Floating above the rifts of apperception I glaze over the gaudy faucets of imagined vector thrusts in hibernation by the lucubration of space-time materialized crystal in the somber beats of fetched farrago of choice slices in delicate hums of hemmed balance rantipole only in ethereal importance but otherwise supersolid above the sprauncy vagrancy of dilettantism. We shout a clarion virtuosity so that the conclamation of neovitalism conjures upon a spell of lapse and regress a motive for further crystallization of epidemiology into harmony with syndicated admonition sleek in design and parceled into renown by feats of completion rather than slugabed gregarious fountains of wasted ingenuity bleeding from the vacuum of an empty hearth in a hospitable dwelling otherwise cleared of imperfection. Right now, I levitate with transcendence with an approximated eidetic memory that is the surgical vibrancy of renewal rather than the chameleons of hidden talents buried by the walls of Jericho sounding tocsins of alarm that the anointed favor of choice destruction is only an encircled rapture of rhapsodies of confluence found in axiomatic truths ribbed with the futtocks of seaworthy but cauponate recidivism into the donnybrooks of apocryphal revelation preceding the whimsical fall of cascading permanence just as gravity so ordained it. We breathe the life of the ethereal numinous spirit of isangelous repute because we navigate the exquisite cobweb of reconciliation to surpass all understanding in peace what would be a miscegenated carcass of war otherwise apart from the incidental apartheid of the drones of causality ignoring the antecedent reality too much to register fathomed streaks of preventive endeavor because of the scars of a scrappy schlep of the rampicks of ecbolic servitude to moth-eaten star-crossed lovers of the mean menagerie of gutless succor renowned only in tepid rejections of harbingers bequeathed in succession but ignored because of the procession of “Billie Jean” politics.

   The citadel aflame with controversy buttresses carnality by witless contaminants of hidebound scaldabancos of ineffable destitution so craven in eisoptrophobia for their hypostasized indolent fatuousness of capitulation that they are but a minor punctuation in the largesse of centuries to favor audacity in candor over the prevarications of catastrophe to dented human pride against humane dictates of theodicy in fatalism that predestination experimented with its own vaulted verve to find permanent solutions engraved in the agrapha of time to solidify the redintegrated truth of God’s divine stewardship above the quisquilous deism of former regnant centuries of blench and blandishment. We revolt at the specter of rot only when the effluvia of disgust elevates the visceral reality above the utilitarianism of recycled prim nuisances of noisome lineage that yet balk because they are bereft of attention but not a vacant talent and therefore should the subsidies of man surpass the ignorance of appearances he will shrug of the demur of the scrimshank and sharpen his scrivello in the service of redemption found through cultivated prowess of gardens beneath where rivers flow above a cubic centurion of embattled visages of the heavens becoming the rampart for the vestigial clarity of Secret Masters to foresee the bypass that heals decadence and rebukes the formalism of puritan endeavor to sweat with exhaustive patience over the gossamer intertesselations of a ripe reality rather than a groveled fragmentary world shattered too much by exigent metanoia to mount the crenellated catchpole of vigilant enmity towards the stew of listlessness found in epigone and farce more than in organic fortunes. We flip the upheaval of society to squander our proportionate degrees of wealth on the necessity created by dire quandary which enamors by interrogations of pulchritude the verisimilitude of participle ivory dalliance of etched canvasses of simultagnosia for the librations of the liberated rings of betrothed liberation despite profound lurches of the mistetches of ignorance presiding dismally over the hulked disdain of glamborge rather than resselenque.

     The winter is a poor porcine glut of ciconine swelters because the prickly obtuse recoil of the delopes of caution find their permeable balance with a sort of photographic photosynthesis that braves the dearth of reprieve for the reprisal of nostalgic deeds found in the docimasy of riveted reflections because the preordination of God is the superlative champion of the witeless grandeval protectorate of infinite concepts guarded from the parvanimity even of the most strident minds squabbling over the braseros and battues of history as though those funereal stains of lachrymose regret outweigh the traditions of vaunted human progress because they are finicky about importunate pleas of subsidiary injustice rather than fulminations of the modern rebuttal to the disclaimers of an uneven history that shepherds the doubts of nihilism into ripe fruition at the expense of very expensive moral rot for the codlings of urbacity and mendaciloquence used to foment that tribalism of totemic justice. We see in Penuel the wrestling match of specters and heroic giants documented on the ageless pages and we notice the ironic twinges of struggle that kneaded the propriety of gentilian privilege that ultimately fostered an insurrection against chosen bravado among those that sear with zeal beyond the yordim afflictions of yobbery because the Jewish heart is stronger than any calamity even if it departs from the reverence of the colporteurs of the integrated syncretism of the attempted monolith that beseeches polyphiloprogenitive growth in mindset rather than in testy abeyance of forbearance because of known scrutinies into the tropology of wilted facts remanded by curious historicity that crumples without disdain when we memorialize the erasure of scepsis by modern standards of thaumaturgy.

