND ESCARGATOIRE BECAUSE OF PAST POGROMS THAT SLAYED THE DRAGOONING FORCES OF DEMASSIFIED CARNAGE IN WAR THAT THE CAMARRA MIGHT BE AVENGED PENNYWISE BECAUSE OF RAPTORS CROONING LOUD SONGS FOR THE ETERNAL REGISTRY AND CADASTER OF HEAVEN MIGHT IN SEDERUNTS OF SYBOTIC SYCOMANCY THAT THE PENULTIMATE DEGREE OF PROMACHOS ELEUTHEROPOMANIA SLEEKLY NAVIGATE EVERY NAIVETY SUCH THAT NO IMPLODENCE OF PIRANNHAS CAN EVER CAPSIZE OUR TITANIC VESICLES OF VENDANGE IN ASPHETERISM. AND, BECAUSE OF ARROGATION IN THE PALACES OF THE THRONE AND THE CRANING CULPRITS OF WEGOTISM THAT BECAME THE ORGULOUS OF CENTIPEDE CONTRACTS CONTRAHENT TO JAPANESE TOILET ASSEMBLY LINE CRAFTY DIVERGENCE FROM AUTOSOTERISM IN OUR TECHNOLOGICAL EMPIRES OF ENTROPY CURVED AROUND THE PARABOLAS OF GOOD WILL HUNTING VENATICS AND VENDIBLE RACEMATION OF LASSITUDE PRONOUNCED IN THE HEARTH OF ABODES OF ADOBE MATERIALISM WOBBLING UNDER WIZENED PRESSURE BECAUSE OF THE VOLTINISM OF STACKS AND SPETCHES OF SOLIDARITY THAT CRIBBLE THAT TANTREL OF DEVOURED DEMIURGES OF DRAPER HIT ADEEM DOOMSTERS AGAINST PETTIFOGGERY LASTING INDELIBLE IN THE CONSCIENCE OF SINNERS AND TAX COLLECTORS UNABRIDGED IN THEIR MISERICORDS OF CORDSLAVE WORD CRIMES THAT SPAWN A THRILLER FRIGHT FOR GHOULS OF THE GASPING GHASTLY MOONLIGHT DRIVES OF CAREFULLY CULTIVATED BRIMBORIONS FOR BRILLIANTINE JASPERATED JARVEYS OF IATRALIPTIC LONGEUR PRANCING AT THROTTLEBOTTOM TOCODYAMETERS THAT CODDLE EVERY VELCRO SOOT BELABORED WITH CONSTRAINT AND CRAZED UPON SCALDING THIRSTS FOR DUSTBOWL RUNAGATES FLOATING WITH WHELVES ABOVE EVERY METROPOLITAN GASP OF COACERVATION ESPECIALLY IN ANACHORIC CONDITIONS CREATED BY REGIONAL BANKING SECRETS PEDDLED INTO BARNSTORM BY ORCHESTRA AND GALLOWS. THE RINKOMANIA OF RINGENT RAREFACTION IN THE QUIBBLES OF QUESTERMONGERS GRAPPLING THE TETHER OF ZIP LINE DECLASSIFICATION SHOWCASES THE ATOMIC NATURE OF VEEPSTAKE VEESES OF VARSAL QUANTULATIONS OF PROBABLE EXIGENCY BECAUSE TRIMSCREET NOTAPHILY THAT NEWELS TREAT WITH MUGIENT RUDENTURE MIGHT ONLY ASTOUND THE PEOPLE OF A BADIGEON MISTRUST IN THE SYSTEM OF STANDPIPES AMONG THE STANNARY BECAUSE IN THIGMOTAXIS A CHUCKWALLA CAN ACCOST MODERN PLIGHT BY DEMOCRATIC HEFT ESPECIALLY IN CLADOGENESIS AND SPODOMANCY BECAUSE NO LONGER IS THE SINECURE A FACTOTUM TO DESTINED UNBUTTONED SNOOZES OF THE CHAVISH OF MANY BIRDS ALL AT  ONCE IN CONCLAMATION AVERTING THEMSELVES FROM MODERN TANTRELS OF TANQUAM TANTONY BECAUSE OF GIROUETTISM AND TIMMYNOGGY BOTH PART AND PARTICIPLE OF THE CONSTELLATED CONSTITUTION OF A WORLD BEYOND TRICKSTER HUCKSTER NEGOTIOSITY ****** WITH NEBULIZED NECROLOGUES AND THE ATTEMPTS OF NECROTYPE IN WHERRET LONG AGO DEMYSTIFIED THAT SUCH A HIGH DEGREE OF OXTERS SUFFERING FROM THE OVERLOCK OF NACREOUS YAFFINGALE YELEKS OF YASHIKI BECAUSE THE BINTURONG FINFUGAL COMMONALITY OF ALL CHAPERONES TO RABID DESTINY BECOME A MOTATORY MODALISM OF MOFUSSIL INTEGRITY ABOVE FREEWHEELING LICENTIOUSNESS IN PROFLIGATE SHOCK VALUE AND FLAGRANT FOUL GROIN INJURIES OF DENTICLES AND CORBELS THE SINECURES OF MAINSTAYS OF LEVERAGE BEYOND THE SNATCHES OF COQUICIDE. TOO MANY EBBERMANS EXPLOIT THE EBRIOUS TENDENCIES OF MALADROIT ECCOPROTIC ECDYSIASTS OF ECCENTRIC ORBIT AROUND THE MYTHOS AND BATHOS OF THE CULMINATED VARIETIST FOLKLORE OF WILLOWISH WITWANTON PERSIFLAGE FRISKY IN BOUNDED LOLLOPS OF DENIZENS OF PRIVY FRIVVERSCRABBLE BECAUSE OF COCARDEN SELF-FULFILLED DESTINIES OF GORDON GECKO HUCKSTERSHIP ARRAIGNED BY THE OBOLARY COMPRACHIOS ABOVE EVERY ANOINTED PROXENETE OF BOYAU SUCH THAT THE OUTFOXED GALLIVANT OF LEADEN DREAMS MIGHT INCUR THE RANCOR OF SOOT IN FULIGINOUS FUMIDUCTS BLINDING BLINKERED IMAGINATIONS IN CHECKERED EXPECTANCY BECAUSE OF THE LIABILITIES OF MANUFACTURE OF POLITY BY PELITIC MEASURES OF PIEZOMETERS WHICH ABIDE BY THE AGRACERIE OF TRAGELAPH TOURBILLONS OF TOMECIDE PRIMARILY BECAUSE SAMIZDAT ONCE BURIED BEFORE CHRONOMANCY COULD ALIGN SHOWCASES THE TWINGES OF HENPECKED HINDSIGHT OF DEADSTOCK KEELHAULS OF INTEMERATED DESTINY TO BE THE APTITUDE OF DESCRIPTION SOUGHT BY DOXASTIC ONCOSTMAN OF MINERAL SUFFICIENCY ENOUGH TO BROWBEAT MIGNON ATTEMPTS TO SWAMP THE STREETS WITH LETHAL CARNAGE AND SPURTS OF SOPHOMORIC CRIMES OF THE PETTIER SORT BY THE ADOLESCENT FABLE HALLOWED BY PERSNICKETY CONSTRINGED AND CONTECKED CARFAX CARRACKS BELONGING TO PANTOGRAPHS THAT DELIMIT AN AUSTERE FUTURE BETTER THAN A BRACKISH PISCIFAUNA OF PAST MISERY MEASURED BY DEPRIVATIONS IN MOUNTENANCE BECAUSE OF IDEMPOTENT SQUALOR REITERATIVE OFTEN TO THE DIMINUTIVE PREYING MANTIS SCORIA OF TRICHOSIS SLIPSLOP UPON THE RUMCHUNDER SILK OF RUPESTRIAN COMPREHENSION IN LANGUISHED EXHAUSTION OVER AGING RHETORIC SUITING DIFFERENT ZEITGEISTS WITH DIFFERENTIAL GRADIENTS OF SERRATED SECODONT GOLIARDY AND OTHER CAMELOPARDS BRICKBAT MANSIONS AVOID PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF THE CREAM AMNESIA HEDONISM OF AN ERA DEVOID OF MORAL PERJURY BECAUSE OF UNIVERSAL PURGATORY AND THE ITCH TOWARDS URANOPLASTY HOWEVER MISGUIDED THAT ULTRAISM OF REQUEST MIGHT BE UPON THE RESCRIPTS OF LEGALISM LITIGATED BY FILIBUSTER AND RETROACTIVE IN THE ENLISTMENT OF SPECULATION TO STORGE BARMCLOTH ECONOMIES WITH A HYBRIDIZATION OF MOONCALF DEMISANG STOICHOLOGY WITH THE SYNECHIOLOGY OF BIOLOGICALLY ATTUNED ATTEMPTS AT ACHIEVING ETERNAL LIFE THROUGH WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY TO COMPUNCTION AMONG  STELLIONS AND STANDPIPES TO THEIR SWAPES RATHER THAN THE AXLE ROSE SWARF OF JUNGLES OF SCHOENABATIC RHABDOS RUNAGATING DELIRIFACIENT FEARS AT FORFENDED PROSCRIPTION OBEYED BY ALL MORAL KERYGMA CURVED INWARD AND BELEAGUERED OUTWARD. THE ECHARD OF MAEUITIC THOUGHTS THE IMPRINT OF ALL EMOTIVISMS EVOLVED BY TACHYTELIC EVOLUTION BY THE HARPSICHORD REFINEMENT OF CALUMET BY CAMPANILE STANDARDS OF CETACEAN LEAPS IN INVOLVED MATHESIS MIGHT PROVIDE THE DOXASTIC ONTOGRAPHY OF CATADROMOUS TAMARAW BECAUSE THE FLOURIDATION OF THE THIRST MUTILATION OF A DECREPIT SEEDY BOWERY OF MALCONTENTS OF BUSHWA COMPOUNDED BY BYRES OF SUBTERNATURAL JUNGIAN ARCHETYPES THE COMPOSITE OF MANY RHIGOSES IN HYSTERICAL OUTRAGE OVER THE PRONOUNCED PROVIDENCE OF HIGH BETA CORPORATE TRAJECTORIES MIGHT CREATE AN ECLAIRCISE RATHER THAN AN ECREVISSE BECAUSE THE HISTRINKAGE OF GOURMAND CABOOSES OF INGREDIENT SALMAGUNDIS STORGED IN MOTLEY FORMATIONS AROUND THE QUIDCUNX OF ALL MASONIC LORE SWORDFISH TECHNO BELLOWS FROM THE RAFTERS OF TSUNAMI ELEGIES IN HOMILY DESIGNED TO OVERHAUL AND OVERTURN THE DILAPIDATED INSTINCTS OF INCARNATION BY DECRASSIFICATION BECOMING AN IMPLEMENT TO TRAVERSE ALL SCALE OF TIME AND SPACE FOR MESSIANIC ARENOID ECLEGME MIGHT WE FASHION A BETTER VILLAGE OF UPSTAYS OF THE DENORATUM BECAUSE OF THEIR PERSNICKETY BAILIWICK OF PROVINCIAL SHIBBOLETHS THAT HAUNT THE MINDS OF GHASTLY MEN ATTEMPTING GHOUL GANG SLAUGHTERS BECAUSE WALTER MCGINN NEVER STOOD A CHANCE AGAINST CARNIFICINE BOLIDES OF BOMAN DACOITAGE BECAUSE OF THE FERVOR AND HEIGHT OF DRAMATURGY IN DACNOMANIA BLISTERING THE RACIAL FOOTPRINT OF ANCIENT SOCIETIES CONGREGATED AROUND HAMARCHY MEGALOMANIA WE FIZZLE AND DISSOLVE THE SIMPERS OF THE DISSOLUTE INTO THE FORMIDABLE CONCOCTION OF HOGTIED JOUGS OF CANQUE MIGHT THE ELASTANES NEVER HAVE THE COURAGE TO OUTMANTLE THE FENESTRAL FENNEC THE UNDERBELLY OF SOCIETIES CRAVEN IN DISREPUTE BECAUSE OF THE  CLADOGENESIS OF CRIME FROM THE CRYPTADIA OF NOTAPHILY AND THE URGE OR CACOETHES TOWARDS NOTITIA PRIOR TO THE DAWN OF THE POWELLISATION OF WANIGANS AGAINST POTICHOMANIA FOR SOLIDARITY, TRUTH AND A RABID SENSE OF JUSTICE NEVER FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FROM THROMBOSIS. IDEMPOTENT IMPLODENT SQUALOR MANDATED BY AVIZANDUMS OF CRUEL SAMIZDAT DIVORCED FROM GEZELLIG BECAUSE ONCOSTMANS OF INDWELLS AND THE INKTHORNS OF PRIMIPARA SURREYS OF BROADCLOTH MODERATION ON THE MOFUSSIL MODALISM THAT PROVES NEOVITALISM BECAUSE ACATALEPSY STRAINS CREDULITY TO SUCH A CONTRAHENT RESPECT THAT IT CRACKLES WITH SUBORNED SUNS SETTING LONELY LOVERS FREE ON GONDOLAS FOR GONDOLIERS BECAUSE OF THE CHAMOIS OF GOLIARDY IN SUBSULTUS JOGGLES THAT BERATE JOCKOS FOR THEIR IMPUDENT REGARDS TO POGROM AND PASTRY MIGHT WE CONVENE THE BETHEL OF THE BROAD SEAS SPRAYING THE HORIZON WITH CURGLAFF BECAUSE PETEDORES ARE TOO MALCONTENT TO STOWAWAY LEVERAGE IN WELTER THE BELLWETHER STORMS OF STRIDENT TEMPESTS OF STRIDULATION ITSELF BECOMES THE STRADOMENTRICAL DIMENSION IGNORANT IN BARAGNOSIS OF GRAVIMETRICAL DISDAIN OF PINGUEFIED WORMCAST VOGUE SAGINATED BY SURETYSHIPS OF SERICULTURE THAT MADDENS THE FATTENED VEAL OF VEILLEUSES THAT BELONG TO GROMATIC REVOLUTION COUNTERCLOCKWISE TO EVERY ORANGE ORANGUTANG HARANGUE IN THE BLOCKBUSTER MERGER OF CAPITAL WITH INTELLECTUAL HEARTH SPRAWLING PALTRIPOLITAN ARROGATION IN WEATHERBOARDS OF ARROGANCE MIGHT THE BETTER DIPLOMACY BECOME A MORE REIFIED CHARADE FOR THE PROMENADE OF GULLIBLE SWANSONGS TO THE  CHAVISH OF ELEMENTARY PATAPHYSICS SUCH THAT ALL DELINEATED SUBINTELLIGENTUR TRACES ITS FORMATIVE LITURGY AND LINEAGE TO SOBRIQUETS OF SOVENANCE FOREVER EMBEDDED IN CHARACTEROLOGY. THE KYMATOLOGY OF THE SARVODAYA BELIEFS OF THE UPAS UMBRILS OF UNUFERUN DEGRINGOLADE DROOPY WITH LOURS AND LEECHES OF SANGUINOLENT HOPES FOR IMMORTALITY BUILT INTO BYSSINE INTERTESSELATIONS OF HAUTEUR GRANDEVAL IN TAGHAIRM AND MYSTIFIED BY THE PYRAMIDAL TECHNOLOGY OF SPHENOGRAMS THAT STUPE AND STOPE AROUND THE STULMS OF ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT OR OTHERWISE THE ATELIOSIS OF SEROTINOUS TALENTS AGAINST DIABLERISM AND HADEHARIA BECAUSE OF THE COMMON REFRAIN OF EVIL POLTROONS PARTICIPANT IN THE JEMADAR OF BANNOCK BECAUSE OF THE  WROTH OF WURLEY DISTRACTIONS BURIED IN THE VARDLES OF THE TEMPLES OF TIME AND CHIEF TABERNACLES OF PRINCES OF JERUSALEM MARAUDING AROUND THE AGATHISM PREVALENT IN FREEMASONRY THAT DEFILES THE EDIFICE OF ENNOBLED HUMANITY MIGHT EVENTUALLY WE SCOUR EVERY ACME AND PERIGEE SUCH THAT SYNCLASTIC BREVITY BECOMES A PRISM FOR THE LIBERATION OF TOLERABLE SOCIETIES ESTRANGED FROM FINIFUGAL BINTURONG CHIFFON RUMCHUNDER RHUBARBS THAT THE VENOCLYSIS OF GREAVES AND GRILLAGE APPOINTS THE JACK-O-LANTERN SPECIFICITY OF ROODS NEVER MORE PEREMPTORY IN THEIR AFFORCED CONTRITION IN PENITENT HALLS OF WINDING RESOFINCULAR DESIGNATIONS OF DEVASTATION RECOILING BY DISAGIO IN ARBITRAGE BY THE DESIGN OF THE CURTAILED GAFFES OF UNIVERSAL DOVETAILS OF ONDOMETRY BARELY EVER DEMASSIFIED FOR  PRYING INSPECTION BECAUSE OF THE CJ MACKINTOSH EFFECT WE WILL WITNESS THE CYANOTYPES OF ALL WORLD ORDERS CONVERGE UPON MIRACULOUS FORESIGHT MET HALFWAY BY THE PULLEYS OF HINDSIGHT  THAT CLAMBER IN INTRORSE DIRECTIONS TO METE OUT EVERY CALCULI AT THE EQUIDISTANT POINT BETWEEN GENIUS AND IGNOSCENY IN UNDERSTANDING NUTATION IN CRAVEN DISTURBANCE AND PAYABLE ON DEATH PEDIGREE THROUGH THE POISON IVY OF VENDIBLE GOODS RATHER THAN PROFICUOUS VENDANGE. THERE EXISTS A SWARTHY RAPSCALLION ECREVISSE LURKING IN THE SHADOWS OF HEYDAY AMONG ZEITGEISTS MARAUDING AROUND GRANDIOSE PRETEXTS FOR PRESCIENCE BECAUSE DORMANT CATAPULTS THAT ASSAY THE REGULA OF RINKOMANIA WHICH IS THE SWARF OF PIXELLATED FRINGE BENEFITS OF CARNAL OUTRAGE MIGHT THAT DEFALCATION OF EXCHEQUER FROM CHRYSELEPHANTINE GAMBITS FOR OUTRAGE PERCURRENT IN GEOSELENIC SERENITY OR OTHERWISE SUBSULTUS OF TEMBLORS OF CHAOTIC HAECCEITIES IN DUNGEONS OF DOOM BLASPHEMIES CAN NEVER EXPIATE WITH FULL SLEDGES OF PIER 39 WHARFINGERS ON WASTELOTS BECAUSE OF WALLFISH CENTRALIZING THE OMPHALOS OF GRAVID PLENIPOTENTIARY AND PLENARY ASSEMBLIES THAT CAVORT WITH NETHER QUANDARIES TO SPAR AGAINST CONGENIAL SERPENTS BRAZEN ONLY BY THE BACKBITE OF THEIR AUTHORITARIAN REGRESS. THE STENCH OF BLENCH AND BLARNEY BLANDISHING TOADIES OF SYRINX IN THEIR HOSPITABLE