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Anthony Williams Jul 2014
Somehow your heart enzymes inveigled a way into my system
I surmise it was your energising tongue which smuggled them in
my pseudoanaphylactic longing to snuggle in vein against your protein
its aim a happy interaction tugged by frenzied polypeptide chains

when your petite triglycerides coil avidly around my pH changes
hydrolysis replenishes steroids to stop any pleasure level plunge
so that functional-group transfers may intervene at all active sites
supervising where coenzymes await love's coursing stem cell sights

that photosynthesise my eyes to sensitise to you despite the dark
dancing in all my living cells with infectious smiles an epidemic
when your DNA can't polymerase enough of the audacious lipids
pleasing as they kiss the density away of fatty acids on soft lips

that release protease inhibitors in ways not too selective
so our hearts find their metabolic pathway audaciously live
and offer themselves completely to a frolic in love reactive
by Anthony Williams
Enzymes are protein catalysts that, like all catalysts, speed up the rate of a chemical reaction without being used up in the process.
Thus the Trojans in the city, scared like fawns, wiped the sweat
from off them and drank to quench their thirst, leaning against the
goodly battlements, while the Achaeans with their shields laid upon
their shoulders drew close up to the walls. But stern fate bade Hector
stay where he was before Ilius and the Scaean gates. Then Phoebus
Apollo spoke to the son of Peleus saying, “Why, son of Peleus, do you,
who are but man, give chase to me who am immortal? Have you not yet
found out that it is a god whom you pursue so furiously? You did not
harass the Trojans whom you had routed, and now they are within
their walls, while you have been decoyed hither away from them. Me you
cannot ****, for death can take no hold upon me.”
  Achilles was greatly angered and said, “You have baulked me,
Far-Darter, most malicious of all gods, and have drawn me away from
the wall, where many another man would have bitten the dust ere he got
within Ilius; you have robbed me of great glory and have saved the
Trojans at no risk to yourself, for you have nothing to fear, but I
would indeed have my revenge if it were in my power to do so.”
  On this, with fell intent he made towards the city, and as the
winning horse in a chariot race strains every nerve when he is
flying over the plain, even so fast and furiously did the limbs of
Achilles bear him onwards. King Priam was first to note him as he
scoured the plain, all radiant as the star which men call Orion’s
Hound, and whose beams blaze forth in time of harvest more brilliantly
than those of any other that shines by night; brightest of them all
though he be, he yet bodes ill for mortals, for he brings fire and
fever in his train—even so did Achilles’ armour gleam on his breast
as he sped onwards. Priam raised a cry and beat his head with his
hands as he lifted them up and shouted out to his dear son,
imploring him to return; but Hector still stayed before the gates, for
his heart was set upon doing battle with Achilles. The old man reached
out his arms towards him and bade him for pity’s sake come within
the walls. “Hector,” he cried, “my son, stay not to face this man
alone and unsupported, or you will meet death at the hands of the
son of Peleus, for he is mightier than you. Monster that he is;
would indeed that the gods loved him no better than I do, for so, dogs
and vultures would soon devour him as he lay stretched on earth, and a
load of grief would be lifted from my heart, for many a brave son
has he reft from me, either by killing them or selling them away in
the islands that are beyond the sea: even now I miss two sons from
among the Trojans who have thronged within the city, Lycaon and
Polydorus, whom Laothoe peeress among women bore me. Should they be
still alive and in the hands of the Achaeans, we will ransom them with
gold and bronze, of which we have store, for the old man Altes endowed
his daughter richly; but if they are already dead and in the house
of Hades, sorrow will it be to us two who were their parents; albeit
the grief of others will be more short-lived unless you too perish
at the hands of Achilles. Come, then, my son, within the city, to be
the guardian of Trojan men and Trojan women, or you will both lose
your own life and afford a mighty triumph to the son of Peleus. Have
pity also on your unhappy father while life yet remains to him—on me,
whom the son of Saturn will destroy by a terrible doom on the
threshold of old age, after I have seen my sons slain and my daughters
haled away as captives, my bridal chambers pillaged, little children
dashed to earth amid the rage of battle, and my sons’ wives dragged
away by the cruel hands of the Achaeans; in the end fierce hounds will
tear me in pieces at my own gates after some one has beaten the life
out of my body with sword or spear-hounds that I myself reared and fed
at my own table to guard my gates, but who will yet lap my blood and
then lie all distraught at my doors. When a young man falls by the
sword in battle, he may lie where he is and there is nothing unseemly;
let what will be seen, all is honourable in death, but when an old man
is slain there is nothing in this world more pitiable than that dogs
should defile his grey hair and beard and all that men hide for
shame.”
  The old man tore his grey hair as he spoke, but he moved not the
heart of Hector. His mother hard by wept and moaned aloud as she bared
her ***** and pointed to the breast which had suckled him. “Hector,”
she cried, weeping bitterly the while, “Hector, my son, spurn not this
breast, but have pity upon me too: if I have ever given you comfort
from my own *****, think on it now, dear son, and come within the wall
to protect us from this man; stand not without to meet him. Should the
wretch **** you, neither I nor your richly dowered wife shall ever
weep, dear offshoot of myself, over the bed on which you lie, for dogs
will devour you at the ships of the Achaeans.”
  Thus did the two with many tears implore their son, but they moved
not the heart of Hector, and he stood his ground awaiting huge
Achilles as he drew nearer towards him. As serpent in its den upon the
mountains, full fed with deadly poisons, waits for the approach of
man—he is filled with fury and his eyes glare terribly as he goes
writhing round his den—even so Hector leaned his shield against a
tower that jutted out from the wall and stood where he was, undaunted.
  “Alas,” said he to himself in the heaviness of his heart, “if I go
within the gates, Polydamas will be the first to heap reproach upon
me, for it was he that urged me to lead the Trojans back to the city
on that awful night when Achilles again came forth against us. I would
not listen, but it would have been indeed better if I had done so. Now
that my folly has destroyed the host, I dare not look Trojan men and
Trojan women in the face, lest a worse man should say, ‘Hector has
ruined us by his self-confidence.’ Surely it would be better for me to
return after having fought Achilles and slain him, or to die
gloriously here before the city. What, again, if were to lay down my
shield and helmet, lean my spear against the wall and go straight up
to noble Achilles? What if I were to promise to give up Helen, who was
the fountainhead of all this war, and all the treasure that Alexandrus
brought with him in his ships to Troy, aye, and to let the Achaeans
divide the half of everything that the city contains among themselves?
I might make the Trojans, by the mouths of their princes, take a
solemn oath that they would hide nothing, but would divide into two
shares all that is within the city—but why argue with myself in
this way? Were I to go up to him he would show me no kind of mercy; he
would **** me then and there as easily as though I were a woman,
when I had off my armour. There is no parleying with him from some
rock or oak tree as young men and maidens prattle with one another.
Better fight him at once, and learn to which of us Jove will vouchsafe
victory.”
  Thus did he stand and ponder, but Achilles came up to him as it were
Mars himself, plumed lord of battle. From his right shoulder he
brandished his terrible spear of Pelian ash, and the bronze gleamed
around him like flashing fire or the rays of the rising sun. Fear fell
upon Hector as he beheld him, and he dared not stay longer where he
was but fled in dismay from before the gates, while Achilles darted
after him at his utmost speed. As a mountain falcon, swiftest of all
birds, swoops down upon some cowering dove—the dove flies before
him but the falcon with a shrill scream follows close after,
resolved to have her—even so did Achilles make straight for Hector
with all his might, while Hector fled under the Trojan wall as fast as
his limbs could take him.
  On they flew along the waggon-road that ran hard by under the
wall, past the lookout station, and past the weather-beaten wild
fig-tree, till they came to two fair springs which feed the river
