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Julian Sep 2020
I famigerate without taciturn timidity the straits of a straightened jury-rig of nesiote narrowbacks harping the accordion zest and zeal of the plenilune consuetude of a scrivello infamy sprung into the rows of rip-tide acclaim hamstrung by the decline in fastidious upkeep of the timberlask vesicles that avoid the phenakism of prismatic reformation fundamental to transmogrified simpers of dismal saturnine darkness encroaching on the parallax of realms within the dominion of the Almighty for the omniety of the usucaption of the fruitful prune in the priggish afterglow of a noontide eclipse bereaved of whispering retreat in the hallowed wasms of stiltanimity becoming an entreaty to ecumenical barbs of propriety selected without intimacy to folksy bibliopolists but rugged in sterling tribute to the true vine of the appointed ways of sacerdotal triage among a roughshod vanity of a derelict world marveling at otiose rejoinder rather than true spasms of tragedy flickering in the recessive alleles of a careworn culture. The travesty of Beirut is the bromide of current leapfrogs of sentinel lust and malapert destruction forming an ironclad camaraderie with chocolate-box langlauf disasters wed uxoriously to the penury of the brackish version of the catadromous bailiwick of despotic nescience pregnant with sophrosyne redemption at the cusp of a plaid perfunctory quip of quisling intimations of the sketchy provenance of humdingers of comestion lurking in the plodding prowl of a ribald wiseacre of a beckoned billow of trinkochre welded into a conscientious blarney that awaits the popinjays that sculpt brittle redshort fictions into awakened carapaces of a limacine reduction of impoverished fulmination into the neatly sworn footprints of a geotaxis shuddering with magnetism only in spectacle without the overhailing zeal of vintners who specialize in curtailed wine drawn from Caiaphas and soaked with the muddy turgid Siloam as avenues toward the repentance of asunder becoming marginalized as a whimper of taciturn choleric war receding not even into an audible delope as the masterful chryselephantine assault of cryptic auditions in the theater of effete refuge sink into the pelagic oblivion of a remarkable blister festering into inconsequence as the rebarbative emoluments to tattered travesty hearken a battle-cry yet emanated in the reprehensible bulwark of the gerendum of a poised plastered humility aggrieved with such friction turgid on rollicking magpiety that even the larceny of brutish renegades of triumph sink beneath the brevity of accident rather than the fortitude of globalized turpitude weakened by the improper demarche of fuliginous homeless depredation of innocent bystanders flocking to the harvest of war found in insight rather than the perfunctory bromidrosis of the macroscian enmity of hidden maleficence spawning a credenda that is spayed on arrival in the faineant zoolatry of a spelunkers’ madcap dash to flex the filigrees of turmoil in resentment of the amicable truces of a God who never tempts and a lurking lie that never itches for trigger-happy hapless rebukes because the skittish skirmish of futilitarian repose is a scoundrel of the profligacy of errant weakness blinkered by the humdrum din of deafening semaphores of provocative thornbush on the threshing floor of cowardly imposture president of all affairs of spirit and all renegades of caitiff megalography of forgotten oblivion despite the curglaff of vindictive and never vindicated assaults on the integrity of the birthright of Lebanon to wager a presumptive gamble of trifling retribution for the alacrity of suspicions eloping with forbidden mistresses in the humdingers of flackey rather than the troudasque harbinger of a lunacy impugned by a restive triumphant fallow time seasonable for a litany of pretenses demassified for a liturgy of seances with eldritch commiseration in the saw-toothed serration of selachostomous bravado wielded by likely or unlikely culprits of ravenous ruin shepherded by the guilty cardinal sins of the complicity of explosive vanity marauding on the ruins of a fortress debased by pettifoggery of internal excuse rather than the wrath of provocative ire in the irksome cauterized wounds of the inured to deliver spectacular reticence despite such grievous diacope. Evil gilderoys of maleficence carve the sapwood of the periphery to aimless subversions miscarried by the modern atrocity of glamour memorialized as a sound-byte underminnow of a roaring rhombos rip tide as stocks wavy at the curvature of edgy demarche despoil the denuded wasteland of cultural despondency a wagtail to the impudence of famigerated affronts that deserve a sterling recompense wielded by the onerous and operose burdens of a prone decubitus of aboriginal bread seeded from Heavenly realms dissipating into the roars of blinded conflagration too meek to even exist on the ramshackle hillside of a barnstorm of aggression powerless to encapsulate the nexility of unspoken allegiance to destruction rather than the halidom of consecrated marriages balking at the caulked provisions of a slugabed monolith of craven capers on the recesses of abeyance in the interregnum of a time where famous people communicate with me. How can such a charismatic bravado of lurking presidency stoop to the denizens of usufruct in licentious latitudes on the outskirts of consideration even pretend anymore that the vacuum of effluvium (Gal 6:7) can be mocked and milked into the row of centuries blistering through the calenture of apprisal and heaved awakening as the zephyrs of the Occident meet temporal juncture with the coenesthesia of a hibernating trumpery formed by the turnverein of listless lethargy billowing through fumiducts of siphoned lavaderos of hypogeiody that the underground spasms of cacophony could marvel at the historic emergence of a magnate with the most powerful magnetism of God shepherding the true flock John 10:27 because he is willing to be the good shepherd and potentially die for his sheep John 10:11. Remember, whenever you hear a Queer Studies Radical Feminist bloviate on emasculated sardanapalian posture John 8:44 and even though personified as a masculine titan of bulwarks of immense otiose wilted inkburch shielding the world from true meaning, the maskirovka of the Devil is present in the dark trespasses of personal abandon among the wilderness of many marsupial jackals of martles wagtails to an invictive