KALIMBAS OF DARK SPATHODEA ABIDING BY THE TURF OF WOONERF STRUGGLING FOR WHIPSTAFF RATHER THAN JACKSTAFF BY NYALAS PREROGATIVE BECAUSE THE ESTEEM OF BRIQUET LEADS TO BRISURES IN REGAL FAMILIES AGAINST DEFENESTRATION SUCH THAT THROTTLED CONSUMERISM MET WITH THE VOLTINISM OF VORTICISM MIGHT BE THE VRAISEMBLANCE OF ALL VAURIEN REVALORIZATION IN THEIR PIVOT TO THE ESOTERIC ARTS OF NAME AND DATE, BYWORD AND CREVASSE, TRAVESTY AND TRAGEDY THAT THE IMPLODENT COMMEMORATION OF FLASKS OF WHIPLASH PLUCK THE PLUCKIEST OF THORNS TO REACH THE MOST EFFLORESCENT OF ROSES SUCH THAT WE CAN SURVIVE THE TIDE OF CERACEOUS POWER OF SEMPERVIRENT BELLETRIST WIREWOVEN INTO EVERY REPUBLIC SUCH THAT LANDSLIDES OF PSEPHOLOGY BECOME THE HABITUE OF A SOBERMINDED WORLD RARELY IF EVER BLINDSIGHTED BY NIMIETY BUT ALWAYS STELLIFIED AND CONSTELLATED BY THE CELLARER MONKS OF THE HIGH ARTS OF SOCIAL SCIENCE IN THE HALLOWED HALLS OF GUARDED BARRULETS THAT TEEM WITH CARBONATED CERTITUDE IN A  CANADA DRY WORLD SUCH THAT THE BLUEPETER GAMMERSTANG TRIAD OF TRIAGE MIGHT METE OUT MULIEBRITY NEVER BEYOND THE GASCONADE OF GUFF GUIGNOLS OF RHYPAROGRAPHY THAT  TRAUMATIZES THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF BLITZKREIGS OF SCHWMEREI AND CELIBACY IN THE SECRET TROVES OF A HISTORY PUNCTUATED BY ATROCITY AND RANSACKED BY THE DERMATOLOGY OF THE PATINA BETTER THAN THE CINEASTE OF DEEPER SUBINTELLIGENTUR WHICH IS SUBERIC LIKE A VINTNER TO PRESERVE THE RESURGENT BOOTLEGGING MOONSHINE TIDE TO THE LIMITS OF ALL POSSIBLE IMAGINATION THAT THROTTLEBOTTOMS BRACKISH IN BARNSTORM THAT  THE WASES MUST BE OBEYED TO PROVINCIAL WAPENTAKE BECAUSE OF THE SYBOTIC UNSEELED ARBITRARY MEASURES OF SGRAFFITO IN WAPENSHAW TRANSCENDENTAL OVER ALL ROMANTICISM SUCH THAT THE ORDER OF THE KNIGHTS OF MALTA KEEPS THE PERDURABLE SECRETS OF REGALIA ALIVE IN THEIR PRIVATE ALCOVES OF SQUARSONS OF A DIFFERENTIATE SQUAMATION OF SEQUESTERED REALISM IN REALITY TOO BOLAR TO WITHSTAND GRAFT. ECTHLIPSIS WITH THE EBBERMANS VAUNTLAYING THEIR PROXENETE BOYAU JIVE TALKING TRAPS OF STAYIN’ALIVE HAUTEUR OF SUPERCILIOUS TACT BECOMING IRONICALLY AN EIRENICON FOR THE STOMACHERS THAT PREVENT MISCEGENATION OF SPRINGHARES AND MURENGERS FROM PROSCRIBING THE SELCOUTH SERROWS OF SERICULTURE BALLOONING INTO INTREPID RAPTORIAL THREATS GRIMACING HEADWAY UPON THE DAYLIGHT WALKERS OF THE PISMIRISM OF ECHOPRAXIA IN PSITTACIST LIGHT REFRACTION THAT BYPASSES NATIONAL DIRECTIVES TO BRACKLE WITH NEVERLAND NAIVETY SUCH THAT CREDULITY IS A CLEPSYDRA OF THE MALAXAGE OF CARNIVOROUS FREGGETS OF FENNEC PRIMARILY OF A BLUE PRIMACY OF UNSPOKEN GAFFES OF GARBLED GABBLE OF THE GABELLE OF SCRIMSHANKED DWIZZENS AGAINST DRAZELS THAT PRANCE WITH ELEGAIC BALLET FOR BALLOTEMENT FORMATIVE IN DURAMEN AND SCAFFOLDED BY THE UTOPIAN IDEAL BECOMING AN ONEIRODYNIA OF FASTUOUS FERIAL FLAPDOODLES OF FLANNEL IN RETCHINATION OF HATED QUALMS BECOMING THE LOCKSTEP BRATTICE OF BANDOLIERS VACATED AND VACANT FOR PRISMATIC REMIGATIONS FOR REMEANTS FROM THE VALLOR OF MOONLIT SKYLINES SPHACELATED SO HIGH BECAUSE OF DRAMATURGY SO SUFFICIENT IN ACCIDENCE AND ADVENT THAT THE PARLOUS RABELASIAN COURTIERS MIGHT SLINK THROUGH THE MARSHY RESIDUE OF AN OLD DYING REPUBLIC PREPARED FOR ALL EXIGENCY BURROLING ALL CORTEGES CLOSER TO BALMORALITY THAN INSANITY. FALLIBLE MISTAKES OF A BLACKGUARD ZEITGEIST OF ANIMADVERSION FROM PRAXINOSCOPES OF DUGONG SUBVERSION SLOPPY IN ARCHITECTONIC TACT BECAUSE OF ELAPID BRINKMANSHIP IN THE SWANK OF PILLORY AND THE IGNOMINY OF LEONID METEORS AND BOLIDES INFILTRATING GREAT WHITE BUFFALO BRIMSTONE AGAINST THE HEFT AND SCHLEP OF BUFF BLINKERED CHECKERING MALINGERING HUBRIS OF INSTANTANEOUS TRAPS OF ENTRAPMENT BY PULCHRITUDE THAT THE MAJESTY OF THE REPUBLIC WILL ALWAYS BROWBEAT THE REGATTA CREWS SAILING THE CAMBRIDGE SEAS OF RECOGNIZANCE AS THE SERRATED TIMEPIECES OF EUPRAXIA MIGHT LESS OFFEND AND HEAL VULNERARY WOUNDS SELF-INFLICTED BUT RARELY CONDIGN IN SYNCLASTIC ROBBERIES OF HUMAN DIGNITY FORMATIVE IN CONSCIENCE RATHER THAN DEBATABLE IN DOUGLAS DEBATES OF DISTRICT ATTORNEYS SCARED SKITTISH BY A HARVEY DENT VANDALISM OF NEBULA AND PARSEC FOR NEPHELOMETERS OF WHARFINGERS OF THE UTMOST ELITISM OF EKPHRASIS OF THE EDAPHA THAT RARELY EDULCORATES THE EFFODIENT AFFLATUS OF AFFINE ALGORS OF ARGALI SUCH THAT SILK ROAD CHIFFONS BRASHLY CONTEND IN THEIR SUNKEN RATIOCINATIONS ABOUT THE RATIO OF SUBSTANTIVE GOODS AND MERCHANDISE OF CHOICE THAT SQUALOR SWIMS IN SPATTEES OF SIFFLEURS BEYOND THE SNATCHES OF  SEGUIDILLA IN SIGLA PRIMARILY ORBITED AROUND JIMSWINGING ATROCITIES ALWAYS HALLOWED AS TRAVESTY ADULTERATED BY THE CRUEL IMBRUTED TRAGEDIES OF MARKETABLE TIME IN WANHOPE AND WANION FOR DESPERATION IN GASCONADE. THE ARCEATION OF MODERN ECONOMIES IS BUILT ON THE ECCOPROTIC ECTOBATIC ECHARD OF THE MAIEUTIC EDULCORATION OF FAMISHED WARLORDS BENIGHTED BY THE FOGHORNS OF SEMAPHORES OF THE DAYLIGHT PRISTINE MOONLIT CAVERNS OF PATHWAY AND ENTELECHY IN SOLUTIONS TO THE PATAPHYSICS OF HUMAN THERMOLYSIS IN CONTRAHENT DYNAMICS THAT STORGE THE WORLD AGAINST STULMS AND STOPING AGENTS OF STANNARY MIXED WITH THIXOTROPY MET BY INCLEMENT TACITURN CHISELERS IN THE ANCIENT PREMODERN FRAME THAT THE SPECTER OF BUGABOOS OF DEATH AND MAUDLIN BEBLUBBERED BECHIC BOLIDES CARESSING A TIMELY TOME OF A FUTURE SCRANCHING THE FILIBUSTER OF ALL FUTURE CALAMITIES SHIELDED FROM THE DESTRUCTION OF THE GAUNTLET OF PRIVATION SUCH THAT THE OPTIMAL DEASIL MOTATORY MOTIONS OF PLANETARY ALIGNMENT SUGGEST A NATURAL NOMOTHETIC ORDER THAT IS PREVENIENT IN ALL MAJOR AFFAIRS BECAUSE OF THE DEFT EXPERTISE OF THE UTILITARIAN SCALES OF NEGOTIOSITY WHICH ANALYZES NEUTROSOPHY AGAINST SPARTAN TRAVESTY BECAUSE OF A STOLID WORLDVIEW THAT SIMPERS THE CAULDRON OF GROWTH BEYOND THE LEGALESE OF DOUBT SUCH THAT A NEW FRONTIER OF CIVILIZATION ARISES FROM THE POTSHERDS OF VEXILLILOGY RATHER THAN ENAMORED CYMBALS OF SYMBOLISM IMPREGNATED BY THE LOVE OF THE PORBEAGLE BECOMING THE CIPPUSTURE OF WIDDERSHANCY TO ELECT THE KNIGHT OF DIVERGENCE SIMULTANEOUS TO MUTUALISM IN CONFORMITY TO RELEASE AN ECHOPRAXIA OF OMPHALISM IN MORALE THAT BOOSTERISMS ANOINT BEYOND ADVENTITIOUS ACCIDENTS OF RIGMAROLE CREATED BY OVERSLAUGHED BERLINES IN THE VERDURE OF KIPPAGE IN THE KITH OF KITTHOGE IN ATTEMPTED FEMICIDE TO REPUDIATE THE KYMATOLOGY OF THE GRAVID WORLDVIEW THAT SUSTAINS URCHINS AND BARNACLES ALIKE SUCH THAT WEGOTISM PLUMMETS FROM THE PROMONTORY OF THE IVORY FORTRESS OF PERVERSE ****** MORALITY AND IMMORALISM BECAUSE THE AURILAVE IS DESPOTIC AGAINST UMBRILS BECAUSE OF URCEOLATE UMBRACIOUS UMBRAGE BECOMING SILLOGRAPHS OF PANTAGAMY WE NEED THE GRAUNCHERS OF OUR ERA TO DEMASSIFY A TRIBUNE OF TRUTH TO PREVAIL OVER MENDACILOQUENCE AND THE SATINETS OF RADICAL JACOBIN WORMCASTS SUCH THAT SUPERSTITION CLEAVED FROM CAVALIERS AND MAVERICKS BEAM THE ROYAL ARCH MASONS FROM THEIR SLUMBER THAT MOONLIT YOGIBOGEYBOX IS THE SAUTERELLE THAT CREATES THE TURNVEREIN AND THE  GLADIATORIAL DIVERSION OPERATED BY THE HENCHMEN OF CHURCH AND STATE COMPLICIT IN HIDEBOUND WARNING KNELL AT THE TOLL OF TINTINNABULATION BECAUSE FEWER ARE VAPULATED IN A WORLD OF COLLECTIVE SOLIDARITY AROUND INDIVIDUATION RATHER THAN BACKBITES OF SLANDEROUS REGIMES OF HEGEMONY DEPARTED IN THEIR RUDENTURE OF VILLAINY SUCH THAT THE RUBEFACTION OF THE RUDDY SANGUINOLENCE SHEPHERDS RENEWAL RATHER THAN RETROMORPHOSIS. WE BELONG TO AN AGELESS EPOCH PREDICATED BY THE MATHEMATICAL RIGORS OF TAXATION WITH REPRESENTATION AND THE ENCROACHMENT OF  DERIVATIVES OF THE THIRD ROOT SOLUTION TO TURBINATION THAT TRUTINATES THE HUMAN HEART TO ANALYZE THE MEGALOGRAPHY OF MAN BEYOND HIS PETTIEST LIMITATIONS OF EGINTOCH KILMARGE AND PRURIENT PRIGGISHNESS DONE IN THE SECRECY OF THE REREDOS AGAINST THE BEST  WISHES OF TORCHIER PHAROAHS. THE URCEOLATE BERGAMASKS OF IZZARD AND ZOUK AGAINST THE ZEKS WHO SUFFERED THE  SUFFRAGE OF  STERILIZED POGROMS DESERVE THEIR  DUE COMPENSATION FOR THEIR BEREAVED SKULLDUGGERIES OF APOTHECARY SUBLIME RANCOR AIMED AT TRUCKLING TRUCULENCE TOWARDS AN AMERICA-FIRST AGENDA THAT EXAMINES RATHER THAN EXCORIATES ALL WORLD INTERTESSELATIONS BECAUSE THE BRIQUETS THAT HISTORICALLY MONOPOLIZED THE PARAPET TO ENSURE FEWER BRISURES OF CASEMATE SPODOMANCY MIGHT BE BRUISED AND BATTERED BY THE POTICHOMANIA OF AGED BUT VENERABLE BERLINE INSTITUTIONS OF GALEANTHROPY BECOMING GALERICULATED BY PALTRIPOLITAN VALUES THAT SKEW AND  SKELDER FROM EXCORIATION THE VILE AND VEHEMENCE OF THE OPPRESSED MIGHT THEY FUSION THEMSELVES EQUIPPED BY SCAPPLES AGAINST STULMS FOR THE BONANZAS OF STOCK MARKET PEDIGREE AFFORDED BY ONE FAINEANT PRESIDENTS TIME TRAVEL GAMBITS AND ANOTHER INTERREGNUM OF OBSOLAGNIUM AMONG THE MATURATION OF NEPIONIC NIDOR SCRUFF IN GUIGNOLS MEANT TO HORRIFY BY BACKPIECES STEADIED BY ICEBERG ICEBLINK UPSTAYS OF POTEMKIN VILLAGES OF MARTINGALE MIGHT THEY FIND DEFEAT IN THE LEGACY OF MAN TO BETTER HIS WISDOM WITH THE PROPER COMSTOCKERY ARRANGED BEHIND THE SCENES TO PREVENT THE PETTIFOGGERY OF TRANS-INCLUSIVE TEACHERS THAT TRY TO BRAINWASH LITTLE CHILDREN INTO SELF-STERILIZATION AND PERMANENT MARGINALIZATION BY STIGMATA AND THE VETANDA OF THEIR LONGINIQUITY CREATED BY IMPRESSIONABLE MORAL STAGES IGNORED BECAUSE OF LUDIC MARAUDERS AND VIKINGS OF ****** INFIDELITY AND THE LAIRWITES OF THE SLEAZIEST CORRUPTION ON THE BOOKS AS THE MANACLES OF THE URCHINS OF MEN THAT ESPOUSES RANCOR OVER GENTEEL GENTILITY DESPITE GENTILIAN MINORITIES PRIZING THEIR NAZES IN THEIR CAPE TOWN CAGOULES PRIMARILY BECAUSE THEY RESENT THE RANCID CREEP OF ENCROACHMENT WITHOUT THE PENALTY FOR APPROPRIATION OR VAGANTES ARROGATION THAT SUBSUMES THE BRONTEUM OF ALL MATRIOTIC DUTY ABOVE SELFISH PORNOGRAPHIC AMBITIONS BY THE WORLDS WORST FEWTERERS OF HUMAN IMAGINATION TO SUCH A DEGREE THE OUTCAST STIGMATA BECOMES AN IMMARCESIBLE FORCE FOR IMPLODENT SOCIETAL DECADENCE IN AN ERA OF DECLINE OF AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM TO CREATE MORE EXCEPTIONS RATHER THAN BECOME RANGIFERINE IN THE CULTIVATION OF THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT AND THE PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC AND ALL OF THE AGGIORNAMENTO THAT FIGHTS THE STULMS OF VIACOM AND OTHER WINDBAG PEDOPHILES TRYING TO REVERT OUR COUNTRY TO A SOCIETY OF EUNUCHS AND *** SLAVES TRAFFICKED AS THE NEW NORMAL IN A DERANGED WORLD THAT DESTROYS INDIVIDUATION AND BULLDOZES THE INTREPID ENTERPRISE OF A FOCUSED ECHOPRAXIA RATHER THAN A PSITTACIST NIGHTMARE OF LAZARETS OF ELASTANE PANDERING THROUGH BLOCKBUSTER CRACKJAW EPOMANIA. WE CANNOT AFFORD A SOCIETY THAT TOLERATES BOTH THE ASCENDANCY OF BILL THE BUTCHER AND THE DEMISE OF WALTER MCGINN BOTH BY SEPARATE URCHINS THAT EMBODY THE CARNAGE AND BYRE OF RAREFIED EVIL PURIFIED AND MAINLINED AGAINST SUBINTELLIGENTUR TO SUBTERNATURAL PEOPLE THAT DON’T ADHERE TO THE CONSEQUENCES OF NIDIFUGOUS IMPRESSIONABLE EUTHANASIA OF MORAL VALOR AND THE RESPECT OF ALMIGHT EUMOIREITY MIXED WITH THE PROPER ASSORTMENT OF THE PURSUITS OF HAPPINESS THAT DEFINE THE BEST WORLD REPUBLICS BECAUSE WE CAN LIONIZE THE FREAKSHOW HOUSE OF MIRRORED HORRORS AS WE FOCUS ON THE DECREPIT MODERNIZATION OF A NIVELLATED SEXUALIZATION EVEN WHEN THE SPECTERS OF FAT SHAMING AND BULLYING ARE OVERLOOKED IN FAVOR OF A MICHIGAN STATE SPARTANS MODEL FOR THE BOWDLERIZATION OF ALL CANONICAL TRADITIONS IN THE SLOW TIMBERLASK LURCH TOWARDS INEVITABLE DECADENCE IN THE NIDOR CREATED BY RAMPANT SKEWERING OF SLANTED WOBBLES IN ECCENTRIC ORBIT AROUND ECCENTRIC ****** FASCINATIONS THAT HOBBLE THE ENTIRE AMERICAN BRAND AND ENDANGER THE EUROPEAN ETHOS BECAUSE WE CAN NEITHER TOLERATE THE DEATH OF WALTER MCGINN BY THE WEGOTISTS OR THE ASCENDANCY OF BILL THE BUTCHER IN INEXORABLE BERGAMASK