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Then a voice comes and says
It was a stranger, pays by the hour
You got jacked, hacked, attacked
Your mind was theirs when we got here

There was a time spent
pretending it wasn't possible.
Sad, sick strangers, ******* you!
But I dreamed of my beloved four.
They ****** my spirit, like a battery.

Then he came, the covenant,
time to turn and escape their nets.
Down into the pit, a crucible.
To treat with my paladin

We tend the metasphere in secret,
Honor bound in sacred duty
Terrapin are we.
©2013 Atalanta Undigested. All Rights Reserved.
Did I act any weirder than normal?
Recalling dreamy day
Picking apples on a ladder
What a stupid girl.

Made apple jack for you
Not talking to me
You learning space and time
I was learning dream language

Dreams are out of control.
Much interference.
Cota mundi protects
loves his wife

Protections were set
But are broken
Afraid of metasphere
Afraid to make new metaphors

They suggest...
©2013 Atalanta Undigested. All Rights Reserved.
afteryourimbaud Jul 2018
Prayer
is when
you lump
all your fears
and desires
indefinite words,
waiting for
all the fractions
in the metasphere
to take over.
Equal copyrights we can both claim
renown impossible mission to envision
just the experience to become linkedin
with literary talents of another motive
couched within these lines I exclaim
no idea regarding the specifics
how to kickstart joint effort game
undoubtedly enterprising individuals
endeavor to pool respective flair
mine motive here not to inflame
persons across world wide web
who peruse poems I craft some
may adore mein style or...

perchance think me unhinged
nevertheless positing keyframe
spur of the moment whim
no likelihood outcome will maim
this wordsmith simply posting
if nothing else, I overcame
trepidation to express bonafide
whim renouncing quitclaim
should both of us acquire wealth
to purchase virtual property
within metasphere (courtesy
cryptocurrency), cuz otherwise
I would feel shame.

Spanning across internet
analogous to accept marital vow
after blind date contestants
meet courtesy bachelor/bachelorette,
though each of us never met
mutual (of Omaha) accord
consonant with me... you bet
your sweet bippy - Laugh-In debt
ode to comedians Dan Rowan
and **** Martin, no secret
at feeling flattered, though please
dismiss ambition to covet

(at least just yet),
yours truly adopted as house pet
argh... that beastly consummation beset
with challenge unsure weaken duet,
not absolutely necessary to whet
our respective appetites and asset
with words, quite obvious
twas love at first sound and sight,
viz Latin steeped twenty six let
hors d'oeuvres suffice
me not here to exploit nor profit
concerning joint capitalistic venture,
whereby each of us signatory

contributing authors to beget
consensual reasonable rhyme or not,
yours truly doth deduce tenet
heavily to embark impossible mission
analogous good luck bouquet
to whomever doth cachet

more to the point, a whim woke
to assuage concupiscence,
cuz I gotta get get
preposterous simply to craft kismet
likened to kid in candy store lit
with excitement at sweet nuggets

mouth watering treats to offset
eating healthy vegetarian omelet
bloated overstuffed oaf think piglet
blessedly to young for slaughterhouse
five according to Kurt Vonnegut,
a fate far worse than death and taxes

now living in lap of luxury...
ah..., that's the ticket,
or perchance donning crown as kinglet
within safe porcine haven hamlet
whereat smart creatures use Telnet and toilet,
rather than pollute fields and/or streams.

— The End —