proclamation of invulnerable sappy sopanaceous filibusters against hefty sinew forged the bony fragments of the charnels lost to brief epitaphs never mourned in threnodies worthy of remembrance that the departed died with us and live again through us whether in Heaven as participant or on Earth as an acting battalion of the skullduggery of the mystique of shimmers of God acting on Man’s behalf 1 Col 1:15-16. That the firstborn of all creation obtains supremacy through the finalisms that I seek as the captain of trailblazing untrammeled roads we are reminded of the narrow and wide gates expanded by the explosion of thought that trespasses into the hidebound ratchet of a reasonable bleat becoming a harsh outcry of justice for Lebanon that they feel so powerless in implosion what could aggrieve potentate civilizations to the precipice of global maleficence in destruction. Swarming for alveolate hominid hominism as an outgrowth of alienation by design polarized spectral dangles at jaundice flamestun by the ordeal of oppositive barnacles to the chryselephantine habituation of a masked menace of Procrustean authority to muzzle the free license of armamentariums of a latent man keen to the kenspeckel visibilia that we might have punctuation in the poised primiparas of a hearkened unprecedented in modern history that the traipse of lapse is no longer the tenure of mindless calculation of authoritarian gabble sentries of a mobilized fleet of embodied human ignorance but a foisted sprite of whangams of apothegm that deserve in their gnomic respite from the phenakisms of a philogeant kumbaya assertive in its treony of radical compassion for those who dwell in tentpoles of revelry bound not to the covenant that sent us into light and sparkling in hidden obsolescence that the fulgurant words of Mount Horeb (Sinai) are both immaculate and without trace of sin because Acts 17:30 declares a powerful truth lost to the twinges of time that issued peremptory governance of my theology but through remission I admit the grievances of septiferous blockades of ponderous plodding nescience haunting the spectral aubades of paeans to a high-flown sun darting through galactic space apace of the velivolant sails of divine wind that come in the spree of recompense authored by the vines to which all roots belong rhizogenic and immutable because the demarches of time forget the marches against the cauterized grime of new-world suspicions of aleatory fickle gubernatorial proclamations that issue reverb more than sprinkle flanged atrocity in the sight of the holy ramparts of an active double-edged God who reminds us of our many witnesses but provides not a single latchkey of escapism resident to many hapless homes of the drunken sing-song rhapsody nullifying the psychotaxis of the motatory miserly Draconian charades of Leviathan grasping the tridents of warp-speed revisionism in a benighted world overrun by mandarist fictions that fumigate a pasteurized control of cultural malcontent in situations of dearth infested by the concentration camps of China that remain unheralded in brumal and brutish indoctrination spared from worldwide outrage by the tribunes that are complicit more in malfeasance than they are celebrated for the herald of heinous bletcherous crimes of abecedarian abligurition anointed in waste rather than refined like unquenched slakes of eternal water so that no man can thirst hungry for the daily bread without returning to the providence of God awakened. Recalcitrant by the impudent quislings of repugnasket flarmeys of advenient flummoxed besieged clairvoyance I bask and beaze on the light that never fades because of the brackish whisk of a barnstorm of allegiance that is contumely to a bromide society listless in inferiority of intellect to my former streaks beyond jejune reiteration of the Jehu mentality against the canine fate of Jezebel and her faltered ministry of ewnastique waged as battalion gore of a trifling musket of an aboriginal swim through the oceanic gaze of peerless eternity squirming because of flagging resolution among the spandrels of incommunicable largesse lolloped extravagantly not just for the spoils of hyped pedigree but also a chamade to Heaven to enlist the purblind vestiges of a crambazzled Earth rejuvenated in adolescent esprit rather than callow eclat against the outrecuidance of whimpered miserly conscientiousness that exists in a shorter frame of reference than the provident dashes through a furlough of time and ancestry to cobble together a lapidary bristling excoriation of the tumescent squabbles of mystique brave enough to rarefy the humid pasteurization of a mannequin kenspeckel still-frame jilt of jostled infamy brusque in its curt envies borne of still-born promenades of a whasper between the youthful ligony and the intrepid soul of a collective warrior debased by the adscititious participant to elegant effronteries of the newfangled intellectual vogue that is the grombang of the tralleyripped hamshackle of ostentation meeting mirrored paralysis in sheepish ewnastique creations meddlesome in their ironic frizz of recursion as I lounge on the habits of creation by intelligent lurches of design that appointed the demarcations of all creatures and the mysterious bridge between the missing links that remain elusive to the flombricks of the misery of epigenetic rhizogenic imparlance of desuetude cringing at foresight littered with the disaster of ravished hindsight blushing at the limpid degeneration of the vapid varnish of benighted ligony rather than heroic strides of stoic-epicurean compromise in the apolaustic pursuit of the one eternal God present in rebellion but never the temptress of mendacity and mendaciloquence because the tug I have on speed is ratifying a cauterized casualty in the spumid betrothed wicked snuffs of extinguished furor for a time beyond barnstormed racloir rugged origination and faulty phenogenesis that escorts mythos into actionable litanies of the awakened breed scoffing at the inkburch of “Electrolytes”-wernaggle that besets the queer fascinations of a warped generation. The pytherian swank of artrench embodied in the recocted rendevation of hypetrophy in hubris swaddled by the reductive dranger polluting the realm of compliant complicant complaints of the ashowel of albatross astroud in the hibernaculum of langlauf rather than the ultramontane fiduciary tether to the estrockentch rather than the laureates of plevisable courage found in truest shades of vinsky not the