WHIMPERS AT THE FLACCID URCEOLATE WHEELBARROWS OF FINANCIAL REDINTEGRATION THROUGH THE DECLASSIFICATION OF GROWING EMERGENCE OF ECONOMIES OF SCALE AND SCOPE FOR A MORE HORIZONTAL APPROACH RATHER THAN A VERIDICAL VERTICAL LIMIT FORCE TO BLIND THE BLINKERED FROM THE HEIGHTS OF EVEREST IN ANACUSIC DISREGARD CREATED BY PERCURRENT DECADENCE IN THE CURRICULUM RELATING TO EARLY SEXUALIZATION. WE NEED NEVER TO BAN A BONFIRE OF BOOKS ON THE AUSTERE AND VENERABLE HISTORY OF MINORITY CULTURES NOR THEIR EPIPHENOMENA BUT A PEDERASTY LURKING IN THE WOODED BEWILDERMENT OF SUBTERNATURAL KUMBAYA RAINBOW-PAINTED SKULLDUGGERY NEEDS TO BE THWARTED BY THE CAREFUL APLOMB CALCULUS OF VIGILANT TEACHERS AND EVEN MORE VIGILANT PARENTS THAT AVOID THE AURILAVE AND REPLACE IT WITH THE UMBRIL TO PROTECT THE SANCTANIMITY OF OUR YOUTH BECAUSE THE ROT OF POISON IS A RANCOR HARDER TO WITHSTAND IN A NATION FALLING  INTO FLAGSTENCH BECAUSE OF CLEAVED CAVALIERS RATHER THAN UPSTART MAVERICKS WHO UNDERSTAND THE LOLLYGAG AS A SCAMMONY OF STEMSON RATHER THAN THE STEPNEY OF IMPORTUNATE PIONEERS TRYING TO MONOPOLIZE WITH BANGTAIL OSTENTATION TO EXCUSE THEIR QUALMS OF CONSCIENCE BY NORMALIZING ABERRANT BEHAVIOR ON A WORLDWIDE SCALE WITH LANGUAGE POLICE AND THE BERGAMASK SILENTIUM OF THOSE WHO SIDELINE THEMSELVES OUT OF EITHER APATHY OR COMPLICITY TO DEGRINGOLADE OF THE AMERICAN PRESTIGE AND THE EUROPEAN CREED OF PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC AGGIORNAMENTO AGAINST THE SEXUALIZATION OF THE YOUTH AND THE INCULCATION OF VICE AND GAMBLING AMONG  THE SUSCEPTIBLE. NOW THAT MY INVECTIVE HAS BOILED INTO EFFERVESCENT TOXINS AGAINST THE AGENDA AND CORRIGENDA OF MODERN NEPIONIC DEVELOPMENT OF LUDIC CONSCIENCE AND DESULTORY CREATIVITY DEFYING THE AURILAVE DEMASSIFICATION THAT IS CORROSIVE TO THE AMERICAN YOUTH AS WELL AS YOUTH FROM ALL OVER EUROPE IT IS IMPORTANT TO VOUCHSAFE THE RIGHTS OF THE MINORITY ON THE CONDITION THEY DON’T BARNSTORM AGAINST THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN CREATION SACROSANCT BY LURID DEGREES OF VIGILANTE PARENTS UPHOLDING TRUE CHRISTIAN VALUES OF EUMOIRIETY WITHOUT A HINT OF CHARLATAN PATAPHYSICS IN THEOLOGICAL CONTORTION BY CLOSET NIHILISM TRYING TO PANDER TO RELIGION IN ORDER TO SOW THE MUSTARD SEEDS OF DESPERATION THAT RANKLES ALL PARTIES INVOLVED BECAUSE WARHOLICS THE CLOTURE OF THE CLITTER OF THE CLINKSTONE OF RUDDY EXTINCT SHRILL IDEAS OF KNELLING BELL-TOLLING ENTER SANDMAN RECIDIVISM MUST RECEDE INTO THE WHIMPER OF A  SHEEPISH NIGHT SO THAT THE REAL KNIGHTS OF TABERNACLE AND PUBLIC SQUARE BECOME THE CENTRIPETAL MOON CERACEOUS IN ITS TIDE OF MORAL VIRTUE AND VEHEMENT VIRTUOSITY BEYOND THE BAD PARENTING OF THE PARENTS THAT STORGE THEIR KIDS ON INTOXICANTS WITHOUT CHECKING THEIR FACTS OR REALIZING THE FRAUD OF THE FRAUDSTERS THAT TRY TO INOCULATE THEMSELVES FROM BLAME BECAUSE OF THE ZEITGEIST-NORMALIZATION ARGUMENT WHICH IS SPECIOUS SOPHISTRY BECAUSE ABSOLUTE MORAL KERYGMA EXISTS TO STAND AS A STANDPIPE TO REVOLUTIONIZE  THE LOT OF THE SUBTERNATURAL PEOPLE THAT SKILLFULLY NAVIGATE SHARK-RIDDEN WATERS AGAINST WATERGATE JAWHOLES SO DEEPLY CRENELLATED WITH THE INSIGNIAS OF IMPRIMATUR IN ELITISM THAT SCOFFLAWS CHEAT THE SYSTEM RATHER THAN RECOIL IN THE BLARNEY AND BLENCH OF THEIR OWN SUPREME SHAME FOR THEIR CAGOULES AND WEGOTISTS BOTH WAGING WARS AGAINST DIFFERENT SEGMENTS FOR RADICAL RHIZOGENIC BETRAYALS OF THE GAME AS CHUCKY VS. THE GIANT TORTOISE PROCEEDS AS AN EMANATION OF THE NETHERWORLD OF WANION AND THE WOODSHEDDERS THAT DEFEND THE CREED AND CREDENDA OF VISIBILIA FOR CRETACEOUS LORE AND CERTAIN ABSOLUTION THROUGH THE ABLUTION OF THE SACRIFICE OF CULMINATED PROPHETS THROUGHOUT HISTORY MARTYRED FOR THEIR REMIGATES AGAINST ENTITLED ENTRENCHED AUTHORITIES CARING MORE OF MEGALOMANIACAL SPRITES RATHER THAN TURGID GARISH IRONIES OF THE SERENDIPITY OF DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS RELATIVISM. RANSACKING POLEMICS OF EXEGESIS THEORIZING ABOUT PROFLIGACY IN CONTORTIONIST STRIPPER CONFLAGRATIONS IN RAPID DEGENERATION RATHER THAN THE CONVALESCENT HOPE OF INTELLECTUAL REBIRTH ESPOUSED BY OUR FOREFATHERS IN INFINITE WISDOM DESPITE HANDSPIKES OF GOSSYPINE SUBVERSION IN THEIR NESCIENCE OF ZEITGEIST-NORMALIZATION ARGUMENTS WHICH ARE EQUALLY INVALID NOW AS THEY WERE THEN BECAUSE WE MUST UPHOLD THE APOLAUSTIC PURSUIT AND THE TWINGE OF EUMOIREITY BEYOND HYPOCRISY AND GOD BEYOND TRAVESTY. THE NOILS OF NUMBATS NEOTTIOUS IN THEIR VARDOS AND VARDLES THAT VAPULATE THAT VAUNTLAY OF REVERSE VASTATION IN RHEOTAXIS OF AIMLESS YOUTH OF A NATION PAYABLE TO THE TEACHERS THAT EXERT THE GREATEST CENTRIPETAL FORCE OF OMPHALISM MIGHT WE FIND A CULTURE OF OPTIMUMS WITHOUT LOSING AMERICAN VERVE AND EXCEPTIONALISM WHILE BOLSTERING MORALE FOR THE DISPOSSESSED AND THE BULLIED WITHOUT PIGEONHOLING ADULT-AGED ****** MINORITIES UNLESS THEY ARE GUILTY OF TRYING TO CORRUPT THE YOUTH THAT EVENTUALLY THE SARSENETS AND BOBBINETS OF STEEVE INTERMINGLE TO FORM A RENEWED MUTUALISM CAPTIVE TO THE RAPTURE OF THE EYES THAT HAVE WITNESSED THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD BECAUSE HE DECLARES ABSOLUTION AND ABLUTION AGAINST OPPRESSION WITHOUT OPPRESSING THOSE THAT OPPRESS BECAUSE OF JAUNDICE IN AN EQUAL TWILL AND TILT OF TWADDLING WOBBLES OF INTRANSIGENCE. THE REVOLUTE FRAYED EDGES OF CARNASSIAL MODERNITY TOO CRUEL TO STOMACH THAT ZEKS EXIST IN THE POGROMS OF DERELICTION BY A CONSUMER TREACLE AND TRICKLE OF CLEPSYDRA ERRATIC IN DEGRINGOLADE MIGHT WE INSTEAD MEET A RESURGENT BOOM FOR BONANZA IN SPECULATIVE ECONOMICS BY PROVIDING THE CARRACKS AND CARNETS WITH THE ACUMINATION AND DELICATE DECISIONS AROUND ACERBATION THAT YIELD MORE THAN JUST A TANTONY OF TANQUAMS FOLLOWING BLINDED SHEPHERDS OF CORRUPT PERIBLEBSIS BECAUSE OF WHIMSICAL ROTUNDAS OF ROTUND PEOPLE BRAVING THE BARMCLOTH OF THEIR BLUEPETER ALLEGIANCE IF ONLY TO THE AUDISM OF IAMATOLOGY MIGHT WE STEWARD AND CHAPERONE A BETTER REGALIA FOR THE CHIFFON AGAINST THE SHANTUNG BECAUSE TO SOCIALLY ENGINEER AND UPRIGHT PARVENU IS TO BECOME A BOOSTERISM TO THE JANGADA OF HIDDEN THICKETS OF YOUTHQUAKE WEALTH IN THE GRAVIMETRICAL PROPERTIES OF THE SILKEN SILT OF SUBSULTUS REARRANGING A RAPIDLY EVOLVING SOCIETY AGAINST INTRANSIGENCE BUT FOR THE BETTER FORMIDABLE FIGHT OF MATRIOTIC DUTY AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS BEYOND THE HATCHES OF THEOCRACY. WE FUNNEL THROUGH LAVADERO AND DELIMITED NEAT NEXILITIES AMONG PATAPHYSICS AN AGE THAT REQUIRES MORE STEM CANDIDATES THAT LIONIZE THE HIGHEST ARTS AND COLLABORATE WITH BENEVOLENT ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TO ENLIST A CREATIVITY BOOM RATHER THAN A LAPSE INTO THE LAZINESS OF ELASTANE LAZARETS SUCH THAT POLYPHILOPROGENITIVE GLOMS OF THE GLABROUS MOON AND THE HIRSUTE WHEREWOLVES THAT BELONG TETHERED TO THE CONNUBIAL BETROTHMENT TO MERIT BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY THE GIRDLE OF ALL STUNSAIL GENERATIONS OF THE PROMACHOS FOR GROWING SIDELONG EMACITIES TACKLED WITHOUT A CACKLE AND STUNTED WITHOUT A PUBLICITY. WITH THE HELP OF SENTIENT NODALITIES OF NIDDERING NIDAMENTAL BANDOBASTS ABOUT WHICH QUISQUILOUS STERNWAYS EXIST AND COMPANIONWAYS ARE RECOURSE WE SEEK THE BELLETRIST OF A RENEWED ERA TO BECOME THE TESTUDO OF AMERICAN FORTITUDE AND FRENCH VALOR SUCH THAT THE GRANDEVAL TAGHAIRM MEETS THE MODERN DAY RECLAMATION AND CONCLAMATION OF SUPEREROGATORY AMBITIONS, VIGILANT PARENTS, TACTFUL TEACHERS, AND POSITIVE WHIPSTAFF ROLE MODELS WHO TEACH MORAL REASONING AND INSTITUTE A THEOLOGY-INCLUSIVE EDUCATION THAT SPENDS MONEY TO ENHANCE DIDACTIC TECHNIQUES AND TO BE ECTOBATIC TO REMOVE MANY A DISTRACTION FROM THE VARSAL GESTALT OF NIDOLOGY TO FOMENT A CATACLYSM AGAINST A CATASTROPHISM OF ABAXIAL DENOUEMENT SUCH THAT WE REAR THE REAR GUARD AND BLANKET THE WORLD WITH SEMINAL INSEMINATIONS IN BOTH CREATIVE ARTS AND BIOMEDICAL SOLUTIONS TO STATOLITHS THAT BROADSIDE THE GALLANTRY OF ARGALI FORTUNES WAITING TO BE DISCLOSED AND DISCOVERED IN THE HAUNTS OF PEDIGREES OF DAY AND NIGHT WITHOUT A HINT OF MALEFACTION WHILE EMPHASIZING THE KERYGMA TO SUSTAIN THE MAINLINE CARDIMELECH CARDIOGNOST SOLUTIONS OF THE PROPER PARENTING IN PERVIOUS TIMES TO CHANNEL THE CLEPSYDRA TOWARDS THE GROWTH OF ABSOLUTION BY TEACHING THE MORAL KERYGMA OF CHRIST NEVER NEGLIGENT OF MUHAMMAD AMONG THE OTHER PROPHETS THAT FUELED A MANIFEST DESTINY AND A MANIFOLD JANIFORM WORLD BEYOND DUPLICITY AND SPITE SUCH THAT HANDSPIKES OF PICKELHAUBE BECOME DIMINISHED BY PORBEAGLES OF ALACRITY THAT SOAR WITH ELEGANCE NOT BECAUSE OF CONTRITION OF RIGOR BUT DESPITE THE OVERHANG OF TEMPESTS AND GULLYWASHERS THAT TREAD LIGHTLY IN ENCIRCLED WATERS BEYOND WATERGATE SHORES OF THE DISTANT PERSPECTIVE SHEPHERDED BEYOND SHEEPISHNESS. THE SQUALOR OF MANY SQUALLS OF CABOOSES VAPULATED FOR THEIR BETHEL INIQUITIES OF APIKOROS OLIM REMIGATED BY THE RELICTS THEY FORGOT IN THE AMNESIA OF THEIR HEIGHTS OF YOUTH AND THE DEPTHS OF THEIR PLANGENT INSOUCIANCE MIGHT THE ADOLESCENT FABLE SUBSIDE INTO THE SWIFT SHIFTING  SANDS OF EVOLUTIONARY TIME MORE TACHYTELIC THAN EVER BECAUSE OF SYNAPHEAS AGAINST STULMS AND THE BULGUR OF QUALMS ENLISTING THE STOPES DEMISE FROM THE PUBLIC SQUARES OF INTREPID INDEMNITY FOR THE AUTHORS OF MORALISM AND SALVATION FOUND THROUGH THE HIGHEST OF CREEDS AND THE MOST ORNATE OF COMPLEXITIES BECAUSE WE CANNOT BE BELEAGUERED BY AN ASYLUM OF SERRATED CENTURIES TRYING TO AROUSE RANCOR IN BACKBITE IN RETROSPECTION AND INSTEAD REVALORIZE AN ECONOMY NEVER AS MUCH PARALYZED BY REGELATION BUT ALWAYS THE STUNSAIL OF COAST GUARD YOUTH AUXILLIARY TO UNDERSTAND PROPINQUITY FROM DISTANCE AND GENIUS FROM INSANITY SUCH THAT THE PROPER PIVOT OF WORLD LEADERS IS AIMED TOWARDS NOT A SOPORIFIC TIRED TEDIUM BUT ALWAYS AN OPTIMISTIC BONANZA THAT KEEPS ECONOMIES AFLOAT IN THE LUXURIANCE OF THEIR OWN PEDIGREE AND VIRTUOSITY SCALED UP TO A VARSAL SCALE OF GESTALT EVOLUTION THAT UNDERSTANDS THE PLIGHT OF TAFFRAIL FENESTRAL FENNEC AND IMMARCESIBLE ASPECTS OF THE INERADICABLE ELEMENTS OF CORRUPTION FOCUSED AROUND MODALITIES OF MODALISM SUCH THAT A MUTUAL COLLECTIVISM INDIVIDUATED FOR A BRIGHT NEW CENTURY BECOMES THE SALIENT BEACON OF TRIUMPH RATHER THAN TRAGEDY AND THE GAUNT GLORY OF THE BEST OF OUR ASPIRATIONS. A STAYIN’ALIVE MODESTY EVEN WITH THE SENNET OF REGULA UPON THE TARRY OF TESTUDOS MIGHT THEY SWARM GNATS UNMATCHED BY THE PHAROAH’S MAGIC AND ALWAYS ABIDING BY THE NEPOTISM OF AGES PROLONGED BY DURESS AND DURATIVE IN THE FORMATION OF DURAMEN FOR DENEHOLES SO WELL FORTIFIED THAT THE AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM NEVER BECOMES A FAFFLE OF SIDESHOW CLOWNS AND BALATRONS WARPING SATRAPS WITH GAULEITERS OF PROTENSIVE PROTRACTORS OF CADASTER OVER INTEGRITY AND OPPORTUNISM OVER AMBITIOUS REVIVALISM. WE FIGHT AND QUIBBLE OVER THE COSTERMONGERS AMONG US AND THE TREGETOURS OF PRESTIGITATION IN CLEAVED TALKING POINTS BUT RARELY DO WE SYNERGIZE FOR THE BEST INTERESTS OF WORLD REPUBLICS TO BECOME SHINING BEACONS IN THE LIMELIGHT OF ALPENGLOW BEWILDERMENT FINDING ASCERTAINMENT RATHER THAN POLLINATION BY THE ESCAPADE ROUTE RATHER THAN MORAL KERYGMA REITERATED RATHER THAN INDOCTRINATED THAT MORE ARE PROSELYTIZED UNDER THE BANNER OF CHRIST BECAUSE OF  THE GRATUITY OF ALL SUFFERING BECOMING TANTAMOUNT TO ALL MOBILE SUFFRAGE FOR A NEOVITALIST IDEATION RATHER THAN AN ESTRANGED BLACKMAIL OF MARTINGALE EARWIGS AND IMPASSABLE THALWEGS PREVENTING THE NEGOTIOSITY OF CHURCH AND STATE TO FOUND ECCLESIOLATRY IN AGGIORNAMENTO SUCH THAT ACCOLENT FRATERNITY AND SHARED AMBITIONS CATALYZES A BROAD INTELLECTUAL AND ARTISTIC REVOLUTION THAT IS COGNIZANT OF ITS FOOTPRINT. AMEN!
Blair Griffith May 2012
I

