In a kingdom full of inclemencies my hubris does not fail me
Profuse and Fierce, Some may call me arrogant
'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It's a recording of my failings.  
'It's that amorality,' I muttered.

My hubris is my substratum towards my nescience.
It is that aspect that will lean me towards drowning in the sea of my own incoherent imbecility.
It's a deep program in my faulty code, a nightmare towards monks.
It's the ink on my arms, tattooed to my soul.

'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It does not fail to show in my wording.
It's the ferry to sea, the net in the ocean.
It is limber as it is inventive, with every exception.

It has no ingenuousness, it is unlike modesty and threatens to surmount me.
It's a sandwich in which has caught every hitch of breath, it leaves me bewitched, no certain pitch that I can tell afore it chokes me.
It leaves no correspondence with those around me, too caught up in my own fantasies that I can no longer celebrate or verbalize felicitously.

Many times I wished that I preserved my receipt so that I could trade in my Hubris for something a little less mucusless for it is something akin to Judas, and I cannot utilize it for anything utilizable.

If I could somehow find a way that would lead me to a resilient recuperation. I would judge that to be more utilizable then this Hubris that encumbers me. No matter how many times I beat it down, it war's like a lion and a bunch of tourists on a safari.

If only this grotesque lion-like hubris was shot by the doter of a hubris poacher. Every generation would be gratified and they would find that it is much more facile to coerce without that unpleasant Hubris.

Of course, I suppose in a way hubris could be utilizable in some situations that required it. If I somehow found a way to trade my hubris for something like modestly and found that I missed my hubris quite dearly. I would laugh at my incoherent imbecility and perceive myself to be remotely mad!

These ravings of my hubris I'm quite sure because I found it so consequential to indite a poem of stark preposterousness. In a contingency like this, I suppose my hubris is getting quite polished, so sharply able to strike down any sense of modesty.

I conjecture this is the terminus of this arrangement, please omit my hubris for a moment. I suppose I should give you some tea afore I dose myself in a salubrious dose of radiation.

This doodling Yankee (boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit fitting figurative footwear,
that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving Finger hut issue,
when or if arctic blasts cold
doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence  humans analogously held hostage
linkedin among fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly searching vainly
from shelter ring sky (with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling

(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago) livingsocial
jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill by  Ponderosa Pine
drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling away time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel
capriciously, felicitously,

and indubitably stripped away
bow ring pastime asper watching paint dry
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill) to duff fend themselves
whereat mortality will steal immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled
within luxurious faux existence
capitalistic dreams engendered existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,

indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors
scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin **** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps against pearl jam killers
who do not shrink from ethically principled,

but give full reign to selfish callous deleterious foibles,
gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom rhizome rapidity
ousting the  omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated, futilely integrated, lending oomph
residentially, scientifically tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,

justified kneaded love thy neighbor motto
lyft ting in one fell swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven, heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes reflecting up
nor doodling Yankee staking claim to fame
via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling the playing field.

my pulchritude me
petrichor my visage
Of me in a puddle

felicitously adjectively
so not well drafted nor composed
my bald spot showing

in the mirror if I turn my head and look sideways
terse a wrong hair rightly covering a bald spot of imagery

like black paint on a pink scalp trying to be
visceral, I comb the ugly away,
I think.

Oh this human condition,
A mortal coil it's said
          An amalgamation of contradictions....

I have witnessed as observant
A silent servant
(Like a punctuation,
A grain of sand am I then)

Debris from vast beyond
A whirl from cosmic maelstrom and
Now this here, we are
Alive as bone begotten
From stellar stones higher than
Our cloud valhallas

How relative the chaos
Stranger still for its distances
To parallel - how storms also do
Possess a spectrum.

Now this here, as a heavy carcass
With visionless eyes
As fragile as glass
Riding tornadoes and catastrophe
Like roller coasters
Blast
Off
Since
We are no longer from nothing,
We no longer fear
But third eye mind still blind
An intelligence that's forgetful

Of that of which is relative
(Living proof)
In every passage
We are mortal with
Each morning
Doors we enter thru...
(Yet few recall the lives before)

All I know is how to be
A better form of what I was just
Yesterday
When passersby keep on asking

"Did you find yourself then?"
This too shall also pass
                     Memory feels more far away
I say:

"The story's not yet done"

What path you choose, the one you love,
Is the same path
Of awe
Of beauty
Of Grace
I bare witness
To this life
Still trying to love it all

Oh woe is me!    
    (felicitously)
Oh, This mortal coil, how beloved
Life I see
               A universe of mystery
Together
We shall see
               Riding our tomorrow
Like a maelstrom
Fearless
On great tornadoes...

I bare witness
To thee. (I'mmortality)

A beating heart and turning stomach harmonize to play the song you'll violently dance to. A bead of sweat crashes to the ground like a hard stick of hickory, striking a high hat. The song echoes, testing the sound barrier, but who's responsible for this piece? Are you to do the dance of indifference; packed away in your corner? Or kick down the door and break the ground with a passion full of hate. Whether you go through the door, or felicitously open it, you've gone somewhere. So sit in your corner and let your eyes dance through these words, or go past the door, and write about how you've danced. There are pros and there are cons, you're reading this prose and possessing neither one.

This doodling Yankee
(boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit
fitting figurative footwear,
that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving Finger
hut two three four issue,
when or if arctic blasts cold

doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence  humans analogously held hostage
linkedin among fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly searching vainly
from shelter ring sky
(with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling
(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago) livingsocial

jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill
by Ponderosa Pine
drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling away
time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel

capriciously, felicitously, and indubitably
stripped away facade housing Potemkin Village
bow ring pastime asper watching paint dry,
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill re:)
to duff fend themselves,
whereat mortality will steal
immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled
within luxurious faux charade existence

capitalistic dreams engendered existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,
indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors
scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters
espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin **** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps
against pearl jam killers
who do not shrink
from ethically principled covenant,
but give full reign to selfish
callous deleterious foibles,

gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom rhizome rapidity
ousting the  omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated, futilely
integrated, lending oomph
residentially, scientifically
tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,
justified kneaded love thy neighbor motto

lyft ting in one fell swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven, heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes reflecting up
nor as iterated doodling uber Yankee
staking claim to fame
via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling the playing field.