subhastation of a gaslighted galvanization of purebred classy swivels of opportunism nor the ravenous incubus appetite for usufruct in subversion belongs to the behest of an insular nesiote flexing the flux of subversion as the candid posies of saccharine immodesty become relegated figments of the everlasting age of promised propriety rather than rigid stultimathy of hackencrude virtues of virtuosos that marvel at troudasque wonders occluded by the girlcott of Team Biden and his militarized soldiers of desiccation of trumpery and the faucets unbounded by swanky concealed epithets of regaled rentgourge by a hapless objection of the runic destruction of apothecary leniency becoming of the betokened emblazonry of scrimshank in every perfuncturation but embodiment of character shouldered by every chasm of power erected in demolition of the warped egintoch radicalism of the submerged wernaggles of the hopeless minority swimming with autodimplage few have to bear but the truest flock of God heeds my voice and has the sapience to spare themselves of contumely and invective to hearsay of invictive triumph beyond radioglare swirk to renege the musical providence of the chamades to the asterongue I often take for granted by immunifacient degrees of the foretold encroaching upon the crux of a pivotal and pivoted destiny not distant from cordial providence. The sweedle of epigones for the risctender of obligation to subvert the coryphaeus with the rigmarole of gentincture borrowed from the Gates’ formulaic effleck of perverse warbles of collectivized contrition for abetted cultural pederasty limpid in its achieved objective of the crudenzy borrowed from a lacking impediment to arentrum belonging to the knowledgeable happenstance of the glorified dengonin is a denostram that forestalls the agelasts behind porsters of culture rather than legitimate mainlined contamination of wellsprings of fliction of paranoiac enthusiasm might swim in kinkativy blinkered blind piebald girouettism but never dauntless in sematic entrenchment of robust dilettantism as the swaddled corrugation of time into centripetal ****** against centrifugal modernism that alienates propriety while estranging by vacuous vacuums the outspoken progeny of the surviving age beyond the Jay and Silent Bob travesty that manifests as a glower of menacing Bushian invention to tarnish with ****** mythos the drapes of a defenestrated realism of the flinkers of sheepish indignation against many drakstings of intonorous sclerotic mandibles of crackjaw chockablock annihilation of core precepts and institutions indelible from the face of a quixotic entreaty of a ragged intrusion of ageotropic monoideism above the secular-clerical fidelity of honest witness borne of triumph and tribulation festooning the nativist hyperbole into a useless effigy of mountebank imposture silly in precision and purblind to gallantry. Yet I must kisswonk rather than truckle under such ponderous pretense because of a sertivine certainty in the thickets of prudence rather than the tomfoolery of humgruffin impudence scaffolds me to a post-modern ****** that shanks through prisons of guilt and burrows an interrogation of reality supreme over all complaint that the virtuosity of the Gifted (the elect flock that comprehends my volcanic diatribes against mandarism and stomachs them without sardonic pastorauling insults of passerby vicissitude) will spare many nations of awakened perjury against human instinct in the fitness of nations to denigrate the populist squalor of lurid and livid ewnastique wernaggles of the listless buttress against my formal modesty encouraged in all affairs even in aggrieved humility belonging to intimidation rather than spawned jostles through the rumpus of shunamitism that might rankle a later age.  Yentrified morality is a personal flapdoon against the promiscuous pederasty of freewheeling ophelimity and the lurking narquiddity of the traindeque of donnist hedonism to hijack my psychedelic tolerance into an unwarranted and inadvisable sanction into the netherworld of the frinterans of cultural modality that curdact religion into a cosmetic cosmogony rather than a soldiered infamy becoming a beacon on a towering hill growing in solidarity with the pleonasm of existence itself which surpasses crude formulas that already abide by the riches of decorum too much to be admired as trigger-happy fools run the asylum of domesticated irony and the librettos to downfall rather than the wassails of “The Man” becoming more masculine in featured charisma rather than defiled against Leviticus among others who preach belonging to nuclear creed without fission but for true rapprochement to the fusion of the treony with legitimate gripes of unsung complaint among the masculine minority. The traindeque of a baseline complaint aggrieved by the kilmarge carapace of stiltanimity for the hackencrude resentment of the inkburch of illiteracy is a profligate degeneracy lurid in hyped enmity that the envied entreaty becomes the despotic shadow masquerading in shadows blossoming into the full wisdom of the mature sophrosyne heart eager to pour out blessings upon a conservation of recycled epitaphs becoming hearsay in a rebarbative convolution of redacted rigmarole incendiary to whittled henpecks of political engineering but never vapid in their flagging insistence upon an ecumenical toleration of the brooks of modernity and compromise upon which much felicity is aggrandized and permuted against the spoilsport frinterans who encage a dodgy moralism in wilted etiolated jaunty pedigree that espouses the maudlin grievous and ghastly ghouls and sprites that haunt the fictional hobgoblins of the Potemkin Village that finds usury convenient and perjury even more facile for the glib facetious engineers of modalities of hatred unsung by the ribald witwanton “I got a Solution...You’re a ****…South Carolina What’s Up” crowd that never marvels at ingenuity or rarely attempts it in the summit of the climacteric jaundice of hidebound whemmles of ridicule sparring against spartan flagitious wiseacres of genocide of ideation for the revelry of armed missives denatured by raw promotion of the questionable ethics of a flavork of needed slakes of unquenchable desire swarming us with daily temptresses not of wayward women but the disarmed pretense of a lapidary rejoinder to a long expatiation or harangue against hackencrude curdles of rowboat injustice masquerading as sentinel savory destruction of the towering edifice of