A Genesis! The Exodus, the Exodus!
A departure from all terrestiality
Always immoral and depraved, bathed in filth, in self-loathing
Abattoir of our souls, it entrenches us

Also, we too must be of the same make
And bear with our corpses the same proceedings, the same caliber
Allowed to their subversive candor,
All that broke the Carthaginians upon their own passage
Across the peninsular pathways

S'il in our conquest we find, however, that the pachyderms have run aground,
Vous must aggregate our conscious thought
Plaitcate the ravenousness within the heart of victory.

II

Bring victory, the winged harbinger of the conquest,
Beg for tyrannical proclamations: the end of man, the end of men,
By now, the greater of the concepts is lost to its own devices, devices,
Belching out smoke, that bend the corpses upon their backs.
By wrenching from their life a sense of purpose,
Byproductively, they feed heroic romanticisms of combat.

Brought yet upon these fields, there lies no stranger enemy
But that of the tide
Being self-effacing, masochistic,
Belittling, She breaks herself upon the shore, ravaging the bodies of
Both, Playing as ******* and as subservient

III

Come! Wave upon Wave upon Frothing
Crest, to shores of golden enfrenzied ******
Calmed by the liquid of our ***** *****
Charging forth as we
Charge forth armies upon the field of slaughter
Callously, for you, our gilded monarch
Can you see? They cannot see, and we hope to elucidate your presence, they
Cannot comprehend or fathom what they
Cannot see.

IV

Ceaseless now the charges
Come further upon the front
Crashing 'gainst the openings of each
Clangor and madness
Coalesce to form death

Dripping anew with sanguine libations
Drawn fresh from naked lambs, freshly cut for their country
Dionysian warriors return,
Desire forming their mental undulations

Effortlessly they overtake their feminine fortunes
Effacing their identities, removing from them with their clothing, the
Entirety of their selves.

V

From carnal conquest they rejoice,
Flaunting the destruction they wrought
Flinging husks of women about the room,
Foisting these shells on other patriarchs

Given no choice, they return to fields of battle
Godspeed, gods' will, and god-granted
Gaian soil is retreaded by their sodden flesh.

VI

Hellish, infernal is their presence
Having lost no measure to revelry or rest, neither
Halting nor slowed, the march quickens in time with their lustful bellows
Hastened to madness by infinity
Harkened back to prisons of mental anguish by their creators
How proud they are, the Old Gods,
Hacking away the pounds of flesh to reveal the
Haphazard construction to their instruments of torture.

VII

Into the bloodshed, into the fiery cavernous opening of the crusade
Ignited by righteous scraps of cloth and metal
Ignobly formed into crudely significant, textured shapes
Iconoclasts to their own ideals
Idyllic in their self-mockery.

Jabbering like hellbeasts, the warriors drive into the flesh of the conflict
Jettisoning armaments in the process, their
Joie de vivre having been lessened by mechanical limits.
Jocular slaughter synthesized with demonic cries.

Kapellmeisters to the symphony of death,
Keeping in the rhythm of mutilation, counterpoints of steel clashing against breastplates, giving shape to a
Kleptocracy of life.

VIII

Languishing now in the refuse of the struggle,
Laden with corpses, the warriors remain restrained by fatigue
Lurching through the mud, calling out feebly with voices
Long since bellowed to pulpy masses of throat tissue.

Masses of flesh crawling across the fields of strife,
Macerated ground, weak and shifting, struggles to support the
Multitude of half-corpses now in eternal respite upon the bloodied pasture.

IX

Now broken with regret and shame they collapse
Nestled into the marrow of the fallow earth,
Needing only rest in the cooling tendrils of dirt and blood that trickle across them.
Né de nouveau, their trek leads them towards the grave
Necrosis having taken hold in their limbs,
Nascent corpses, they subside with grave finality into a dead collective.

X

Opaque irises await those who uncover the un-burial mound
Oafish sockets containing them like marbles
Open to the elements, decaying with their corporeal encasement, shaded by
Oaken leaves that remain unfallen, while
Obsequious maggots go about their task of cleansing the remains

Paralyzed in the final moments of their mortal coil, the bodies lay stagnant,
Pacified only by the removal of sentience.
Pagan rituals surround such corpses, and the intrepid discovers
Patiently await the arrival of some necromantic spirit.

Quasi-instinctively, the pioneers of the superterranean mausoleum
Quell their fears and remove the bodies from their conclusive locale,
Quantifying their deaths by the armaments and metal carapaces upon them.

XI

Reeling across the path, weighted by the bodies,
Returning, the archaeological presence brings a pall over society, which
Remained reticent despite the presence of such suffocating solemnity
Repressed by its own intent

Solitude is given no quarter, and the bodies
Strung up like scattered marionettes
Silently serenade the town with a deafening cacophony.

XII

To Hell their souls desperately charge, frothing about the shackles of undeath
Torn from corporeal existence, yet unable to
Transgress the mortal plane
Torturous paradox!
Torment the fallen of Carthage's vestigal might no more
Traducer of the human condition
Tragedy is loosed at thy whim
Try not the patience of demi-gods of wrath and bloodshed.

XIII

Undulating by the beckoning of the wind,
Un-beautiful, un-ironed, the shrouds of the coffins
Under grey sky hang softly like leaden sheets
Unaware of the gravity beneath the few inches of oak
Un-aesthetically masking the dead warriors' forms

Visceral is the movement of the procession,
Vermicular, they wind a course to the peak of the foothill
Vehemently the priest urges them onwards, although he is
Visibly ill on this occasion of the anti-hero.

Warlike, the battle up the ***** claims the lives of those already claimed
Wastrels left to rot in the carcass of a long-dead conflict,
Wanting nothing more than solace eternal.

XIV

Xenophobes of the Inferno fear the inevitable presence of these
Xoana, false representations of humanity.
Xanthic is their fear, for inside the malebolges themselves
Xanadu is sought for those of the fallen soldiery.

Yet funerary proceedings dictate descent for these souls, and the coffins
Yaw slightly in the wind, disturbed by the
Yanks of the ****** rabble who bear their weight.