Scamander. One of these two springs is warm, and steam rises from it
as smoke from a burning fire, but the other even in summer is as
cold as hail or snow, or the ice that forms on water. Here, hard by
the springs, are the goodly washing-troughs of stone, where in the
time of peace before the coming of the Achaeans the wives and fair
daughters of the Trojans used to wash their clothes. Past these did
they fly, the one in front and the other giving ha. behind him: good
was the man that fled, but better far was he that followed after,
and swiftly indeed did they run, for the prize was no mere beast for
sacrifice or bullock’s hide, as it might be for a common foot-race,
but they ran for the life of Hector. As horses in a chariot race speed
round the turning-posts when they are running for some great prize-
a tripod or woman—at the games in honour of some dead hero, so did
these two run full speed three times round the city of Priam. All
the gods watched them, and the sire of gods and men was the first to
speak.
  “Alas,” said he, “my eyes behold a man who is dear to me being
pursued round the walls of Troy; my heart is full of pity for
Hector, who has burned the thigh-bones of many a heifer in my
honour, at one while on the of many-valleyed Ida, and again on the
citadel of Troy; and now I see noble Achilles in full pursuit of him
round the city of Priam. What say you? Consider among yourselves and
decide whether we shall now save him or let him fall, valiant though
he be, before Achilles, son of Peleus.”
  Then Minerva said, “Father, wielder of the lightning, lord of
cloud and storm, what mean you? Would you pluck this mortal whose doom
has long been decreed out of the jaws of death? Do as you will, but we
others shall not be of a mind with you.”
  And Jove answered, “My child, Trito-born, take heart. I did not
speak in full earnest, and I will let you have your way. Do without
let or hindrance as you are minded.”
  Thus did he urge Minerva who was already eager, and down she
darted from the topmost summits of Olympus.
  Achilles was still in full pursuit of Hector, as a hound chasing a
fawn which he has started from its covert on the mountains, and
hunts through glade and thicket. The fawn may try to elude him by
crouching under cover of a bush, but he will scent her out and
follow her up until he gets her—even so there was no escape for
Hector from the fleet son of Peleus. Whenever he made a set to get
near the Dardanian gates and under the walls, that his people might
help him by showering down weapons from above, Achilles would gain
on him and head him back towards the plain, keeping himself always
on the city side. As a man in a dream who fails to lay hands upon
another whom he is pursuing—the one cannot escape nor the other
overtake—even so neither could Achilles come up with Hector, nor
Hector break away from Achilles; nevertheless he might even yet have
escaped death had not the time come when Apollo, who thus far had
sustained his strength and nerved his running, was now no longer to
stay by him. Achilles made signs to the Achaean host, and shook his
head to show that no man was to aim a dart at Hector, lest another
might win the glory of having hit him and he might himself come in
second. Then, at last, as they were nearing the fountains for the
fourth time, the father of all balanced his golden scales and placed a
doom in each of them, one for Achilles and the other for Hector. As he
held the scales by the middle, the doom of Hector fell down deep
into the house of Hades—and then Phoebus Apollo left him. Thereon
Minerva went close up to the son of Peleus and said, “Noble
Achilles, favoured of heaven, we two shall surely take back to the
ships a triumph for the Achaeans by slaying Hector, for all his lust
of battle. Do what Apollo may as he lies grovelling before his father,
aegis-bearing Jove, Hector cannot escape us longer. Stay here and take
breath, while I go up to him and persuade him to make a stand and
fight you.”
  Thus spoke Minerva. Achilles obeyed her gladly, and stood still,
leaning on his bronze-pointed ashen spear, while Minerva left him
and went after Hector in the form and with the voice of Deiphobus. She
came close up to him and said, “Dear brother, I see you are hard
pressed by Achilles who is chasing you at full speed round the city of
Priam, let us await his onset and stand on our defence.”
  And Hector answered, “Deiphobus, you have always been dearest to
me of all my brothers, children of Hecuba and Priam, but henceforth
I shall rate you yet more highly, inasmuch as you have ventured
outside the wall for my sake when all the others remain inside.”
  Then Minerva said, “Dear brother, my father and mother went down
on their knees and implored me, as did all my comrades, to remain
inside, so great a fear has fallen upon them all; but I was in an
agony of grief when I beheld you; now, therefore, let us two make a
stand and fight, and let there be no keeping our spears in reserve,
that we may learn whether Achilles shall **** us and bear off our
spoils to the ships, or whether he shall fall before you.”
  Thus did Minerva inveigle him by her cunning, and when the two
were now close to one another great Hector was first to speak. “I
will-no longer fly you, son of Peleus,” said he, “as I have been doing
hitherto. Three times have I fled round the mighty city of Priam,
without daring to withstand you, but now, let me either slay or be
slain, for I am in the mind to face you. Let us, then, give pledges to
one another by our gods, who are the fittest witnesses and guardians
of all covenants; let it be agreed between us that if Jove
vouchsafes me the longer stay and I take your life, I am not to
treat your dead body in any unseemly fashion, but when I have stripped
you of your armour, I am to give up your body to the Achaeans. And
do you likewise.”
  Achilles glared at him and answered, “Fool, prate not to me about
covenants. There can be no covenants between men and lions, wolves and
lambs can never be of one mind, but hate each other out and out an
through. Therefore there can be no understanding between you and me,
nor may there be any covenants between us, till one or other shall
fall and glut grim Mars with his life’s blood. Put forth all your
strength; you have need now to prove yourself indeed a bold soldier
and man of war. You have no more chance, and Pallas Minerva will
forthwith vanquish you by my spear: you shall now pay me in full for
the grief you have caused me on account of my comrades whom you have
killed in battle.”
  He poised his spear as he spoke and hurled it. Hector saw it
coming and avoided it; he watched it and crouched down so that it flew
over his head and stuck in the ground beyond; Minerva then snatched it
up and gave it back to Achilles without Hector’s seeing her; Hector
thereon said to the son of Peleus, “You have missed your aim,
Achilles, peer of the gods, and Jove has not yet revealed to you the
hour of my doom, though you made sure that he had done so. You were
a false-tongued liar when you deemed that I should forget my valour
and quail before you. You shall not drive spear into the back of a
runaway—drive it, should heaven so grant you power, drive it into
me as I make straight towards you; and now for your own part avoid
my spear if you can—would that you might receive the whole of it into
your body; if you were once dead the Trojans would find the war an
easier matter, for it is you who have harmed them most.”
  He poised his spear as he spoke and hurled it. His aim was true
for he hit the middle of Achilles’ shield, but the spear rebounded
from it, and did not pierce it. Hector was angry when he saw that
the weapon had sped from his hand in vain, and stood there in dismay
for he had no second spear. With a loud cry he called Diphobus and
asked him for one, but there was no man; then he saw the truth and
said to himself, “Alas! the gods have lured me on to my destruction. I
deemed that the hero Deiphobus was by my side, but he is within the
wall, and Minerva has inveigled me; death is now indeed exceedingly
near at hand and there is no way out of it—for so Jove and his son
Apollo the far-darter have willed it, though heretofore th
Charlie Chirico Oct 2012
“After hours of evaluations, our doctors came to the conclusion that he was paranoid, but speaking with family and friends, they stated that there were no obvious signs of mental distress. No one expected him to go through with the ******. He had a lot of faults, but most were thought to be harmless. His idiosyncrasies were overlaid with a well thought out patience and understanding. During the evaluation he spoke of compartmentalization, and his lack of emotional comprehension, which he explained should not be misconstrued as “apathetic behavior.”  His words were inveigled, and when he wasn’t applying his charming disposition, he was implementing a passive aggressiveness. This was a man who did not hide in the shadows, but he knew them very well. Darkness was shown through his eyes the longer we spoke, as his pupils grew larger, and his determined stare, a menacing stare, pierced people’s souls.” – Dr. Rebecca Altwater