    The minauderies of growth are a repositioned tacit allegiance to the untold fanfare and hearsay immunized against the broach of facetious levity to buoy discordant hearts above fumatoriums of relentless ignorance because coherent masterwork can be cobbled without such lapidary toil and toll on sincere affectations of wizened brevity. The seismic precautions for the forefathers of incidental convergences between expectancy and crystallized history are an ironic intortion of priorities because the heralds and tribunes matched the peerless foresight with the gerrymandered figments of apartheid between the imaginary and the real so that the delicate synchrony of events could unfurl a riveting carapace from the shells of protection even in amiable squalor for its impenitent attrition on the volleys of sensible rumor becoming fashioned in covert bedazzled errors in judgment leading to the triumph of the eventual civilization over the futtocks of the burial of the former trekleador of zenkidu belonging to provincial cadasters found so tucked in the hedges that discernment of frikmag would be an indelible scourge on the biognosy of the diagnosed endeavors that elapsed into remediated circumstances that brave the depths of deontological violation for the breadth of apportioned loaves and two swanky fish earning a place among the miracles of transcendent liberation from articles of decree imperious by sardonic disdain becoming nullified by the histrionics of a delicately staged orchestra that cements human achievement.

       We relish the frescades of a ruffled autumnal reminder of flourish above pothers of the screed of admonition swamped by nostalgic backtracks in the séance with ultimatum of design and the impregnated and carnal lusts of a world pitched in darkness with guarded lambent lights fomenting a perjury against tact for the deliverance of freedom in tacit agreement with owleries that every bonanza be tithed in their favor regardless of hibernation of spoilsports or their subsidiary remarks on indelible quills of invented manufactured realities we crave with desperation rather than cower from in requited nescience urging us to depart from affairs and stagnate the loyalty of fealty above the limber of utility mobilized above levities for solemn remarks and rejoinders. Promulgated above the robotic rubble of staffage haywire in wiredrawn contemplative resonance of tremulous subterfuge vestigial but immediate to the yardsticks of reprehensible malarkey, is the barnstorm for erratic dimples sauntered by the saunas of shelter above the chaos of ruined ginnels for the gimcracks of auxiliary duty to service, is the glorification of the sultry intimations of legions of remonstrance in guarded decorum about sunken atrocities lapsed in memorial to the incumbent brunt of sockdolagers of justice returning revenants from the bridewell of historical internment. The symphily of orchestras to cineaste symposiasts of surquedry in impudence beyond the brays of betrayal is the aborning mythos of regimented perceptions of a world that when magnified by minutiae appears starkly contrast to the gapped gubbertushed reality of the average patron of the arts to such an extreme gulf of receptive understanding that the qualia are dovetailed only in the swink of careful kisswonks to certify certitude itself when all the fragments coalesce into subjoined harmony to the substructures of inherent conscientiousness. The miracles at work that are vesicles and vessels for the swage of imprint above the loyalty of the imprinted tribunes of the fluminous is how hidden protrusions can emerge so victorious over popularized glazes on the pastures of a farmed culture itching for timmynoggies of innovation but only finding the etched remarks of pristine imagos of heroism dwindling in motivation to surpass the imaginative leaps accustomed to a newfangled laziness that bedazzles the guzzle of crowds but not the discrimination of the crowded morass of incompletion found in mosaics missing enigmatic philters of intoxicated love for the profound. So to be intermediary as a custodian for artistry we must cozen the wheedled imaginations not of the relic but the archaeologist that discovered the embedded prisms of attentive scrutiny for glinting sunshine inherent in troves of surpassed excellence beyond parochial sympatric blandishment of donnism rather than a resselenque that floats above demeanor to usher the cosseted age of treasure above the glib brocards and florews of past success.

      Immanent to the provisions of God as decreed from a syncretic reconnaissance of the pitiable gulfs that separate boundless divine love from the clavigerous potential for scrappy sympatric affiliation to **** through the barnstorms of internal comestions of conflated priorities we are ourselves prismatic in the indulgence of a tasty life sprinkled with zest rather than tempered with the vengeance of retorted animosity that we knead the pottery of ironclad resistance to a metallic conduit of pruned fulminations of unguided intuition so that the natural accord supersedes the goad of materialism for the sustenance of antiquity beyond its heyday for vital gains against the tauricide of panic and frenzy. The linchpin of all realistic attempts at the sympatric symphily of civilization is a guided remorse through the torment of affliction that sizzles without anteric barbs as it measures through engrenage how to pilot the vehicles of prosperity through the minefields of contingency that invisibly bequeath new hurdles and inestimable obstacles that collude surreptitiously to fulminate measured controversy against the backbites of restrained equipoise created by polities of the macadamized fabric of a welded smithy of a universe that with ubiquity proclaims above the senseless the harvest of conjugal repartee in sensible pride against militant bastions of incidental prejudice for a careen against the flyndresques of danger and the flyndrigs of glaikery alike for a humane spurt of enlightenment to tower peerlessly in supervision of entelechy created by esemplastic unity in apolaustic purpose. We cannot be puritans engaged in a pilgrimage to a palimpsest of priggishness because the daring elements of adventurism are necessary ingredients to catalyze the supply-chain of the innate gluttony of ego-seeking endless balance with a natural sustained biognosy that prizes biocentric harmony above bibliognost scepsis so that the enthused can flock with liberty divorced from libertinism. The ultimatum is a war between hedonism wed with donnism against eumoirety and self-restraint and this battle will be waged on the indolence of a future of cordslave tethers to interrogation of privy conceptualism hamshackled by the gradgrinds into the neat nexility of precise conformity that blacklists the samizdat because the genizah profoundly twists the already jumbled jengadangle and provides a junediggle of procession and ceremony rather than pomp without substantial grit embedded in the showmanship of a reality in need of a fourth-wall.