XV

Zeus himself presides over the ferrying of these souls,
Zion awaits them, their final collective fate at hand,

Yet slowly it turns its back upon them,
Xenophanes mocks from his post,
Wailing, they fall
Velocity increasing infinitely,
Until they see no more the lustrous light
Trapped eternally in dark
Stabbed with betrayal and fear, their souls
Run amok, fleeing from the source of their anguish
Questioning existence.
Periodically in the abyss, the helpless aggregate conscious is
Overwhelmed with memory of Paradise
Now to them denied for eternity.
Mephisto remains, their only companion,
Leeching from them the final vestiges of hope now left within, once
Kept hidden to protect the warriors, now
Jabbed and pummeled to death.
In this state of perpetual umbra
Heaven so distant, now only faded, as if on parchment,
Gained by the souls is a sense of locality, once
Forgotten but now reattained, and
En masse, the group instantly
Derives that they have returned from beyond the mortal plane, the terra once again
Collates beneath their soles, and the collective decides they must return
Before the open sun, to bear themselves
Against the gods, against sanctity itself, and thus they cry:
Lee Mokobe Apr 2016
On occasion,
I dream about drowning at least once a week
And when I drown
I always expect to choke under the pressure of the ocean
That the salt stings my eyes shut
But I am always surprised at how easily my body sinks
And how buoyant it can be under water
And it makes me think of all the slaves
Who threw themselves overboard
How they thought themselves fish before slave
Did they grow gills?
Were they grateful for the mercy of erosion
Under salt instead of whips
Did they backs bend like dolphins do?
Did they build an underwater city untouched
By brutal hands
Do they know, that I see them sometimes
The ancestors who chose water over land
And they are not bone and marrow stacked
At the bottom of the ocean
They are not corpses who chose the easy way out
I see them
They have built an underwater world from their bare hands
They laugh and bubbles exit out their mouths
Even now my family would not mourn my departure
If I were to be called by the waves
For the water has a language that some
Of us have an ear for
It is not the place of mortals to tear up
When one of us africans drown
Because to sink is to find new life
Is to be in the hands of those who control their own destiny
I know them, the water people
They call me during the night
And i don't fight anymore
I laugh with them, and live
And wake angry that oxygen can suffocate me
That I suddenly become flailing fish
That my home is not this land
That I find comfort in ocean floor
That is where my ancestors speak to me
Console me
Teach me the ways of spiritual healer
At the bottom of the sea
And it is not a dream although I wake from it
It is a reality that is bestowed upon
The xhosa shamans from birth
The western world does not have a reality like that
So they will argue it does not exist
They will be quick to diagnose my mental health
Call the act of reuniting with my own
An episode, a stress indicator
A sleeping pill prescription
These are the same people who believe in
Three day resurrection for death
But cannot fathom an african never dying
And we don’t die
We do not die.
There is life for us elsewhere.
And when we are ready
The waves will welcome us home.
Abdullah Ayyash Aug 2019
There's something in life I can't debate
It's an ugly argument no one can win
I know that love won't fit in my life
When the world we must revive
          is just nothing but an utter sin
© Copyright
Abdullah Ayyash
August 26th, 2019
Camille Alipio Mar 2015
My feelings are the horizons in the sky,
I cannot fathom into words.
If so, I sing them in lyrics wherein
I could pour them out into chords.
So if you could find it in your heart,
to give a second start...
This time things won't end the same,
'coz we're never growing apart.
Arcassin B Mar 2015
By Arcassin B , quinfinn , wendy , soul , kate , mosaic , king , liz , Joel , susan & corinne

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AB
I'll Always be there,
Is a very strong line,
So benign,
At how so many liars use it,
Make their levels rise,
Put your lighters in the air,
For the lost love,
Like a volcano without eruptions,
Embedded in a time frame,
Freeze for the camera of deception,
This ain't who you fell in love with,
Fell too deep in the demons pit,
A devil with pretty features,
You had time for conversation,
But you wasted it,
By punching in your clock for another lover,
That I had in fact thought was my friend,
So when you say you want to be there for me,
Please just dont pretend.

WSQF
here within the dormant, still holding fire
what lies beneath cannot be concealed
by the test of time or the trials of amore
give truth as you wish it to be given
turn existence into the art of living
i await you under dreams of purpose
and ours will stand the tests ****** upon them
words mean little when not secured to emotions
and we have swam these tempestuous oceans
define me with your loyalty
and count and what will ever endure
the better nature of you on me.

WSE
Do you fathom my eyes,
Blind to your smile,
You believe,
I'm ignorant with bliss,
Unfortunately,
To be honest,
There are times when your right,
I pray you reach a day,
Of satisfaction,
Come to realization,
There is no other love,
Secure or comforting as mine,
I'm just waiting for...
This true peace to waive upon you,
Until then your just,
Wasting life in turbulance,
Not meant to be true,
Just remember,
I too have a heart of fire,
If appeased by another,
Quite possibly released in desire.

SS
Have I been thus?
Well, guilty as charged
But not for another LOVER
I ain't a vamp gal at large!
Sometimes I just got bizi
But YOU ARE MY BEAU
If I couldn't go out with you
I LET YOU KNOW!
You knew that goin in
You know what's at stake
But now you're in the grass
Like a cold blooded SNAKE!
I see through the veil
I see your ways
Now YOUR face is pale

Just go away....

KM
please don't play them games 
I know you aint going to be with me forever 
I see they way to look past me 
you were a real smooth talker 
Why would you ask me to stay 
I guess it was never ment to be 
I just wanted you to see
their isn't anything like us 
your devil eyes 
dragged me down to my knees 
when your broke the heart of an angel,
now you see you've made a devil outta me 
im replaying your lies to others 
Playing the same game you played .

Mosaic
You said you were there
But just like my hair
You fell out
Truth like a Baby Ruth
And I ain't biting
Search. High then Low
For the lost love,
Like a tide with no moon
This is just a card game
No goldfish. No direction. Joker. No hearts.
This ain't who you fell in love with,
Flashback, looking at the sky
No wings, Should've of known this was a lie
Drunk on her beauty, 
But she was dehydration
And like a clock, 
You were two timing
There at the the secondhand,
Stood who I thought was my friend, 
You said you were there,
But you were just lying.

DK
Baby, we encounter the waste every day
Bottom feeders posing as prophets
Can’t you smell the decay
Throwing false promises around 
Like it’s some kind of game
Look inside yourself
Deep in your heart
Before you rip my soul apart
Do I appear anywhere within
Now, are you strong enough to be genuine.

ES
Being true holding the line, 
Counterfeit promises, 
Ain't going to be for me, 
So cool it with all your excuses babe, 
Love is the realest of deals, 
You can't stuff me around, 
The reel of our misconstrued movie,
Don't plot a genuine gamut, 
It'll only ever be an sickening compromise, 
Caring is the juice I need,
So feed me no more sucker tricks, 
Babe you're stringing me out, 
To be there,
Yeah right, 
That togetherness jingle rings in my head, 
Don't bait my tender hook, 
Then up and leave, 
There ain't any future in that for me,
On a cold and lonely road.

JMF
Your receding steps
echo upon my forehead
like dripping torture.

Drops of memories
patter down gently, wet your
unused pillowcase.

A gulf of unsaid
endearments erode the shore of
common happiness.

Silence, like water,
a universal solvent:
breaking down years of
bonds which held us together,
watching love spiral away.

Susan
carry on as though we've never met
use your energy towards lighting 
someone else's way
with the unfueled fire of your burning promises
and careless words never meant for me.

Corinne
Lies steeped in wanderings
of a discontented mind
looking for what it may
potentially never find


musings of another
not to be left wanting
lingers of what could have been
often can be haunting


* taking leaps of desperation
without a single care
for one who would assuredly
always have been there

This a fickle flittering flame
down it sure will burn
leaving a heart full of love
undue reason to yearn*.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Feast your eyes on the best collaboration in the world , hell!!! Maybe the universe I don't know lol I just wanna thank everyone that inspired me to do this , I love each and every one of you guys and for the people that collabed with me I love you guys and you inspire me to do this poetry everyday , and I thank you , now let's make history !!!!!!!✊✊✊✊✊
Marge Redelicia Aug 2014
Be wary of me
My friend of frailty,
Because we see love
In different shades and
Express it in diverging ways.
I admit:
I'm a ****.
I don't way my words and
My actions are driven by
Impulsion and confusion.
My biggest fear is that one day
We would break
Or rather,
I would break
You.

I don't know how to say what I mean;
I can never fathom what you really feel.
My laughter may be hurtful daggers;
My silence may sound like crashing thunders.
Can your bones stand my embrace?
Can you hear me whispering
The things I'm too shy to say?

Truth be told:
I love you
But
Save your heart
And save my dignity.
Darling,
I think you should
Stay away from me.
Most of my friends are geeks but most geeks are sensitive people, oh well...
Ashley G L Dolmo May 2015
Yes,
I said yes.
I'm a hopeless romantic.
And yes,
I am a contradiction to myself. I mean it.
I mean I just want to be great. Fathom why I'm not great.
I want to explore & have an impact on someone's life.
I want someone to tell me that they want to be just like me as much as I would like to be just like you.
I want to touch someone's heart like you have touched mines.
I want you to understand why I'm so emotional at times.
I want you to realize that my love for you is like no other .
I want you to look at me and be amazed .
I want you to look at me & know why you love me.
I'm just a hopeless romantic.
Ted Mar 2018
"I walk these cold empty streets at
night,
Without knowing how to make it 
right,

As you sleep in your warm
bed,
I can't fathom how to make it
ahead.

Will you know I wandered
past,
Ponder it as you break your
fast?"
storm siren Jan 2017
Humans are stardust.
Nothing more
Nothing less.
We, being stardust, are also energy.
So we cannot be created
Nor destroyed.
Only reborn, constantly.

And I think there's something
Just lovely about that.

I think the reason some of us like the smell of gasoline,
Or the smell of a charred grill,
Or just things burning,
Is because that's what they say space smells like.
And think those few of us
Who enjoy the smell of gasoline,
Charred grills,
And burning things,
Are those of us who somewhat remember
Being nothing more, and nothing less, than a star.

And I think the only people who can remember being stardust
Are the newest and oldest of souls.
Because they're the ones closest to both
The beginning
And the end.

And, while I know it hurts to remember
Things you cannot fathom,
I think there's something beautiful--
Strangely beautiful.
Obscurely beautiful,
In having lived so many lives
Yet still remembering when you were the very first you.

Humans are stardust.
Nothing more,
Nothing less.
We, being stardust, are also energy.
So we cannot be created
Nor destroyed.
Only reborn, constantly.

And I think there's something
Just lovely about that.
ryn May 2015
Gliding through this timeless labyrinth
My sight can't pierce so thick a mist.
Alone in my vessel,
just drifting clumsily...
Anxiety wrung raw in these cold, clammy fists.

All is quiet...
save for the faint sloshing against my tired hull.
I quietened my breath...
Such peace exists now in my vessel.
Slapping gently against my side,
invisible ripples came to lull.

I cannot see what lays ahead...
I do not know of my ultimate destination...
I am alone in my vessel...
Drifting along this watery bed.
Awaiting nothing...
but elusive answers to pointless questions.

I cannot fathom what lies above
the canopy that shields me.
I'd imagine the stars...
Twinkling in codes,
whispering the secrets of the universe.
Unheard to those who will not see.

I'd imagine the ripe new moon...
Beaming down ostentatiously.
Bestowing light upon those who'd croon...
Those who'd shamelessly bask in her majesty.

But many...
Just remain in the darkness.
Submitting to the will of the currents,
getting lost in the odd calmness...
And it's ambiguous resplendence.

Looking around I realise that I'm now not alone...
There are many vessels...
Quiet silhouettes navigating boats of their own.
We all bear the same flag but our own demons we wrestle.

Overwhelming relief...
To see others by my side.
I am now alone with so many others...
In this lonesome boatride.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
i should have never experienced school...
all the best lessons in the "school of life"
have had to come after...
thankfully i'm a thoughtful drunk...
but my extended pedagogy honeymoon
was to my liking since i was in it...
having left it...

i don't even begin to fathom leaving
anything at all, or for that matter: having engaged
with to begin with...
i can almost imagine myself
being the chimney-sweeper...
i hear the name: samir... and i'm reminded:
about my "good old friend"
with a father that sides with my mother...
i'm trying to not rage against a defeatist
ratio of 2 versus 1....

i go into the night and wish to find a variant
of baptism with the cold rain
sprinkling me with aura and demand...
but it's no use... the rain comes the book
is never to be finished...
back into the wall: you brick is all that
is allowed to resonate...
perhaps transcendence is a word mostly used
as a joke for...

and only if you were given
the ability to expand your consciousness...
with an amazonian extract...
or some swiss-CIA-magic puree...
on yer bike and down the hill we go...
i've come to center around the truth
of being less and less welcome...
my friend samir... it's almost as if i was
plotting to keep me in this...
surreal state of: full command of the body...
the mind is still allowed some function,
crossword puzzles and what not...
for some death comes with no sense
of closure... i wait, i wait, for death...
i look for it under the carpet of spontaneity...
i look for it in outright violence and
drenching myself in flammable liquid
and then dancing of the nearing: being extinguished
candle dance...

i see i birdge... i look for: the heights
and the broken neck and spine...
it's better i write these words and not feel inclined
to fathom them with an inclination
of the base of: acted interim...
for negative consequences...
there are jobs! but all the best jobs are passed
verbatim... no one finds jobs via
third party sources...

unless.... well if one is a pariah...
an anathema... whether it's an objective reality
is another matter...
feeling is rather much intuitive...
and if this right-wing celebration of objectivity
and anti-subjectivity is to be found
elsewhere, i.e. "elsewhere" outside of the realm
of psychopathology?
the "old man" was looking for a *****
apparently "lost" to aid his glasses being folded
and kept in an ennui...
the old matriarch sent her bell-boy to figure out...
why the bell-boy managed to serve her
sorrel soup and those dumplings...
for dinner...
her o.c.d. started kicking in...
with one walking stick she pointed at the fridge
being unclean...
how the bell-boy "forgot" to vacuum
the house... a second day coming...
i have a bottle of whiskey for company...
and i'm not going to sentence myself for anything
better to bribe about...
the father sides with the mother
and i have no siblings to conquer the world with...
not sentiment of treating the lateral in transition...
going to school was never my idea...
i should have moved beyond merely
denying myself being confirmed in the catholic
act of: good faith...
but university was no better...
i've learned more on my own that was
i was necessarily prescribed...
even my british citizenship is only a piece of paper
that can done-away with like
a tabloid press release on any given day...
it's a bogus transaction...
for the sins of visiting a ******* i am to be
punished? what of the everyday ordeal
of thse casual fucky-fucky that pass on s.t.d.?
the only reason i believe in a god is that:
he will not speak with a human impertinence...
in that however mild caste hierarchy...
even with a republic in mind...

for ten years i spectated oddities in the night
havens...
stars... moving beside the constellations...
once i witnessed two stars somehow
joint together moving across the sky...
sometimes a delta constellation...
otherwise they were stars...
and they managed to pulsate as if giving birth...
and then hush down and still persist
to move...
for not basis of escaping a constellation...
which they were never a part of to begin with...

and i was naive at first,
then i found the cynic...
and then another... cynic...
and then another cynic... cynic... cynic...
and now i'm looking
for the marriage of the stoic to death...
because i don't look for death
as a mark of despair...
i find it as a reflection on redemption!
i conclude with myself:
happy are those who have...
crossed most falsely a street...
why do i have this spatial awareness
and cross it freely, safely?

oh this cynic will become a stoic...
but only in death...
death... is a marriage i see coming...
death has become a she...
in that she's the other woman:
which is not a poker hand of:
the "other" woman in the pursuit of
adultery... this "other" is no less than
a second mother...
the mother that should have given
life to me...

what theatrical wording:
to be born of death...