Thursday

On the train. Not awake. It's not too crowded, around me at least. There is a group of black students, yes, I said black, because that is the color of their skin, and, well, I’m white, and I’m fine with being described as white. This is all factual. So the black, students, high school students, are creating a commotion. (I have always hated using the term “African American” because it has always made me feel prejudice. When I say it, I think of it as a label, and I’d rather not go further into what I mean by *labels
). The train smells like ****. The smell overpowers my coffee. The coffee is weak. My body is aching. I’m starting to develop a headache. (The students are now beat boxing). My head is mutating. Temples pulsating. Veins exposed. Eyes closed. The beat boxing continues.

I reach into my leather shoulder bag. I’m not looking for anything in particular, more or less trying to look busy. A woman three seats down is watching me intently. My eyes are fixated on my bag. I can feel her eyes examining me. It’s hard to rule out the theory of having a sixth sense, especially in situations as these. My fingers delicately brush over a novel, the novel I decided to read during the train ride for this work week, to which I haven’t started reading, and completely forgot I placed in my bag — (It was an impulsive purchase) it was now another item that would solidify the self-realization that I am a procrastinator, and considering that this novel was for the work week, and it is now Thursday, just proves my point further. The novel will be shelved, and another novel will take its place in my leather shoulder bag. Although I may not follow through with my intentions I am still a person who stays very consistent. I will swap novels. After work I will stop at Borders books. I’ll need a new novel for work week number thirty out of fifty-two. After a week it will be shelved, and I will start again: buy another novel, and continue to not read it. I’m a very consistent person.

Saturday

My alarm went off for thirty minutes this morning.

Sunday

Glenn, my brother, calls me early in the afternoon to invite me to dinner. A family dinner. And he informs me that our mother will be there. He graciously asks me if I can attend, but I know he only invites me because he is dreading our mother’s visit. Very seldom do I see or hear from my brother and his family, but when our immediate family is added to the equation I am the first person he calls. I am (and this is how he put it) his “emotional confidant” when he becomes too overwhelmed. The reason this is, is because it has always been a one way street. His perception of me is not the most desirable, but he trusts my word. The term that comes to mind, when him and I converse, is that I am self-destructive. It must be easy for him to give insight to this speculation when he is just as irrational as I am. Our only difference is that I have embraced the idea of negative and positive spontaneity, whereas his neurosis comes from self-induced pressure and stress. When I die, it would not be in vain if it happened without warning. I am reckless. If he died unexpectedly, it would be of great shock, but it will most likely be the cause of a brain aneurysm.  It’s funny how irony works. You know, us being brothers, and him seeing us as total opposites, when in reality our similarities outweigh the obtuse differentials.

Wednesday

It’s the halfway point of the work week. I have my new novel, untouched, in my leather shoulder bag. For the last three days (including today) I have arrived at the train station an hour earlier than usual. I made this decision Monday, and have found that it is a more logical time. Although I have an hour to **** before work, I avoid my headache (the black students) before sitting at my office desk. Thankfully, there weren't too many pros and cons that came with this decision. It was fairly easy. I could have continued to deal with an excruciating head pain, one that would stick with me throughout the day, or sacrifice an hour of sleep. The latter was the correct choice. When I came to this conclusion on Sunday I could not rest my brain. My mind was at ease, I felt relieved and content, but I was apprehensive nevertheless. Monday came and went, (slowly, because of minor sleep deprivation) along with all of my anxieties from the past week.

I never thought I’d say this, but seeing a therapist helps. There hasn't been much to articulate yet, concerning my listlessness, but my insomnia was discussed, and I was optimistic. My problems could be far worse, and when they are, maybe leaving an hour early is the answer. My next appointment is in two hours, at four, and I’m going to leave shortly. I don’t know what I will do for the extra hour I have allotted myself, but I do have a novel I won’t read and a newspaper that was left on my desk, with the headline reading, “Crime Rates Rise: How To Maintain Your Sanity During The Recession.”
Edna Sweetlove Dec 2014
Ach so!* thou much-praised and lauded Milwaukee,
Thou delightful Wisconsin Stadt of boundless pulchritude,
Verily hath History endowed thy blessed name
With the noisomely beery breath of immortality!

And thank the benign Almighty in highest Heav’n
That thy delectable streets and arboreal squares
Doth remain heretofore untouched by unseemly civic strife,
Despite thy renown as veritable midwife to Sewer Socialism!

Yet, tear-inducing recollections have I of this dwelling-place
And herewith followeth heart-rending remembrances
Of what transpired when I inveigled a plump young Mädchen there
For a brief sojourn of untrammelled concupiscence.

Alas, alack, after gorging her impetuous appetites
On a gargantuan repast of mitteleuropäische delicacies,
Methinks her poor heart gave up survival’s uneven battle
And, warbling a soft piffero-reminiscent sigh, she expired.

‘Twas too tragic thus to depart this happy welkin in mid-prandials,
Emitting a final flatus, sweet adieu, from her rearmost aperture,
Leaving me, her poor forlorn swain, bereft and solitary,
Faced with mine host’s request for instant monetary rendition.

From that naughty place of my bereavement fled I,
Clutching to my ***** the contents of her silken purse,
Determined to partake in untrammelled ***** licence elsewhere,
Ere the chanticleer’s dawn croak wake the inebriated citizens.
Classy J Nov 2016
Inveigled, tangled, mangled, strangled, scrambled, dismantled, trampled, got caught by the deceitful vandal, should have known the moment I blew out my candle. So easily swayed, thought I was strong willed, but now I find myself once again walking in the shade. Sometimes I fell like I'm a human grenade, after all I am a renegade, downgraded by the world that treats my people like they a mermaid. Saturated society focusing on the wrong things, politicians so corrupt they don't even really attempt to hide their strings. Manipulating mind games that got me twisted, impersonating someone I’m not, mocking me for being gifted. Sadistic fiends making me feel so simplistic, saying my goals are unrealistic. Tilted, jilted, wilted, tempted into being wicked; how can I see the world clearly when I came into it tinted. Never fitted in, a man whose kindness was boiled away from being fed up and let out the evil buried within. This is just apart of the Diablo’s masquerade, to put me through the barren terrain, and when I feel like I’m almost through it; another barricade blocks me.