        It is ironic how we bewrayed our stewardship of the planet as a plenipotentiary sentience waged against the vesicles of instinct but more fundamental to this tattered but pregnant psalm is that the stronghold of our future is the tenacity of filial duty to enthrone the household with husbandry and restraint as an emolument to divine justice that sparkles opalescent in its own redacted notions of gravity imperfect in the taradiddles of science but refined by the eclat of the combustible syncopation of a reiterative trope of realism combined with surrealist caprice to henpeck affectionate violation above inviolable screeds of blood sport rather than conjugal affections afforded to the brood and the feast of the flocks that rein supreme over all things but exert inclement justice over the cattle and chattel of civilization itself. The minkumpf against the sacrilege of a prioritized kosher is to abhor the suffering rather than embrace the penitence of perceived but specious sacrifice which is an ornery thorn on the stained conscience of the yobbery of both the apikoros and the obedient because to attenuate all suffering even of instinctual beings we anneal our hearts to a glorified compassion that supersedes the relegated relics of pushful genuflection by succedaneum of sacrifice waged against the docile whangams of otiose theodicy. The filibusters against the regnant complexity of regalia that is a sprauncy poivrade with terpsichorean flairs to transmute the intimations of hibernated perfidy into finicky transmissions for the riometers that accord orbific merit in a lackluster time enchant the rollicking audience of this auditorium of the prevenance of the conquered universe bracing for the camorra of the insipid entreaty of defalcated casuistry—the prominent exchequer in hoodwinked political agitprop that forges ironclad allegiances to flimsy facades of the verisimilitude of dignity with recalcitrant but incondite bruits of venom militant against secular apostasy—that the fitful arrivistes that swim in dire dearth will be welcomed into the reconciliation of all time with a tempered lurid glint of revelation bounded by sunken albatross of hype unbounded with a peace insurmountable in prestige rewarded only with the highest reservations.


    On 3-1-2020 when I penned my philosophy—even at a slowpoke margin of crafty precision above rapid empirical faucets of folly—I was entirely selfsame with the autotelic engravings of the smoldering aboriginal talents within that many can swing through by tenacity for enormous plaudit but a flagrant majority will apprehend with flippant scollardical tenets of rebuke and remain honest in their appraisal only in meek resignation of parvanimity.
Consider the postulates of rarefaction whittled into a vehement zeal against the prostitution of our species to the anteric cycles of residual molds of dingy spectacle mired by the tyrannical towers of supercilious squirms of revamped novelty rather than enhanced by the freebooters of dirigisme that borrow from time the behest of philandered flairs divorced from the cadges of secular instinct and enthroned by the qualms of engineered virtuosity that is stark, barren but peerless in its outstretched clamor for luxuriant sprees against the silentium of grandeval asylum incurred by the flippant filigrees of recalcitrant modernism endangered by the irredentism of the future upon the whimsy of the present-minded momentary glare of rapture.  This impending architecture of nimble but subservient endeavor is a pinprick rejoinder against the wernaggles of prepossessed fountains of configured animosity against the stapled heed of a modality of trayned invictive invectives against the plodding course of fustilugianation that swerves in apathy of autopilot junediggle to emanate the surrender of epigone to the raktendure of the synaesthesis of the attuned perception of all superimposed minutiae delegated by calculated design into a synclastic focus on veiled caprice that is vaulted above the choppy and sketchy verdure of remiss perception to stellar continuities rather than mundane knickpoints of stodged blurs that magnify syncretic qualia into baseline congruity rather than staid torpefied resignation of the visage of thunder without the pangs of the widely vituperated lightning that bequeaths all certain notions but flouts the tortious saboteurs of the prim trucage of brittle fundamentalism.

