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Kara Rose Trojan Dec 2014
My Second Letter to Allen Ginsberg
Dear Allen,
Almost five years ago, I wrote you a letter, and in
That letter, I purged my drunkenly woeful cries
That seem so first-world now and naïve –
The things I grimed over with luxuries I didn’t
Realize that rubbed against my plump limbs
Like millions of felines poised at the
Tombs of pharaohs.

Oh, Allen, I’m so tired –
These politics, and poly ticks, so many ticks that
Annoy my tics. Allen! I smear your name so liberally
Against this paper like primer because the easiest way
To coerce someone into listening to you like
A mother
or predator
tugging or nibbling on your ear –
Swatches of velvet scalped from a ****’s coat
Are you and I talking to ourselves again?
Candid insanity : Smoky hesitance.

Dear Allen, I’m so tired –
Yes, I love wearing my ovaries on the outside like
Some Amazonian soapbox gem glistening from beneath
The iron boots of what the newspapers tell me while
I cough at them with the hurdled delicacies of alphabet soup.
Give vegetables a gender and call them onions, Allen.
Sullied scratch-hicks pinioned feet from slapping
Society’s last rung on the ladder.
Ignore the swerve of small-town eyes.
Scapulas, stirrups, pap smears, and cervical mucus – now do you know who we are?

That fingernail clipped too short, Allen. We’ve all got AIDs
And AIDs babies, haven’t you heard? Hemorrhaging from the political
****** and out – they haven’t reached the heart.  
Since when have old white men given a **** about some
13 year old’s birth control? I’m riding on the waves of the
Parachute game and I swear this abortion-issue is just a veil outside Tuskegee University
Being further shove over plaintive eyes, swollen and black.
Pay up and
shut up.

I still remember my first broken *****, Allen.
Can you tell me all about your first time?
The vasodilatation that made veins rub against skin,
Delirious brilliance : unfathomable electricity.
I made love during an LSD experience, Allen,
And I am not sorry. I see cosmic visions and
Manifest universal vibrations as if this entire world is
A dish reverberating with textiles and marbles, and
All are plundering the depths of the finished wine
Bottle roasting in the sink like Thanksgiving Turkey.
The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.
The opening, between you and you, occupied,
zoned for an encounter,
given the histories of you and you—
And always, who is this you?
The start of you, each day,
a presence already—
Hey, you!

Ah, Allen, if you are not safe, then I am not safe.
And where is the safest place when that place
Must be someplace other than in the body?
Am I talking to myself again?
You are not sick, you are injured—
you ache for the rest of life.

Why is it that I have to explain to my students that
sometimes what I'm spouting is prescribed by a pedagogical pharmacy --
but all they want to know is "what do the symbols on the television mean?"
I am completely aghast against the ghosts of future goners --
I am legitimately licensed to speak, write, listen like some mothers --
I am constantly cajoling the complex creations blamed on burned-out educators --
I am following the flagrant, fired-up "*******"s tagging lockers --
Pay up and
shut up.

Yes, and it’s Hopeless. Allen.
Where did we get off leaping and bounding into
The dogpile for chump change jurisdiction, policing
The right and the left for inherent hypocrisies when
Poets are so frightful to turn that introspective judgment
Upon ourselves?
We didn’t see it coming and I heard the flies, Allen.
Mean crocodile tears. Flamingo mascara tracks
Up and down : up and down: bow – bow – bow – bow
Buoyant amongst the misguided ******* floating around
In the swirlpool of lackadaisical introspection.
What good is vague vocab within poetry?
Absolutely none.
Would you leave the porchlight on tonight?
Absolutely, baby.

Dear Allen, would you grow amongst the roots and dirt
At the knuckles of a slackjawed brush of Ever-Pondering Questions
Only to ask them time-and-time-and-time-and-time-again.
Or pinch your forehead with burrowed, furrowed concentration upon those
Feeble branches of progression towards something that recedes further
And further with as much promise as the loving hand
Attempts to guide a lover to the bed?

Allen, I wish to see this world feelingly through the vibrations of billions of bodies, rocking and sobbing, plotting and gnashing like the movement of a million snakes, like the curves collecting and riding the parachute-veil.

Ah, Allen! Say it ain’t so! Sanctified swerve town eyes.
And everything is melting while poets take the weather
Too personally
And all the Holden Caulfields of the world read all the
*******’s written on the walls and all the Invisible Men
Eat Yams and all the Zampanos are blind and blind
And blind and blind and blind and blind
Yet see as much as Gloucester, as much as Homer,
As much as Oedipus.

Oh, Allen, do you see this world feelingly
and wander around the desert?
Colored marbles vibrating on the curtailed parachute paradox.
Lamentation of a small town’s onion. Little do we know, Allen,
That what you cannot see, we cannot see, and we are bubbling
Over in the animal soup of the proud yet weary. I can see,
However, how the peeled back skulls of a million
Workboots and paystubs may never sully the burden
Of an existential angst in miniscule amounts.
Pay up and
shut up.  