Hesitant, irrelevant, inelegant, how can you possibly be a benefit? Two steps forward, just to go two steps back, sorry this isn't the salsa jack. The only thing I hope for is to go onward and not falter too much, the only thing I hope for is to go northward and not need a doctor's medication as a crutch. There is a little Diablo in everyone, even if you own a Durango man, you aint fooling anyone. Just because you have nice things, and are able to buy diamond rings, doesn't mean anything. How is that green treating yaw? Sure it may help goldiggers sleep with yaw, but after awhile you realize that the green is like picking the smallest straw. For glory to those who are poor and meek, for they will inherit the earth, maybe you should think twice before preying on the weak. It is easier for a horse to go through the eye of a needle than it is for rich people, so though you may have it good now, just wait for the sequel. This is just apart of the Diablo’s masquerade, to put me through the barren terrain, and when I feel like I’m almost through it; another barricade blocks me.

Going up just to go down, you’re a knucklehead, might as well call you Charlie Brown. Good grief, what a relief it is to hear such a positive belief. Goodness me, I should've seen, that I shouldn't act as me, because what I do and say is deemed unclean. Let me fix my tiny flaws while your flaws take up half the galaxy, such is the blasphemy and hypocrisy of this society. Slandering, bantering, meandering, modified and manufactured gatherings; that are no more than unflattering. Keep on pandering to what is hip; keep pampering your car so you can let it whip. Don't cut that red tape, keep censorship, remain primal apes, let yourself stay a slave to dictatorship. It's time to wake up, it's time to leap up, take off that make-up, this is no time to cake up or clean up what has already blown up.  You can **** the man, but not the idea, you can ban it all you want, but it's bound to come out like diarrhea. This is just apart of the Diablo’s masquerade, to put me through the barren terrain, and when I feel like I’m almost through it; another barricade blocks me.

(Outro) But nothing can keep me from reaching my goals. You can knock me down, but I will get back up each time. I will no longer stay confined to the Diablo’s masquerade. I am done playing games. This is my life. This is my time to see change. This is my time to stay strange. This is my time, my moment, and I will own it.
Third Eye Candy Sep 2012
in the woods,  i was a boy of twelve summers
lanky and spry, my shadow faithful to my heel
as i trek. i suspect no doom. the world loomed
imperial.
in the woods, i was a boy who dwelled, tunnels -
deep in the sun.  my halo, entangled in my horns
my forearms red. i reject no truth.   i hurl moons
aerial.  
over white picket fences. i blend in with wild things
calmly.  i move through    the rough shrub and ivy.
[tall grass.]
lashing mid-thigh... bare skin, drum tight. cooling
where the wind kissed. my innocence inveigled
in the turbulent dusk.  bucks rut, then
lock horns; dueling
magnificent.

in the woods
i was a boy
who dared.
Know not lest ye be known thyself,
A phrase followed from some strange, onyx, snake placenta and spittle covered book,
From which phrases are chanted and sewn inwardly, perversely backed into the bladders of demons and spewed from the nostrils,
Solids and seeds of dollars and oil.

Know not lest ye be known thyself,
That evil phrase not written as we have been taught, shown in action
By those blocking fruits, pinching fingers at the ends of urethras
To keep children from being born.

Know not lest ye be known thyself,
That evil phrase preventing man and woman from marrying,
Withholding, slothfully, idling, waiting,
Placing plugs in all our orifices.

Know not lest ye be known thyself,
That evil phrase stopping perception: touch, sight, hearing, smell, taste, And any others if there are others,
Saying it alone will fill your mind.

Know not lest ye be known thyself,
That evil phrase keeping us working with the unidentified,
The unfamiliar, the unknown,
Keeping us discriminating, nepotizing, judging.

Know not lest ye be known thyself,
The summation of rejection,
Instructing us to reject those things around us except what we already know.
And what do we know?

The Cover-up.

One tarp can be pulled from off this particular hidden item in the garage,
That can be assured,
(though the rest may be inveigled away by filibustering and hidden, but hopefully not):

"Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged Thyself" is The Holy Bible verse to be followed.
ALWAYS TALK TO STRANGERS!
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2015
Tied to a point of view
Of pedantically avoiding you,
Embraced in retrenched stance
Of beetled brow’s dim elegance,
Inveigled in this shrouded glaze
These hooded eyes avoid your gaze….
But when I chance to glance, your smile,
I’m forced, my love, to reconcile.

M.
JP Goss Jan 2015
—To me, a dream, in which she came: Mistwalker
—And I, a vessel, rose in her womb, bear this, to me, a dream.

Say, on this, untoward, the spiced breezes with salt
Came, if all, the light enkindled like whetted steel
Morning star through the mournful faces above
Rejected, yes, by their mothers, of past and now,
A cold came ashore, ancient besieged accounts
Wilted the pregnant vines of yesterday, sure to
The next, as gods turn to myths, stories to the dying young.

She stared, of memorials in print
Off into the terrible morning, gossamer filament
Swaddled at the breast, a tight form slack
In the great divorce of sea and sky,
Standing, contemplative, shouts and echoes crack
Unheard, discarded: sweets to the profane
Sedately, to that dark curve: a canvas was lain
Adrift on aether, drowned bones of Atlas,
Emerge on drift of the everlasting, there at world’s end
In curved states between:
Hell broods in the burgs of ice, Providence
Forsaken of she who becks on the entombing sands.
Thus, prayers come whetted
With none to brush the stray hairs from those astray
Men conceiving valleys, their mountains,
Structures, are we, to eternally pass the course of solitude
Under cross-borne tuitions, marbled elders’ auspice
Embossed of the very tongue spoken
Once in high infant chambers, Omnis Ipse?

I, too, was born beneath the hero’s breath,
Taken by the glimmering sheath and steeds
To the awful wiles of merciful truth,
She to the enemy of standing beyond, within.

If ever a summer had kissed the city where cold descends
Or snow reminisced stars in the eve,
I, I—she hurts in the mists—have only tasted, bitter,
Sketches, between them, the finitude of their light,
That of warmth, of compassion
Man fall distracted from, therefrom grace,
A beast shed of its other back, hubris of its wing—
Am I the maiden of its song? But it’s maiden?—
One season, ever-aged, harbinger of this isolation
What is the ****** ewe years of searching for I,
Is sacrifice, thus becomes the phantom, the slave
Of that distant black, the sullied mark, consumptive
Unremitting arms of purpose, of man’s calling.

These hands are spelled, veined by charcoal dust
Adversarial oaths kept close, of myself, in idle play
Where what I will, wills but a will
Where none are to come, but the mast of a hero
Whom she is tied, of those winds
Seminal of her words—I shall be the breath
The cusp of every storm which blights the high waves,
The knife of sheer walls of stone,
Moments of oblivion which rend the heroes, ill-stayed.

Eyes burned holes for the starlight of awe
Pouring o’er the wastes of her paper skin
But, that she overturns the rueful words
Again, again, again, cycled in the oceans,
Where gardens of kelp revile the current
Strands, becoming of the arms she wishes to hold—
To write myself out of comprehension
Is to risk the very marrow has I obeisant,
These lusts of the greater body, those of the Mother
Clad in jewels and customs, as wave desires sky;
A journal I’ve become.