     As the flawed paragon of a picaresque youth punctuated by vibrant plumage of self-wrought tropophilous usucaption of remote groomed frontiers of desolate luxury but buoyant morale into the ballasts of a nimble usufruct that hikkles yet still against still-framed thilloire--fatuous in endearment only to the polity of the waterdrip of craven but gravid disingenuous flickers of lambent cloaks of perfidy—that earned its birthright by meditative fruition rather than prodigal tallespin of indolent frapplanks of a vicarious personage rather than an autotelic haecceity showcases the folly of heterodyne inclinations meeting an impasse of accidental dislodgement. The interregnum between the spurts and sprees of luxuriance is a staid pause between continuities of afforded parlance becoming stapled demographic solidarity affixed to a strident gallop of effortful pushes against the tenacity of the slumberous wicked hibernation of vetust magpiety without hieratical internment because youthful industry beats hackneyed bludgeons of wiseacres of a stilted manufacture of steamy nostalgia for lickerish moments that dignify but undermine moral virtues but splash anointed and sometimes disjointed favor upon the congeners to a rabid escapade of a heedless love frowning on the girdles of the prim balderdash of heralded jolts dim on levity and puffed with elusive contextualized control of libidinous serrated defilement because the crotaline **** outmantles the sweedled limber of exploitable folly. The cosseted reality of wheedled gourmands of continuous perception rather than the Gaussian blur of the protean invention of stitches in time that obscure rather than magnify the supernal levity inherent to most artistry is a linchpin of lenient gravitas that levies the lavaderos of ripe perception into annealment.
Excuse the bravado of the gait of winnowed forks in a bronteum for heralds of megaloscopy fastened to the macroscian reality of indelible filigrees of countermanded controversy becoming its best behest in the sempiternal flowering of burgeoned demonstration rather than illustrious overhang of drab slabs of manufacture rather than organism that should be interposed between the constellated concepts of both apperception and the aggrieved counselors to obtuse obsessions that are an improper tutelary for a designated reprisal of the once profane now immediately gratified by ramshackle tenets of a guarded sublimation of the tenets of post-modernism into a sustained force of the internalized tabernacle of haecceity shepherded into exuberance by the manumission of spirit from the ******* of purblind scalds of defamation that incurs the penalty of flippant privation. The refuge the Lord provides is not contingent upon the vagaries of deliberation nor the calculus of oversight but the remontant amaranthine glower of a listed deed becoming an eternal reminder that a dismantled and disjointed world fathoming only remorse rather than the trudge of gentility against the headwinds of brunt asperity will always flout the successor rather than atone for the failure of the imponent condition that constellates around rudimentary drivel grubbing the momentary out of avarice for allotted merchandise rather than glommed magnets to amoeba sentiments for the kisswonk of ulterior motive beyond dungeons of desperation that lurk ghoulishly with spectral frights at the disfigurement of morale created by errors askew rather than a contagion of righteous valor.

   Ask the heedful servant if the captaincy of reneged commitment owes homage to dutiful instruction or whether it is a balking corpse of necrosis accorded to the omphalism of brutish carnal repose in times of sedentary silt siphoned in spelunked rijuice for preordination is a predominant specter for a world scared scurrilous and skittish in a diatribe against the very notion of tribal screeds embedded in the sedimentary heft of traditionalism above the pother of vacillation commended to the apikoros but counterfeit fiat system of a ruddy governance without a supreme magistrate. Now lets venture into the territory of visagists as we envision the swanky subversion of impoverished and nebbich visions of oligochrome that fixates on belabored but dead notions of rigid propriety and levitate above those concerns with a querulous transcendence that never wernaggles about the profaned irrelevance of burlesque tropes of sidereal friction but instead memorializes the thermolysis of permeable endeavor above staid countenances of imposture that lurk in the shadowy penumbra of the connivance of persona above the archetype of the tutelary guardian spirit that through windlass and sometimes deliberation affixes nobility to even the pedestrian in order to assize its proper proportions to granular ironies expounded into megalography transformative by the very rivets of its supersensible existence and cohabitation with histrinkage among human taboos.

   The handiwork of a permeable race prone to exacerbated proclamations of prerogatives bulldozed by the rapid percolation of insoluble quandaries to the gripes of the feast of foofaraw sometimes shelters our otherwise regnant concern about the plenipotentiary God that observes all latent affairs without the paramours that conflate vivid carnality with appeased luxury and superimposes a crafty system of seismic shifts in rantipole dances with numinous flux rather than dissipated militant suppression of the fracklings of dissolute pollution which swirk in their dastardly desperado endeavors to corral the entire monoliths that guard each province into a winnowed rumble of rubble by tarnish of Tyre rather than by the upstart rejoinders of Canaan. Every creature which has the capacity to perceive language is afforded benedictions by the overhailing force of the hypaethral heights of superlative ingenuity founded in the bolted speculation of the endearment of all to tropological seesaws embattled against the hearsay of nyejays that contaminates the telmatology of the ecosystem of revivalism rather than buries the leaden debts of the disjointed revenants of past prominence into recycled irrelevance for posterity rather than for anything but a machination of a clockwork apple rigged for a rotten worm to swindle the sweet delicate tempests of unforeseen disaster to perjuries against financial solidarity.

The spinsters of sardonic drollery underscore the imminence of an incondite cutthroat collapse blackguarded by the hucksters of incontinence grubbing every fetched noisome notion and congealing a bonnyclabber of desiccated mildew that proves vestigial when the victors of time earn their joyous serenade to the pinnacle of the totem of jaundice slits in wavy endeavors for the participles of sejungible syntax of the ephorized furor to outlast the draksteng of droned dereliction manned by half-baked spies of ulterior recitals for imprinted vicissitude in supremacy in synquest for frizzlounges rather than the pedestrian circulatory system of careworn polity. We vaporize the petty hatred of sympatric regelation that neuters the virulence of motivated impediments to the draconian surge of asperity that sinks temporal haplessness as a regaled blasphemy that crowns only the ringed betrothal to spumid serrated halts in slick superstition that is a buggery to the idea of insectivores devouring the erratic chantage of germane germs that pauperize rather than even blind the deafened to be a crutch to vehicular homicide. Melismatic sennet is a dirigible of immense herculean sinew without the traces of vestibulary retches of kisswonked grisly tepid intimidations of eccedentesiasts by the radioglare of wizened corrugations in thanatism that exhort the avatars of narquiddity over the natural departure of revenant souls back to their temporary hostility to crass lifeless decarnate immediacy that slinks with foibles magnified by vertiginous heights of scollardical reputes rigged by the rijuice of the plackiques of meaningless spoils for swashbuckler bonanza borrowed from serrated vengeance exacted in prominence to provide false avenues of extenuation to malefaction that is confidant to the panopticon of exemplary dimples meager in the largesse of the composite realism of a sizable imprint on megalography that outlasts impertinent excuses for dangerous trout swimming against the mobilized selachostomous frizz of sharks gathering to avenge disclosure with insolence and gravid atrocity of incisive surgical evisceration of attempted depositions that falter by innumerable facets of countenance that belie ultimate realism and the perdurable construction of a sturdy hive of bibliognost revelry.