My dearest Allen, there is always a question of how
The cigarettes became besmirched with wax to complement
What was once grass, and
What was once a garish night drenching doorknobs.
The night's yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle
To the sun ready already to let go of your hand
As you stepped, quivering, on to
The shores of Lethe.
Julian Sep 2020
The Roulette of Fanfare by Imaginative Glare (A Cooperation of Timeless Synquest)
Sunken fortitude is the bailiwick of interminable eupathy that sustenance embezzles by minutiae of orange spectral linearity of bypass becoming a torus of tragic reprieve in repcrevel fashions of hyjamb. Thus we float above the carcass of syrts of certitude by cadasters of nostalgic drawls of malingering strawberry staddle for the scutage of pinhoked disaster. We renege on committed opalescence because tranquil dangles of vinsky are waged by trenchcoats of bluster for vector arrays of galvanized decorum that swirks for elegant synectics by dredged grains of agrarian sanity by the pleckigger of lopsided islands of creativity that are the notarikons of aleatory finite but equidistant largesse of not just a jumboism but a jetsetting travesty of traversed time mastered by ignoble ingenuity. I limn with piracy as a freebooter cordslave plugged by demitoilet reminders of the flyndresque alloreck of tinjesk spectral ultimatums that are the stretchgraves of a retrospective infinity that is a bystander to catapulted cohesive coherence found only in piecemeal culinary seditions against the drip of a turncock of roosted clarification in muted hindsights of foresight itself. The pleonexia of abeyance is the riddle of enigmatic promulgation that flickers even with partial compartmentalized servitude to the burlesque the burrows of an ophidiodiarium scare away any jaunty sleek car from the boosterism of a farmed collision with disjointed surgery of nimble reticence that braves the seismotic macadamized plutocracy of drift without sedition in sedimentary clairvoyance with a pointed amphigory that is actually a starved clarity for ommateums without spelunked trudges that occur in dovetails for disguise by synectic optimum at the zenith of the hive synergy of singularity.  The justified jest of aleatory flexes of finitude is a shambolic gesture of the limber of divergent interpretation ingeminating the world by sapient degrees of psychometry of divergence in piecemeal asseveration of the hindsight of the festooned not tepid or butchered by the obvious to the glaring cineaste but rather a gloaming glint of refracted ingenuity roosted beyond any alienesque erratic happenstance that is itself a beatific fortuity for the geotechnics of human emergence into supersensible planes traversed in a stereodimensional covenant with a compacted compost of DIVERGENT IMAGINATION OF CADASTER rather than the regelation of the obvious. Timmynoggies of cartels are regnant because of the repugnance of loyalty to the fricative frigates of superlunary mention of ratiocination divorced from husbandry of hyjamb for giant leaps in rigged ambsace maledictions of unfair pleckigger of the wrikpond relumed by huffs of impotent flairs of flambeaus beyond ecdysiast stretchgraves of perilous paralysis for the supererogatory of the accursed destruction of stoichomety of solipsism tremulous by biocentric levity above fastened redoubled pederasty. We maraud the rabble of nostalgia of rhinoplasty of penumbras that live on rainshod territorialism beyond the jolkers of everlasting foofaraw livid by betrayal but erratic in glamour without crackjaw costermongers vitiating the vociferous because of incumbent thermodynamics that affixes the stagnant to the latticework of riddle by sturdy integral derived fliphavens of shibboleths of solitude. Education is a fliction of robust derangement of nowhere men taxed by the celerity of traversed traipses of memory beyond encaged bridewells for recanted alchemy to prerogatives of the roomy expansive facsimiles of departed stigmas of bossy clairvoyance for martian glimpses at sunken waste. The bernaggles of brittle titanium are abrasive when they are alloyed with the compost of material dynamics of capital without avenged prediction cemented in sunken graves taxing the nostalgia of histrinkage that is affixed to boschveldt traindeque for venial consanguinity to dikephobia. We elevate the endpoints of abridged turriform clockwork provincial shibboleths that are the proctor and protectorate of insular robbery of crowned trounces of gravity for the gravitas of sepulchral vanity learned from famigeration of filial tithes of duty. A dutiful sedition is countermanded by the pews of turnstiles that enamor the enamel of rollercoasters because of vague vagaries of bedazzled contrition for wanton ambition on psaphonic psychology and therefore sustain the vibronic thrombosis of nonlethal inseminations of clear aqueous transfixed filigrees of demented notions of cheerful apocrypha of liturgical pride beyond the dungeons of prejudiced inquisition. The jolkers of insolent archipelagos of spinsters that levitate by parsed peril of delaminated parsecs of glazed parturition is the orchestra of a nonlinear grove of invented abecedarian witwanton notice of maddened cattle of gluttony forestalled by the clairvoyance of otiose operations of redoubled countenance that consequently is septiferous by degrees of sanguine rapacity the qwartion of endeared endeavor to surpass the gentility of brooked temperatures frozen to sustain but not mainline the congeners of the elective agenda to bypass the thornbushes of conflagration without knavery or cutthroat embellishments of bedlam. And without the din of simplicity occluding the transcendent goal of humane synoecy of fustilugs of fumatoriums endangered but not inflammed by controversy we witness the insubordinate university of hibernation becoming a specter of grisly bromidrosis of lackluster forswinked fortitude because the majestic sinew of the overwrought is a refrained luxuriance of pity of facetious glebes ringed around orbital planes of synthetic abridgement that supposes the sultry is actually the swelter of calenture but taxed by sicarians of the grandeval it meets no fanfare among elective privilege. Amphigory is not categorized as dross by shipwreck but only by synechdocial docility of groomed barren arcades of storged complication leading to regeneration of a world leaden with the epicurean epithets of agerasia that burden the wardens of poached intermission without remission because the drapes of the greatest art are thus created by the complete transfiguration of the soul bolted to ethereal expansive heights that dwarf all pithy gnomes of the gardens of prospective desiccation of the petty gripes of the gavel of idiocy rather than the astounding artform of the newfangled tabanids to supererogatory oceans of creativity. The benchmarks of sublime illusions of supremacy are a hidebound taxidermy of the rookery of greenhorns to summit the testy secrecy of inane drawl that scrabbles the miniature embellishments of petty sportive lunacy as a figment of the feral nature of proclivity recumbent upon its own gladdened prickly renegades that align with a gallywow cacophony rather than a merely epicene convergence of attitude for equity above polity that is hardly polite. As a penitent hibernal rejoinder against the clerical critics of religiosity becoming conflated with artistic masterworks of oligomania I offer my rogation for atonement because the melismatic art I fashion leads to the vogue enchantment of the noosphere for the soteriological bedrock of fastened intellectual endeavor that traverses planes of an engorged soul without a gulf of conscience leaden by distracted discernment leading to a hypostasized apostasy from the religious scruples I rigorously uphold but that I vacillate away from because I want to entrench an irenic world for the francketor dash towards a superlative enrichment of mind above matter for the victorias of soul above the pettiness of the dim humdingers of the banal lifeless squabbles of martexts beyond the hospitable welcome of martians. For the naysayers that don’t understand the ironic irenic circularity of gainsay becoming rebarbative to this artistic flourish of supersensible equipoise with an approximated histrinkage lagged by temporal deficiency they should not abhor the talisman of an ergotall genius but rather marvel at the burlesque cineaste connotation of enamored youthful spirits becoming novel because they stride above the cascades of crestfallen apathy of plodding languor. This is a definitive new artform for the niche crowd so don’t dismiss it as gobbledygook because it serves the purpose to enchant creative spirits and test minds that might be more nimble than resourceless. Wearisome by demiurges of distraction the thorny imbroglio of industry is a whiplash of nativism belonging to the throb of pulsated penury that is neither valedictory nor penultimate but tertiary in oblong variegated menageries of perfidy for collapsed enormities of jumboism lost on inclement stoichiometry that is sejungible from crambazzles of findrouement that are squaloid enthralled raptures of humdingers of rippled hunks of parched nebbich pataphysics because the circuit of conditioned reward is a rebarbative tether to the catchpole exploitative erratum of harbingers of hungry happenstance rather than continual enchantment. The crumple of squaloid sebastomania a distant figment of adscititious schadenfreude of dilettantism of flonky smardagine streaks of whemmled anxieties unduly provoked by calamities of presstungular intorgurent toonardical deprived cartels of repcrevel pursuit with labial senses embedded in deft incondite inquiries against seismotic jostle over the rubble of scaffolded jengadangle above the rot of contranatant sleek suffrage for the chattel of elemental realism becoming a heroic temple for glory without the vetust errundle of dismal disco attuned only to the spurts rather than a startled commerstargal of alienation leads to a plumber’s irony of atomic humdingers of natural equipoise with litotes of scrawny rings of gollendary piracy. The valorous incondite bricolage of a ****** cineaste barnstorm inoculated from conflagrations of the flagitious reprisal of prevenance of ferial fastuous feats of furlongs of brittle certainty above the tentative glaze of aced pokerish promenades to summit the craggy because the salebrosity of the pitch is also the venue for the sphairistic tentpoles of a new tabernacle of spectacular ecstasy in obvious punitive damage to puritan pilgrimage to mechanized obelisks of sardanapalian betrayal of histories of seizure rather than naturism of erasure that is a totemic recall of strollows of lonesome tributaries to tribunes of steam rather than saunas of lickerish leverage because the gladiatorial is a zugzwang with the deliberate infernal shibboleths of the disinclined people dislodged by carnality that depose sicarians of science because of militarized enmity against the whangams of taghairm becoming the outmoded dupe of dopamine that is now serotinous rather than flanged with glaring hearsay. The serpentine winds of windlass sometimes are a conclave of convex itineration against the steady husbandry of docile domiciles of mannequin sedentary postures for posterized infamy rather than manufactured oneiromancy that is the staddle for every phony contraption of qwartion obviously specious but interrogated by the dubiety of perseverance of inclement curiosity. Yet again we sweep the soaring ligaments of rigid ramshackle bletonism that hawkshaws countermand by division of enumerated nadirs pivoted against the perpended weight of the prolonged zeniths of grit above substance that infatuates myopia but glares against mountebanks of apothecary leverage. We fight against the boxcar traindeque of sejungible traipses through stereodimensional rebuffs of known drogulus surpassing unknowable reticence of citadels that are owleries for the seedy cities they sprawl with incontinence for a drab raft of intertesselation rather than a refined quintessence of alchemy achieved by allotment by brackish nescience becoming a blinding ray of destitution engraved by petrified decalcified rudiments of realism. The somber timbre of delirifacient ruinous rumination malingers in humdrum salience as it scrawls the tragedians lament of distal eventful frets of declassified nomenclature that swoon with lugubrious harbingers of burglary the licentious dolts affixed to the brays of pauperized regions of future proximity too remote to paralyze the morale of any cantonment on record by litotes of profound remembrance of a backfire delope for cineaste conflation of marstion slore for educated reprisal of desiccation. We spelunk in mimicry the dingy duplicity of double-takes in regelation that owe homage to the percolated hearsay of cartels that operate parsecs beyond our congeners of germane lustration in remission by deontology for soteriology alone but not vacated of the stilts of turnverein ragged mannequins of desolate remorse for the dearth of hived and hemmed hibernation in a fitful frenzy of revision above precision. We see abundant lactose intolerance as a sidereal lovelorn lament of sematic entrenchment without the scourge of roosted war against abrasive brawn exercised in flexible limbers of the novel filigrees of truth revelatory of consideration rather than impregnated with the perfidy of amaranthine static of regaled stagnation that flickers with the marinas of congregated leaps as a signature of the artistic license of byzantine traipses of contempered primacy in the soup kitchen of a lapse in sabotaged sobriety. Immune from displaced donnism is the resurgence of bonanza from checkered propinquities affixed to a finite placard of spacetime that owes to stretchgraves a profound depth of contrition that carmelized apocrypha lapse on lissome whilded dignotions of contrarian raillery of loose nihilism rather than anchor to the eremites of fact found in eclipsed culmination for momentous harps of the Jubal for new centuries inseminating the populated presence of spectral imagination with contorted melodies that spawn an ingenuous quest to swoon abiding heavens for celestial ears. It is conspicuous that artifacts for raiders elope with circuitous routes of heated sedimentary incubations with a comatose creativity that seeds the ferial junediggle with a supercalendar of confections that are intermittently apportioned in heydays of culture to the sad lament of the obvious rather than the obviated dare of audacity above conglomerations of spirited luxuriance in tasty memorial to a pinnacle above all other notions of sentinel apostasy. The greater atrocity of rogated ambitions against the gainsay of iconoduly of the rood and rude crucifixion of resurrected clarity found in the enamel of akashic answers to questions fashioned by kneaded cosmetology of delicate ***** cotqueans of limber above precedent and license beyond the finkly limp of lolloped saccharine blitzkreigs of the jalousies of the ajar vaticination of hurdled glaikeries of epicene impediment is that we ****** ink above the gesture of the quills of rocky abrasion found in limitrophes of yachted celebration because of rabid coherence above the wherefores of gadzookerie because the gladdest scaldabanco is the demented persiflage of collateral catastrophe beyond any humane degree of schadenfreude for persecution that backbites the anteric antlers of the jesters that mock the procession of liturgical secularism jeering at grapholagnia while lagging in imaginative spurts of lament for incalculable damage to the Pandora’s box of effluvia that meet stiff tabernacles of betrayal because of the Judaic foresight rather than as an alarmed Marxism scared of an agrarian interdependence of worlds cadged more prone to moral dogma exercised with latitude rather than unscrupulous brays of fisticuffs of shambolic shams of ruin. We glance at the perfidies of voyeurism with pertinacity and recalcitrant bellipotent bedlam that evokes the illicit grandeval whangams of quixotic whartonized arraigned estrangement from legalism to warp time to its own superlative turpitude that is reckless but contingent upon the consummation of destiny only to the extent of original witness rather than the decay of perpetuity wrought by the persiflage of envious militarized mandarisms of enmity aimed to derail the elevators of the noosphere from stratospheric emergence in now perspicuous clarity above the pother of the indelible sacrilege of the stygian polymathy of the astute enemies of the proper comstockery rather than the negligent butchers of an enantiodromia of oligarchies of lewdness that are severed appendages to Anti-Semitism and by extension a marginalized Islamophobia that demands by exigency the complete erasure of all attempts at sacrilege exercised in rampant dereliction of dutiful upkeep of the upright morality against the cadge of ulterior ploys of a broader hedonism that would only piggyback because of the license of ryesolagnus rather than because of a complete signatory endorsement of the liberated agenda of free thought conquered through the conquest of God but the ultimate conquistadors of time through sennet and even negligent rebec to memorialize the triumphant pantheon of growth rather than rankled regress into prolonged hatred ingeminated by atrocious tortfeasors that belong nowhere but the ashen heap of exorcised damnation. The perdition inherent to the system that craves chattel rather than sartorial versions of syncretic chatter is the malefaction of renegades bent on tornadic vulcanization to a demoralized wragapole of docility hitched to the vandalism of pilloried tarantisms of moral lapse leading the sheep into sheepish resignation over the accordion of Original Sin that annoys because the bridewells are brideless birds of the chavish of warbled uncertainty wicked because of snuffed tabacosis of mitigations of evil by the evildoers for the rejoinder against the Republic by rendering the **** a platonic ploy of karezza if only punctuated by solitary ******* reticulated by exsibilation that is contorted when you consider the ****** act a marvel