Mist came, froth, the spiral of wars inside the heart
They inveigled her, to my dismay, to the blind air
No longer, the sweet tine of imperfection of voice,
Inspired of spoken word, recent memory took leave,
Ambivalent joys came raining on a pen,
Reluctant to write homage to freedom,
Caught in the morphless air, calcified transformations
Odes to let go. But.
**** of innocent squaw king “noble savage

as coined by Jean Jacques Rousseau. –

     men of yore abusive, deceptive, heave, murderous scamps, thus no different than modern roman font size twelve times.
     i ponder what this tract of heavily commercialized former farmland looked like before European settlers bull dozed their might (against indefensible right) eventually liquidated every last native inhabitants, and paying tacit homage by hash-tagging those who bore a greater birthright to remain, boot the primitive means of self defense out gunned by aggressive intruders, and now the ghosts of wantonly slain innocent kindred folk, who endowed sanctity to this tortured planet prompts me wonder at the lost innocence (childlike) respect toward aged elderly, whose oral knowledge encompassed the know how regarding survival skills now lost.
*******************­
a column of el nina fury swept ashore
with santa maria frenzy like a beastly bus
gone wild as teenagers during spring break
hedonistically frolic and cuss
oblivious of the native tribes,
who once blissfully n’er dealt with a fuss
of bacchanalian, leviathan,
saturnalian proportions spreading ****
when ill animalistic germs disguised then
triangulated within narrowing pen
contaminated, decimated, eradicated “red” men
once a collection of indomitable
indigenous separate “nations”
plucked by nemesis of free-wheeling
invaders, who usurped america as their den
releasing poison couched as religion into the air
which indignities true colors became readily clear
when europeans “discoverers”
deliberately fomented war-fare
to those whose instincts
found themselves in deadly cross hair
as every square inch of “new world”
grimly rustled peace in every lair

with deadly piping hot metallic bullets with near
e chance for aboriginal peoples that seemed queer
with unfamiliar customs on par with a satyr
without the means to escape any direction they did veer
cohesion of unity did completely annihilate without a trace
forced to endure countless cruelties
i.e. a holocaust usurping space
that belonged to those, who stood apart as
utopian temperate separate race
paraded as “exotic specimens” in some faraway place
bandied about as if they happen
to be some rare refinery like silken lace
cheated, finagled, inveigled,
lured, oppressed, root from entire face
of their rightful home by
chicanery, frippery, illusory and base
though with hawk like vision totally blind
to banality, deviltry, effrontery,
gimcrackery, hostility though dined
with fool-hardy, mockery,
travesty from Europeans whose dreams lined
against so called “brutish
and nasty” original occupants who maligned
innocent amazingly gracefully
lean peoples who did pine
for lovely bones where ancestors
warriors descendants withered on vine
against vanquished population
resembling Asian creed
whence soldiers commemorated
for revenge as worshipful deed

shackled, ***** only in death freed
yet in lethality our forebears flush with greed
which cruelty, debauchery, enmity,
ferocity – essentially genocide knew no heed
feigning sincerity, yet holding
murderous rapacity to slay every hide despite plead
and exchanging peace pipe made of reed!
Alec Astaire Apr 2018
And I’m still not sure how I would’ve better inveigled your affection:
If I would’ve been a little less like me
Or if I would’ve been a little more like him

And I’m certainly sure I could’ve come to a perfunctory conclusion by now if I were dealing with a dichotomy
But some things just aren’t that simple
And I guess if romance were rudimentary, I wouldn’t have spent my life whole life searching

And I sure would love to wonder why it’s inevitable that everyone who pronounces their attraction to me for my personality ends up leaving me in the dust for a cheap doppelgänger
But in order for me to wonder, I’d have to truly believe that my personality beckoned attraction..
Perhaps my insecurities have been the silent assailant of my dreams all along

I’m sure I could learn how to be strong and love myself
I’m sure that if I embraced rejection I could find someone who would give me a real chance
But I just don’t have that kind of strength in me today
And when every day is the same **** struggle, I really don’t know if I’ll ever truly have any “tomorrows”
Chwins Sep 2015
You were everything when you should have been nothing
I don’t even know if you’re real.
They say I’ve become inveigled by dreams,
Blinded by tales of the divine, the supernatural, and occult.
I fade into oblivion and live in a fool’s paradise waiting for our hearts to collide.

You were nothing when you should have been everything
Time just didn’t give us a chance.
Yours is the touch I’ll never get to feel,
The soul beneath the eyes I will never look into.

Your love hides behind that boy across the street,
The man beneath the soil,
The pilot lost at sea, the soldier drunk with enmity.
And I can’t reach you because
You’re everywhere but here.

You’re nothing and you’re everything at the same time
But you and I
We need to let each other go
Because, my dear soulmate,

We’re nothing when I thought we were everything
And we’re everything that’s never going to be.
You’re not real, you never will be.
I thought you were, but I realized that was just me.
it is many things
     solitary -- through ripeness
    and rawness, through the
      locomotion of dancers,
     and sensibilities of
     quiet tongues.

it is the many things you
    give alone, its persistent comma, its continual ellipsis.
    the inundation of delineations
and the gravity of its punctuation.

  with its fingers meandering
to touch a soul's lifted ether,
or simply to hush and still
  repugnant waters - astonishing
all nebula with its largeness.

it is so many intentions,
   yet, a single iteration.
  inveigled are the white shadows
of walls streaked with black light.

  what
     is
       it?

it is perhaps an impending collision,
   to no soul's severance:
it is the meshwork of grace
     or foolishness;
  it is the working of the word
from so many lovers and singlehandedly nailing us to our
    stationed cicatrices.