     Even with the blaring sennet of majesty inundating my piecemeal perception with the marstions of flarium that is an efficacy in a flaccid world of otiose pretenses limpid only in folly but contraplex in ironic skewbald skerries of grubbed destination that is the terminus of karezza despite the maledictions of vehement guarded betrayals that conjure up lurid noisome virility against the gamines and gallywows that populate interstellar fictions of virtu rather than mundane pragmatica that astound with the resselenque of contaminated skeumorphs of latent fracture belonging to a skeletonized ossified reification of farce above historicity in seemly seamless countenance with overwrought princely stature deserving integrity to ripples through sparkling opalescence. The vapid insularity of the self-contained mythos of appeased groundlings is based on the rhizic and rhizogenic fracklings destitute in predicative flares to swelter above stratospheres of the illimitable into the dwelling of the highest serenity inherent to the pacification of truth to neglect its egregious errors of mistetches of a ripened pachyderm of bravery in times of austerity and now a reclaimed notion of sempiternal charades swimming above the punitive draksteng of dranger that is enlarged by acclimated attempts at foiled raltention hikkling against its own superior forces of galvanized preterition to elide over screwball insanity of derangement in this virtual paradise of inhabited souls belonging to former times congregating on the pasture of the evanescence of now for all eternity having the optative condition of incarnation above the ferules of the stagnant brevity of oversight in heavenly realms by postulate but not confirmed by regal logic.

     The troponder of the flickered lambent niceties of polity is a countenance that piggybacks on simpered jostles of negligent engrenage to appease sworn enmities among beatific havens for certitude swarmed by the fisticuffs of darbied bridewells of desiccated drainage traversing the distant disdain for the gravel of cemented slits of stilted pragmatica that is a gavel of atrocious estoppel mediated by heroic heresiarchs against pitiable betrayal for forceful remedies in acclimated servitude to the groans and groaks of a life of remorse and dearth rather than the glut of luxuriance in forbearance to its own intorted mirrored ironies that etch infinity with every scrawled rejoinder to austere ploys of checkered rumbles of threat and exigency posed by the clairvoyant hypocrites who benefit greatly by the design of the omphalism above the frays and brays of corporate dogmatism slowly outmoded by vibrant plumages of heteronormative originality beyond petty chantage. A hesitation overcomes the bluster of bravado as the restive earnest concerns of tribulation beset the minauderies of divine affection to reaffirm the teachings of the Gospel so that future generations genuflect beneath the altar of the ultimate stroke of sociogenesis and the blood ransom of suffering that promoted the human latitude and liberty against incarcerated throngs of virtue over caesaraproprism accorded to genuflection beneath denarii rather than absolution by tether to the eternal vine of sensation of the supersensible entelechy of all valiant insurrections against defective polities and renewed policies.

     We thus seek a transdimensional bridge between the morphean virtu of rudimentary alchemy of propitiation divulged by leverage and the teeming rambunctiousness of fiduciary tribes to the ultimate duty of man to consummate the future of eternity even in slowpoke mannerisms that sidle through rigors of entelechy and assize the masterwork of tutelage above the circumforaneous entrenchment of glut above the mastery of the subtle subaudition that beleaguers an adept conflagration of harnessed human ignorance staid in the incarceration of exotic virtues of freewheeling sapience never vulnerary to hospitable concerns that entrenches the verisimilitude of a refracted justice to reign over the stultification of a primitivism inherent to man and not man alone.

I am the Reaper.
All things with heedful hook
Silent I gather.
Pale roses touched with the spring,
Tall corn in summer,
Fruits rich with autumn, and frail winter blossoms--
Reaping, still reaping--
All things with heedful hook
Timely I gather.

I am the Sower.
All the unbodied life
Runs through my seed-sheet.
Atom with atom wed,
Each quickening the other,
Fall through my hands, ever changing, still changeless
Ceaselessly sowing,
Life, incorruptible life,
Flows from my seed-sheet.

Maker and breaker,
I am the ebb and the flood,
Here and Hereafter.
Sped through the tangle and coil
Of infinite nature,
Viewless and soundless I fashion all being.
Taker and giver,
I am the womb and the grave,
The Now and the Ever.