rather than a condemnation of the vicarious involvement in normative ****** creations not of any higher artform but of an evolved theology that might perpend the issue of Christianized ******* that is videographic as a sanction worthy of charter and an impending simultaneous comstockery to protect the decency of the simultagnosia of a diverse and divisive mispronunciated time bent against its greatest heroes for the malice of schadenfreude built into the system of language itself by germane consideration to flagellate the wrong country for the  greatest wrongs known to the realm of religious observance. The pederasty of enclaves is the bailiwick of mutinies of selective mutism incurred by the vilified into compulsive shrieks of kallince as a ribbacle of protean ratiocination paralyzed by the coherent vulnerability incurred by the exchequer of polluted conditions of enslavement by the stretchgraves of the chavish of too many pulpits in the throng of a decisive jaundice against the victors of history because of the obsolescence of the historical fossils of outmoded jealousy. Now to the eupathy of all generations should we better conserve situations against the encroaching wesperm of the marstions of ulterior feminism grimacing at the pleckigger of manhood and decriminalizing the taboo against the enantiodromia of miscegenation to the folly of shepherds of idiotic ploys to rear the mediocre rebec of warbled intimations of cultural impotence that should proselytize both the oligogenics beyond ecbolic atrocity and the adoptive ****** of the anglosphere through its smart and dapper monopoly threatened by the commerstargal of retromorphosis exhibited by the demassification of culled syntalities into aboriginal epigenetic kennels of subservience to a piggybacked system where if you are among the attentive scrutiny of the audience that both perceives apperception metacognitively with francketor precision you are thereby inoculated from lean herbivores of cultish occultism metaphorically in the annealed agitprop for resourcelessness that never ends in the radioglare of revisionism because of the prevenance of the vergers who manage the Manciples rather than tend to the vainglory of the potagers around the hegemunes of an unwarranted and puritan celibacy of conceptual sterility in a world fashioned by engouements for sanguine hopes for a consanguinity that might portend into dynasty but lopsided in its contrite missives of scandal will never provide a valedictory rendition on politically checkered zugzwangs of ulterior scientism against the lettered freedom of bibliognosts to aggrieve against the gloaming vacuum of sartorial damages to Dagon among the populated metropolis of corporate servitude that will thus collapse out of rebarbative backlash for its diminutive economies of scope and pretenses of largesse of scaled down collectivism into a heap of corporate rubble rather than judicious bonanza. In every considered word in this Biblbical warning against the trekleador of the amazonian paradise against the travail of junediggles of obligation among the frenzied fretful tocsins of farcical utopianism meeting the inclement reprisal of sanctioned duplicity in frikmag beneath the truculence of mobilized alacrity to syndicalism endeared to capitalism rather than the converse logical apostrophes that are imponent overhangs of an already conquered feral sphere of nomadic imagination into a checkmate of a socially validated future clinched by foresight and the wragapole nature of the insensate docility of those prone to officious naturism before the attempted monolith of the mountebanks of the quixotic towers of panopticon that are a regelation of unchecked ambitions verging or diverging too valorously against themselves but also prone to a simultagnosia that berates the robust picaresque swandamos that curtail the curglaff of malcontent with the recoil of perseverance that reneges in tiresome defeat of a demilitarized population that should always be grisly rather than denatured by the overhang of the incumbent nudism of certain futures becoming to finicky in impetuous lurid specters of abhorrent exercises in chantage waged against sardanapalians in all countries regardless of merits or demerits. The redstrall of enlightenment is not otiose operatively in recursive backlash against nominalism which sweedles the weedledge of a new acquiescence timid enough to mangle a prosodemic wave of celibacy propitiated by the succedaneum of profligate vicarious lickerish ****** appetites that diminish that natural instinct into either barbarous experiments in lechery too inconvenient to apprise honestly but looming aghast at the moral tip-toes around the Original Sin that binds us to predatory lapse and retromorphosis rather than the maintenance of a mainlined trimpoline confidence in a normative wave of galvanized interface against the overpromiscuous provisions for the lackaday resentment of alienated millennialism relishing the sennet of nostalgia but bereft of the heave from moral slumbers of an invented celibacy intermediary to demassification but attenuated by the omphalism of astute gravitas in socially engineered balks at the emergence of singularity in personalized cacotopia becoming a metaphor for the broadsided shipwreck of an inured world pasteurized into acerbic jolkers of foofaraw rather than the real-life relish against still-framed ostentation that distorts the granular artifice of the natural into supernatural fixations with gaudy swarpollock indecently exposed. To the finkly flonky puritanism of the wiseacres of those who say sacerdotal duty cannot diverge from entelechies of secular insight I behold the marvel of timespun elegance as the marvel of God’s convergence for the happenstance of the serendipity of magnified time lived completely in the plenipotentiary pangs of evanescence that catapults subliminal meaning to memorialize this indelible seminal watershed in a clear visionary establishment of history. Most belong to oligomania but I relent in the completely sardonic intortions of aspects of sebastomania in complete equipoise with the clairvoyant clarity of centralized perspective but the dragomans will interpret that last phase with underminnow because it belies the granular intent of the fin de seicle advent of a new generation that is an homage to the hallowed Judaic theory of millennialism as the return of glorified entitlement yet tentative in its overhang but never malicious in its grapnel of the fewterers of amazing convergence of clairvoyance. The tangential rebuke of the absurd oxyholotron of paradoxical puritan superstition that assumes a fustilug generation will cement a farsighted clarity that subsumes generative prowess lingers with fixations on the figments of the apocryphal version of the truer version of revelations manifesting right before our eyes for neither the sinistral or the dexterous amplivagance of God’s universal message by the superorganism of messianic purpose belittled by the agents of humbled perdition not alone of martexts that are martles but also by the shepherded fears of the ignorant rather than the insipid because the will never be outmoded only enhanced by the acceleration of proliferative technologies that pave a macadamized future of prosperity rather than the tarnish of the miscreants of Tyre. I owe all providence to God because he fastened his scrutiny on my autodidactian romance clambered into restive ontocyclic peccadillo that points to Pinocchio more than to the truest compass of an omnified salvation of the piggybacked purpose of synergies of geotechnic mastery that elevates the cause of God and liberates us from the stings of dangerously vapid pauperization of the intellectual frontiers by dangled prevarications of desultory incontinence forestalled by avoidant developments in proper fewterers of ambition. By the axiomatic Brocards of time travel the unstated ignotism of deranged circuses of stupidity congregated around the swelter of dismissal is a barnacle to the mofussil fossilization of sentiment that remarks ironically about the petty indelible moments but not the entelechies of a unified front for liberated equity and considerate tender of diverse quorums that shepherd rather than intern the noosphere into the burgeoned resurgence of a humane endeavor for the everlasting enlightenment of an ameliorated humanity and beyond that. By the bailiwick exerted by the plenipotentiary omphalism still participant to the quorum I hereby declaratively implore the abrogation of pernicious grapholagnia as the peremptory sacrilege that needs exorcism for our times and yet delegated of stature I urge hortatory and imperative action for the expurgation of all tortfeasor illegally obtained ******* of unsolicited voyeurism to be completely regarded as the ultimatum of temerity against carnal restraint and banished from the human registry to uphold the strategic interests of the United States of America. I understand that there is not fricative monolith and never will I lean for that conquest but as a humbled member of the omphalism that constitutes the sacred endeavor of sociogenesis grounded on God with collegialism upheld that a geotechnically optimized species needs to refrain from lewd perfidies against commonplace justice to restrain the fumatorium of unwarranted envy from poisoning the pervious minds of people that congregate in defensive posture but not definitive gesture. I also beseech a portentous  settlement with  I relent from avarice but it is not a superposition of authority just a suggestive glance at requited justice but my grangull chavish of circumlocution naivety will meet the most deliberate Sardonic Sc(p)orn in these times of need. These next words are paused and already fathomed by the supernal recursion of the iterative metaphysics of recumbent retrospection hinged on hindsight to proclaim without any hints of attempted subterfuge of the clarity of a Democratic Republic that my words while forceful do not constitute a breech in public conduct even while vaulted with a minor rapacity I rebuke and atone for even when many others might find recourse to expiate my jalousies to the windowed world not of vindictiveness but out of the cursory and emphasis on cursory justice needed to vouchsafe my continued security and inoculation from the pothers of obviously shortsighted pleonexia which will obviously be fleered as a slight euthymia glazed on self-interest while tone-deaf to the checkered layers of entrapment by a confederate whiplash but a native grit never to enslave but to empower humanity. I am deeply lugubrious over the specter of the trembled quaky ground the penury of spiritual loss rejoinders against my candidacy for high esteem but not peremptory decisiveness in active service to yield to a supererogatory attempt for felicity to alight in my life not out of material greed but the gratuity of serviceable missions that play a dicey gamble with a frenzied manumission attempt that is essentially that a parsed manumission for eleutherian pragmatica to chide as naive but alarmed senectitude of the old order prevaricates with the din of postured hurdles of gladiatorial outrage that weans me away from the ataraxia for my fumbled stream brooking intolerance for years on the ballast of collective endeavor. Nevertheless, lets speak more on God’s providence because in this esteemed moment of watershed emergence of the fully engorged but rarely gluttonous soul I have found an equitable peace with supernal and superlative authority in God that grants stewardship and tutelage to the audience that will eventually through proper discrimination be delegated as higher than the ignorant bystanders of fleered snide disdain for the abnormous and bletcherous dimples of an otherwise circuitous dalliance with an unconventional path towards destiny rather than some windlass of opportunism for, if it were not for my unabetted genius and the provisions of divine appointment based on a kindly generous deference to preterition axiomatic in perceived time by the strictures of the convergent past and the divergent future, I would never find a role of partial authorship of a widely heralded tome I will one day publish to either the exsibilation of the antiquarians of hidebound irrefragable ontocyclic convictions or the cloveryield of an appreciative gratitude to the God I serve and I make no notions of any hostility towards any party of petty dismissal because I expect their recumbent recoil but I apologize for hubris and extenuate the follies of the refinery of character as I ascend into a figurative ennobled step into soulhood that exceeds my former dismal limits by such staggering orders of magnitude it magnifies the questions of ontology in sentience rather than beckons the alarmism of the swarpollock of tripwires that can easily withstand the tempests of scorn. The uproar of commotion of blood sanctified by the thirsty rain for the desiccated faucet of dramaturgy in reprisal for docimasy is the integral linchpin of the biocentric rebec reasting on the primitive hymns to festoon the curtains of defenestrated primitive relics of shady attempts at officious balks of the privatized empire of the alytarchs among the earwigs that simper the culled delicacy of sensible notions into the congeners of prioritization emphasized by quantulated concerns veiled by elaborative synquests that burrow the sulcate grooves of hidden hedonism for the chic magistrates of financial swoon or swayed vestiges of a forgotten calumny of betrayal by the coming-of-age sprouts of hedged dismal dismissal of a lugubrious prospect for an otherwise revitalized dressage of emoluments to glory that lurked in penumbras by rigged enumeration but found their prominence by the gravity of sensation-seeking frissons of alterations between benighted glory and the famish of artificial tethers to the yoke of caramel and chocolates as a dainty ploy of yearning persiflage also a dranger of camouflage for flagitious percolations of the invidious rumors of imposture and the groveling contempt of the known drogulus remiss in denial of its own requited date when the powers of miscarriage become ecbolic to their own lagging languor of lisps of linguistic ramparts of a revival of hypertrophy for hyperactive foibles in inclement weather. Ok beyond the absenteeism of the presence of perceived amphigory there is great heft in the nominal notion that dogma is mobilized in serviceable goods of merchandized mirrors of glazed remission of moral tender because of stoked curiosity unhinged from the pragmatica of duty. We need forbearance in empathy that loves the lovable rather than envies the deposed despotism of clever wiseacres veiled in delicate symmetry with conscience that is the quill of a wellspring deeper than any imaginary vagary can approximate because impossible events punctuate time with literacy rather than incontinence of drivel that is ambitious but ignoble by stately coherence. To the critics of the baragnosis of limited apperception my words are blatant amphigories but they only possess enough ken to fathom an average orbit of suboptimal outcomes rather than transdimensional chances at chess outnumbered by checkers by incidental design of clever ploys of rejoinder that is by design arcane for the arcadia of the pristine arcade of future possibilities  As I am purblind by psychorrhagy I am incompetent in my radiopresence because I am a departed spectral figment above fricative hisses and whorfian glares of mediocre rebec for primitive shibboleth above prized taurine anglophonic convictions that superimpose the dignified clarity of willpower above the dragnets of supersolid conflations of puffery. Ok I admit a lapse of transmission by the vesicles of numbered murders of henpecked owleries of the senectitude of sepulchral magnetism of slumber over awakened alacrity of mobilism fashioned in portentous flipcraves of additive immobility of fixed vectors seen through parvanimity that actually just swivel in circular retorts against themselves without the elaborative potential and the belabored traipse of the rabid taradiddles of sensationalism marauding as a defalcated burglary of emotion for useless psephology that predicates nothing but a slight budge in the autarky of structuralism which is never sclerotic but stammered by articulations of the overt when the covert aligns by an alien agenda that is subservient to magnified priorities of warped swirk of telescopic prevenance and hedged boschveldts of elemental and I stress the strain of the elemental for the drogulus of sensational proclamation by executive ****** but supererogatory minutiae of fascism cloaked by earwigs of repcrevel repute beyond memorialized reputation. We need to renege the southern pacts to the Argentine mandarism of reticular vitiations of cinematography waged against creative visionaries of free speech because of the succedaneum of furtive endeavors at optimization by compromised degrees of artistic licentiousness even that is never lewd about sacred roods but boorish in blockbuster rather than kempt in collectivist brunt of the timid bronteum of agitprop that lurks in the imminent future of cinema. America needs to retain the disclosed but still-frame inertia of catapulted declassification that ennobles the fliction but also the vilified distilled truths only the keen of acumen will sensibly identify so that the magnet of earwigs gravitates to the belabored analysis of astute congeners to relevant tributaries to the ocean of adventitious swarpollock in the procedural autopsy of the auditorium for neither a chattel nor a crystallized nurture against the matriotic insistence of decorum. Essentially the succubus of prosthetic protensive docimasy of imaginative logic predicated in visionary apperception of the unseen in immediacy is the longeur of reticent endeavors to pasteurize the oculus rifts of futurity to synergize with the entelechy of proactive somnambulism that sensitizes the profoundly capable but never bereaves the inept of direct interface with communicable dominion with fantasia that is an operative artifice of a beguiled lurch without purged retrograde immaterial delusion that endangers visceral momentum toward