love's epigraphic, weightless,
   no more than size of
      a captured wave in net
  of stone: concealed in an eye's
     limitless space.Q
skyy omalley Jun 2020
ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi Fresh blood seeps through the line parting her skin and slowly colors her breast red. I begin to hyperventilate as my compulsion grows. The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, ******* her body with the blade, making a mess of her. My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts. This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. How could I ever let myself think these things? But it’s unmistakable. The lust continues to linger through my veins. An ache in my muscles stems from the unreleased tension experienced by my entire body. Her Third Eye is drawing me closer.
Julian Apr 2023
DIDDICOYS OF CACHALOT CAMARADERIE SCAFFOLDED BY A VYGOTSKIAN SUNRISE OF SAFFRON SAGINATION OF A PINGUEFIED SLENDER DAMSEL OF STAR-CROSSED AFFLICTIONS BEMOANING THE GRUELING TAXIDERMY OF LIVID TRIUMPHS FOR SPRINGBOKS IN THE SPANDRELS OF JAMDANI RARELY DEFINED BY THE ZEAL OF THROTTLEBOTTOMS TO USE DELITESCENT MALCONTENT TO FOMENT THE FLARES OF REVOLUTIONARY GRIPES OF GRIM SUMPTERS ARRAYED BY THE PLENARY INHABITANTS OF DENEHOLES OF THE AGES OF ARBALESK GAUNT AND DECIMATED BY VINEYARDS OF FOISONS OF UPAS IN ANTINOMIAN HARVEST THAT DECRIES WITH THE CLENCHED DECLENSION OF MISCARRIED JUSTICE THAT OVERLAYS THE MAGNATES OF OUR TIMES WITH SELECTIVE IMMUNITY THAT WE MIGHT FIND STATOLITH GRADGRINDS OF IATROMATHEMATICS IN PORTFIRE THAT THE CHRONOMANCY OF DIKEPHOBIA ROAMS REGNANT IN NEBBICH PATAVINITY BECAUSE THE PASILALY UNLEASHED HEREBY IRRADICATES A MYTHOS UNLEASHED BY VEESES OF VESUVIATION FOR VARSAL PICTURES OF PIXELLATED SALVATION THAT EVEN IN JASPERATED GOMPHIASIS AGAINST GONFALONIERS BRAZEN WITH BRAINTRUST AURILAVE AUTHORITARIANISM THAT MIGHT THE HACHURE IMPREGNATE A STERILIZED TIME THAT BLUEPETERS OF MULIEBRITY MIGHT EXORCISE THE MISANDRY OF THEIR TRIBULATIONS INCULCATING  THEM TO BELIEVE SUCH HARRIDANS AND SCARAMOUCHES OF SACRILEGE THAT AN INVENTED PARSEC OF FARCICAL FATIDICAL LIES OF ****** PELARGIC DENOUEMENT THAT EVENTUALLY THE CULPRITS DISMISSIVE OF ACCOLENT CULTURES OF HEYDAY BECOMING THE CENTERPIECE OF TOMES OF AFFLICTION THAT THE PROPER COMPROMISE BECOMES A BETTER AVIZANDUM THAN SHOW-TRIAL BUFFOONERY BY BABIRUSA NOMENCLATURE OF JUGGINS JUDOGI ENFORCED BY CABRILLA THAT USES CADRES OF CABRES TO OUTFOX ALL GENTILITY IN THE SUPERSTITIOUS FLICTION OF FAVELAS SQUIRMING AROUND JAWHOLE SENSITIVITY IN SIMULTAGNOSIA TO BROWBEAT ELEUTHERPOMANIA EVEN WHEN ITS RECOURSE IS A BONANZA FOR HUMAN FRUITION BECAUSE IN BOUNDLESS BELIEF AND COUNTLESS DRACULIAN DRAPERY OF THE POSTCENNIUM OF HEBENON LIES TRYING TO TREACLE AN INVETERATE REGARD FOR SACRILEGE RATHER THAN PROMOTING A SACROSANCT REVOLUTION OF PROPRIETY MIXED WITH APOLAUSTIC FUROR MIGHT WE THEN SEE TIME CULMINATE IN THE RICHES OF LAVISH INGLUVIES RATHER THAN SUBORNED FAGINS AGAINST NEOVITALISM IN THEIR CASUALISM OF ACCIDENTAL PROAIRESIS WHICH OFTEN NEGLECTS THE WONDERWORK OR THE WUNDERKIND BECAUSE THE KUNDLESROMAN PROFFERED BY CLOYING LIMITROPHES OF ASCENDANCY IN DECEIT FINDS A SUBTERNATURAL HAVEN AMONG OBSEQUIOUS OBEQUITATION BECAUSE OF AMENDES NEEDING REFORM AND PUNCTILLIOUS REGARD NEEDING A HONED INSTRUMENTALISM OF UNIVERSAL SALVATION AFFORDED EVEN TO THE PHARISEE GENTILES CLOUDY IN HAZES OF PHAROAHS OF ICEBLINK VERGLAS HAUGHTY AND SUPERIOR ONLY BY THEIR OWN BARAGNOSIS OF WEIGHAGE BY THE STEVEDORES OF VANGERMYTE VAMPIRES WHO FLAUNT CARELESS CAUSALITY AS THE ADVENT OF AN IRREVERENT NIHILISM ALREADY DEBUNKED BY THE CLERISY WHICH SEES HOW INCULCATION CREATED BY IMBREVIATED MYTHOS MIGHT BECOME A BENTHIC TRAP OF NIDAMENTAL FUROR AGAINST THE WIREWOVEN TAPESTRIES THAT BORROW FROM STATE FARM TURBINATED TOURBILLONS OF CONTORTION A WIELDED SENTRY OF MECHANIZED CONVENIENCE BY AGENTS OF CONSUMERIST MASKIROVKA TO THE BENEFIT OF ENTIRE SOCIETIES OF LARGESSE ONLY TO THE EXTENT THAT THE FUNNEL OF SIFFLEURS REMAINS IMMUNE TO PROCRYPSIS IN INVAGINATION PRIOR TO THE INITIATION OF THE BARNSTORM HEYDAYS THAT YIELD FROM THE FULGURANT TWANG AND TWISTLE OF TWIRES OF TYMPANY A MOUNTENANCE OF SHARED GROWTH THAT STANDPIPES ***** TO IMMUNIZE AGAINST ENCAUSTIC MEANS OF ARTIFICIAL DEBASEMENT IN AN UPCOMING ERA OF THE LAZIEST BELLETRIST EVER AUTHORED BY CYBERNETIC HANDS RATHER THAN PURIFIED HUMAN INGENUITY. WE MUST FOREWARN, THEREFORE, THAT A SOCIETY THAT JUST GLOMS AND TWADDLES AROUND LIKE A LAZARET WHEN ELASTANE SIMPLICITIES COMPOUNDED BY AN INVETERATE NIVELLATION OF HUMAN AMBITION BORNE BY ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE MIGHT WE SEE THE DANGERS OF PROSTHESIS AS INCLEMENT BUT INTEGRAL SIMULTANEOUSLY TO A FASTIDIOUS LUCRE OF AUTOMATION LEADING PAST THE STRICKLES OF MODERN CAKEWALKS OF A WALKING STALKING MUGIENCE THAT LAMENTS WITH THE GREATEST INSISTENCE THE ERA PRIOR TO THE OVERTURES OF ARCEATED ECONOMIES INSULATED FROM THE BRUNT OF BRUTAL PANGS OF KNELLS SOUNDING HOUR BY HOUR BETOKENING INEVITABLE DEMISE TO THE AUBADES OF DAWNING ABORIGINAL SUFFRAGE TOWARDS A SOCIETY WHICH MOURNS MACROPICIDE OF YARAKS TO THE EXTENT IT IS A SUFFRAGE TO MERIT CONSTRAINED BY ABDERVINE STRICTURES HEEDED BY EVERY PEJORATIVE JAWHOLE DESCRYING THE DENOUEMENT OF EUPHEMISM THAT THEIR JATO REFORMATION IS BOUNDLESSLY A YESTERTEMPEST OF AMELIORATION BOTCHED BY QUIDDITIES OF QUIXOTIC ATHENAEUM THAT ARE ANTEPONED IN STRIFE AND DELIVERANCE TO THE TIROCINIUM OF A CASEMATE STOKEHOLD BRITSKA WHO HERALDS WITH THE GREATEST CAUTION THE CASUALTIES AND DEGREDATION OF MAN INTO CARNAL LUSTS RATHER THAN SORBEFACIENT MORALISM WHICH WILL SUCCEED IN TRIMMING THE HEDGES OF BANGTAIL ATTEMPTS OF EMICATED CONTROVERSIES YET FETCHED BY DOGGED DOGGEREL OF PERSISTENCE. WE REQUIRE A MASSIVE TIMMYNOGGY TO STREAMLINE THE EDUCATIONAL BEDROCK OF AMERICAN AND WORLD SOCIETIES TO THE SENSE THAT BEDIZENED SUFFICIENCY GLARING WITH GLOWERING AMARANTHINE CADASTERS OF THE SQUAMATION MEASURED BY EUDIOMETERS MEASURING SERICULTURE THAT THE YUAN AND JAPAN OF TIME CAN FORESEE A SITUATION WHERE A SWOLLEN INDUSTRIALIZED APPROACH TO EDUCATIONAL REFORM SIZZLES WITH SEETHING IMPERATIVES TO ENSURE THAT GRIDLOCK RESULTS IN FEWER STATISTS ENTHYMEMES OF CAIMANS TRYING TO COERCE CREANCERS TO BELONG TO A VESTIGIAL COVVENGER PALLOR ETCHED ON THE CHALKBOARDS OF REGRESS RATHER THAN GALLOPING TIDES OF HEADLESS HORSEMEN REVERENT OF REVERENCE ITSELF IN NEVER A BLASPHEMY OF ABARTICULAR INCOGNIZANCE THAT THE FUTURE MOBILIZES EVERY FORCE CAPABLE OF REVIVING A ZEITGEIST OF DISTRACTION FROM THE NETHERWORLD TWINGES OF SUBSTRATOSE AFFLICTION BECAUSE THE TRUER GLEBE AND POTAGER OF A BALIZED RHEOTAXIS OF MISGUIDED TOP-DOWN UTILITARIAN UTOPIANISM WHICH SCALDED THE PAST WITH INDOCTRINATION RATHER THAN SYNTHESIS THAT WE MIGHT ENGORGE EDUCATIONAL BUDGETS SO THAT WE CAN ENSURE THE ANGLOPHONIC POLITY OF DEMARCHE CAN CLAMBER FASTER TOWARDS