- because i'm yet to "feel" - or lack...
for a "better" word for "know"
when it comes to the deciding a better
happenstance of an outlet...

that i am no more than a walking abortion?
the roulette of the housing staff
of Downton Abbey...
i still cook the better half of the meal...
but that's still not never not enough...

the lacklustre of darwinism being
so widespread...
how darwinism is so widespread and common...
and there's no voice of "god"
or a david attenburough narrative to billboard;
how this is never the enlightened age...
since each individual comes and goes
from starters: a priori...
not even with the collective quest of man...
there's no a posteriori status-reality...
there's always an a posteriori starting:
bothersome brick and clown...

- because you never visit russia and get slapped
in the face by a girlfriend...
for not lying...
visit your dementia riddled grandfather to be
is not you having the ******* attitude
and having a beta-******* the side...
if ever that's a conversation starter...
but i didn't back i just ****** harder...
until the 300 Spartans would appear...

and for all that the sun has to offer...
the night the moon and the stars...
not being ****-brick-built
for the affair of the goliath gorilla
versus the lion... in a match-up...

i much appreciate the phrase:
to be born of death...
i see life and a second coming as an arrival...
the rotting corpse doesn't bother me...
i will be forgotten and a month will pass
and the flies will become
all fidgety class A...

some + + + to mind afterwards...
you can never wake up from a mother:
sort of loving you...
it's no movies honey...
it's the basic tricklets of mantis...
and you finally arrive at death:
death your second mother:
your real mother...
who is not part of the nitty-gritty
aspect of *** as both a pleasure...
and a procreation "tool"...

the only reason as to why i abhor darwinism
is not that it's wrong...
it's right... but... i "like" i "dislike" has nothing to
do with this... no one begins anew:
with some social engineering focus
and only cites this one theory:
darwinism... "confusing" the circumstances
of the crows, the lions...
the bears for god's sake...
even the heliocentric model does how as far
as what making an geocentric model exit
allowed with the discovery of gravity!

to me darwinism is a plague on all manner
of thinking... whether that be
bow-tie-and-towing thinking
or, quiet simply... puppet that *******
***** gag of a mouthful...
and let's see her...
spit teeth and lecture us on...
"forgotten" basics...

i'm either simply tired... or quiet simply:
enough!
tired or sad...
funny... the better part of "madness"
is better associated with
a seance of lethargy...
the mad are "lazy"...
or perhaps they're "lazy"...
because the collective money is spent...
un-collectively...
even in capitalism...

i play Igor the Ignorant...
harry and meghan markle...
***** 'arry?!
are supported by... tax-payers?!
really?! oh wow!
there's that argument of:
shut the **** up...
and there's the argument...
which i majestically prefer...

walk into a field in the depth
of night... find some horses...
then pretend to be holding
a cube of sugar...
or a slice of apple...
then... manoeuvre your head
dislocated from your body...
jack-in-a-box style...
when the horse falsely nibbles
on your skin...
and retorts with a gallop while
standing...
luckily missing your ******* 'ed...
because the horse "thinks" you're
playing stupid...
no... just the roulette...
i'm looking for my mother death:
have you seen her?
i want to impregnate her
with a makeshift ***** consciousness...

i'm going places...
i've been to st. petersburg... that should
be worth enough... stamps...
but i have had these "adventures"...

a herd of them! in a field!
two albino stags and a litany of the elders
standing watch...
me them the night the moon
and the field...
and... the horse is mad!
i didn't extend my hand to pretend
i was holding an apple!
or a cube of sugar!
horse's mad!
sir john the squire!
i said 'ave 'ee!
no the horses said:
the buckle do-better pretended his arm was
the apple of concern...

oh sure sure...
the never mind the 'ed that was about
to be kicked in by the buckling hoof...
my most n'est-ce pas kind sir!
like i said:
i'm a walking abortion...
and thank god that i'm to be excused
from moral, fatherhood, status...
character flaws...
the lest of me is... the best of me...
esp. anti replica stature...

but i do love my mother...
never mind i want to be this premature
freak of her's in having the privvy of
dying before her...
that would be, most, lovely...
i always fathom a life worth living as also
having the chance to die before one's own
parents...

as i love my second in coming to fruition
mother... namely death...
and whether a heaven or a hell...
i am assured a nap...
a kipper for the better part of...
acquiring some, Velsh!

yn coch, coch?! flacid.... bunker baron thereof!
mild instructions of the oxford bunch
with their chief sermon-writer...
hardly a Knox when a Wittgenstein would suffice!

is red, red?
i only ask... since i'm an acquired body
to a most fulfilling mind of concern...
looking for "converts"...
among the welsh...
the scots? hardly the gaelic bunch are they?
they prefer to stress their:
accents of speaking the lesser
Westminster & Eton bra... brachhhhh...
loch! not lodge of cheao:
and no "N" either...

i spent three years in Edinburgh...
and 10 years in vicinity of London...
and all this time... i should have taken
a ***** in the centre of Caerdydd!
eh... funny simples and symbols...
you never know who to side
with on these islands...

gorllewin neu na gw...
close proximty to gw? zło - evil...
but there's no... coming back with:
friends, romans, countrymen...
lend us a ****-bag of lemonade non-fizzy!
syrian or lebanese intellectuals...
starve for this sort of base,
content... or none do...
perhaps we're the porky-pie starving:
Glasgow holocaust ready...

cornwall... of south wales...
the white cross on a black canvas...
korn-walia... cornwall...
walia - wales...
siding with the picts was a mistake
concerning this already...
troubled heart...

cushion savvy - always accessible Velsh...
drwg yma... drwg yma...
na pentref ynteu na ddinas ddiogel...
or some other "monstrosity"...
esp. when the Lebanese french speakers
come! and... they've already come!

but i was expecting to learn some
gaelic from the scots...
unlucky for me...
that i still find the welsh as outsiders...
and retaining their: tafod!
there can only be one...
proud people of these isles...
and that's the welsh... the Cymraeg...
eh... opaque petty englishmen...
call it a Kymraeg...
i call it via zee fwench cedilla avenue:
Çymraeg!

blah blah mon petite cherie!
**** a fwanchmon mon je sui allias: non?!
learn some welsh of 'ebrew... no brou?
no velsh b'woo?

a mishtaken identity cry-oh! asis?!
cwy... oh... asist... this T is a
monsieur tapisseriesourd...

vell 'ear all better left "off":
mistaken-hier or hum ha or otherwise...
the inquisitive nuance of the wording...
plus the spanish queer-position..
of the  levitating wheelchair bound?

the horse the "fake apple"...
the nibbled on hand...
the near-miss kick on the head
hoof imprint and...
that god awful beauty of a full *****
of a moon! to leave a feeling
of crescendo... had i died...
i'm always looking for premature
death...
this sort of luck?
is no luck at all...
no wonder i find the gods
reticent of an existence...
this comedy of i...
given this pronoun injustices of
the freed peoples republic of the congo...
grammar lessons! chop chop!

faking a handshake with a boa constrictor...
the snake i don't mind...
the chimp pretending to fake fwendsqueeze-it
is bothersome...
some of us remain idiotic till the end...
i would rather the reality of a tiger...
than poker-mind a fellow ape...

darwinism quote: so so...
here's to finding the right sort of tapeworm
infestation... a barrage of eggs
in a single slice of dodgy bacon...
i just can't stand...
pretending... when what i'm eating with...
i much rather prefer to eat...
and not talk...
because... m'ah curiosity and...
the chicken drumstick aesthetic appeal...
and the mostly assured lanky
extension of the human arm...
which equates itself to the lanky
almost meat-free representation of the duck's...
"leftover"...

how else was this not to be conjured from?
everything i say is disbelieved...
i say red: it's "blue"...
i say blue: i'm a better renown of a safeguard
cabbie matching up to my Lebanese status
of: doctor...
i'm also drunk... i'm tired...
i know that Tahir means little bird
in Pakistani... or little pigeon or at least that's
also a synonym of...
the bird that got away...
probably a sparrow...

2am looms and i have no worth of a woolen shirt
on my body...

english people exploring grammar school
*******...
the pronouns and otherwise...
the "gender neutrality" of the ROYAL:
ONE ought to...
and WE should think so...
hello! the leftoever crown of the guillotined
head?! for all the coom'on'R's?!

stealth theiving of common...
chemistry's prefixes...
trans-...
cis-...
the sort of prefixes mostly associated
with studying chemistry!

- i can be expected to least fathom the...
unpredictabikity of any sort of..
forthcoming: how, ever,
to diguise this coming onslaught and
monstrosity...
this wing clipped...
this lip purged from kissing...
this ear to listen,
this eye to see...
these fingers becoming
dexterity prone via a simple task of attempting
the tirade of a piano...

one was expected,
we were all so hopeful...
gender neutrality of pronouns
for god's sake!
no mongol would think twice
to call it a cheap-steal....
even if poland was named: crown...
and lithuania was....
lithuania... the "left-over"!

mam marwolaeth!
pwy e gobaith darganfyddiad!
Ivan Brooks Sr Oct 2018
You can't silence the church's bell,
So, a poet can't be silenced, never!
He was born with deep stories to tell.
Even after life, his words are forever!

You can stop the flow of the Nile
Therefore you can't alter its direction.
Like tempering with Monalisa's smile,
call it an affront and abomination!

You can't tell the tales of the pyramid
Therefore you can't decipher Egypt.
Like the ocean and the mermaid,
It's a wildcard and mysterious script!

You can't see the end of the universe
Therefore you can't fully fathom it.
It's infinite, deep and immense,
That's why there's always a star to spit.

IB-poetry©
10/10/2018
The great truth doesn't encapsulate everything, it says a few. .
Wade Redfearn Mar 2010
When I first sold myself there were
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
All the marks of war
All that searing heat
With all that pretty malice
Spilling Paris in the street
‘Twenty marks’ I called
‘Twenty marks’
That was 1943
And Piaf was doing well

Nurse, do you know what it is like:
To have a man inside of you
that you could never love?

There was, once upon a time, a pretty little ****
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
Lying on my floor
And Maman was starving, and my sister, too
Dignity wasn’t half the tax it seemed before
He gave me a baby, and a disease,
That was 1944:
Piaf was quite successful, then

Doctor, can you fathom:
Having sores all over you?
Yes, down there, and
all up and down your thighs, your body burns.
Can you feel that?

Then, the Germans left, and the Allies came, all
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
All of that decor
Fleeing, running out
On the French horizon
Retreat
The Allies were the same
‘Three dollars’ I called
‘Three dollars’
That was 1945:
Piaf was languishing
Paris had died

Jacques, my dear:
Those were our times
smoky cabarets, sculptured croons, fine wines
your rifle on your back could wind my morning with worry
and with my scourges, you took me all the same
but what I remember is:
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
then:

nothing

“Monsieur Boursin - she has passed.”

He sobs,
it sounds like
war.
Just ask me. Also, if anybody knows any more appropriate French surnames (read:one that isn't a variety of cheese), please, I invite your reaction.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.remember this youtube channel: harakiri diat...

i think this genre of music has a name: brutalism...
last night i watched 50 book recommendations
by the cosmicsceptic...
beside his oxford specific titles relating
to his philosophy and theology degree...
came the fictional books...
i presumed that i didn't read anything going
into this video...

i can be forgiven for not reading a christopher
hitchens when i've read some knausgård...
perhaps i presume to have not read anything...
because... i do quiet enjoy the act of reading...
so much so that... only scraps remain for me that
are: useful...

i can't imagine finding any use from a book
if it's not already in it...
apparently i'm not so under-read as i led myself
to believe...
but this is not about literature...
i was looking for a genre to encompass...
say... vomito *****...
the klinik...
the soft moon...
but i couldn't come to anything of worth...
not until i foraged for the more obscure...
the raw pulp...
primitive knot - ******* of brutalism...
again... the channel harakiri diat
has the music covered...
zeit und geist... i am the fire...
let's keep it clean...
i would go as far as to include
bohren & der club of gore: midnight radio
into this whole mix...

as much as i'd love to push for die krupps...
no can do... their stuff is polished goods...
vomito ***** is polished goods...
but there's still something raw about them...
once upon a time there was this "thing"
about doom metal... electric wizard... etc.,
but i can say... this new brutalism is...
by far... better than a gavin mcinnes diet
of punk... i never liked punk...
i never liked punk as i never liked rap...
hip hop yes and all that jazzmatazz fussion...
some solid grit...

after all... Romford, Essex...
probably the last bastion of the music shop...
a his-master's-voice with a vinyl section...
my idea of a tennis-court,
a cafe, a swimming-pool, a park,
a church even... because you can never really
own too many records...

and between me and you:
what's the difference between me and my neighbor?
he plays his music, mostly rap...
on the speakers... and sings along to the songs...
he finishes the day with some r'n'b and stops
singing... i take over...

headphones in, 6ft2 posture hunched in a chair
scribbling with chicken-pecking precision
some long lost "hierogylphic"...
and of course: in between some, literature...
but it was only about the music...
youtubers ruined youtube as much as
the "legacy media"... or the next will smith...
"vlogger"...

once upon a time youtube was a haven for people
like me: who only used it to find new music...
somehow the glitches started and the music video
recommendations died: youtube thesaurus algorithm
became corrupt or something...

would i ever sing-along to a song?
not if it's as raw as a stake-tartar and the dish
needs to be served with merely thinking to compliment it...
i'll repeat what i've already said:
gentlemen! the jukebox is ******!
- and i was the type to listen and then buy
a physical copy... even though i didn't have to...
i could go back and listen to the same stuff again...
out of principle...

no car = no car insurance no road tax...
no mobile phone = no... bill...
in terms of primitive knot, though?
would you rather go blind or deaf?
that's a tough one...

listening to primitive knot or watching
a latex lucy b.d.s.m. short *****-flick...
i know: it's the obvious synonym overlap...
but at the same time it isn't...
gimp suits or all those other unicorns of the bedroom...
but no... the most forbidden act i ever managed
to fathom in a brothel was a kiss...
one time i pulled out a ***** from a drawer
when she went with the money to the madame
of the parlour and coming back asked me:

do you want to use it?
*** to me is like rye bread...
it's not a ******* croissant...
toasting alone will do the trick...
language is already complicated by necessity...
of crosswords and the boredom
that most mono-lingual people feed not having
learned a crossword of bilingualism...
why would i inhibit this fact of voyeurism?
apparently there's something immoral watching
someone get pleasured...
perhaps i should find some rare footage of
a peter anthony allen hanging...
or Leroy Hall, Jr. at the Riverbend (Nashville, Tennessee)?
perhaps i should start jerking off on
a whim, from time to time...
over execution footage?

perhaps it's that sort of conundrum...
you see someone eating ice-cream and enjoying it...
you therefore? buy yourself a cone?
god almighty... but the added responsibility
of also owning the fridge and freezer
when that spontaneous whim passes...
after all... there's always that diet of...
the girls jerking off into the camera...
which is probably the least guilt-riddled form
of ******* on the planet...

hey! if she's doing it... and you sat down
on the throne of thrones to do the no. 1 and the no. 2...
let's call it no. 3 and taking a baptism later (no. 4)...
esp. if you haven't been circumcised...
at this point: i feel sorry for the circumcised men...
that do not live within the rigours of a hasidic orthodoxy:
the circumcised man: the subservient woman...
the circumcised man: the woman in a niqab...
i guess that's how it works, no?
imagine the problems...
if the man were circumcised... but the woman...
was not supposed to pay any sort
of "penalty"...

then again: one would expect to find the best
***** under the crucifix...
stigmata pin-head and all those dittos...
and heads... but i am a connoisseur... 1970s...
1980s... but it must be Italian...
no... not German... and certainly not English...
chances are: yes, French... but more or less
Italian... and it's always on a whim...
connoisseur... well there are videos where
you can find a pregnant woman parading her bump...
and squeezing her *******...
and that's about it...