new directives of the outmantled zugzwang in elementary exercises of swaddled posterity free by irenic idolatry never orphaned by a widowed imagination. The swirk of hypostasized probabilities in an invented swipe at wide-eyed but star-crossed turnvereins for the imaginative leaps in the performative depend on the delicate swivels of declaration independent from culinary clarity of macroscian travesty rather than pinhokes of naufragues of maudlin laudable applause by the canned nurture of speculative intimation that sadly severs the curglaff of whispered intimacy over the confidence we have in artifice to teach the wragapole both matriotism and sensitive reninjasque poker without incurred damages beyond the clarified visionary potential of graphic protheses immediately perceptible to the acumen of judicious polymathy indoctrinated by the rigor of scientific grooms for melliferous parsecs of advanced minutiae of dark horses to nomadic license beyond ravenous **** palindromes of hushed vigor to the declared by scacchic deliberation to usher in crass but crestfallen synectics. The future of God is secure in the fathomed furlongs of cubic citadels of pasteurized paradise found in corralled reluctance without remonstrance of poetic belletrist resounding with clangor rather than swerved nimble potions to avert future calamities in war by the expansive frontier of a civilized metropolis of the mobilized imagination hypostasizing newfangled naturism that is neither mofussil nor a fossilized relic of scrappy schlep. The nonchalance of parlance swims in arenaceous bunkers of drivel that congregate in the turnverein of futuristic opportunism found in the muzzled directives of orchestras of departed clarity no longer so insular in its bossy imperatives but clarified with hearsay and blushed blarney not the blench of widened divulgence of minatory malice that incurs the punitive curglaff of frenetic retchallops of winsome specters becoming opportune pragmatics of a semantic network of dirigisme that through sheer horsepower overcomes the sting of ubiquity or the hollowed headless vesicles of urbacity disenfranchised by degrees of impertinent pertinacity of deposed disclosure rudimentary in sedentary simplicity against matriotic duty to remain guarded by an ommateum that fathoms the abyss but never wages reckless adventurism. Prevenance is the key to absolution but staggered implements of dearth preempt the ecbolic corrigenda of castigation by hindered lurches of veiled errundle belonging to a central trimpoline interposition of fungible felicity for not only a regional fanfare but a global scale of competitive endeavor of cleverage beyond scopes but beneath scrutinized mutiny of embanked polymathy stranded by the redstrall of industrious slavering dogmatism to a servile ***** rather than the boomerang of pressure to asseverate limitless bounds of planned obsolescence to engorge but not intimidate checkered reticence in the sinew of the musculature of creative parlance above petty finicky demiurges of latitudes in amphibious annealed glorification. Temperatures gauged by the thrombosis of thermolysis in psychotaxis gouged by hucksters of taciturn bamboozles of teetotalism are neither scourge nor foe of the strategic advent of the fascination of prospective investment a boondoggle that offsets the bonfire of retorted whimpers of foudroyant ripples of wildfire perspicacity strung by the catchpole of ubiquity in the time-honed decorum of genteel upright raconteurs of volleyed neglect by strict mandate will uproariously profit in remission from knowledgeable exacerbation rather than tomfoolery by filial tithes to foreign wardens of conspicuous levitation above gimcracks by the syrts of percolated filigrees of belabored chantage exerted over the tide of perfidy in contained discernment will stall and extinguish the prideful jostle of profane blasphemy against tacit covenants of blackguarded justice served by platitude better than by insubordinate quivers that quake because bears bounce checkered checks rather than anoint the sigillum of protective vouchsafes of exchequers smartly dapper rather than dimpled in flagrant brays of castigation and thus secure employment of instrumental advent rather than desecrated conventicles of remission.
Now it is time to ventilate divine knowledge that transfiguration means a humane liberation rather than a sanctimony of tirade against dumose proliferations of fluminous imaginary tracts of the probable rather than the certain for the elevators of sanitized wealth to bequeath greater moral clarity found in the contrary submission of authoritative parents to shepherd guarded wealth in proper husbandry of calendrical affairs to optimize the work-life balance so the biocentric imperative for sustenance renounces the moral obesity of groundless backlash in austerity and endless cycles of remorse rather than a tender mollification of sentiments away from universal kumbayas and in favor more stridently of a system that withholds the agitprop of statist indoctrination of a mollycoddle ****** within individual mandates of variable agendas of countries beyond the borderline fluid dynamics of the foibles of moral venial folly but insensitive to the dynamism of the robust virility of a wayspayed world swaying by riddled wildfires of conflated puerile stages of ludic indoctrination to the rampant perfidy of exemplary incontinence waged by Hollywood upon unsuspecting victims of inconsiderate indoctrination that doesn’t vouchsafe the prerogatives of heteronormative values that should outshine not a parochial vehement hatred or a clorence of unconditional tolerance but a chided quarantine of variegated syntalities divorced from integration rather than fostered in communal depths of bound lettered ambition found in the allegorical power of Biblical wisdom expounded by the florilegium of the religious and secular canon.
To serve God rather than the perceived taradiddle of speculative mammon deprived of classifiable certainties but hunched proclivities we need to exhort a proper seesaw between restraint in vision and exuberance in creative license so that the pivot of the moralized world leads to an insistent trust of watchdogs that through trust revolve the gravity of morale upon the upswing of liberty rather than incidental follies of imaginative demiurges of partition but blinkered hubris in stately objectives to the demur of participant malingering naysayers and nyejays. The moral gravity of the situation requires us to rotate our hype from the fervor of panic into the resolve of fortitude that relishes family and filial duty rather than resents because of breedbate instinct the flickers of smoldering rebels that are tamed in their revelry when they follow the moral prerogative of disciplined ambition in creativity not insubordinating against insurmountable limits but reasonable adjustments to a scaffold of potential that is skyscraping more than before even if its too close to the ground for comfort and consolation. Relativism is the enemy of progress because envy seeds alienation and comparison should be eschewed because we need to burrow in compassionate embrace of the cherished loves rather than the exaggerated proximity of provincial fears becoming global juggernauts of mercy upon the merciful and I convoke a global prayer for the attenuation of the virus that spreads sadly too far for comfort today. I purge out of solidarity with suffering as the milquetoast in me identifies the disconcerted avenues of avetrols trying to find a way through the forest of rumination without gingerly superlative prerogatives outweighing the poise of balance in shields of honor rather than badges of shame. We must by moral imperative greet strangers in public places like parks rather than strangulate the percolation of affection because of regnant distractions because in this congenial way we will find a common fraternity with fellow man while soldiering on to find truth in God’s word in the proper temperature for genuflection because I admit foibles but I relent not in the chase to redintegrate myself spiritually to lead a charge without trespass of fundamental dignity over the whoppers of indignation some of us might feel because of the penury of divergence rather than the private penalty of convergence for an ulterior solidarity of purpose. I need to emerge into the humanity of compassion to showcase that virtuosity can exist without obsession over one individual because God beseeches a pantheon of observation rather than the gripes of an envied nuisance independent from normal human concerns that ripple with ecstasy because of normative human contrition over the leeway on vacillated opinions that might underwhelm those disposed by prizes of inurement. We should shelve these notions of a supersolid conscience because only in the humility of the profound simplicity of elemental postulates can we achieve complete synchrony with a syndicate that enthralls both divergent and convergent movements that partially offset on the side of convergence in some communes while otherwise countermanded in others in contrarian ways and the favor of the balance depends on the perspective of the flanged acculturation of the participant in a world that doesn’t need flayed excoriation as much as it deserves proper exercise of adoration of the admirable rather than the desecration of the abominable. I return with the greatest jubilation of a reninjasque jaunty streak that hearkens the sennet and maybe the leanings of the senate to the fanfare of adoration for life and gratitude bestowed by the stewardship of God and his divine purpose to inseminate my life with purposeful meaning and happy happenstance that is a stroke of glory. I muster the resolve to traipse in the solitude of my cavern the blessings of divinity bequeathed by the departed forefathers who never intended bossy insularity of dogma to be a stricture of rigors of iconoduly but rather a consecrated wit with the persiflage of conversant tones of labile and lissome gallantry just waiting to alight upon the affectionate dance with dalliance of a philandered hope for a purified love hopefully never profaned by the pangs of scandal (note the sardonic pun) because rejoice is the gift of Heaven upon this culmination of purpose above the dross of shipwreck elevated in folly but stranded in the throes of rumination enough to hedge the boursocrats and try to inoculate the world from further panicky divisions of hypemongers of simpered precaution becoming a financial pandemic that deserves pause and poise but should not protrude above the glistening promise of the eternal wellspring of the vineyards of salvation blooming because enhanced sapience converted the flock of shepherds to tend to those sheepish in deficiency to wield a newer curiosity to replace a saddened lament not by acquiescent abandon but by the solidarity of interfaces of love replacing cast-iron idolatries I too am guilty of for the cordslave generation of itinerant distractions that wager on modicums rather than appraise bonanzas. Safety is predicated on the idea that resources should never be glazed but always apportioned with optimism because if you examine history irrational panics have always and always rebounded because of exigent actions taken by governments to restore confidence in liquidity rather than snide dismal dismissals of economic projections based on bounded rigged betrayals of primarily a global panic that a profoundly promethean intellectual verve could capitalize on its heyday to gouge people against the insensate balkanization of the future by an alienation of formidable scarecrow of invented fatalism imploding upon itself to obviate its own existence by the insistence on free thought to domineer and tower over the doldrums of a vacant man that is now occupied by the largesse of humane endeavor for a messianic voyage that consummates time itself its own captain and is partially centripetal around the juncture of All Saints Day 2008 because of its seminal significance in ushering in a new era of liberation. This justification is a gnomic axiomatic herculean ****** that catapulted generativity in creative endeavor to coalesce around an Army of Me not because of the futilitarianism embedded in its flagrant flagitious mockery of traipsed lyricism borrowed from Bjork but rather showcases the flavork of the flavenickers of ribald coarse revolution that is no longer balderdash to Bald Eagles but the prized retribution of the inviolable scruples demolished by deracinated moral relativism balking at raltention because of persnickety and tyrannical transparency that prepossesses over the lifeless livid Potemkin  Village  of Astroturf complaint malingering in pederasty over its own depraved sinuous course of diverted restraint cemented by the scythes of Village People politics benumbed over militarized betrayals that incur and invoke the diablerist prose of anonymuncle desperado mavericks that sizzle in hibernaculum to depose the autarky of seasoned growth rather than unseasonable diatribes of vitriol poisoning the posture of gentility by decree rather than by deeds of homogenized pasteurization against Lactose Intolerant Leftism and dogged doggerel of pasty subversive paranoiac hederaceous envy spawning a vituperative summation of a beatific felicity. We need to convene upon better tranceception in this axiomatic gratuity of God
O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw
The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,
Came furious down to be revenged on men,
Woe to the inhabitants on earth! that now,
While time was, our first parents had been warned
The coming of their secret foe, and ’scaped,
Haply so ’scaped his mortal snare:  For now
Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,
The tempter ere the accuser of mankind,
To wreak on innocent frail Man his loss
Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell:
Yet, not rejoicing in his speed, though bold
Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,
Begins his dire attempt; which nigh the birth
Now rolling boils in his tumultuous breast,
And like a devilish engine back recoils
Upon himself; horrour and doubt distract
His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir
The Hell within him; for within him Hell
He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell
One step, no more than from himself, can fly
By change of place:  Now conscience wakes despair,
That slumbered; wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be
Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue.
Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view
Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad;
Sometimes towards Heaven, and the full-blazing sun,
Which now sat high in his meridian tower:
Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began.
O thou, that, with surpassing glory crowned,
Lookest from thy sole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
Of Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down
Warring in Heaven against Heaven’s matchless King:
Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
What could be less than to afford him praise,
The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks,
How due! yet all his good proved ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high
I sdeined subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome still paying, still to owe,
Forgetful what from him I still received,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then
O, had his powerful destiny ordained
Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition!  Yet why not some other Power
As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,
Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations armed.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?
Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse,
But Heaven’s free love dealt equally to all?
Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
O, then, at last relent:  Is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced
With other promises and other vaunts
Than to submit, boasting I could subdue
The Omnipotent.  Ay me! they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the throne of Hell.
With diadem and scepter high advanced,
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery:  Such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent, and could obtain,
By act of grace, my former state; how soon
Would highth recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feigned submission swore?  Ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall:  so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.
This knows my Punisher; therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging, peace;
All hope excluded thus, behold, in stead
Mankind created, and for him this world.
So farewell, hope; and with hope farewell, fear;
Farewell, remorse! all good to me is lost;
Evil, be thou my good; by thee at least
Divided empire with Heaven’s King I hold,
By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign;
As Man ere long, and this new world, shall know.
Thus while he spake, each passion dimmed his face
Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy, and despair;
Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayed
Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld.
For heavenly minds from such distempers foul
Are ever clear.  Whereof he soon aware,
Each perturbation smoothed with outward calm,
Artificer of fraud; and was the first
That practised falsehood under saintly show,
Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge:
Yet not enough had practised to deceive
Uriel once warned; whose eye pursued him down
The way he went, and on the Assyrian mount
Saw him disfigured, more than could befall
Spirit of happy sort; his gestures fierce
He marked and mad demeanour, then alone,
As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen.
So on he fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
Access denied; and overhead upgrew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend,
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verdurous wall of Paradise upsprung;                        