proclamation. There is great menace in the casuistry of sophist philogeant philocubists dicey with destiny for mincemeat puppetry against sciamachy for the gallionic rise of gammadions in the craven lore of baseline pasquinade rallied to the insuperable causes of tribal shibboleth anointed by secular totemisms of fracture and fricative hisses of lineage that amount to pleonasms of brassage rather than mystagogical mystique of the prestige of human fraternity that shatters paradigms of creed and invites an honest vestige of Noble Savages to roam the Earth yet again unencumbered by lugubrious welters of misnomer and malapropism wagered by artifices of guileless supremacy that is cursory prima facie neglect of even the sororal duties not of sophomoric glib facetious cowardice of backbited backlash of venom militarized for the desuetude of entertained visagists sculpting *****-nilly their version or verdict of decisive apartheid when we should all rally behind the united frontier of the chosen flock in the chosen generation to truckle beneath the pews not of ignorance aggravated by the polluted kilmarge egintoch puritan barbs against publicity choices I now regret (as an emolument to an incredibly euphoric track with a poor miserly message to the enchanted flock inoculated from such diversions) because alighted upon the quenched thirst of salvation I will be judged more harshly as a teacher James 3:1 than the rest of my flock but gifted with the gratuitous salvation carved from the chiselers of ribald infamy capering around with dacoitage and ladronism of the bomans of unsuspecting quixotic caprice I must reckon with the burden of ghoulish shadows on the spectral imprint of my eternal soul relishing in vicarious splendor yet bereaved of quintessential love 1 Cor 13:4 that is necessary for the nuclear conclamation of vibrant hues of resplendent and refulgent providence necessary not from a dynastic perspective but from an aimed providence that alerts dynamism rather than chides with mimes of useless schadenfreude carved from the prestidigitation of the wicked condemned in Galatians 6:7 for the mockers of sanctanimity accorded upon me as gratuity that no man can boast my elite ears and my astute wonderworks of imagination qualified me for prophecy and among the most mesmerizing prophecies registered to fulfillment that the world has ever yet witnessed because the watershed isn’t a bridgewater for the chavish of ignoramus hatred congealed into thrombosis but the narrowed gate enlarges to encompass the swath of man amenable to the flocks that escort me into permanence rather than regale the tridents of a hedonism that elected me clairvoyant at a cost of immaculate splendor registered to the holy clergy of the Sacred Catholic Church and the broader Ecumenical Endeavor that tries to be a seamstress and bridge elemental divides inherent to divided approaches to liturgy which flex their strengths in times of robust fortitude rather than become a subhastation to the vestiges of the pilgrimage to false tabernacles erected by people cozened into charlatan endeavors by the pernicious and persnickety whiplash of Least Common Denominator subversion of widely heralded sentience and sapience enriching the lot of human ambition rather than stoking useless conflagrations of refracturism accorded to the swallock of primposition of the hackneyed hackencrude that swivels with the odious ornery pretense of overtures not to apertures and lychgates of the true abiding Heaven felt on Earth by many Christians whether in sobriety or not without the evil maleficence of a misguided donnism of narquiddity for the grambazzles of aged recklessness aborning on vacant responsibility that is rickety in its magnanimity of absolution because of the ulterior chase for bottom-line top-dollar oligochrome foisted by the cartels that blind true spiritual insight from ever reaching the magnitude of ambition required to shape mountains of revolution among the tertiary squabbles of a conversant Earth open to the troudasque gallop into yield and cloveryield for repcrevel reforms the paludism of the swamp remains skittish about conforming to because objectivism is a renegade of perspicuous light blinkering in hubris and gourmandizing the hinderbaggle of cosmetic pollutions aggravated by the plevisable articles of envy and TLDR politics to “Electrolyte” logic that is a sad recursive wernaggle of the useless buffoonery of humgruffins of tatterdemalion spate rollicking in the magpiety of a timid consentient faltering myth of unanimity among the beleaguered rainbows of many lugubrious tears showering bickering blasphemy upon the mockery of God for the pleasantry of self-aware sheepish resignation that professes only that any form of meritocracy is existentially unfounded only because the beehive elected its progeny the scepter of the ironclad kingdom that wages war against idolatry and serenades heaven with luxury simultaneously. We are all shepherds of providence and there is power enough in collective prayer that we don’t fiddle around with bodewash in mistaken identity but riddle the persnickety blemish of the fastidious critiques of biting sarcasm as a tantamount blasphemy and a criminal repartee of sardonic cloys of inanity foisted above truth. The peevish breedbates who scour my evidentiary pillar of chiseled vertebrae of unbroken bones of solidarity with oikonisus will be sorely disappointed in their truthful audits of my true perception because in every single case it exonerates me from the pulpit of menacing idiots who scrawl random gabble in attempts to sound smart while reeking of iniquity wrought by the gavels of predevoted inferiority of complexion and attitude that gravitates them to an insensate benumbed transmogrified bailiwick of an appalling atrocity of mythomaniacal myths spurned by consensus among those who prize my grandeur above the superstitions of the illiteracy of the rancid rankle of otiose stupidity writhing its own sheepish envy of arbitrary dislike motivated by feminist aggressors waging warfare on turf I already conquered by swaying the intelligentsia to beckon my cause rather than pillory me on a false scaffold of frinteran abuses of the nyejays of bernacle that junediggle in the taradiddle of the nanciful excoriation of my leaden corpse weighed down by the witchcraft of connivance trayning its own delicate myths while avoiding scrutiny for appalling contumely that deserves an audience more suited for fracklings of treony belonging to the