Ominously spindling thread
Tempestuous, voluptuous
Contemptuous and gluttonous
Stitch me a heavy heart
Now rip it to shreds

Rewarding impetuousness
How I long for your torture
Tortuous contortionist
The pleasure is without measure

Your posh silk,
Treasure of my endeavor
Enveloping like the web of a spider
My heartstrings twine;
then are severed
What a twist
Never have I ever

Your love is black ice
Unctuous, greedy, slippery, treacherous
Seductive, alluring
The duplicitous song of the siren.

You are as the ancient oak
Whose once vital branches have withered
Into gnarled, beckoning husks
Ever reaching, never grasping.

And still I hunger.
To my shame I yearn.
I eat your dirt with the impetuousness of the dying.
And with trembling hands wipe away the maggots.

More the fool am I
For allowing the shadows to lengthen
Awaiting the day your siren song
Delivers its unspoken promise.

Ever listening for the soughing wind
To blow through your wizened leaves
To shimmy up your sturdy trunk
And carry you back to me.

But your branches are black with decay. Desiccated from neglect.
And my ears have forgotten how to hear your voice.
Accompanied only by the echoes of a dream
That has long since faded.

You.
A cherub, it may seem.
All golden and warm.
Once I looked upon you and wept
For the beauty before me touched me.
A smile, a laugh, a look.
I felt a balm upon my soul when
You lay your weight upon me.
Then it came.
The beauty became tainted
Displeasure and impetuousness
Clinging to you like rank sweat.
I turned away and you whirled me around.
It was then that I got a good look at you.
The gold turned to cheap
Flourescent lighting.
The warmth to a sticky heat.
The cherub to a fat, spoiled child.
And now I leave.

Shoelaces wired around my ankles in my haste to get away, but you get yourself undone each time, entangled in my
impetuousness.

Chapter X
Etréstles appears from Lepanto

From Lepanto; Greece. He appeared exhausted with his eyes reddened by the gassed atmosphere that greeted them in Battle. Of whose intraterrestrial castes it was the one that was in his iron spirit and floated in his cape as a gesture of his personality. He arrived cracking the ****** soils of Tel Gómel, when he arrived ... he was assaulted by a soldier who asked for mercy to extend his bad fortune.

Falangist: With his helmet in his hands and the Dorus on his cloak on the ground tells him; every single thing I tried the double edge of my sword stained him. The top sheet notified me that my family in Kalidona was in a state of irregularity, since my two older children were called to serve in the militias. And the second edge of my lower Dorus I bow to the meanest preciousness of that of observing with a good spirit to cooperate, now with the callousness of my soul that overcomes it exploiting and dragging my wife as easy spoil. I know that my descendants were buried under the effect of the cataclysm of Pompeii in the future. All will emigrate and then flee when they are devastated and the unwelcome comrades return to reintegrate into the Santa Mary festival. The patron saint who consoled me, but I prepare myself for the resistance of such bad fortune, that one day I would drop with my crops in the culture of peasant angels in fruits and devotions. I sobbed and sobbed rubbing my animals through my empty eyes day and night. They did it next to me, with the singularity of not affecting me, they went to the nearest stream to sob for me so that I would not be affected by the fatal annihilation.

Etréstles, moved by the tribulations of the Infant of the Phalanx, fell to the ground imposing nonexistence, after his words implored Hera for her benevolence to sponsor him as a parasite and reside with her. Thus they would be immune to progressive lives under the influence of the primary and secondary sharp edges of the Phalanx weapons. Hera's eyes sparkled as the Phalangist's soul entered the Goddess. They were not vanities, but for the advent of his vanity on the Acropolis thus reaching him.

Etréstles reacts and says to the Falangist: You will be able to leave earlier, my horse Kanti stretched him out of one of his legs by neighing in proportion, so from the suffix of Hera he took the comparative stelae of a hunter and manifested to the hunter; You are already a Phalangist, ride your steed, Sail to your lands in search of your wife and children and feel magnanimous, before the phalanx officer's frivolous arrogant whistle makes you feel unconsciously smaller.

Etréstles says goodbye and tells the Phalangist to get ready for the logistical combat letter promptly. After all the event, you will be reported back by Hera's command to your lands, to release the grasses by the vertical odes of the belly of the wet, presiding zephyr, and the germination of the warm aromas of your holy land in Kalidona next to your ***** family.