Which to our general sire gave prospect large
Into his nether empire neighbouring round.
And higher than that wall a circling row
Of goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit,
Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,
Appeared, with gay enamelled colours mixed:
On which the sun more glad impressed his beams
Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,
When God hath showered the earth; so lovely seemed
That landskip:  And of pure now purer air
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
Vernal delight and joy, able to drive
All sadness but despair:  Now gentle gales,
Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils.  As when to them who fail
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Mozambick, off at sea north-east winds blow
Sabean odours from the spicy shore
Of Araby the blest; with such delay
Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league
Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles:
So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend,
Who came their bane; though with them better pleased
Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume
That drove him, though enamoured, from the spouse
Of Tobit’s son, and with a vengeance sent
From Media post to Egypt, there fast bound.
Now to the ascent of that steep savage hill
Satan had journeyed on, pensive and slow;
But further way found none, so thick entwined,
As one continued brake, the undergrowth
Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplexed
All path of man or beast that passed that way.
One gate there only was, and that looked east
On the other side: which when the arch-felon saw,
Due entrance he disdained; and, in contempt,
At one flight bound high over-leaped all bound
Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within
Lights on his feet.  As when a prowling wolf,
Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey,
Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve
In hurdled cotes amid the field secure,
Leaps o’er the fence with ease into the fold:
Or as a thief, bent to unhoard the cash
Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors,
Cross-barred and bolted fast, fear no assault,
In at the window climbs, or o’er the tiles:
So clomb this first grand thief into God’s fold;
So since into his church lewd hirelings climb.
Thence up he flew, and on the tree of life,
The middle tree and highest there that grew,
Sat like a cormorant; yet not true life
Thereby regained, but sat devising death
To them who lived; nor on the virtue thought
Of that life-giving plant, but only used
For prospect, what well used had been the pledge
Of immortality.  So little knows
Any, but God alone, to value right
The good before him, but perverts best things
To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
Beneath him with new wonder now he views,
To all delight of human sense exposed,
In narrow room, Nature’s whole wealth, yea more,
A Heaven on Earth:  For blissful Paradise
Of God the garden was, by him in the east
Of Eden planted; Eden stretched her line
From Auran eastward to the royal towers
Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings,
Of where the sons of Eden long before
Dwelt in Telassar:  In this pleasant soil
His far more pleasant garden God ordained;
Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow
All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;
And all amid them stood the tree of life,
High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit
Of vegetable gold; and next to life,
Our death, the tree of knowledge, grew fast by,
Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill.
Southward through Eden went a river large,
Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill
Passed underneath ingulfed; for God had thrown
That mountain as his garden-mould high raised
Upon the rapid current, which, through veins
Of porous earth with kindly thirst up-drawn,
Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill
Watered the garden; thence united fell
Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood,
Which from his darksome passage now appears,
And now, divided into four main streams,
Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm
And country, whereof here needs no account;
But rather to tell how, if Art could tell,
How from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,
Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold,
With mazy errour under pendant shades
Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed
Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art
In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon
Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,
Both where the morning sun first warmly smote
The open field, and where the unpierced shade
Imbrowned the noontide bowers:  Thus was this place
A happy rural seat of various view;
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm,
Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind,
Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true,
If true, here only, and of delicious taste:
Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks
Grazing the tender herb, were interposed,
Or palmy hillock; or the flowery lap
Of some irriguous valley spread her store,
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose:
Another side, umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, o’er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall
Down the ***** hills, dispersed, or in a lake,
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned
Her crystal mirrour holds, unite their streams.
The birds their quire apply; airs, vernal airs,
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune
The trembling leaves, while universal Pan,
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,
Led on the eternal Spring.  Not that fair field
Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers,
Herself a fairer flower by gloomy Dis
Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain
To seek her through the world; nor that sweet grove
Of Daphne by Orontes, and the inspired
Castalian spring, might with this Paradise
Of Eden strive; nor that Nyseian isle
Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,
Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove,
Hid Amalthea, and her florid son
Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea’s eye;
Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard,
Mount Amara, though this by some supposed
True Paradise under the Ethiop line
By Nilus’ head, enclosed with shining rock,
A whole day’s journey high, but wide remote
From this Assyrian garden, where the Fiend
Saw, undelighted, all delight, all kind
Of living creatures, new to sight, and strange
Two of far nobler shape, ***** and tall,
Godlike *****, with native honour clad
In naked majesty seemed lords of all:
And worthy seemed; for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shone,
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure,
(Severe, but in true filial freedom placed,)
Whence true authority in men; though both
Not equal, as their *** not equal seemed;
For contemplation he and valour formed;
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him:
His fair large front and eye sublime declared
Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad:
She, as a veil, down to the slender waist
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied
Subjection, but required with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best received,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed;
Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shame
Of nature’s works, honour dishonourable,
Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind
With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure,
And banished from man’s life his happiest life,
Simplicity and spotless innocence!
So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight
Of God or Angel; for they thought no ill:
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair,
That ever since in love’s embraces met;
Adam the goodliest man of men since born
His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve.
Under a tuft of shade that on a green
Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain side
They sat them down; and, after no more toil
Of their sweet gardening labour than sufficed
To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease
More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite
More grateful, to their supper-fruits they fell,
Nectarine fruits which the compliant boughs
Yielded them, side-long as they sat recline
On the soft downy bank damasked with flowers:
The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind,
Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream;
Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles
Wanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseems
Fair couple, linked in happy nuptial league,
Alone as they.  About them frisking played
All beasts of the earth, since wild, and of all chase
In wood or wilderness, forest or den;
Sporting the lion ramped, and in his paw
Dandled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces, pards,
Gambolled before them; the unwieldy elephant,
To make them mirth, used all his might, and wreathed
His?kithetmroboscis; close the serpent sly,
Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine
His braided train, and of his fatal guile
Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass
Couched, and now filled with pasture gazing sat,
Or bedward ruminating; for the sun,
Declined, was hasting now with prone career
To the ocean isles, and in the ascending scale
Of Heaven the stars that usher evening rose:
When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood,
Scarce thus at length failed speech recovered sad.
O Hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold!
Into our room of bliss thus high advanced
Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps,
Not Spirits, yet to heavenly Spirits bright
Little inferiour; whom my thoughts pursue
Brianne Rose Apr 2018
"Under a Mountain of green and a Sky of blue,
Lived a race trapped behind a Barrier forgotten after so many years,
Slowly their hatred over their predicament only grew,
Lost and Forgotten, Hurt but not Broken, some wept their last tears,