THE PINNACLE RATHER THAN DESCENDING INTO WHISTLERRS OF NOTOREITY FOR A WORLD PREPOSSESSED WITH FAKE LANGUOR AMONG WHITTAWERS AS THEY BROWBEAT THE ICEBLINK OF RESONANCE BECAUSE OF A PROTERVITY OF SELF-INTEREST THAT ALL SALVATION HINGES UPON THE DOCIMASY AND THE DOCTRINE THAT THE INSUFFERABLE PAST WAS A NECESSARY PREDICATE AND PARAGON FOR THE FUTURE ENLIGHTENMENT AND ALL CONTRARIAN MOVEMENTS TRYING POTICHOMANIA—THE GREATEST FOLLY KNOWN TO THE MANDARIN MANDARISM OF POORLY STEWARDED CABOOSES OF A TIM COOKED WORLD—THAT THEY ARE IN FACT ICONOCLASTS OF THE WRONG ARTIFACTS BECAUSE OF A JAUNDICED AGENDA THAT PRETENDS TO BE AGAINST JAUNDICE ITSELF BUT SUFFERS FROM A MARIVAUDAGE OF BLUEPETER ORTHOPTEROLOGY WHICH INCENSES BY REDEFINING MULIEBRITY AND VIRILITY ON UNEQUAL PLAYING FIELDS TO PLEASE OPPOSITIVE INTERESTS OF WHERRETING WREPOLIS AND GUARDED WRIKPONDS AS THE VANGERMYTES CHOMP FUTURE GAINSAY WITH GUARDED OPINIONATION BECAUSE OF URCEOLATE AVARICE PREDICATED ON THORNY IMBROGLIOS THAT TRY TO EVADE TRIBULOID NECESSITIES TO THEIR OWN PERIL THAT WE CANNOT IGNORE THE STOCKINETTE BECAUSE A COLORBLIND WORLD IS ESSENTIALLY BLIND TO WAYS TO SOLVE THE ISSUES OF COLOR AND COLORATION SUCH THAT DOLOROUS CRITICASTERS CAN LAMENT THEIR HEAD OVER HEELS OBSESSION WITH ****** AND GARISH HUMAN SEXUALITY TO THEIR GREATER PERIL RATHER THAN THEIR LURCHES TOWARDS SALVATION. THERE IS NOTHING INHERENTLY WRONG WITH A WORLD THAT EMPHASIZES A MAXIMALISM IN THE DOGMATIC ACCORD THAT PROMOTES THE FAIR WAGES OF THE OPPRESSED BUT THERE IS SOMETHING GRAVELY GRAVID ABOUT THE WAYSPAY OF STERILIZED MERCURIAL DESIGNS OF PSYCHOGONY TOWARDS NEPIONIC ENLISTMENT INTO RADICALISM THAT EXISTS ON BOTH FRINGES ONE PRESUPPOSING THAT THE WORLD IS A SOURDINE SORBILE DISGRACE UNWORTHY TO CREATE A NOTITIA AND THE OTHER JUST AS DELIRIFACIENT THAT THE RENEWED WORLD MUST BOW DOWN TO A SACCHARINE JOLLY RANCHER ECONOMY THAT ETIOLATES ALL FORMS OF INITIATIVE AND INITIALISM BECAUSE THE BROCKFACED AGENTIC FORCE AT THE BRONTEUM OF FASHION TRIES WITH PEREMPTORY REGARD TO NORMALIZE THE NOMOTHETIC LIVES OF ELITISM AS THE COMMON GONFALONIER WHEN IN FACT IT STRANDS IN ZALKENGUR OF HALKENDS A DEPRIVED WORLD THAT DOESN’T DARE TO ACCOMMODATE A WORLD THAT NECESSARILY DEPENDS ON PIECEMEAL BOWLDERIZATION BECAUSE OF  THE DERANGEMENT OF UPBRINGING IN NIDIFUGOUS HOMES THAT ARE OFTEN SUBSIDIARY AND PANDERED TO WIDELY LIKE A ****** HARASSMENT PANDA TRYING TO ACCELERATE THE DOOMSTERS OF RIP VAN WINKLE IGNORANCE THAT THE SCARLET LETTER BECOMES A SCALARIFORM CORDWAINER MARKET WHICH IS A DISEASED OPINION OF THE SOCIOGENESIS OF THE HUMAN FRONTIERS BECAUSE OF ITS VERY FINIFUGAL ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT HOW THE SCAFFOLDS OF REDSHORT BRITTLE SUBHASTATION OF HUMAN DOGMA TO SERVILE SKITTLES AND SCARAMOUCH RUFFIAN RAFFISH INCOGNITO DELIRIFACIENCE OF A DISHEVELED BARAGNOSIS CAN PARALYZE A PARASELENIC TIME WITH A TORPID WOKISM THAT REMANDS INTO CUSTODY TOO MANY KEY ARTIFACTS OF AMERICAN HISTORY DELIBERATELY CONSTRUCTED PERDURABLE BECAUSE OF THE VALENCE OF THEIR STOICHOMETRY FOR NEW WORLD NUCLEOTIDES AGAINST THE GAVEL OF DIKEPHOBIA. THERE ARE BALISAURS OF BALUSTRADE RUSHING TO THE EXITS OF NAZE AND MURENGER WHO GUARD THEIR PRIVILEGES ZEALOUSLY TO SUCH A GRAVE REGARD SOME REMAIN INSURMOUNTABLE IN CAGOULE WHIGGARCHY OF CALVOUS SERVITUDE TO THE BRICOLAGE OF TRUCAGE IN ENTERTAINED DIVERSIONS OF STRIFE AGAINST STRIFE ITSELF BLACKGUARDING THE SPATHODEA BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE IN SUNBITTERN TIMES IGNORE THE SUNDOG REPUTE OF THOSE WHO BARNSTORM FOR THE CREDENDA AND VISIBILIA OF REASON OVER THE PUNDITOCRACY OF REMEDIAL PINGUEFIED STANDARDS OF A BLOVIATING FATIDICAL SHALLOP OF  SILKALINE IMPLEMENTS BRUISED BY THE WICK AND WHICKER OF THE NEIGHS OF CAMELOPARDS GALLIVANTING WITH ARGALI BECAUSE OF THEIR PRECISION OF ALMAGEST IN ARENOID ARANEIDAN COVERT SOCIETIES DESIGNED TO FORBID THE PREROGATIVES OF TOMORROW BASED ON THE GLOSSOLALIA OF THE INCHOATE CELSITUDE OF STADIOMETERS OF THE MOST PRECISE ENTELECHY IN STRADOMETRICAL REFORMS. ESSENTIALLY IF WE ASK FOR LARGESSE IN A COUNTRY PLAGIARIZING PLAGUES TO GAIN EMERGENCY POWERS WE SHOULD QUESTION THEIR DRAGOONS TO THE EXTENT THAT FUTURE CALAMITY IS FORESTALLED BY EARWIGS MAKING THEIR SUBSIDIARY WALLETEER SKIRMISHES PALATABLE TO WHELKIES THAT THEY MIGHT IN TIME BELIEVE FINALLY IN CAVERNILOQUYS OF A GREATER REFORM FOR A SOCIETY OF DEMASSIFICATION THAT LEADS EVENTUALLY TO MUTUALISM IN HARMONIZED SYNCOPATION THAT THE HERALD OF TOMORROW MIRRORS THE VALOR OF THE PAST RATHER THAN GLORIFYING THE PILLORY OF HESTER PRYNNE BECAUSE OF THE PRESBYTERY JUST BECAUSE IT REMAINS AN INVETERATE IMBROGLIO OF SPECIOUS FREUDIAN PSYCHOBABBLE THE MISCEGENATION OF SO MANY DELETERIOUS FICTIONS OF FINALISM RATHER THAN A VALIANT BELIEF IN NEOVITALISM PREDICATING GOD BASED UPON THE UMBRILS OF A SALVATION UPCOMING AND A BLOCKBUSTER TWISTER TRIAGE OF THE PAST UNDERSTANDING THE CHRONOMANCY OF THE PRESENT. THE ASSUEFACTION IGNORANT OF THE CELLARERS WARNING ON THE STYROFOAM OF CABOTAGE UNDERSTANDING THE GLEBES OF POST-MODERN HUES OF REFORMATION IN AGGIORNAMENTO LEADS US TO A CULMINATED PROWESS WIDELY MANUFACTURED TO ENLIST PEOPLE COGNIZANT OF LESSONS OF NOVERNARY WANCHANCY AND THE RUDENTURE OF THE CURRENT PALLOR OF NEBBICH STEM ISOLATIONISM THAT IS TURBINATED UPON INTRORSE SATISFACTIONS IN AN INTERRAMIFIED  WORLD MIGHT THEY FIND THE POWER OF THE BAILIWICK WITHIN THEM TO DECRY THE NEPHROLITHS OF CASUAL STOCKINETTE AND FIND THE GROWTH OF RESURGENT HARMONY A BETTER PARABLE TO GUIDE THE RESURRECTION OF A SOCIETY GOVERNED BY A MORALITY ATTEMPERED BY THIS ZEITGEIST TO ENSURE THAT SO-CALLED VIRILITY REMAINS STRONG AND STOLID AND MULIEBRITY REMAINS INSURGENT BUT RESPECTFUL OF THE PREROGATIVES THAT GROOM THE ESTABLISHMENT PRISM THROUGH WHICH THE CLEPSYDRA OF ECONOMETRIC REFORMATORY CONSERVATION OF COACERVATION SUCH THAT THE RACKRENT NEVER BECOMES AN ONEROUS RHABDOMANIA NOR A SEDERUNT OF ALGEDONIC TILTS INDIRECT TO ALL COBBLESTONE PATHWAYS TOWARDS THE MANUFACTURE OF SALVATION IN INVEIGLED ACCORD BECAUSE OF GREATER CAENOGENESIS AND ORTHOTROPISM IN INTELLECTUAL AMBITION BECAUSE THE BROCKFACED VENTRAD LATERIGRADE SYMPHONIES OF IMBREVIATION LEAD US TOWARDS CATHEDRALS OF ALABASTER LIGHT GLOAMING ABOVE TWILIGHT HOUR RESIDUE SUCH THAT THE FENESTRAL WORLD REMAINS A EUDIOMETER OF TYPESET MUGIENCE BUT BECAUSE OF A BRICOLAGE OF INCITEMENT TOWARDS CROTALINE OPHILIOPHILIST REFORMS MIGHT WE BRAVE A NEWER CENTURY WITH A BOLD BRONTEUM THAT NEVER RELEGATES AFFLICTION OR IGNORES THE GAUNTLET OF FUTURE  SUFFRAGE TOWARDS SYNCOPATED HARMONIZATION BUT ULTIMATELY THAT THE CAVERN ENCOMPASSES ALL BREADTH AND DEPTH OF THE RIGOR OF PRAGMATIC LURCHES OF REFORM.
ATL Oct 2022
Natura, as in birth,
deceiver, material fact in perceptual fiction;
to which the bird sings and flesh returns, shallow earth roiling with worms in mud;
your body is mine- on great gusts you carry my breath.