Etréstles de Kalavrita, cheers on the head, both temples and lavishly kisses the Tupe between Kanti's ears. The hyper beautiful sorrel eliminated sinuous vehemence gleaming through its nostrils, it jumped down the cliffs and ravines. They arrive in a rush to Tel Gomel, and appear before Alexander III the Great and Vernarth of the Reign of Sudpichi. They were fiddling with paragraphs of the strategy before meeting with the fifteenth commanders to review the Falangists, and outline a logistics letter.

Adhesion of love Cattle says: "Think of me, ...", stemming from the indefinite discomfort and outbursts of the undecided. The archaic traditions are only for kingdoms to conquer, to sleep like a peaceful dream that sleeps together with us. Do you know how many wars I have had to endure not seeing any gesture of the undaunted muscles of everyone's face and the Whole ..., if they knew?
Replica of Lost love adhesion: from hidden science I will unravel and unravel all my trades to recover what is lost. The magic was lost between my fingers due to its excessive impetuousness, for handling alchemical essences. After this had happened, any mirage or outburst of immortality vanished from all the cardinal points. In the city of Naupacto or Lepanto, it formerly had the best port on the northern coast of the Gulf of Corinth, whose entrance it dominated. The origin of its name is due to the fact that a heracid had obtained a fleet in this place before crossing the Peloponnese, or because it had been a place used to build ships, so Naupacto would have originated from naûs (ship) and pēgnymi (build). “City of Ships, from where Etréstles de Kalavrita came from the aggressive comparisons of the masked love lost and won. Palafrén, that mounts the destinations of the city with his eternal beloved Drestnia.

During the War of the Satagenisis and Deidagenesis, along with the Heosphoros and the Man of Valplacci with their heart Infarcted they continued to prostrate Lucifer., They refluxed with the wars of the Peloponnese, which was the headquarters of the Athenian fleet in western Greece. The Athenian fleet, led by Admiral Phormio, defeated the Lacedaemonians at Naupacto (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Ch. 45 - Palibrio USA).

From here the austere visions of the Charioteer, the genitals of the animal kingdom, and of the exiled human species, flew over all roofs. With his lasciviousness ambushing the females with his ******* pretension, he started towards his senses in his servitude.
When they approached the province of Nafpaktia, the Nome of Aitoloakarnania, the weightless musks that spread and crushed souls, who do not die with breathlessness or halite that extinguishes it submissive. This is how it could provoke some heartbreak and take it to the underworld of Hades. The castes of gods and semi-gods will free him from his chains and the furious Xenon and Lithium gases. Gasifications that will sneak down the drains spaces where no sword my spear will cross the atmosphere of Gaugamela. Only Vernarth out there has to be channeled through the unscathed pavilions of the immaculate back room of his heroic stock. Without any undulating or blatant blade cutting his sanctified and pure muscles acquired in the aforementioned sessions in the Bumodos with the drugs and potions of Medea.

Ellipsis in the Castle of Horcondising:
His mother Luccica were looking out the stained glass window of his main windowed pavilion. Through her she saw how her sons Vernarth and Etréstles met with the great General, to unravel the mysteries of the immaculate and intact pavilions of Vernarth where she commanded and nothing caused her any injury, neither by the edge of manipulated steel points nor by all the hands wrestling with a transfigured fate change.

Luccica says: Dear shoots. The last night of Solstice I couldn't sleep well. The forest of forests woke me up and I couldn't count its fallen leaves. What obedience to my expatriate will, to liquidate them I would gain strength to the intruder fatigue? I know that when I close my eyes I will dream of you. Hold on to the carnival close to the movements that are indescribable but visible. I look at the acacia trees that do not cause injuries to my night eyes, but they cut the necks of themselves like a sieve to admire them in the pantheon of Morpheus.

I will not move my arms to unsettle any vibrations that hinder my fusion with you, except on the vehicles that oscillate from the War to Peace. I move my feeling through my own numb hand of the uncertain living shadow of Luccica, your mother more than yours, forever presence of the dominance of the absence of my desires. All the others who are undaunted, I will mislead them from my national indulgences, which dispossess my ignoble body by weaving and embroidering here in the linen fibers. Evil beyond the stained glass window I saw abstracted, as the swords and spears misguided wielded each other, as if wanting to slice the air to pierce the curtain that divides reality with sub reality. Prisoners of a post-battle that would come to reopen the curtains on the sub reality of the fleeting children of Luccica, of the naive and dying curtains not yet stained with urgent blood in the unpoured vessels.