My Reportage for 10/8/2018
When I was a child, my mother and the neighbors
would sit on the front stoop and gossip
about current events: ones would pretend
to be reading her book, but ones ears were like
cable vision indoor satellite: broadcasting
Christine Blasey Ford and Judge Brett Kavanaugh
Stirs up a lot in me this past week
About my childhood memories,

I felt unnerves, about topics that old folks chat about back then:
I remember the villains, child *** predators and ****** fathers
the child's entrapment and powerlessness era in our small village
Where the old folks buried the secrets under the rugs
And prayer about it on Sunday morn

Flashing back to those stories,
too often is nerve wrecking
I called them the gossiping sundown moments:
Shilling was a clone of Brett Kavanaugh: he drank and he forgets:

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! /
The world forgetting, by the world forgot. /
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! /
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd
'Eloisa to Abelard', Alexander Pope

Those gossiping sundown moments,
Never dies when it enters the ears of a heedful child:
I was always one of those children,
Who was so careful about stranger’s looks?
the friendlier the neighbors sweet talk tones
I would take off with speed like the swarm drone
Odd! but that was all it took:

All emotions, even those that are suppressed and unexpressed, have physical effects. Unexpressed emotions tend to stay in the body like small ticking time bombs—they are illnesses in incubation.”
― Marilyn Van M. Derbur,
:

The way you play your harp,
effortlessly weaving your fingers
through those nylon strings
is oh so captivating.

The firm hold you have on your instrument,
secure, yet light enough,
being careful not to break
the mahogany frames.

The heedful ears you have,
used to listen to the echoing sounds,
your harp makes in response to
even the slightest flick of your finger.

The beautifully composed melody,
brought forth by the
dissonance and resolution
of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever known.

Wherever did you get the practice?
*Perhaps it was from toying with my heart.

The sun descending in the west.
The evening star does shine.
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine,
The moon like a flower,
In heavens high bower;
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight;
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping *****.

They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm;
If they see any weeping.
That should have been sleeping
They pour sleep on their head
And sit down by their bed.

When wolves and tygers howl for prey
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful;
The angels most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit.
New worlds to inherit.

And there the lions ruddy eyes,
Shall flow with tears of gold;
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: wrath by his meekness
And by his health, sickness.
Is driven away,
From our immortal day.

And now beside thee, bleating lamb.
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on him who bore thy name.
Graze after thee and weep.
For wash’d in lifes river.
My bright mane for ever.
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o’er the fold.

The sad and solemn night
  Hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;
    The glorious host of light
  Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;
  All through her silent watches, gliding slow,
Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.

    Day, too, hath many a star
  To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they:
    Through the blue fields afar,
  Unseen, they follow in his flaming way:
  Many a bright lingerer, as the eve grows dim,
Tells what a radiant troop arose and set with him.

    And thou dost see them rise,
  Star of the Pole! and thou dost see them set.
    Alone, in thy cold skies,
  Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet,
  Nor join'st the dances of that glittering train,
Nor dipp'st thy ****** orb in the blue western main.

    There, at morn's rosy birth,
  Thou lookest meekly through the kindling air,
    And eve, that round the earth
  Chases the day, beholds thee watching there;
  There noontide finds thee, and the hour that calls
The shapes of polar flame to scale heaven's azure walls.

    Alike, beneath thine eye,
  The deeds of darkness and of light are done;
    High towards the star-lit sky
  Towns blaze--the smoke of battle blots the sun--
  The night-storm on a thousand hills is loud--
And the strong wind of day doth mingle sea and cloud.

    On thy unaltering blaze
  The half-wrecked mariner, his compass lost,
    Fixes his steady gaze,
  And steers, undoubting, to the friendly coast;
  And they who stray in perilous wastes, by night,
Are glad when thou dost shine to guide their footsteps right.

    And, therefore, bards of old,
  Sages, and hermits of the solemn wood,
    Did in thy beams behold
  A beauteous type of that unchanging good,
  That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray
The voyager of time should shape his heedful way.

An explosion of motion

It is morning

The day lies open

Water runs between my claws

I pretend I am the permeable colors of glacial melt

Where I am distinctly heedful. No eyes. No hands 



I want to be invisible;

the lazy colors of gold and blue;
unable to recall any identity or reality

I can’t say why. Invisible hurts. Maybe its easier to feel the hurt of invisible but know that the struggle of existence will never be in me



I’m sick at the prospect of a cage but it’s easier than freedom

So I quietly dismantle myself during your sleep. I wait in my constraints for the machinery in your mouth to turn

That sound is my cue. The only evidence I know



Maybe I’d be good for a living hell; tied to the incessant bluster of gods with animals heads, munching holes in each others pale golden horns
But the war is at a pause for now. The cavalcade is sitting down


Is it still morning?

I sleep to shelter my head. But good sleep never really comes



The drop line reaches down my throat and hoists a voice

How condemned I feel

Condemned to action and reaction, burdened with contempt, choked by doubt, commanded to love

How can I be, if I cannot know what I am?

Why can’t I be invisible?

Some enchanted morning senility will be upon me. And when my body begins to cool, let it be

The pavement is full of spurious persons,
Training each other to pretend they're eclectic,
Using differences to assert the vilification of mankind.

Cross from them stands the truth,
Perspicaciously watching
The hedonists
Be not heedful,
Listening to their speeches full of trifling, inconsequential consequences.

A furtive plan snakes from the mouth to the ears of the truth,
Manipulating it to bolster the lies.

The belief that everyone deserves rights
Akin, alike, homogeneous, to the human nextto him,
Is brought down with the laud, the praise, the inception of the end.