Your skin, parsed, has become a word of my soul; a flesh folded dove unclasped in freedom from a party trick,
soaring outwards on dreams turned luminous through countless lies and premonitions, unfurling in worldly frenzy.

You have inveigled me in flattery to become an exertion-
an eye, an ear, a mouth, a hand, a nose, a science;
to study the motion of which I am indifferent consequence, to crystallize the miracle of myself in my skin-
to learn and forget.
Red sight and blind meteors in the soundless night
The chance is in our blood and the choice in our dream
Wake up if you're dreaming, and the turgid life in your sender's message
Wake up if you're sleeping, and the tumultuous light in your receiver's sights
Everything is not in chance and choice, and I've learned this by making bad decisions and opportune times in lucid dreams
I'm falling, and the fall releases me
And I can finally stand
Catch a fire
The truth won't stand for your laziness
And the statistics don't show happy people
Your lies can follow the inveigled arguments
But, you'll never catch feelings if statistics are just a number
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2020
Holistic in its' velvet shade of softly purple pure,
A noble sprig of rose in vase, to beautifully allure,
The statuesquely classic, which majestically aligns,
The further enticement of aroma, that entwines,
A perfection in the grace of this bloom, to adorn,
That drop of blood on fingertip, inveigled by her thorn.

M.
Foxglove
Taranaki, NZ
28 June 2020
An emotional wreckage
She brushes her beautiful hair over her ear
Frantic talking ensues in movement of careless hands and lips
All the world is a stage
And world merely a din and a prayer to your quips
Walking in the night of starry ammunition
She is the green light of Auroras
She is my life without contrition
Engrained with intellect she does not please
At least she is not distant darkness
That ensnares purple hearts in entirety
And dwells on love's flaws
She appreciates the imperfections
Therefore she is royal beauty by law
Like the numinous clouds
So far from sad skies with herons
If I fainted from the height of love
She'd enshroud me in her passion with poetic precision
It is in good fashion not precociousness
Volute waters swirl like bokeh
Offering a sacred picture of voluptuousness
Where she semaphores to her inveigled face
An emotional river of gold
She is one who needs to be dredged for industrial progress
Without question or answer such is her worth
It is a shared with the paupers scuttling nearby
Abstracted eyes study mademoiselles
With glühwein and drunk glaucous cocktails
In panem et circenses
Where we share bread we need romance
Such is her glad fairness of my mistress

— The End —