Son Etréstles Madalena arrived today from Florence; she arrived tired and very sleepy. I think he will sleep until you come back waiting for you! Arrival with some sisters sent by their mother Catarina de Pazzi, directly from the Chiesa di San Giovannino dei Cavalieri. Here long hours she told us without warning the news of her adventure until we reached Sudpichi to the Reign of Horcondising. Undoubtedly I passed the Apennines before crossing the gory viaduct, it has brought you an immolated Cross from right there. Then from Genoa I sail the seas to Valparaíso, brought directly by the merchant ship that came from Helmsman Strigoi, Vlad Tepes himself. On the surface, the float arrived without interruption or ceaselessly, as it had to be appreciated and done in the vicinity of the Mandragora, before arriving at the horcondising.

For you Vernarth, I know that you enjoy the company of Walekiria, who has surrounded you with the divine verb. That of the yellow grasses that walk along the yellow paths, none will be more path than herself. I will be with you very closely, as well as I will see it and you will revive in Gaugamela.

Hades says: with a human conscience I would like to alleviate the weight that breaks the bottom of the ships that invade foreign lands. But my origin sentences the soft abandonment of the labyrinths of thought and reason. For this I leave my punishments to the one who here with reason let his ideological tendency inhale perpetuate itself in Gaugamela without being supervised by my fury, overshadowing my administration of those who should not live or die in the ancient song, who sleep and sleep, but who my Dark prayer does not distract you.

To be continued / under editing

The highway wore roses.
Two lanes wide beneath a sky
that was blue,
a sun that was unforgiving.

We were there
on the grass
outside the gas station,
the first thing we had seen in fourteen miles.

You didn’t say anything.
You just stood there,
all inadvertent grace
and unknowing impetuousness.

“Beauty is an emotion,” you said.
“It is not a characteristic; it is the quality of eliciting that emotion.
You know it is beautiful
by the way it makes you feel,”
you assured me.

We were back on the road smoking cigarettes
when I knew I didn’t want to love you.
We were back on the road,
And the highway wore roses.

My malevolence and brooding petulance
                              a display of impetuousness is all
                                                        part of my
                                                        presence­




or is it.....
                ?

There is a part of my brain
That believes it keeps me sane
While 'Over' is the game
A ludicrous plane

The reality: deceased
A temporary lease
**** so ******
Life abrupt

"Hang in there'
They say
In that colloquial way
No idea where

The lizard breathes
Impetuousness seethes
It's time to go
The last rodeo

And I fear
My actions and choices
Too many voices
Nothing is clear

That part of my mind
I wish to leave behind
To be kind
To those left behind

I ask to turn it off
And they scoff
'I'm not well'
'Enjoy your hell'

Everything was here before me
Everything will be here after
I am an irrelevant part of possibility
Please contain your laughter

I’ve got a few more things to say,
More thoughts have fluttered into my brain,
And even if it may be slightly trite,
I’m going to give you another piece of my mind.

How I adore the sound of rain.
Pitter-patter,
On my window at night.
However, when the rain gets on me,
I become the Wicked Witch of The West,
And start to melt.
The rain relaxes me,
Puts my ever-sprinting mind at ease.
Snuggled underneath the covers,
In my comfy bed,
Shows that even on the stormy nights,
There’s something to be thankful for.

My music taste has evolved,
As most everything else has,
I guess it was inevitable,
To broaden my horizons.
I was raised on Reba,
My mother made sure of that.
I’ll give credit where it’s due,
She’s a stunning singer,
And her songs touch the heart,
But I’ve found another,
Who, for me,
Fans the same spark.
His name is Alec Benjamin,
I’ve quoted his song in a poem once before,
Rarely can you find a musician,
Where every song you adore.
I haven’t heard every piece of art he’s created,
But from what I’ve heard,
They’re very relatable, meaningful songs,
Which are filled with impactful words.
He’s an amazing lyricist,
Who, to my knowledge, writes all his own songs,
Here’s a sample,
From a track titled “Hipocrite,”
Yes, titled just like that.

“It's hip to be a hipocrite, well, that's how it goes
Saying and portraying things, but only for show
They talk, throw rocks
Living in a mansion that they made out of glass
Always throwing tantrums, always getting a pass
All talk, they don't stop.”
And here’s the chorus:
“All these pompous fools,
With their broken rules,
And their noses in the air,
Keep pretending that they care.
All these stubborn mules,
Went to fancy schools,
But the only thing they learned to do is talk.”

Some of the music I like,
Doesn’t even have any lyrics at all.
Just a light somber melody,
To take me to serenity.
It’s in those moments,
Where my mind is clear,
That I treasure,
All I hold dear.