They heard them say, 'It's been four years since an Angel fell',
But the wary Traveler knew not what that meant,
It was up to the race to explain to the Traveler and tell,
Of a Tale long ago Dreamt,

Tale of a sun, and of a world Beyond,
Where two races once lived in Peace,
A world where both races could bond,
Where fighting could stop, where hatred would cease,

The Traveler knew then what to do,
To free these people of their Fear and Hate,
Some wished to help the Traveler, others where hesitant to,
This Traveler - however much they faced - promised there wouldn't be anyone they'd berate,

The Barrier was a force none had broken thus far,
But this Traveler - too kind, too determined - couldn't give up,
This Barrier they broke - an obstacle they hurdled like a highset bar,
The Race rejoiced for now all where free - even Jerry and that Annoying Pup,

This Traveler - who called themselves Frisk - was no more than a child,
Yet a new Ambassador had been set,
They told any and all that the journey had not been hard but mild,
This child was greeted with a smile by whomever they met,

'A new family born,
A past left to rot,
A new treaty sworn,
A kind present this lot!'

This child thought with a smile upon their lips,
As they moved forward with their friends,
A skeleton too smiles as out of sight he blips,
'there will be time later - he thought - for the kiddo and me to make amends'."

Continue                       Reset
Finally finished it today, phone took longer than I thought to charge so I left it overnight, and again sorry for the dry spell! I honestly dunno when my next will be so just keep those eyes peeled. Enjoy!
Nadrah Dec 2013
She was only sixteen,

Yet her mind wandered about the galaxies like no other beings can do. She recognized every little details on the fireballs and the faraway stars when no other beings can. She carved the rocks and shaped them like the stars of the milky way. With different kind of hues coloured the atmosphere, she breathed in them all.
She danced her way around Jupiter and hopped on the rings of Saturn and danced like it was her first dance with her groom on her wedding day. She shined like how any other stars would shine. With all her might she pushed herself back to earth like a falling star.And just at the balcony of the house on the corner of that street,
                  a little boy wished upon her.
He wished upon a wishing star. He looked up to her. He told her his worries.

She was only sixteen,

but her heart felt every little emotions any hearts can and can't feel. She felt things that could forever scar her heart. She felt despair,rage,embarrassed,annoyed,betrayed,hurt,
                 ­      but also she was inspired,she felt joy,proud,strong and she loved.
The miseries she felt upon being neglect, she dig a hole and found a little dusty emotion in the corner of her heart....hope. She hold onto it,treat it like a child and there faith came up to her and fall in love with hope. She's stronger than any other beings can be as faith and hope unites.

She was only sixteen,

yet she shut her eyes and flee to Neverland with Peter Pan.
                             "Give me your hands" he whispered.
           "The second star to the right,and straight 'till morning" he said. He held her hands and off they went with fairy dusts from Tinker Bell stuck on their icy cold lashes.
To join him and the lost boys.
To be the first lost girl.
To never grow up as the world gets more beastly by minutes.
To forever have a childlike mind and a childlike body.
To escape from the harsh reality and enter the world of immortality where fairies and wisps flew by like it's a normal day for grocery shopping.

She was only sixteen,

but she had hurdled through life with things that the beings in The Wizard of Oz lacks. She tricked manipulators with her wisdom,she showed her betrayers how huge of a heart she has.
She forgives,
       She forgets.
She braved herself through all the horrendous obstacles she had to face. Life hit her,hard and just when she got up it kicked her in the stomach and let her bleed. But she saw things differently. She accepted the kick and let all the negativity in her lungs escaped and let all the positive vibes entered her.
With hands as small as an elf's,she opened it and let everything get caught in her hands. Like the net of a fisherman,not everything great gets trapped. But when he's blessed with a huge fortune,big fishes came to him.
           The thorns,the sadness,the euphoria...
She accepted everything and smiled. "Thank you" she said everytime.

She was only sixteen,

but she's already a beautiful aurora herself.
-writings for a precious friend-
Nadrah
10/12/13
He fell into a bottle
Met the Devil on the way
The Devil chose to ask him
"How long d'ya think you'll stay"
He thought a while and smiled
I'm just here to look around
I'm not sure if I'm staying
"How much whiskey have I downed?"
I'm talking to the Devil
It's enough to make you think
"Son, you've been drunk a month"
"you've made it to the brink"
"You offered up your soul to me"
"A week or to ago"
"But at the rate that you were drinking"
"There was no need to show"
"I figured you'd know when to stop"
"Or at least give it a try"
"But the rate you were consuming"
"I thought you might just die"
"And then I'd have you anyway"
"We wouldn't have to deal"
"It's like praying with an Atheist"
"Imagine how I'd feel"
"You prayed to God, and then to me"
"You offered up your soul"
"You said you'd never drink again"
"If I would make you whole"
"But Man, you drank like crazy"
"Southern Comfort, Jim Beam too"
"You know, we thought we had ya"
"There's no way you'd pull through"
"I figured, I come up and see"
"take your soul, and get it cheap"
"I'd leave you there to sober up"
"Leave you lying in a heap"
"But, whats his name..sent in some help"
"An angel he sent forth"
"And said "You cannot take his soul just yet"
"He knows not what it's worth"
"I told him that you called me
"The deal was nearly set
The Angel said you get his soul
But what does this boy get?
I thought and knew I'd blown it
You were getting nothing in return
I jumped the line a little
Just hoping you would burn
But, God...That Goody Two Shoes
Put a challenge on the floor
We would fight to see who got you
Where'd you want to finish more
So, we're  off on a small road trip
Off to see where you will go
But, boy...the way you drink that stuff"
"I'm already sure I know"
"It may seem like a cliche'"
"I'm sure you've seen it loads"
"It's in every God and Devil movie"
You know it as the crossroads
My champion plays you to win
The loser gets your soul
You play guitar or something else
At least that is the goal
"I don't play any music"
"I can't play the guitar"
"I can't keep tune when whistling"
"Can't find the jukebox at the bar"
"OK then...we'll do something else"
"You know you'll still be mine"
"It would have been much better"
"But, I'll still win you...that's fine"
"Singings out....can you tell a joke"
"nope and surely nope"
"**** it....oops too late"
"I'd have pulled out old Bob Hope"
"You don't steal jokes the way he did"
"And not end up down here"
"I wish I didn't grab his soul"
"I wanna tell ya's all I hear"
" Ok then what is it you do?
"What contest shall we wage"
"I've got a super show room there"
"What can you do up on stage?"
"Dance?".."nope"..."juggle?"...nope
"What can you do real well?"
"Can you play a golden fiddle?"
"We've got four of them in hell"
"We've had showdowns of all shape and size"
"We've done all that one can do"
"We've played music, danced and jitterbugged"
"And now...I'm stuck with you"
"Your'e boring lad, you know that kid"
"God will win your soul no sweat"
"And frankly, you're a failure"
"You're souls not that good to get"
"I thought I had a winner"
"A man whose life was run by vice"
"But, here you are a loser"
"And I could have lost you twice!"
"I should have let God have you"
"I'll be marked out as a fool"
"For the soul The Devil's seeking"
"Should be worthy as a rule"
" I know" he said aloud
"It took some time to think"
"The one thing that I'm good at"
"I can really chug a drink"
"You saw me on my ******"
"You know I'll do you proud"
"I think I'd rather stay down here"
"I think I like the crowd"
That's different, thought The Devil
He's taken up my side
There's nothing in the rule book
It's not a cheat....I've tried
God...he just won't like it
It's not been done before
He comes along to save you
It's your soul he's fighting for
He has to have a champion
One to come and take you on
I've got all the rock stars
And the Rat Pack...bring it on.
Five rounds....five shots
The first one finished wins
I know you'll like it down here boy
There's a multitude of sins
I will pick for two rounds
And God will pick the rest
Contrary to popular belief
He still thinks he's the best
The contest is a snoozer
First Jim Beam and then Old Crow
And God will have his choices
He will lose and then he'll go
At this point one more Angel
Came with choices wrapped in silk
God would like the last drinks
To each be a large milk
Your kidding right, Milk you say
His soul is mine for sure
Let's put a little extra on
Let's bet a little more
The Angel said, God is prepared
To do a bet...a  one-off
If you should win he says next year
The Leafs will make the play-offs
The contest waged and God did win
Four rounds easily hurdled
Then finally the ***** and milk
Got mixed and the milk curdled
The Devil knew the soul he lost
Would come again,....no fear
He knew that another hopeless soul
Would soon come bend his ear....
.
marian gascon Jan 2011
It was ancient ago we were fond & foe
Once little rascals together we grew
Far apart 'till bounds forebear
Each world soared & flapped
An impending monstrous frosty gap

One fine love-is-in-the-air day in a twist of fate
As this nymph unaimed by cupid's arrow
When all my friends & beau in fun they wallow
Your sudden hailed revere embraced in haste
Then in my own prinky whimsy plot
Both unexpectedly got trapped

In such long winding tracks we hustled
Through the hurdled altar together sprinted
Both oblivious as pledge of affection consecrated
While ocean's torrent & tide waded
A solemn for-us-then-quixotic promise to keep sacred.

At some point the on-off blissful lock flutters
As life isn't all sunshines & buttercups we struggle
Yet notwithstanding the trials & tribulations
Such troth acknowledge without question
And now has the moon stone or opal
As our anniversary gemstone

Will our gemstone lose its lustre
Or will it continue to shine like a flash of lightning from heaven
Are we fiercely resolute to bid for the silver
Or stay solid firm to wish for the golden
And vow to persevere for the truly eternal diamond.