trinkochre of the rising alienation and suicides among perverted gay indoctrination that is a scourge on the planet because it willfully denies with its portentous hibbles the regaled wisdom of the culminated age against renegades of apostasy and for the behemoths of true monumental change that sizzles in savory circles among the vanguard only to alarm the Status Quo hijack of my entire endeavors as a covert crusade to use wrecking-ball fashion tactics to cosmetically incisively and insidiously perform a harprick of surgery upon a blameless countenance only for being a thorn to wragatek wragapole slavery which wages war against universal salvation because it gripes with inkburch and circular pleonasms about the most obvious glaring lies and feasts upon the serrated edge of the capers of hatred that frolic in meadows too skittish to enter the barbarian fortress of my forested residence robust in fortitude and glowering with a menacing contempt for runaround psychobabble that obganiates the obelisk of the moribund crusade to make normative ethics effeminate and to enthrone inviolable women’s speech as supreme to any male objections like the Cristiano Ronaldo accuser that came forth 8 months after #MeToo one of the most dishonest campaigns in modern history enthroned by Hollywood elites in gammerstang insurrection against pay-gap ethics done manipulatively with the sapwood of mendaciloquence like Blasey Ford whose physiognomy reeked of maudlin pretense that was so ornery in how obvious of a maleficence the intrepid Abortion Agenda has over the minds of selfish women who prefer ecbolic second-term abortions to the servile gripes of primiparas building new life rather than tearing down the scaffolds of new generations. Hominism deserves its rise because-in increasing numbers-men are derelicted by society and coerced into vapid tallespin enslavement that ridicules itself with the perjury of soul to the soulless vanity of recursive cycles of benumbed narquiddity found in “****** Hero” among other atrocities littering the human fascination with the hinderbaggle of our polluted age verging on totemic blistering hegemony of a few rotten apples corrupting the vagrant ingenuity of the forgotten champion who ushered in a new era of candor in the attempted interregnum of the United States government because I Am Hollywood got the name correct considering how many memorials there are to me in the movie industry. The junediggles of sc-ha-den-freud-e which is as deliberate of a German pun as JUDEn JuDEN which shows the German language is as farsighted as you can get and why many of my neologisms have a German tinge to them. German is an elegant language with botched syntax but a peerless repertoire of vocabulary and even though I love French, the Germans are smart because their language is smart not just because of petty arguments of pedigree which are specious at best. Being dontolesque with  the zenkidu of rengall nauclatic mythos is an artful degree which accords nominal prestige to licentiates while excorifying the obvious metaphors of sunblind logic that scours the scorched Earth of internet diatribes of sophistry and dethrones the Marcie Biancos of the world “Heterosexuality is officially OVER...K Bye” with her 145 IQ and a Stanford Degree in Queer Studies (A professed atheist by her own Twitter admission) with the warped logic to equate a heterosexual relationship for a woman as ******* to patriarchy. For someone that well-studied in literature she sure is a dumb-*** and I will demolish the syntagma of those that root against me for Status Quo preservation in the official interregnum of Saturdays during the Trump Presidency. We need an official referendum on the ideas of termagant illogical anti-egalitarian poison that derives from a deracinated worldview that doesn’t contextualize how powerful language is at shaping thought because if the entire world were Anglophonic every single country on Earth virtually would see immediate dividends in terms of intellectual creativity and limber with concepts and percepts because it is no accident the most successful empire in History the United Kingdom, was favored because of its shibboleths of Shakespearean creativity draped with flairs of the irreverent while gilded by God to be a majestic commonwealth. England and France monopolized a huge majority of history by no accident because although English might be a slightly keener language the French culture of salons of freewheeling intellectual enlightenment gilded the 17th and 18th centuries into absolution despite the Panglossian epithets of Voltaire who was ironically dissuaded from religion because of the All Saints Day 1755 Lisbon Earthquake and Tsunami. We need to be vigilant against encroachments of perceived shibboleths and more keen on an affirmative meritocracy that favors the poor and blesses the meek in their poverty and inspire ambition among them to join the coteries of refinement in thought sometimes harder to achieve with crackjaw lollops in pleonasmic languages that fail to articulate with nexility or forceful wit the true abstractions that govern the pataphysics of the unknown. Language is so decisive over human thought that it is incumbent upon every language to refine its vocabulary to trayne compendious verbiage and trim the hedges of global reform to invite the curiosity of the age to favor all creeds and languages of Abraham and the diverse progeny of a variegated panoply of majestic feats common to all parlance and capacity beyond just the Anglophonic snare because the world needs not a chicanery of blustering churlish buffoonery but an Almighty respect for the consanguinity of all to God’s blessed creation that he inseminated by his deliberate hands to enrich the world with diversity rather than cleave the world with piecemeal skeumorphs of radical propaganda that opposes the modern and post-modern egalitarian streak. One wrong must be corrected, however, the underrepresentation of Hispanics in the media and in film because this grave error is much more pervasive than the ******* LGBT inclusion narrative because these days the lollygags of fashionista odalisques with Obelisks to Baal get more say over the common decorum than the marginalized bronteum of the  rich and vibrant Latino culture which is squelched by the poverty of media and Hollywood representation. Synectics showcases how a henpecked aim at the synaesthesis of culture congregated around our Almighty Father blessed among the nations who adhere to the