As much as I fear the future,
And which direction, of the countless, it could go.
I’d be lying if I said,
I wasn’t curious to see where it goes.
Where I’ll be,
Ten,
Twenty,
Thirty years from now,
Nobody knows.
On the bucket list,
Is to be invited onto a talk show.
Fate is uncertain,
That’s precisely why I fear it,
Yet, there’s a beauty to the undetermined.
Funny how that is.

I’m very impatient,
That’s a negative trait I’ll admit,
However, I understand,
That patience has its benefits.
Impulsivity leads to mistakes,
While patience leads to mastery.
Patience leads to understanding,
While impetuousness leads to travesty.
Waiting makes me feel,
That fleeting time is wasting,
We don’t have forever,
And our presence is always fading.
Yet, breathing in and out,
And taking a moment to rest,
Reconfigure, reassess,
Is the best form of reconciliation,
The body can get.

Another poem written,
A set of words said.
Another view of the world,
Hidden in my head.
Another random word,
To help me rhyme.
Another,
Piece of my mind.

A generally cerebral acquisition
intertwining heterosexual generic guy,
who first started dating gals,
when a late teen/
early twenty something,
who overcame his shyness
courtesy consuming powder milk biscuits;
usually described as
"made from whole wheat
raised in the rich bottomlands
of the Lake Wobegon river valley
by Norwegian bachelor farmers;
so you know
they're not only good for you,
but pure... mostly.

Buy them ready-made
in the big blue box
with the picture of the biscuit
on the cover,
or in the brown bag
with the dark stains
that indicate freshness.

Whole wheat that gives
shy persons the strength
to get up and do
what needs to be done,
especially a then
first time contra dancer
such as yours truly – me!

Heavens, they're tasty, and expeditious!"

I buzzfeed jump/kickstarted to drone
how as humble male,
a propensity prevailed to secrete testosterone,
yet lament childhood's end,
an unhealthily docile boyhood
never realizing inclusion
nor fraternizing with classmates,
a stark realization throughout mein kampf.

Hence an (often feeble attempt)
to recaptcha forsaken interpersonal opportunities
when positive circumstances
appear palpable courtesy
interest exhibited toward yours truly,
or more particularly
his satisfactorily scribbled writings.

Overindulgence exuding profuse gratitude
most likely counterproductive
to teasing fledgling friendship
ofttimes recklessly voicing
expressing premature ejaculations
of amorousness linkedin
to profusion of unbounded love
invariably lobbing blitzkrieg
of desperation to undermine latent
intrigue housing initial sentiments

never vouchsafed tactile rapport
with author of these words,
whose impetuousness additionally pronounced
by inclusion of mine
America Online username
available after further correspondence
to sincere respondent
in immature hoop dreams to elicit
fantasy realization to strike up rapport.

At such hint of romance and elusive
fine prairie home companion to acquire,
I want to burst into song
with attendant accompanying acapella choir
oblivious reader would become jaundiced
regardless creative rhyme and reason,
where Rita meter maid,
actually a robot contrived thanks
be to artificial intelligence
within blink of her
sophisticated electronic eye
notices digital timer

precious minutes to display
favorable compression, depression,
disadvantageous expression,
irreversible impression,
malapropos progression,
et cetera didst expire,
who ofttimes referenced prior
experienced being flummoxed,
when few and far between
interpersonal scenarios embarrassingly
forfeited, kindled explosive charge
as if sparking electricity
issued from a shorted wire.

Amour propre frankly zapped
analogous to how swollen balloon
punctured or loosed from fingerhut
erratically zips thru air
flitting to and fro hither and yon
resembling how
on two separate occasions
witnessed bat out of hell or cowbird
similarly swooped dipped and dove
within our house got trapped,

(possibly fell thru fireplace flue),
whereby mother dearest shrieked
simultaneously swatting
(the only mammal
in the world that can fly)
nsync with rebel yell
(on par with exemplary performers as:
Swallowtail, the Flying Garbanzos,  
Wild Asparagus.

Within that milieu
of barnstorming hoopla,
I got me a wife
(currently taking her siesta),
though upon first setting foot
yours truly stumbled as with two left feet,
but mastered the following called steps
and routine became cakewalk.  

HOW TO CONTRA DANCE:

     Ask a partner (yea, that lonely looking gal or guy), who can never refuse to kick up heals in this rollicking shenanigan – the rumor holds that said activity the most fun one can have with his/her clothes worn.

     The caller will usually do a walk thru, which begins with the first two couples closest to the stage crew of lively musicians (frequently filling the makeshift hall with music aligned the genre of irish jigs and reels) beginning to pair off.

      After couples one and two (nearest the band) complete their quartet, this process (sans participants coupling off) continues until the foot of the line.