One thing we know for sure...LOVE CONQUERS ALL!
copyright marian gascon 2008
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, colors are the reason we're alive---at least for me;>


purple purple

in my mind forced hurdled

been scraped on my timeline

been worn on my curves fine

yes the archer in the water associated

stupid but for the imagination to retake it

on those eyes that looked into my defenses

affection in the caresses

of my defined tenses

rather than that of the skies illuminated on beach

or hairs on backs so hard to bleach

now I see clearly

nothing but the signs that come freely

butterflies that I hate secret narrows

walls already painted threatening arrows

already loving for them hollows




                                                     ­                                 -------ravenfeels
your voice frantic in voicemail lit up my night like mortar fire
i hurdled headfirst, crashed outward and over, chased by fear and following desire
broke through my door and stepped into the stars
filled with panicked concern and without a thought ignoring my scars  
frigid fingers shaking with shock at hearing your voice
not a thought, not a question, not a choice
just did it
"find her number, **** it where is it"
"she's not on speed dial - new phone"

finally found it - still first in my contacts
your name embroidered at the edges with ASCII smiles  
(:Abs:)
catch in my chest, my worry spreading like cancer
dialed your number, but there was no answer
Claire Elizabeth Jan 2014
His hair was dark as pitch, night dripping from the ends of the long strands. His eyes were bluer than that of the sky, clearer than the ocean and more crystal than a diamond underwater. His lips, full and ever-smiling, crooked and wicked. Pale rose with teeth white in between and a tongue that teased with a simple flick over his lips. The line of his jaw was strong, the angles of his cheekbones and nose chiseled fine enough to cut. He had the face that you would want to see last before you died, or fell asleep so that the imprint was left behind your eyelids. His hands were slender, long fingers tapered to slim tips that could caress you into dreams deeper than that of the universe. His wrists were small but not so much that you could break them, and they grew into wiry muscled arms, strong enough to embrace you and lull you to love. His chest, wider than his hips which were slim, the kind that jeans hung onto and slid off of. His waist was trim, and his abdomen carried a lank pack of abs. His legs, lean and long drifted over the ground when he ran to talk to you with his smile all off center.
He moved like a gazelle, graceful like the wind that whipped a flag into a frenzy. He could hurdle in track like he hurdled my heart, just barely but enough to skim it with the toe of his left foot. He caught me between the tread of his hand and the material of his skin.
He listened to me as intently as a rabbit listening for a fox, but with much more movement than an ear twitch. He cried with me, laughed with me, sighed with me. He huddled me between the wall and his chest and stilled my shivers caused by the monsters under my skin and the closets in my mind. And he loved me enough to make me whole again, squeeze me back together with the glue of his adoration. I fixed him, too, fitting him into place among my missing puzzle pieces that I had lost long ago. Never did I know that more than one person fit my edges.
And he isn’t real yet. But I feel as if he will come along, meet my eyes, match my timid smile with a full blown grin and grab my heart in both of his cupped palms.
This is my dream and it had been reoccurring lately, popping up in my thoughts quite frequently. I feel as if he could be out there somewhere, my dream guy, my prince charming for lack of better words. Sorry for the essay form, I couldn't fit it down into a reasonable poem format.
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, inspiration: favorite book---Invisible Life In A Miserable Age version two :>


Henry
met her at the library
rasped the portrait in ancient poetry
booked her love in print of coffee calligraphy
vanished curses of September from the entire history
remembered eyes bared and fell at feet so complementary
one-eighty degrees the fine line supplementary
deviled angelic
marveled hurdled
seven freckles and stashed in memory
celebrates venus and mercury


                                                       ­                                     -----ravenfeels
Ar Bazian Jan 2017
It is a wonderful thing, when the willows doze,
at the stillness of a winter breeze.
The season settles, and it never goes,
with the passing dues at ease.

The heart so stale... the dreams so pale...
But she would dance a-still!

She would turn the world around,
and she would would bring the walls to sound,
and she... would run the waters still!

The stalemate arises, all so subtle,
and the wind in willows, hurdled in muddle,
would fly no more, until...
She sings to be, she sings to me...
And then she would cry, and I shall cease to be!

A.r. Bazian
*January 1st, 2017
Indrew C Mar 2013
We are journeymen
Always on to the next foot
We set to travel as if we know our destination
Not knowing it's the journey
That casts the die for our dreams and ambition

Roads paved with memories yet to come
Make themselves apparent to all of us
Faced by ambiguity and fear for the next,
We clasp to a certain past which made tonight
Surreal than it will ever be

We find ourselves gazing back to the days
Whose hours were made by little wonders
That last like stars in the sky
Moments that determine who we are
Linger in our hearts, touched by one another

Like brothers in arm
We hurdled through countless days
Learning together in good times and in bad
And by filling up each other's imperfections by our diversity
We discovered a new guise of love

Emotions fuel the memories
It is the reason why
We will only just remember how it feels
We always have choice to look back
But we can never walk back

Why?

Because we are journeymen
Always on to the next foot
We may take these steps far from one another
But we will take these steps together
Like we always have, and we always will

*"Good-bye's are only for those who think
       they don't have you inside their hearts"
Steve Page Jul 2016
Why so smug?
Seems those pygmy dreams
bore fruit long before
you left safe harbour.

Come back home
once you have defeated
land-locked fear,
hurdled every heaving horizon
and found the stars.

Come back and show me
your war torn scars
and deep wild bruises.
Show me a worn down ego
and weathered soul.

Then you can boldly enter
eternal harbour.
Inspired by Sir Francis Drake ' prayer: 'Disturb us, Lord'.
Daylight 4U2C Aug 2014
I'm a little stuck right now.
I got some beans,
but lost my cow.
I was robbed,
but they dropped these here.
Thought it'd be something
I could persevere.
Mom's going to **** me
when she finds out.
I'm going to be cooked instead
there's no doubt!
Jack-o burger,
or Jack smoked-steak.
I can't go back home yet,
or I'll be begging to be baked.
:time passed:
Rain got on my seed
and it almost grew through me
it grew so high and loud
it goes right passed the clouds
It got too much attention
they think this is a plant convention.
I lost the other two seed
Well, I wonder where this leads
:time passed...again:
I..can..hardly....breathe..
this....climb was..too high..for me.
On my way up....my hand was run across by a rat!
And I almost jumped..but I didn't quite feel like..going "splat!"
Now I feel a little better.
But it's so freezing cold up here
now I need a sweater!
Where am I anyway?
It looks brighter than snow.
"Where are you?"
I WOULDN'T HAVE ASKED IF I DID ALREADY KNOW!!
"Where are you little creature?"
Oh wait a minute..wait.
"Where are you? You smell real bad."
What did he just say?!
"Thumpity thump
dumbity dumb
I smell something gross
and almost taste it on my tongue."
I looked around for a sharp weapon,
only finding some gold duck.
So I was going to grab it
when it woke and screamed
"Clack clack!"
I quickly thought to grab it
and swung it over my shoulder by the neck
then I realized mom would love this
and gave the giant a rain check.
I tried to just slide down the the vines
but it didn't go out well.
So I pulled the ducks feathers,
and rode down
until it fell. I hurdled to the ground
still holding tightly on the duck.
then I quickly grabbed a leaf,
and the duck yelled
"Clack clack clack!"
I brought it too my mommy
and she almost cooked it well
but she noticed a patch of feathers missing
and wasn't that just swell.
Comments? like?
Raven Feels May 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sometimes strangers can become the holders of our deepest secrets:>



awaited so long so vast to confess a blurt out a must say

that my hopes came to the ultimate settle to the unspoken overwhelm of this May

hurdled in my lap like a shiny relief anticipation

hidden doors under that rag to a whole new brilliant creation

never have I ever came to express to redeem a share

in a chaotic crowd in a room for that daemon monster flare

bare me the tears

been shed been dear on the angel

on that blanket that saint of the painful

don't get this wrong it was a cry of surreal

of a friendship that I dreamt of a cherish

for those pure souls to come to an emotional peel


                       ------ravenfeels
Advait Apr 2016
She continued to walk on
Towards the light that resonated with hers;
Unrecognised by the world,
A pleasant titter of confidence radiated off her.
As she approached the source of light,
A small light only perceptible
Because of the dominant darkness,
The darkness of shattered hearts and faiths;
There, she realized that there stood a wall,
The wall of life as it was known,
The wall which divided the achievers from the rest
A faintly painted, thinly segregating wall;
She didn't know,
But she followed a unique way,
A brilliant mind with a million world changing thoughts
Ready to project all her thoughts on this wall of life,
A wall too small to accommodate all her thoughts
Thus painting the wall vibrantly with her thoughts,
Making the light around
A dominant sight,
Dominant enough to lift her up
And flung her over to the achievers' side
Now she stood bold,
Recognized by the world
A predominantly large and hurdled world.
Yet with that radiating confidence,
She moved ahead,
Leaping forward with no more feelings of doubt or distress,
But only to motivate her fellow populace,
The ones still on the other side,
To follow their own lights,
And not to be lead astray.
Always follow your passion. Follow it, success will follow. Never do something because you're afraid of doing something else. Aim big, reach the stars.
Every night was the same
With the waking and flying away,
And the sky was cold and too loud,
And I didn't want to be there,
But what could I do?
I cried as I reluctantly soared
And I covered my ears from the violent tattooing of the passing air
And my wings ached as my body froze--
All to look over a jaded paramour,
To check;
To ease my mind so that in the daylight I could stay,
And as I hurdled between stars and clouds I silently wondered if the objective was worth it, or valid at all--
But I couldn't ask that of myself
Because I couldn't answer it.
Steve Page Jan 2017
Lord, save us from our pygmy dreams
That bear fruit long before
We leave safe harbour.
Send us out to only come back home
Once we have defeated land-locked fear,
Hurdled every heaving horizon
And found the stars.

We'll return to show you
Our deep wild bruises
And war torn scars.
We'll submit our worn down egos
And weathered souls.
And only then gladly enter
Eternal harbour.
An echo of Drake's Poem/ Prayer 'disturb us'
Shae Sun James Mar 2013
it started as a faint whisper
a subtle scratching at the door
a clawing at your insides

the sound echoed through your hollow bones
the vibration hurdled through your veins
and your emaciated soul absorbed the disturbance

red hues overtook your pale skin
the blood percolated through your pores
a loss caused by the monster within

convulsing in a pool of your own plasma
your breath comes in jagged gasps
and your body consumes itself

the creature resides behind the door
self-destruction is the lock
(C) 2013. Shae Sun James.
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2015
Once upon a time I met a wise man on this road
Called world who told me to avoid haste and go the toad
He said, "say hello before It's time for goodbye
Laugh out loud for there'll be time to cry
Listen while they talk but oppose with silence
Obeying all constants and paying attention to the variance
Take when you are given but never forget even yours shall be taken
Trust strangers more than friends,by friends you're forsaken
Go as far as the road takes you to know exactly what awaits
And roll with the wind, surf waves obeying every cyclone as it rotates
Life is grilled chicken,chew bones while you still have teeth
And if you're given the chance to kiss the lips, **** even the ***
Scream out loud against all odds if you want to be heard
Keep toiling uphill, don't despair for every situation's hard
Opportunity comes once in a lifetime for fools who ain't welcoming
Otherwise build more enchanting doors and she'll always be coming
The sky is only a lower limit for counting your success
Call it a springboard for the ambitious to set some pace for space
Difficult moments are like caterpillars, ensure they ain't dead
And someday they'll be beautiful butterflies instead
Make peace with your enemies, friends cannot be trusted
Otherwise words like treachery and betrayal couldn't have been invented  
Say what you need to say, when you need to say it
Some simple words humans hold back when released restore a beat
Much as you get warmth from being embraced and cuddled
The same happens when you do embrace those in cold and hurdled
You may believe walking away from the risks is the answer to every question
But it's the ships that sail far from the shore that never escape mention
Do not waste time being troubled and contemplating your death
Worry more about how you're spending the billions of your breath
So go out there and squeeze sap of joy and contentment out the tree of your life
Every genius is just an idiot who ****** every moment like It were a wife
- Feb 2015
Just to find wrong ways
And our decomposing hearts
All in front our eyes

Our hurdled master
Thinking of our choice
But not of consequence

So we are let here to rot
Infused with darkened thoughts
And crested love
Lieve Jun 2012
"I will feed my lights to the sea"
Said the girl to the plant.

"But I'll miss your skin when you leave"
The plant cried in protest.

"Oh, but I can not love you,  for you are green"
Her whispers hurdled against his stem.