A baggage full of hope
With fragments of dreams and ardor
Desiring to get up to the *****
Where she’ll find her own harbor

A baggage full of hope
In ceaseless heedful caress
Not wanting to ever elope
Amidst the melody she cannot express

A baggage full of hope
Packed for the long journey to Utopia
Wishing to just remain afloat
In a night sky with stars in cornucopia

A baggage full of hope
Drenched in a swamp of sorrow
Will she still be able to cope
And be saved from being hollow?

A baggage full of hope
A casket of ambition, lost and lifeless
Will holding on to the obtrusive rope
Bring her back up and leave her boundless?

It takes on deaths horrible form thereunto,
Breaching the seas pensively askew;
Spun brutally from troubling winds of false accord,
Ignored by expression but surely explored.

O 'tis madness, voices beat savagely in my head,
Upon quiet of night as insanely they wilfully imbed.
Through mortal fear I am awakened,
There's nowhere pleasant to run 'tis my chastened.

Of life's despairs nor demons wrathful hold,
Hast thereof nightmares foretold.
In the chilling air, killing heedful wisdoms impaired,
Had I faltered, I'd been sadly unprepared.

Pressed onwards I could only dream,
With care it'd be a future supreme.
Deep in my bleeding thoughts I tried to grasp it,
Yet every brutal bound 'twas likely unfit.

Ah, let evil echo through my disrupting mind,
The faces, that blushed mostly unkind.
A hideous desire inexplicable, entombed from within,
Hastily it beckons thereunto an original sin.

The voices, whose horrid duty I deplore,
Of the old vast despairs it will implore.
But alone I am 'tis surely surpassing a realm of rage,
And all I seen, mattered naught offstage.

Regrettably in the valley of despair I have always lived,
Therefrom I am truly a weltered child deprived.
Onto the rough cobble stones bloodied and quite torn,
That tragic wind, caught in hells uproar forlorn.

A sea of red, kept in an eternal twinge,
Through to agonies I'd impinge.
Ah how they weep, the mystic fools they weep,
In fake smiles these too rustle forth and reap.

Though I'm stirred I cannot follow,
O'er endless toil I as wallow.
Unto violent passions, soaring in tempting extremes,
Of pastures buried, a life in poor redeems.

For nothing concerted I came thereafter seeking,
Every question asked it begged a haggard beseeching.
Thus in a dim labyrinth of lies I found some solace,
Here in the direst valley of despair it's my disgrace.

As the cadence of time is in a hustle,
Life and death undergo a constant scuffle
And it all will end with coup de grace,
Let’s be a li’l heedful to some benevolence.

Time flies, much swifter than thoughts
Do all that you desire, before it’s lost.
Loyal were never the moments of bliss,
Engaging in goodwill would not go amiss.

Let the grime of your heart form a ****,
Try to love each other, its half wisdom
Forgiveness is a trait which blesses two,
The one who is forgiven and the other is you.

- Elina Dawoodani

Another day has come, another life granted to me, but ohh what have I done with my previous life and what have I dragged in my new life?

Today I met skeletons from my old life. They stared straight into my eyes, I tried to hold the stare but I couldn’t. They were too real and their presence was overwhelming. I could feel it, I could see it but they could see through me, straight into my inner colors, gawking at my dark secrets and my veiled inner reptiles.

"***, What have I done? Where is my poker face?"

Clearly my chameleons are losing their camouflage. They are raging with fear, heedful of any attacks that may be thrown their way. It’s tiring, so I understand why they have grown impatient and want to flash their hidden colors. I can hear them screaming in my head - they are restless, they keep wrestling my skin, itching like lice, turning red at every minor vibration extended their way.

I'm trying hard to keep my composure, keep my eyelids from moving , from shaking, from swimming in a sea of tears cause I need to stay strong, to be an adult, to grow a tail and horns, to show my canines so I could feel invincible, seem firm and unshaken so no one could wake my sleeping secrets, my dark mambas. But in my eyes, yes in the windows of our souls, if you look closely you will see them. You will see them crawling under my skin, asking to be  let out so they could shake hands with their cousins, brothers and sisters in the reflections in the mirrors, the horizons of their independence...

“The hard way is not working, let’s mess with her head”.
So they tell tales, write songs, recite poems that I want to rhyme with but NO, I won’t let them over come my calmness cause I have scales on the outsides, cause I am a knight in cold blood serenity armor, cause even if hell boils over, God-willing the outside will never see the smoke of flames from my inner chambers, from the caves and dark corners filled with hot magma.

No, red is not a color. It will not overcome patience, the color I have painted serenity, the façade I put on every day but blood runs in my veins, and blood is the color of my raging chameleons.