i want to imagine what those 9 months
of pregnancy must feel like...
for better or for worse... the oral demands...
perhaps i haven't written about this sort of stuff
for a long enough period...

now an interlude where i smoke a cigarette
is bound to be... exquisite...

it sure as hell is the safest way to arrive
at some sort of *** that's purely plesurable:
a gradation of *** without consequences...
but is this a celebration?
a woman ******* on camera with
her toys is a celebration...
me my ******* and the phantom hand...
there's no theatre in it...
the utility of taking a ****, taking a ****...
doing "it"... then having a shower...
and then "repressing" it...
not having "repressed" it to begin with...

i did a month once...
i came to the conclusion... that i'm more impulse
prone, i was planning my next brothel
visit... after a month i was still planning it...
then i relieved myself and...
would you believe it? the impetus dissolved!
i don't know what these right-wing
europa-identitarians are coming up with...
so much attention on:
i enjoy reading as much as i enjoy taking
a ****... notably the constipated kind
but esp. more of the diarrhoea nature...
hello mr. **** hello mrs. geiser!

perhaps that's why i wouldn't ever be a fan
of ******... i enjoy taking a **** too much...
or perhaps i'm just too old fashioned...
but this began as something orientating oneself
around a music genre...
how did it come down to pornogrpahy?

jean genet: the thief's journal...
i was really hoping for something marquis de sade
-esque... there was still too much:

solo girl does her bit...
so well in fact... that... buying a *** doll
must only remain a h'american thing...
*** is already shamed when marriage comes
along in anglo-saxon societies...
notably the inflateable sheep or doll
on those normie stag parties...
*** and children and the joke is:
you can only have good ***...
if you're ******* for procreative reasons...
bypassing the ****** for the sake
of the children...

otherwise... well no ******* doesn't help...
if... there's no wife in a niqab in public...
or some kosher wifey either...

i still have mine and i will keep that...
as... almost... a security policy...
a prenup...

pauk-mumije (1982 bosnian post punk)...
perhaps brutalism is just post-punk?

i remember it quiet clearly...
i still can't fall asleep without listening to music...
as i couldn't back then...

otchim - james dean...
the bass and no guitar riffs until the chorus
comes... and... ha ha... it's in fwench!
just like i could **** her without listening
to really... atmospheric music...
by 2007 standards that was equal to:
the dandy warhols...
but that was 2007...

these days... hardly candles and
black sun dreamer - post-traumatic stress disorder...
back then it was candles
and type o negative...
the candles and... catching a mouse...
no trap... a labyrinth of obstacles
and she sitting on the bed giggling while
i played being a maine ****...
and i did catch the mouse...
held it by the tail... let it lose on the stairwell...
and then watch its traumatised body try to
find a hole... scuttle and then fall...
to a depth of a greater serenity of
a... vermin's suicide: with no monkey sing-along
of... this mouse has done the cheese...

and it was sad when i was naive and
i accidently killed my hamster in a similar
fashion... but some ***** Abel...
but at least the mouse allowed me to
circumstance a Pontius Pilate relief...
and she asked me: what did you do with the mouse?

oh... it committed suicide.

chicago research compilation... tape CRO15...
perhaps listening to the cure
or depeche mode was once a "thing"...
no... burtalism is not post-punk...
pisse - kohlrubenwinter...
red zebra - i can't live in a livingroom...

my one personal joke...
in england i started calling the livingroom...
the civilroom...
pokój cywilny - if it must stress the St. Cyril...
so it must: комната гражданский..
brutalism is not post-punk...

stiff little fingers... are punk's creamy pie...
oto - bats...
bodychoke - cruelty
       "            - red dog
       "            - the red sea
legendary divorce - age with us...

somehow more of my ****** valnetine...
and less sonic youth...

i do remember pretending to date...
at high school...
the first question was always a nervous
build-up to the question:
'what music are you into?'

weird party - acne puncture...

well would you believe it...
some of us are still after something that
finds no sort of aleviation
in the alternative that's an aydin paladin
video...

POPEiUM - papacidal coronation...
Münn - II. in defeat...
a john peel: a no john peel...
the sort of piano that makes
a debussy or a satie blush...
AMORT - die hexes...

the current standard of... the stoogers...
or stooges... and... air no concern...
the limbo artifact of ***...
formerly known as the... limbo pickling...
of the undead...
and all those that come with an eczema and
the scabs of leprosy...
and vampires: those syphilitic zombies...

susumu yokota, and all those stupid,
solipsictically assured cats, grinning...
menace of the grin!
full cheese impromptu with a display
of teeth!
a night promenade into the forest
listening to: demdike stare's tryptych...

i haven't tried... but from 1pm through to 5pm...
i could phone classic.fm and ask
for... a song to be played in my name...
perhaps i'll phone in...
if i catch the right "once upon a time"...
and find it... as i found...
christopher young's: something to think
about...

**** and music... many interludes...
perhaps some little borat-britain references...
and then: none...
per 1K there's a cult...
per 10K there's a counter-culture...
come the 918 apostles... of jonestown...
there's no leftover for no...
alternative...

the restless mind starts its exercise
in petty squabbling....
why weren't i the respected,
vatican proof for a plumber!
why wasn't i to become,
the undertaker!

i too feel: the claustrophobia
of the ensue of the paragraph...
what is primitive knot contra U2...
mainstream? sod it: knot it a blood
and a sundail!
blood dries... the mercurial mythology
dries a solidity of
something becoming more an echo...
and less a sodden-print of the foot...
which the tide will,
nonetheless relate itself as...
worthy of being erased...

the violin concerto...
the piano nocturnes...
and the symphonies...
and the operas...
later the ballet...
beside... a chopin would write a nocturne...
a debussy would write one also...
but...
debussy writes a nocturne...
satie writes a nocture...
but a schumann?! a schubert?!
they write a concerto!
none of their work could have been written
in solide with a solipsistic monologue
escapade...

perhaps i can only appreciate chopin via
his nocturnes...
otherwise i am not convinced...
the greats wrote.... symphonies...
operas... never accompany pieces
to make their instrument an oak...
a tree... and not something resdual
to later make a mahoganny piano / table
of...

pianists! you only hear of their prowess!
Liszt! Chopin! Debussy! Satie...
exclaim as if to: suprise the "audience"
with either knowledge or...
adoration?
can a violinist make the same sort
of statements?
a pianist will play... with an accompaniment...
he will never become the maestro
predisposition
of the polyphony...

a chopin only heard the piano...
a debussy only heard a piano: solo...
a beethoven or a mozart...
what violin solo? what of a violin concerto?!
is that a trick question?
old father bach...
no instrument: well...
shubert loved allowing a piano ****
a bunch of harem violins in a harem crescendo
of a concerto...

but a nocturne? the polyphony of...
the "polyphony" of...
two pianos playing side-by-side...

- the joint"laura's"1967 kk proto prog freak phych -
no, that's not it...
- and no... it's not omega - gyöngyhajú lány...
- well **** on me...
locomotiv moscow is not a band...
but an f.c.... beg your pardon...

as i do hope that i am wrong about
a minor "technicality"...
somehow classical, essential...
and nothing worth or being able to: hum...
or sing-along-to...
always serious and finding outlets
of a necessity in being: thought of...
perhaps there's this grand:

technicality of not finding oneself sighing
or crying for that matter...
vaughan williams is more required...
for the expanse of a cowboy movie
horizon...
or that technical term...
the: deconstruction of the dutch angle
in the perspective shot...

but we don't talk about *** as much
as we don't engage in it...
and we certainly don't talk about music...
the absolute brutal needs to be found...
a butterfly a lotus a kiss in a brothel...
all else is... the slaughterhouse....

this has been a...
no Friday night in Soho can match-up...
i've spent better nights in
Amsterdam...
and no... the red light district was
never going to be a cannabis cafe for me...
or some Vermont-esque quest for a better
pint of ale...
*** was on sale...
there was not real point of making
any money from it in the medium of fiction...
it was always going to be
ugly, frictive... below par of expectation...
but it was always going to
be fathomable... fathomable in a sense
of it being respected...
as a hierarchical undermining...

oh what since was, truly was concrete...
but the verbiage came along
and fiddled with the fog and the end-result
deems itself abstract...
there's the concrete of drought...
and the abstract of locust.
there's the concrete of a mountain...
and the abstract of a pyramid;
there's the concrete of death...
and the abstract of a mosileum;
after all... a grave is a coping mechanism
of someone who...
never began the inquiry... of mortality...
joking as a child might...
pretending to handshake his own shadow.

as i have found the antithesis of narcissus...
the man who fell in love with his shadow.
Sjr1000 Sep 2015
I offer you this innocence,
come on in,
condemnation
judgement
vitriol
are left on the other side
of the walls of skin.

Hearts may open here
tears may tumble
walls may fall
in this moment between you and me.

We will offer
truths and tenderness
for every imagined sin.

Life's a puzzle
the pieces are in
earthquake shambles scattered
across the floor.
There are places for each puzzle piece
to put together,
we may even find bliss.

Sometimes this life is too complex
too hard to fathom
too easy to plummet,
we all need a place to
explore
unload
forgive.

This is the innocence
feel free to come on in,
your secrets are safe here,
never told by me.

It has been said
we are as sick as our secrets,
burrowing through our eyes
in dark packets of disguise.
But in this sanctuary
lies dissolve
innocence returns,
We find a chance to begin again.

Put down the masks
Put down the resentments
Put down the propped up sorrows
Our truths will set us free.

The door is open
the glowing warmth of connection
is at your disposal,
come speak to me
the accumulated hurts of where you have been,
through these true confessions
hurts pass
not forgotten
but
forgiven.

We can begin again.

The puzzle pieces lost
will be found,
compassion and forgiveness
become our friends.

Abandon all pasts
seen through a child's eyes,
in this time of now
we can become cozy
snuggle up in this warm bath embrace.
Sometimes we all need a place to hide
in all the necessary pillows and comforters.

Either in words or in silence,
we'll find that spot of transformation,
begin again,
once you enter this innocence,
from the tangle
as birds well know,
we can fly free again.
TheWitheredSoul Apr 2021
Most People that say that they understand Your pain.
Do you really understand?

Do You know what its like to be waiting for a call that will never come?

Do you know how to know the end and yet hope for something better?

Do you know what its like to be left alone writhing on all the words that was never said and never heard?

Do you know how smooth her skin was when she held my hand?

Do you know how she made my chaotic world so calm and unburdened?

Do you know how far her absence wreaked havoc in my world  and let me delve right beyond the edge of the abyss that I wish I never knew?
There's a lot of things that I wish I did, but now the time has passed and the only way out is to move forward, will all these scars disappear? will all these feelings get lost in time? Maybe it will and maybe its time that we need to stop living life as in Should've Could've Would've.

Its time to let go of the misery and embrace the pain so that someday we get to lay our scarred heart to peace.
Jillian Elcie Oct 2015
Do not fall in love with an artist;
Her mind is both a framework
And a disarray
Of jumbled sentiments.
And once you embed yourself
Within her horizons,
She’ll fathom you into a masterpiece.
She’ll draw the way your lips form words
With mesmerizing hues
And bind your love
Into a collection of poetic utterances
And she’ll make an inconsequential language
Into an unconventional expression.
She’ll pluck strings
To embody the way your chest
Rises against her ear with each breath;
She’ll make you fall in love with creativity.
And one wrong move,
And you’ll become a masterwork in her array.
River Apr 2015
What a trivial title
for a trivial poem
What I consider meaningful
Is just mere dirt to someone else

It all comes down to what you believe in
And what you believe will make you happy and make you whole
That is where meaning is held

I awake tired and the snippets of my dreams that I recall perplex me
I ponder: What is my subconscious trying to tell me
But I find no pattern with the fragments
And I leave it be for another unsolved mystery.

Is everything OK in my life?
Or is everything falling to pieces?
I can't seem to discern this clearly
My perceptions are distorting my view on reality
But even if life was beyond everything I have ever hoped for right at this moment
I couldn't fathom pure happiness
In this strife ridden world

Mermaids exist through our mind's capacity to fantasize
And that's where happiness comes from
Our ability to conjure something that is not real or is scarce on earth
Happiness is as real as mermaids.
gravygod Dec 2018
i'm not sure what to do with all the distance
it's been months that have felt like years
i can remember when you came into my life in the winter
and I can remember when you left in the summer
arrival and departure
the distinct difference between the two
i'm only at the thin line of division
the way my emotions don't add up
like miscalculated algebra
all to your advantage
i kept your love letter
the letter where you plagiarized a novel
because i wasn't good enough for your own words
that was my only closure
i wanted desperately to burn the stuffed bears from the carnival
i could only part with one
when i hold it close to me
i feel like how a child would
expecting prizes only in fabric and cotton stuffing
not words of affirmation or love
i almost drove by your house
but i knew i would only go mad thinking
of who has been touching your new furniture that i helped pick out
leaving their fingerprints in place of mine
i miss my t-shirts that you still have
i hope when and if you wear them
you can feel me close
my heart beating where yours is
sometimes i feel like i miss you enough for you to show up
as if my pain could teleport
the craving of a complete closure
one where i don't need liquor or a lighter
others bring up your name
as if i'm not in the process of misplacing the letters
or dismissing the syllables
i've been trying to forget your face
your face of sharp bones
flaring nostrils
and nostalgic lips