progeny of Abraham can be more blessed when working together rather than tribal with nepotism and aristocratic in sustained affronts to the elevation of affirmative meritocracy to the forefront of discussion rather than the froward backlash of benumbed narquiddity because the synallagamatic nature of complexity needs to be devolved with industrious ambition to all cultures and the savory flair of the vogue needs not merely a wednongue fascination with an eventual terminus of crudenzy but a sustained intellectual reformation on all fronts to standardize the English language through Hollywood and the Music Industry so that the dragnets of appeal etch a permanent trace into the engraved souls of the true flock John 10:27 are consecrated in divine purpose to reverse the Babylonian Diaspora of confused and conflated purpose that stunts the raltention of humane course and the proper pataphysical syncrisis of an evolved mundane temperament that transcends the circular traps of circumlocution common to the milquetoast industrial titans who winsomely charm with toady gestures the elitism of a moribund philosophy of intellectual thought delegation to elevate the common rhetoric to reach new pinnacles in both tribune and political gamesmanship because higher standards are required even when they surpass some common understanding so that every ambition becomes a conclave for the goal of human unity solidified by the truth of the kerygma and proclaimed to all creation as the culminated synclastic reformation of the idea of indulgence and the propriety of regaled moderation that appeases the common decorum with a shared vested interest in Latin America especially which is besieged by the cultural tenets of obrogated specialization and denigrated by the common myths of warped phenogenesis which should be debunked as a wasm of hypocrisy limited because its callous tentacles lack the charismatic fulgurant equipment of future generations to bear the operose burdens of a quintessential time of harmony united by the hymns for God by God to appease the sentries in Heaven and the celestial realms that exist for our merriment more than our detriment. The sprauncy have the  frikmag to recognize the spuria of apocryphal heresies that encourage kinship above matriotism and shared fortitude for intellectual valor rather than “*** talk TLDR” hashtags abounding on the turf of the insensate wernaggle of clueless charlatans wiggling through life not because they were borne into slavery but because they choose to be Helicopter Parents of “Baby Shark” rather than token mantelpieces of enlivened culture shimmering with radiation of Gods glory as cemented in Colossians 1:15-16 because the firstborn of all creation lives in some form in the ligature of Christ 1 Cor 12:12 because there are so many talents that exist in our variegated world that the mastery of expertise in dominions of conversant fluency will abet the variegated crops of a draped humanity corrugated on its own ironies for the delicate sizzle of beatific felicity multiplying itself in centupled design over centuries to overcome hinderbaggle while realizing the fictions of some drawflark. The strigine world concedes to this upstart rooster maybe considered a parvenu of dearth but luxuriant in riches boundless to all that draw near to the kerygma of Christ and feast on his daily bread found throughout liturgy because we should listen to people like Cardinal Timothy Dolan who is exceptionally astute (perhaps an understatement) to guide us on a regenerative rather than degenerative pathway towards universal attempts at salvation that broach a new decorum bridged by aliens to select chosen emissaries to bridle the fissions of repartee reserved for the forlorn that balk at ambition rather than relish a new era of seditious determination against the determinist fallacy and for the mental health of those coping with autodimplage and sheepish regrets and persnickety articles of remorse because all the world deserves our consolation and desperate attention rather than the trumpery of the circus masquerade of marauding agitprop which congeals into thrombosis of toxicity as the vast majority of Democrats refuse to even hear Trump speak when he is discussing discursive solutions to enigmatic quagmires,for, if more people listened to Trump they would be disabused by the specious claims of his misogyny and white allegiances because his candor is brilliant and despite the prominent advocacy of Biden who has considerable prestige in my memory, we deserve a bipartisan syncretism that unites the world and unifies the country away from the swerve of salacious mythos and towards a rambunctious magpiety of solidarity against the secular humanism of a defunct piety to Marxist feminism which is a crudenzy among the awakened men around the world increasingly alienated by the hackencrude of wednongue illiteracy even trumpeted by the vanguard as panacea when it is a comestible form of poison. We need visionary unity where there was once toxic divisive balkanization of exclaves of limited foresight clashing with new wave awakening to the persecution of illumination itself for not a rigid hierarchy but a flexible structure of inclusion that adjusts to cultural expectancy and modifies the traindeque that strands many in institutionalized poverty especially in Latin America and India and obviously Africa too. The stegophilists of language should herald the aubade of the chavish of redintegration over the squawk of din of squabbles of internecine redacted revisionism beleaguering our lyceums with toxic agitprop even at the highest institutions of learning who balk often at the recycled auditorium of useful thought because their venal tilt is complicit in squelching freedom of thought and our schools should open early so that zig-zag-zoom politics around feldtrounds who are eagerly outnumbered by the patrons who police thought become agentic not with outspoken treacheries but inseminations of intimation to hint at the spectral mystagogical reality we are all members of despite hurdles that beset the hemiteries of odalisques who seek inertia rather than mobilization. The ribald underminnow of transparency is a carcinogen of the rampant siege of Status Quo coarse hypocrisy for tentative flings with cadged cloyed saturnine professions of the landmines of atrocious miscarriage as I soldier on in the causes of the poor and the forlorn to become enriched by the glory that God delivers with munificence so that all might be enriched