Your stare pierced my eyes and penetrated my soul
I stood there, helpless, powerless, and weak, in front of you
Naked, like the day before Eve got a taste of the forbidden fruit
For you were the snake that whispered the only truth into my ear
You slithered gently on my denuded skin
And alluringly wrapped your body into mine
I suddenly felt a jolt, almost agonizing

Somehow the scales that had fallen onto my eyes were removed
I could see for the first time
Terror devoured me but I had never been so eager
To just let go of all that I thought I knew
For there was a grace in my destruction
I took my last breath, breathing in the last of the false air
And my heedful consciousness was finally born

I was alive for the first time
The overwhelming bliss became to abundant
You took my hand and led the way into our light
We walked away from the pearly gates and found the remarkable flock
Awaiting the arrival of their enlightened peers
A place to call home where we were loved and celebrated
For us animals are an infinitesimal breed

Is your grief as sullen to be pitched into the dark where mourners lay their thoughts
the warmth of a cup of black coffee drawn from a heedful call that stands to reason with your voice
and the day turns away in a callous hunger desiring to be measured in spiteful calories
your lipstick has stained your teeth in vainglory
will you run from the hunt or has the open switchblade knife followed your wrist to the faintest lines
has his forceful blows moved you to tears and he knows how not to love you in centimeters
in the rose gold of your naked body I have surfaced
to find the rounded edges that make you complete

The peacefulness that sweeps your eyelids is priceless
It’s beautiful the way you move unconsciously
And excuse me for being heedful but I don’t think I’ve ever seen an angel before
It’s just the sight of you is striking to me
And actually I’ve never felt so close to anything that I could physically touch
The sentiment is Godly
Your body lies down my hearts horizon I’ve brightened.
I’m thankful you’ve given me a safe place to lay my devotion
My emotions are untangling in involuntary motion
I’m open To pain To the aching To the possible disappointments
But where I reside the address is cloud 9 And I’m floating
Going nowhere fast, I’m enjoying my view Coasting
I’ve heard that patience is a virtue And so I’m learning
The other night in a moment of silence I realized the blessings I’d been earning
It put fear in my heart

"Pause"

I pause to think how power dwells
Amongst our thoughts. The beautiful, the good
Absorbed within our souls when understood
Then permitted, to shape us with their spell.

I stop and think of ageless rays
Of hope that faithfully banish fear
Whenever we but humanly hold them near
The center of our vision, throughout our day.

I calmly muse of pleasant moments
Yet to be mine, and how I may tread
Within my tapestry of time assured
Of their healing and soothing continuance.

I, with clearness think about my need
Of others in my life. Of how the Divine
Mind sends love through Adam's line
To all, not heedful of our earthly creed.

I often think about the people that I know
Along this journey. Of the precious few
Who, touching and touched, we formed new
Passions in each other, changing soft the soul.

I also think of the many wisdom's free to gain
And commonly found along life's way,
And how we may from day to day
Live within our flesh, yet spirit's peace obtain.

I'm new here in HePo; the question on what the most accurate emotion i should be surrounding my dome in is baffling me.

It feels relieving (or mayhaps that feeling you get when you first step on a room full of new faces and the thought that maybe, just maybe you belong here darts in your head) to see many spiffing wordsmiths who're just as vulnerable as i always supposed myself to be but at the same time I feel helpless for maybe if i were a little more confident, i would give feed backs, try to talk to and send virtual hugs and comfort to people who're hurting and are low in spirits, such as me.

It's all too much.

But as a simple reminder for everyone who sees this, not to mention myself, here is a beautiful quote i stumbled upon in a blog many moons ago.

"It may get worse before it gets better but it will get better."

Be patient. Be heedful.

Try--try to not give up.

On the road to Bimington there’s a sign
I don’t know why it was put there
It just says « stay strong »
I suppose it’s meant for everyone
But it seems to resonate so personally
It just lingers there
With nowhere else to go
but into people’s minds
so they can cope with life and carry on

On the road to Bimington there’s a lake
that glistens in the morning sun
and never fails to catch the eye
of anyone who passes by
whether by chance or by design
in whatever mood or state of mind
All are attracted to the glittering light
that adorns the pristine water
and reveals the secrets within

On the road to Bimington there’s a cottage
where an old woman sits in her garden at dawn
praying it may seem, but without words
She’s there but very much elsewhere
There are flowers and birds all around her
that appear to be imparadised by her presence
Their colours and forms are exalted
Their fragrance and song are sublime
and their graceful chorus never seems to end

On the road to Bimington there are woods
Where a heedful doe peeps out from behind trees
and caresses your heart with her large, soft eyes
She never ventures to emerge until you’re gone
but at a distance you can contemplate her beauty
and the peace that she procures
The woods are graced by her presence
The air is blessed by her bleating
and souls are warmed by her gentleness

I haven’t been to Bimington of late
but I remember lots of furrowed brows and clenched jaws
People there just seem to plod through life
Perhaps that’s why someone put the sign on the road
If only they would venture out of their confinement
and journey on the road that leads to their abode
They could experience the universe as it truly is
and be replenished with all they will ever need
to « stay strong »

How do you love me, but fear what i am at the same time.
How do you choose to loath me, but idolize what i do in my time.
You want me to succeed, but hate to think of what id do to get it.
You see my drive and find my motive, but tremble at the twisted thoughts within it.
I block out those who long to see me unlock my heart in open arms.
But to a shock, their epiphany of my crooked ways will always alarm.
They gaze in amazement as a rose emerges from the concrete and wonder how it has risen.
The jagged thorns however, along its stem in heedful array are all but hidden.
They want the benefit of the prince, but fear the consequence of the beast.
For it lays agitated, waiting for war to arise as if living in the middle east.
A gaze so blank and absent in conscious, to a stare, ecstatic and full of life.
The same face in the mirror, only change is the roll of the dice, another chance to suffice