     Actually each duo of dancers within the foursome nearest or furthest from the podium dons the role of  “first and second” couple respectively.

     The walk thru can be helpful, especially for those unfamiliar with this social activity, which encroaches on the ordinary comfort zones because eye contact plus physical hand to hand fusion necessary.

     Many of the routines utilize various combinations of approximately a couple dozen unique moves, where each distinct extemporaneously choreographed fancy footwork utilizes a unique variation of such movements.

the sand is between my toes
all my foes have gone south for the
long winter
they are crashing beach waves
unable to reach my shore

the vibrant burning flesh
lingers harshly on our legs
entangled
between nightgowns and laugh-out-louds
the dim midnight candles flicker
bitter wind grazes past so gently
and yet so recklessly

there is a sunlit radiance
lit up on your face
a certain kind of experience
brings forward such impetuousness
effervescent and streaked with purpose
you glow with such precision
inside a hotel suite bound for secrecy
and pretending to be
who we are not, who we wish we were

i was young sun-kissed skin
incandescent
lucidly dancing
in childish daze
astray
in foreign
places
cabaret
underage
dizzy and unhinged
but somehow still so poised
in violet tenderness
with your soft lips
on mine
such subtle ties
impossible to memorize
we are fragments of misplaced puzzle pieces
deliberate looks on sweltering beaches
we are undefined
in the white
heat of summer
nights

stares that tarnish
secure fires
by the beachside
there are sudden nerves in
self-proclaimed fearlessness
awestruck teenagers
intoxicated in the
unforeseen appearance of lust, misconstrued as love

the balconies with ivy over the edge
spill over the cloudless yellow coast
wild cerulean waves bathe the air in slight showers
careful hand grabs
heat lightning
fever struck adolescence
soak in twilight sweat beads
ebullient girls with brunette bouncing curls
in the wake
your waves
crash against my figure
leaving spots touched by the sun
handprints,
and your scent remains on
me
as you alluringly
twist the shape of the universe
around
our own accords
the dawn licks our faces
as we wake up to the soothing noises
of boats rising then
tumbling upon the ocean current
like
your magnetic field pulls me
into swift contact upon auberge floors  

we become the matters we take
in our own hands
we become two shapes glistening
in the pale hush of nightfall

I bought from Staples earlier today
November 18th, 2024
cuz the the older one malfunctioned.

Said older generation mouse sported
a rather extensive "mouse cable,"
one end of which ended
in a standard connector
namely a USB (Universal Serial Bus),
which plugged into the Macbook Pro computer.

Though the aforenamed laptop
equipped with a small square panel
containing different touch-sensitive areas
linkedin with cursor movement.

I much prefer to manipulate
that amazing hand-held device
detecting two-dimensional motion,
and translates "planar motion"
into cursor movement,
and yours truly (me) particularly elated
after quickly jimmying electronic
palm size pièce de résistance
to function without a hitch.

As part of an ARPA-funded experiment
to find better ways for computer users
to interact with computers,
Douglas Engelbart of SRI—
who would later work
on the DARPA-sponsored
ARPANET project,
the Internet's precursor—
invented the computer mouse.

Perhaps growing up
and attending public school
within Lower Providence, Pennsylvania
where quaint accoutrements
like blackboard and chalk
(and a daily volunteer -
ofttimes a teacher's pet - NOT ME
(hashtagged as a pestilence)
satisfactorily wiped the slate clean
for another day).

Matter of fact, I barely completed
twelve years of education,
where cribbed writing of mine
wrote illegible scratch marks
(mostly drawing blanks),
when examinations got handed out.

In retrospect, the much younger me,
(whether as a little boy, prepubescent,
older teen, and even as an emerging adult)
lived a quite sheltered life totally oblivious
to any danger field), and allowed, enabled
and provided himself to be mollycoddled
much against the objection
of a father and mother, and even myself,
whose pledge of allegiance
to passive aggressive behavior
wore patience thin

toward their singular male offspring,
whose unnatural control
of his (mine) spontaneity
in tandem with suppressed healthy predilections
essentially stunted emotional, mental
and physical growth and maturation.
Ofttimes, especially when trying to coax
extemporaneous good humor
constituting mine introspective mien
synonymous with mean during little boy

(think quintessential generative
artificial intelligence realm
where chatbot accidentally waxes philosophical
randomly and unthinkingly
displaying creative binary agility )
surfaces to level of consciousness
a mindset awakens
(particularly when attempting to evince
a playfulness crafting literary endeavors)
analogous to the impetuousness of a child,
whose innovative spirited "joie de vivre."