by the emanations of the true vine and in distaste of error I rebuke the armada of belittled armamentariums of the cantonment of deep-state breedbates boiling over potboiler frikmag that exists as a transcendent obscurantism flowering in decisive times to warp the contextual footprint of a life served in the service of all the oppressed people as a kind of Moses figure raised by the elite and fighting for the criminally oppressed and the ****** of mediagenic hyperbole is dissatisfied by my glowering spectacles because they dismount from the equipoise of the righteous gallop towards ecumenical solidarity at untimely punctuations of juncture superseding the flictions of frikmag dethroning my righteous valor and provident sanctanimity to prowl like predatory wolves the fathers of the casuistry of mendaciloquence to accentuate the stridor of inopportune squalor of the selachostomous regimes of teetotaler totalitarian freebooters who prevent bootstraps from manufacture as they gradgrind the world into ergonomic insufficiency while I provide a Kamacho-like galvanization to the broader world that favors the consanguinity of all animate sentience to the aboriginal vine of the universe that plays with the toyed cadge of oppositive support but lends credence to a more evolved view than the crudity of encapsulated travesties inserted with jaundice against the lyceum of freedom of thought and the celerity of headless horseman galloping in partial interregnum to crown the strobic stridor of the stiver of the steven of contarianism engineered for walloped ringleaders of the renegades of heresiarch sedition in their odalisque oaths to Pagan dieties carved from the sapwood of gullible Illuminati naivety that professes allegiance to the worst whangam ever invented Baphomet and his faked cronies of ewnastique free-for-all diminutive crags in the renown of dawning light becoming cagey struthious structuralism embedded in sclerotic wasms of the wanhope of a nullified message becoming a sacred creed to the attentive while the lilt of the otiose drawl in serpentine convolution a ribald pleonasm of circular circumlocution that provides locomotive linearity rather than leapfrogged slogmarches into the province of the territorial alignment of kinship against the partisan hollertrap and the stigmatophilia of obsessive persnickety popinjay beadledom the last stronghold of the rickety resistence to this Saturday interregnum which presides over the better part of the intelligentsia if not the common pedestrian parlance because hortatory weights cannot be described in any other way than metagnostic flickers of Yellow Submarine vandalism of a pristine living animation of the humane spirit that prizes the plight of the poor and the blarney and blench of unjust opprobrium faced by the institutionalized bailiwick of flictions of gammadion gallionic posture when in fact they register as seismic entities engraved upon my Christian conscience that strictly welcomes the emigrants to truth from whatever consecrated virtue they originate from because all are capable of the same light and the same compassion of a beatified humanity rather than the relish of deep-state castophrenia which belies its own ribald gay mockery on live TV as not a single twinge of ****** attraction overtakes me in matriotic sardanapalian effrontery of a hollow but sadly hallowed vainglory of the hierodules that bury the coffers of patriotism in a sad LGBTQ graveyard of landmines that demonstrate a complete disregard of the nuclear family and should be decried as an outcry against redefined Christianity bolted to unshakable irrefragable beliefs in the constitution of man and women wed together in one monogamous flesh with the occasional cuddle of close tithes to the ******* of friendship as the slavery of sin in Leviticus 20:13 falls to the wayside because this patriotic lewdness is a vapid fatuous derangement that is a new low for the United States attempt to inoculate China from religious accord with the broader world and should be seen as a Chinese maskirovka worthy of the heaviest disdain and I will disavow America if it continues to bandy the tripwires of Chinese boondoggles under the American banner and pretend its pretense isn’t lagging under its own bletcherous abecedarian elementary fallacy of psychobabble oblivion of dark saturnine brusque termagants of tatterdemalion cloaks of the selfsame illusion of a desperation of China to wreck the United States economy and inseminate Florida, Arizona and Texas especially with the Coronavirus to swing the election in Biden’s favor with or without US Complicity to expedite the course of a virus which sees no resurgence in any other civilized country in the world while the heroic Russians, Germans, Israelis, French, British and true American Christians banish the barristers of bad taste as an acerbic poison on the wellsprings of a flagitious flag I would kneel for in the knells of disgrace if the pompous and completely inoculated missives of Buttigieg ******* continue to roam shepherded by deep state elitism to wreck the opportune moment of religious revival for petty reasons of chryselephantine gambit and gimcrack for institutionalized poverty which my ambition is to heal completely by sacerdotal deeds and consecrated prayers in the Lord whose peace surpasses the temporal despair of senectitude and comforts the grievances of the aggrieved because Galatians 6:7 is no more true than the fatuous display of muscular idiots waving American flags for turpitude rather than flogging very perverse Gay men in the streets which might be a more fitting outcome even though I must remove the plank in my own eyes first to see the irony of the detested. The doytin is no longer misguided by the nanciful derision of the vociferous clangor of the venal Gates mafia militia wrecking ball vaccination Bezos crew in Medina which is a mettle I can’t match when you own every citizen in the world in a few square miles of nesiote territory the denizens of conquest besieging religious sanctity with profane outbursts of corruptible linchpins on the public lynch of the strepsis of periblebsis that vitiates commonwealths of supreme sputtering regimented clairvoyant superlative alabaster wealth of the isangelous protectorate of the supreme God that supervises his careworn flock into the storge against the scourge of prosodemic stigma stained in bleeding heart liberal bathed tears of pseudoautochiria of Jim Morrison glaring in the face of the triads that Killed Him