"I would grow a heart and lungs by the Sun's beams,
If it only meant you,
Between my leaves."



She stepped to the sea, "You're too brittle!"
The plant grew after her. "You're too beautiful!"

The seaweed slapped at her toes,
The starfish lapped at her ankles.

"By any other name, you're just a rose."
"Forget the blue world; come to the green, my sweet!"
Her neck twisted skyward, and she froze.



The Sun bent down and kissed her on the face.
"Do not leave your light to the sea," His bright face rang in melancholy.
"He's but a star, to me you are the Sun!" The plant sang in jealousy.

But as the heat beat down and the vines dug into her skin,
She refused.



And so, with the slip and slap of waves her jewels glittered into the sea,

The tears of a single plant too weak to fight the current
And the light of a star too dim to outshine the light.

And so, there with the slip and slap of waves, her jewels were finally free.
LJW May 2014
too fast
I  ran to the
sun as I hurdled the
pits dug for young ladies too small
to dare.
Kate Lion Sep 2014
i saw a friend from middle school tonight
he looked different, his pants were so tight and he talked different

i wish that i'd said hi
i wish that i'd hurdled over my pride
but we were both too afraid to say anything

and it was in that moment that i realized
that neither of us have changed since 9th grade year
it was an awkward silence that has followed us since our awkward stage as teenagers
(and now im 21)
Dara Brown May 2015
I have ran
jumped
hurdled
over every obstacle
you have set before me
except
i love you

with those three words
I run
like a track star
because I am afraid
if you catch me
you will see
my weakness
of how I will struggle
to be set free
not from you
but from
how dependent
on your love
I have
become
H Jul 2015
I call it "Small Pool Syndrome".
It occurs not all at once, but slowly over time. When one is constrained to seeing the same groups of people for too long. People that you once found ordinary, are suddenly seemingly extraordinary.

The problem arises when you can't see past the facade. The significant other you begin to fall for isn't extraordinary. They aren't meant for you. But you've been around them for long enough that you've forgotten what the outside world holds. You've forgotten that you know better. That you can do better.

It's a hard facade to crack really. Because before you know it, you've fallen for the idea of a person. Who they could be instead of who they are. At this point, you've hurdled the red line and surpassed the danger zone. Almost too far gone. Because falling for an idea is worse than falling for a person. The ending is never ideal.

The trick to overcoming Small Pool Syndrome is to leave. You must leave the pool, explore the ocean, immerse yourself in new depths.
It is only when you've left the shallow end, that you will discover what greatness awaits. One cannot overcome heartbreak from expectation until they are immersed in reality. Reality can only be found outside of the small pool. You must swim out past the tidal zone.

And when you've finally dragged yourself out, you'll stand looking into the pool instead of swimming in it. And you'll feel the "Ah-hah" moment overcome you as you realize the person you once looked at with shinning eyes was always staring back with dull ones. They aren't the one for you, no matter how sweet their words had tasted in your mouth. In life you'll find some things aren't meant to be swallowed. Especially poison.

And there will be some who may not understand. There is no rhythm or rhyme to this prose. For the majority it is but words. But for a select few, for those afflicted, these may be the words necessary to crack the facade. To pull them out of the pool. To prevent the drowning.

Don't let your heart break from expectations. Leave whats not good for you and find what you deserve.

You deserve better so:

Do. Better.

Get better.

You cannot look back if you are in the same place. You must move forward in order to reflect. And until you move forward, you cannot realize that putting one foot in front of the other was the best **** thing you could have done for yourself.
It's hard to move on from people in our pasts.
sorelullaby Sep 2020
She sometimes plunged herself into a misty black,dark enough to ignore every breathing moments and hurdled herself into a decent white, pure enough to delight others being. But in mean time, she just a mysterious shade of grey- overwhelmed by unknown scratch of mystical feelings.
please, do not re-upload and hello from me, a new born kid inside this mystical world of words. kindly share me your point of view, with love, self.
I feel like you just dropped me
And I was so afraid
Of the winds friction against me
Of my stomach flipping
Of the things behind me
That my eyes were misting,
Afraid to hurt as I hurdled
As all my weight
Gave gravity leverage over me.
I know what its like to gather
Fractured pieces of your essence
To have your dreams pool at your feet
While you bleed abandonment.
I want to find you I seek
Your face and that sense
Of naivety
Your safety always gave me.
You provided stability to hope,
You fueled my dreams,
You made me believe
I was worth something.
Your eyes will be the last I see
On impact
Your laugh will echo in
All my bad dreams to come undone to.
I’m done playing this game with you.
And it hurts to smash face first
Onto frozen dirt.
But I’m a lot harder now
My hallow chest falls slower
This person I have become
You’ll never really know her.
She doesn’t fracture at the thought
Of your next abandonment
She doesn't hurt anymore
As a means of self punishment.
I promise, here watch me step off the edge
It’s not enough to want me.
Part of me is still dead or dying
Over all those things you said.  
My heart bleeds and my head
Swirls with all these lessons you have taught me.
Wes Rosenberger Jul 2016
Smoke plumes, I watch as the needle falls
and a chill consumes.
Uninteresting to those who misunderstand
what this species can do.
Deepest sleep is an uncontrollable beast,
with unmatched desire and speed.
I could confess now,
but it's not something they'll ever need.
In this moment we all lie alone,
driven to separate ourselves
from what's always been known.
Fighting to defend science,
they can't comprehend without bias.
A fist is made, an arm hurdled
with oblivious intent.
What is reality? Subconscious asks,
again.
Ten times and we climb to live as men.
Again.
Twenty times,
and they claim to be heaven sent.
Gaye Sep 2015
You are there, everywhere
I smiled, laughed, cried and jumped in glee
You were there, I didn't even grasp the hole.
When the moon hit the stars
I hurdled my balcony and saw the-
Chain of lights, those and movement and I
Sensed you about, I spoke to you,
Your husky voice and hands perfectly mine.
How many times did I pass your thoughts?
Do you know you evoke memories in the-
Strangest junctions of my bursting imaginations?
I know the place, somewhere around the corner
Unoccupied by me, I willfully ignored your future
And now I think I should clasp if forever as mine!
I walked slowly so that I could walk with you
I caught glimpses of you and you smiled.
In those longest nights I thought of salvation
You pierced my eyes and held me with meaning.
I thought I’ll seize you next life in the banks of Sarayu
But dis-remembering you this life is so impossible.
Do you remember the days you made no sense to people-
Around us and then you looked my way and sighed.
There are million little things I want to tell you
You were an illusion that happened to me, a magic!
Today I know this me, consciously and unconsciously
Envisaging you.
There’ll be one day this poem reaches you
And when you read I can see you, beyond the walls you are
I can feel you, the peculiar scent and the breeze you carried
Let us walk together to the world we spoke to paint life
Where we can be happy with each other!
Kaylee Mar 2015
you asked me why I smoke
as frequent as I do
but what do you do
to satisfy
a longing
that could never
be expressed?
there are many things
I wish I could tell you
but
I inhale
my
every
intention
to speak

why do most want a
love that is detrimental?
a love that shatters
your teeth
as you try to speak
a love that inflicts
a stream of butterflies
or makes you appear
as if you've had
too much caffeine
by the way your
delicate
being
shakes

I have shaken
and clamped
my tongue this time
to stop the promises
from leaking out
I decline to drink coffee
so you don't believe
I'm quivering with words
unspoken

I decline to mention
that I dream of your face
in the future looking worn
from every obstacle
we have hurdled through
in our years
I decline to mention
every morning that
you're softly breathing sleep
I hold your face
and softly mumble
"mine"
I decline to mention
my excess of
"I love you's"
is caused by an
unshakable longing
to promise a forever.
but why?
why does it seem so
unattainable
why do I reject the thought of
a promise to you
for
something
so
precious?

I am tired of shaking
I am tired of a placebo
I'm tired of over used
empty apologies
I'm tired of reminiscing
remembering
" I will always love you"
"forever"
I am tired of my lovers thoughts
being elsewhere
I am tired
I am worn
my butterflies have turned
into the
ash
I flick
off
my
cigarettes

I used to write novels
for the people in my life  
I've loved until I saw how
empty
others were
while doing the same
I used to whisper "I love you"
and sweet meanings.
I have experienced
the truly empty
of this world
I have loved
the damaged
the angry
the sad
and
the broken

they spoke a hollow shell
of the same words
i purred with meaning
Suddenly
I lost
my appetite
for

forever
Amanda Shelton Jan 2023
Throttled through time on the
tip of a whip I am hurdled
into existence.

In a flash of lightning and
sound that vibrated the strings
of reality I became an echo.

In darkness I am the breath of
light that brings you to life.

In light I am the void that
devours all thing’s.

I am also a seed ready to be
hydrated and fed so I can become
a blooming beauty.

The idea of me is purpose.

To be!

©️ 2023 By Amanda Shelton
Owen C Swenson Jan 2018
I run, they chase.
Genetically modifying the master race. We are trapped, for it will always know your face.
Anytime and any place.
****** recognition in your private space. Never overlook a clue and never leave a  trace.
For they will charge you with a premeditated sentence.
Can we comprehend this as our fate, while others are being hurdled through these prison gates.
Everyone can run but we'll never be hidden.
This kind of knowledge is completely forbidden.
We are the enemy as ponds set in place. So I run, yet they chase.
H-Town Menace Jan 2019
My life has been a darkened maze it's had traps and spiked pits,
With nothing to see but darkness with no light.
I've hurdled life's obstacles, But still haven't found my way through the maze, i'm lost wondering in the middle of this maze, I've been in pits which I've dug staircases to get out of but I still haven't found the light. I'm stuck in this maze wondering with out any shoes or food, its been a lonely life in this maze of my life. I'm hungering for compassion which I've never found. i doubt there's any light and I doubt there's any way out of this maze of my life.
Charlie Hazels May 2014
When you stood in line
Clicked your heels and marched
Did you ever think that this would happen

When you ate your spongy bread
Drank coffee made from mud
Did you ever think that this would happen

When you stood there for days
Gangrene setting in
Did you ever think that this would happen

When you finally got the order
Nervous whispers all around
Did you ever think that this would happen

When you leapt over the barrier running like hell
Surrounded by friends dying
Did you ever think that this would happen

When you hit the floor to avoid a bomb
And held your breath as you lay sinking in the bog
Did you ever think that this would happen

When you hurdled barbed wire and corpses
Almost reaching the goal before being shot in the shoulder
Did you ever think that this would happen

When youre in your chair and the trauma returns
As you watch your grandson play soldiers
Did you ever think that this would happen
That it would be so bad?
This is a memorial to those who have survived a war, being left alone to deal with the trauma.
David R May 2021
Like fresh ice-cream
a newly baked cake
the ripple of a stream
the stillness of a lake

Is innocence untouched
Purity unsmutched
'Fore world makes inroads
'N virtuosity erodes

Now life's been hurdled
'n the cake's gone stale
the ice cream's curdled
and from the lake, a wail
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge

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