i've been trying to imagine if that night would have never happened
when that veteran couldn't take himself anymore
he chose you to be his last interaction
it was all in hints
he was screaming for help without making a sound
how were we supposed to know
i still wonder where that blue jay is that he buried behind the building
i just couldn't bare to see it
now i wish i made a map
X marks the spot where our love died
i remember when you had to bury your own blue jay
you never saw it coming
you took the wrong step and it was under your foot
just like he said his bluejay was
fidgeting and fighting for life
i'd like to think it was a sign from him
to let you know it's possible to move on and forward
so you did
you moved on to scabbed skin and worn-out lungs
i moved on to scholarly headaches and false pretenses
back then i could never fathom my days without you
now i find it difficult to recall how we were
it feels like our romance was a dream
because it only felt real when i was asleep
Thence we went on to the Aeoli island where lives ****** son of
Hippotas, dear to the immortal gods. It is an island that floats (as
it were) upon the sea, iron bound with a wall that girds it. Now,
****** has six daughters and six ***** sons, so he made the sons marry
the daughters, and they all live with their dear father and mother,
feasting and enjoying every conceivable kind of luxury. All day long
the atmosphere of the house is loaded with the savour of roasting
meats till it groans again, yard and all; but by night they sleep on
their well-made bedsteads, each with his own wife between the
blankets. These were the people among whom we had now come.
  “****** entertained me for a whole month asking me questions all the
time about Troy, the Argive fleet, and the return of the Achaeans. I
told him exactly how everything had happened, and when I said I must
go, and asked him to further me on my way, he made no sort of
difficulty, but set about doing so at once. Moreover, he flayed me a
prime ox-hide to hold the ways of the roaring winds, which he shut
up in the hide as in a sack—for Jove had made him captain over the
winds, and he could stir or still each one of them according to his
own pleasure. He put the sack in the ship and bound the mouth so
tightly with a silver thread that not even a breath of a side-wind
could blow from any quarter. The West wind which was fair for us did
he alone let blow as it chose; but it all came to nothing, for we were
lost through our own folly.
  “Nine days and nine nights did we sail, and on the tenth day our
native land showed on the horizon. We got so close in that we could
see the stubble fires burning, and I, being then dead beat, fell
into a light sleep, for I had never let the rudder out of my own
hands, that we might get home the faster. On this the men fell to
talking among themselves, and said I was bringing back gold and silver
in the sack that ****** had given me. ‘Bless my heart,’ would one turn
to his neighbour, saying, ‘how this man gets honoured and makes
friends to whatever city or country he may go. See what fine prizes he
is taking home from Troy, while we, who have travelled just as far
as he has, come back with hands as empty as we set out with—and now
****** has given him ever so much more. Quick—let us see what it
all is, and how much gold and silver there is in the sack he gave
him.’
  “Thus they talked and evil counsels prevailed. They loosed the sack,
whereupon the wind flew howling forth and raised a storm that
carried us weeping out to sea and away from our own country. Then I
awoke, and knew not whether to throw myself into the sea or to live on
and make the best of it; but I bore it, covered myself up, and lay
down in the ship, while the men lamented bitterly as the fierce
winds bore our fleet back to the Aeolian island.
  “When we reached it we went ashore to take in water, and dined
hard by the ships. Immediately after dinner I took a herald and one of
my men and went straight to the house of ******, where I found him
feasting with his wife and family; so we sat down as suppliants on the
threshold. They were astounded when they saw us and said, ‘Ulysses,
what brings you here? What god has been ill-treating you? We took
great pains to further you on your way home to Ithaca, or wherever
it was that you wanted to go to.’
  “Thus did they speak, but I answered sorrowfully, ‘My men have
undone me; they, and cruel sleep, have ruined me. My friends, mend
me this mischief, for you can if you will.’
  “I spoke as movingly as I could, but they said nothing, till their
father answered, ‘Vilest of mankind, get you gone at once out of the
island; him whom heaven hates will I in no wise help. Be off, for
you come here as one abhorred of heaven. “And with these words he sent
me sorrowing from his door.
  “Thence we sailed sadly on till the men were worn out with long
and fruitless rowing, for there was no longer any wind to help them.
Six days, night and day did we toil, and on the seventh day we reached
the rocky stronghold of Lamus—Telepylus, the city of the
Laestrygonians, where the shepherd who is driving in his sheep and
goats [to be milked] salutes him who is driving out his flock [to
feed] and this last answers the salute. In that country a man who
could do without sleep might earn double wages, one as a herdsman of
cattle, and another as a shepherd, for they work much the same by
night as they do by day.
  “When we reached the harbour we found it land-locked under steep
cliffs, with a narrow entrance between two headlands. My captains took
all their ships inside, and made them fast close to one another, for
there was never so much as a breath of wind inside, but it was
always dead calm. I kept my own ship outside, and moored it to a
rock at the very end of the point; then I climbed a high rock to
reconnoitre, but could see no sign neither of man nor cattle, only
some smoke rising from the ground. So I sent two of my company with an
attendant to find out what sort of people the inhabitants were.
  “The men when they got on shore followed a level road by which the
people draw their firewood from the mountains into the town, till
presently they met a young woman who had come outside to fetch
water, and who was daughter to a Laestrygonian named Antiphates. She
was going to the fountain Artacia from which the people bring in their
water, and when my men had come close up to her, they asked her who
the king of that country might be, and over what kind of people he
ruled; so she directed them to her father’s house, but when they got
there they found his wife to be a giantess as huge as a mountain,
and they were horrified at the sight of her.
  “She at once called her husband Antiphates from the place of
assembly, and forthwith he set about killing my men. He snatched up
one of them, and began to make his dinner off him then and there,
whereon the other two ran back to the ships as fast as ever they
could. But Antiphates raised a hue and cry after them, and thousands
of sturdy Laestrygonians sprang up from every quarter—ogres, not men.
They threw vast rocks at us from the cliffs as though they had been
mere stones, and I heard the horrid sound of the ships crunching up
against one another, and the death cries of my men, as the
Laestrygonians speared them like fishes and took them home to eat
them. While they were thus killing my men within the harbour I drew my
sword, cut the cable of my own ship, and told my men to row with alf
their might if they too would not fare like the rest; so they laid out
for their lives, and we were thankful enough when we got into open
water out of reach of the rocks they hurled at us. As for the others
there was not one of them left.
  “Thence we sailed sadly on, glad to have escaped death, though we
had lost our comrades, and came to the Aeaean island, where Circe
lives a great and cunning goddess who is own sister to the magician
Aeetes—for they are both children of the sun by Perse, who is
daughter to Oceanus. We brought our ship into a safe harbour without a
word, for some god guided us thither, and having landed we there for
two days and two nights, worn out in body and mind. When the morning
of the third day came I took my spear and my sword, and went away from
the ship to reconnoitre, and see if I could discover signs of human
handiwork, or hear the sound of voices. Climbing to the top of a
high look-out I espied the smoke of Circe’s house rising upwards
amid a dense forest of trees, and when I saw this I doubted whether,
having seen the smoke, I would not go on at once and find out more,
but in the end I deemed it best to go back to the ship, give the men
their dinners, and send some of them instead of going myself.
  “When I had nearly got back to the ship some god took pity upon my
solitude, and sent a fine antlered stag right into the middle of my
path. He was coming down his pasture in the forest to drink of the
river, for the heat of the sun drove him, and as he passed I struck
him in the middle of the back; the bronze point of the spear went
clean through him, and he lay groaning in the dust until the life went
out of him. Then I set my foot upon him, drew my spear from the wound,
and laid it down; I also gathered rough grass and rushes and twisted
them into a fathom or so of good stout rope, with which I bound the
four feet of the noble creature together; having so done I hung him
round my neck and walked back to the ship leaning upon my spear, for
the stag was much too big for me to be able to carry him on my
shoulder, steadying him with one hand. As I threw him down in front of
the ship, I called the men and spoke cheeringly man by man to each
of them. ‘Look here my friends,’ said I, ‘we are not going to die so
much before our time after all, and at any rate we will not starve
so long as we have got something to eat and drink on board.’ On this
they uncovered their heads upon the sea shore and admired the stag,
for he was indeed a splendid fellow. Then, when they had feasted their
eyes upon him sufficiently, they washed their hands and began to
cook him for dinner.
  “Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we
stayed there eating and drinking our fill, but when the sun went
down and it came on dark, we camped upon the sea shore. When the child
of morning, fingered Dawn, appeared, I called a council and said,
‘My friends, we are in very great difficulties; listen therefore to
me. We have no idea where the sun either sets or rises, so that we
do not even know East from West. I see no way out of it; nevertheless,
we must try and find one. We are certainly on an island, for I went as
high as I could this morning, and saw the sea reaching all round it to
the horizon; it lies low, but towards the middle I saw smoke rising
from out of a thick forest of trees.’
  “Their hearts sank as they heard me, for they remembered how they
had been treated by the Laestrygonian Antiphates, and by the savage
ogre Polyphemus. They wept bitterly in their dismay, but there was
nothing to be got by crying, so I divided them into two companies
and set a captain over each; I gave one company to Eurylochus, while I
took command of the other myself. Then we cast lots in a helmet, and
the lot fell upon Eurylochus; so he set out with his twenty-two men,
and they wept, as also did we who were left behind.
  “When they reached Circe’s house they found it built of cut
stones, on a site that could be seen from far, in the middle of the
forest. There were wild mountain wolves and lions prowling all round
it—poor bewitched creatures whom she had tamed by her enchantments
and drugged into subjection. They did not attack my men, but wagged
their great tails, fawned upon them, and rubbed their noses lovingly
against them. As hounds crowd round their master when they see him
coming from dinner—for they know he will bring them something—even
so did these wolves and lions with their great claws fawn upon my men,
but the men were terribly frightened at seeing such strange creatures.
Presently they reached the gates of the goddess’s house, and as they
stood there they could hear Circe within, singing most beautifully
as she worked at her loom, making a web so fine, so soft, and of
such dazzling colours as no one but a goddess could weave. On this
Polites, whom I valued and trusted more than any other of my men,
said, ‘There is some one inside working at a loom and singing most
beautifully; the whole place resounds with it, let us call her and see
whether she is woman or goddess.’
  “They called her and she came down, unfastened the door, and bade
them enter. They, thinking no evil, followed her, all except
Eurylochus, who suspected mischief and stayed outside. When she had
got them into her house, she set them upon benches and seats and mixed
them a mess with cheese, honey, meal, and Pramnian but she drugged
it with wicked poisons to make them forget their homes, and when
they had drunk she turned them into pigs by a stroke of her wand,
and shut them up in her pigsties. They were like pigs-head, hair,
and all, and they grunted just as pigs do; but their senses were the
same as before, and they remembered everything.
  “Thus then were they shut up squealing, and Circe threw them some
acorns and beech masts such as pigs eat, but Eurylochus hurried back
to tell me about the sad fate of our comrades. He was so overcome with
dismay that though he tried to speak he could find no words to do
so; his eyes filled with tears and he could only sob and sigh, till at
last we forced his story out of him, and he told us what had
happened to the others.
  “‘We went,’ said he, as you told us, through the forest, and in
the middle of it there was a fine house built with cut stones in a
place that could be seen from far. There we found a woman, or else she
was a goddess, working at her loom and singing sweetly; so the men
shouted to her and called her, whereon she at once came down, opened
the door, and invited us in. The others did not suspect any mischief
so they followed her into the house, but I stayed where I was, for I
thought there might be some treachery. From that moment I saw them
no more, for not one of them ever came out, though I sat a long time
watching for them.’
  “Then I took my sword of bronze and slung it over my shoulders; I
also took my bow, and told Eurylochus to come back with me and show me
the way. But he laid hold of me with both his hands and spoke
piteously, saying, ‘Sir, do not force me to go with you, but let me
stay here, for I know you will not bring one of them back with you,
nor even return alive yourself; let us rather see if we cannot
escape at any rate with the few that are left us, for we may still
save our lives.’
  “‘Stay where you are, then, ‘answered I, ‘eating and drinking at the
ship, but I must go, for I am most urgently bound to do so.’
  “With this I left the ship and went up inland. When I got through
the charmed grove, and was near the great house of the enchantress
Circe, I met Mercury with his golden wand, disguised as a young man in
the hey-day of his youth and beauty with the down just coming upon his
face. He came up to me and took my hand within his own, saying, ‘My
poor unhappy man, whither are you going over this mountain top,
alone and without knowing the way? Your men are shut up in Circe’s
pigsties, like so many wild boars in their lairs. You surely do not
fancy that you can set them free? I can tell you that you will never
get back and will have to stay there with the rest of them. But
never mind, I will protect you and get you out of your difficulty.
Take this herb, which is one of great virtue, and keep it about you
when you go to Circe’s house, it will be a talisman to you against
every kind of mischief.
  “‘And I will tell you of all the wicked witchcraft that Circe will
try to practise upon you. She will mix a mess for you to drink, and
she will drug the meal with which she makes it, but she will not be
able to charm you, for the virtue of the herb that I shall give you
will prevent her spells from working. I will tell you all about it.
When Circe strikes you with her wand, draw your sword and spring
upon her as though you were goings to **** her. She will then be
frightened and will desire you to go to bed with her; on this you must
not point blank refuse her, for you want her to set your companions
free, and to take good care also of yourself, but you make her swear
solemnly by all the blessed that she will plot no further mischief
against you, or else when she has got you naked she will unman you and
make you fit for nothing.’
  “As he spoke he pulled the herb out of the ground an showed me
what it was like. The root was black, while the flower was as white as
milk; the gods call it Moly, and mortal men cannot uproot it, but
the gods can do whatever they like.
  “Then Mercury went back to high Olympus passing over the wooded
island; but I fared onward to the house of Circe, and my heart was
clouded with care as I walked along. When I got to the gates I stood
there and called the goddess, and as soon as she hear
lost in my mind Feb 2015
I love you
I love you
I love you
More than you could ever know
More than anyone ever hopes to be loved.
More than you can understand.
More than you can fathom.
A limitless, unconditional, fierce love.
The kind that comes like a passionate hurricane
and still soft and sweet like morning fog.
That's how much I love you.
Know that I never knew love until I met you
and you unlocked doors to emotions
that I never thought were real.
This fierce romantic love never roared
until you awakened it
That's why I always said that you saved my life.
Because you did.
I was dead, the pain was so much
and then you came in,
bringing with you euphoria
that I only ever experienced in small doses.
But ******* when you walked into the room
my blood felt like it was on fire.
A yearning and craving unlike anything
I'd ever experienced before,
not just to feel your body but to know your mind.
To know and behold all quirks
of your personality, everything.
I wanted to be completely submersed
in the universe that is your mind.
So now do you understand what I mean
when I say "I love you" ?
Sharon Talbot Oct 2021
Things sometimes fall apart
Among sisters and brothers,
No matter what they once were.
Childhood picnics and dreamy games,
Memories of trips with Dad,
Since Mom was tired of us.
We would climb Appalachian peaks
Or drive to look at the Mayflower.
Every summer there was a golden week
A lakeside cottage and all-day swims
In crystal water, becoming mermaids.
But time passes and bitterness accrues.
Imagined slights grow like slow tumors,
Never excised but nurtured by some.
I go to college and am freed
From the poison of ignorant rage,
From the creeping depression left
Like diesel fog on an endless floor.
Four or five years of delight pass
With only hints here or there
Of a sibling’s misery at home.
Of a once close sister, Maggie,
Who is ignored and never loved
By any man she pursues.
She blames me for it, for reasons
I have yet to fathom.
Of a brother, Francis, deluded, drugged,
Steals the family car in a rage
And drives to New York City.
Of Deirdre, the middle sister,
Whose friend who knows men who feed
On her ignorance and rebellion.
Only Susannah tries to rise above
The maelstrom of misery.
I send her to a school far away
And she sheds despair, at least.
Decades drawl, children are born to us,
While the bridge between us, obscured,
Sags and frays under weight of rancor.
Christmas dinners and birthday parties
Turn into chores, invitations kept as scores.
Petty grudges, like acid, sever the bridge
At last, all ties are abandoned.
When we are all grown and scattered,
No one speaking to anyone else,
Unaware, uncaring about the others.
Only Susannah visits me and smiles,
With no ulterior plan for insane revenge,
Or accusations for errant slights.
Her once dark hair is grizzled and wild
And her girlish skin now creased.
But her treacle eyes, “black aggies”,
I used to call them, still shine.
Only Susannah writes a letter,
Wishing us well and
Healing scars made by others,
Returning the word “family”.
To my basket of small treasures,
I carry with me
Into the twilight.
Joshua Adam Jul 2015
It's All About Perception**
No one can understand you, because you're not your typical run of the mill
it's all due to your philosophy, a mind that thinks but a tongue that sits still
years quickly pass you by, finding yourself alone and in a world of your own
as you learn the value of pen and paper, finding refuge in a place unknown

Like being trapped in a bubble, peering out upon the world as a screen
watching everyone going about their business, while you remain unseen
transfixed on your reality you close your eyes, wishing it were but a dream
unable to fathom the depths of emotions, waiting to take you to the extreme

The reality of who you are can no longer be ignored, facing each day from anew
accepting the fact that you have no control, from others, forced to take your cue
this world is all about rising above, as it starts at the very moment of conception
it follows us throughout life, as we learn the rules, mastering the art of deception

The external images you portray, a needed smokescreen, to maintain the perception
your moves are well planned, the primary focus of your attention, without exception
failing to have considered the matter, you realize you haven't made the connection
your insecurities have misdirected your behavior, demanding the world's affection

There's no denying this fact; life is nothing more than a continuous act of deception
while the true level of your mastery of it, your ability to advance without aggression
at the end of the journey, despite what we went through, it might come as a surprise
realizing that happiness was always there, only hidden from us by our own disguise

Why continue living the life of lies, playing the games people play, there is yet hope
break the bonds of self-deception, because this vanity has really become your dope
be who you really are, a genuine beauty to behold, and in you will someone admire
your hidden love now freed, surrendered to someone true, to build that endless fire
This is a short poem about the life we live and the games we play, or don't play.

— The End —