in the French Connection ******* of 71’ that outnumbered his hobohemia of loyal jewish bohemians livid in the rhapsody of nurture rather than enfeebled by the unfurled destiny of the Soul Kitchen he foresaw to his own pitiable demise at probably the hands of strangulation because no autopsy was performed. Although repetitive Transparent is a real anthem for oracular mystagogical transcendence a mandatory hymn for the ryseolagnus of the poetic verve of a new wave swooning the cordial progressive of atmospheric oneness with the primordial vine and the vintners that congregate on populated soil to feed a desolate destitution of synoecy or synaesthesis in the syncretic rhapsody of the subfocal ageotropic plenilune yet saturnine lugubrious toil of those that shovel through the albatross of ewnastique recapitulation to the same tired “Its got what plants crave, it’s got electrolytes” wernaggle of the hopelessly dismal inkburch of illiteracy crawling like a Hyacinth House on a vacant graveyard turf guarding the legionaires of rapid-fire zig-zags through a serpentine curvature of the ligaments of fabricated space warped through prismatic lenses of aperspectival time aspiring for ventriloquial enamored rapture upon Earthly parallax with tapestries of refulgent cascading wandering wonder that meditates its own lucubration with careworn tutelage against the wasms of dying oleaginous swelters of redshort opportunistic vultures swooping with Raven’s claws against the odometer of viewership surpassing records in unspeakable wisdom that crowds out the crambazzle toonardical wreffelaxity of the tiresome nuisance of ornery brawn muscled into a formidable triage in vengeance for Jim Morrison’s scripted eviction from Earth either by poisoned ****** or by  Asphyxiation by the French Connection avenging RFK and the cultural revolutions of 67’ in Haight Ashbury and the widespread percolation of treacheries fathomed to the most obvious degree in showmanship that it bristled as an affront so severe that even the patronage of Paris wasn’t immune to infiltration. His threnodies will always be sung with Triumph that the hallowed day of a monumental soul eluding the darkness of purgatory into the welcoming aborning light of the noontide progeny of eternal ataraxia awaited him in the stagecraft tub of blasphemy bellowing ratcheted warnings that not even the palatine grasp of a potentially divine being was inoculated from the deep dark chasm of nefarious skullduggery for boasting so widely and openly of his professed foresight to glamorous to be hidden as the beacon of virtuosity that galvanized a generation to flout the  futtocks of a keelhauled vision of sanitized purblind mortality that the fear of death rarely crossed the mind of the greatest fearless poet of an entire epoch that we may pray that Jim Morrison feasts in Heaven atoned for his sins and is at peace with God now. The substratose congeniality of marginalia on the outskirts of pederasty in cultural miscarriage owned by hierodules boundless in their lurid debaucheries that they might be remanded for being custodians of hostage to a prolific nescience  reaffirming their dying posture in the extinction of sardanapalian coverthrow of repcrevel camorras of ladronism and dacoitage always cauponate in imbibed throes of lewd AstroTurf outrecuidance glowering at sanctity with a bereaved psychobabble divorced from the purebred empiricism of true giants of industry that are almost insuperable in their extortion that their darkness in deeds of Kobe Bryants assassination do not go unpunished at least in Los Angeles. His untimely death as with many others registered on the Richter Scale because Come Clean perverts from Kansas City wanted San Francisco to win to clean the mops of janitorial revenge of the subturbary rickety foundations of a flailing moral compass so wicked in arbitrage that no subreption undetected would flourish among capernoited vigilantes of poached titanism and illuminism scarring the vestiges of enigmatic encroachment upon untouchables daring the frights of the Living Daylights of scurrilous rebukes so scathing in their menacing depiction of negligent bromides of token sacrilege and scarred sacrifice of a scarecrow example of how the prosodemic scourge of befuddled turgid pristine transmogrified heralds scampered away with pseudoautochiria that afflicted Jimi Hendrix suspiciously as well. My support is behind the justice warriors aggrieved by the Beirut explosion because they deserve a vindictive outcome that quells the quislings of atrocity of the popinjay beadledom of the unspeakable tremors of seismotic popples of unrest warranted in Lebanon the homeland of Keanu Reeves a saint among men for his peerless grace and agraceries of the smog of myth evanescence becoming perdurable swings of the humdingers of berated jaundice becoming the prerogative of the revenge of a city leveled to the ground by suspicious skullduggery and I am surprised they lay dormant for this long in their protracted grievance over the ghoulish frights of one of the most unheralded major events in recent memory. We need to highlight the plight of Lebanon so that world leaders are frightened even of intimidated people tranquilized by terror rather than enlivened by the propriety of redacted rejoinders that serve the ulterior mission of a Titanic bravery that never sinks beneath the sumptuary treacle of grombang grambazzle and supercherie of the supercalendar of poignant repined repose derailing an emolument to ecumenical solidarity. Lets highlight Lebanon as an inexcusable trespass worthy of some mighty reckoning if not a riveted war but at the very least a devastated twinge of outrage.
Through avenues
And boulevards
My toll road
Has had
All the forks
I could handle
Crossroads plenty
Sometimes off-road
Sometimes freeways
Dead ends more
Than expected,
But I'm still driving
Dreams my gas
And love my map,
Never lost
Because
I'm always in the middle
Of everywhere and nowhere,
Interstates and highways
In my veins
Smoking and drinking
The only tuneup
To grease the gears
In my head,
Always grinding
And slipping
But never missing
A mile,
As my odometer
Just keeps turning
Each day another
Street I get lost in...
APAD13 - 059 © okpoet
SweetCindy Nov 2013
Love:
Affection, Admiration, Lust, Adoration...
There are at least 65 different definitions of the word.
Feelings that inspire books of poetry or expressions of love unheard.

How is it measured?
Perhaps with a caliper  
to measure its depth and breadth.
Or with a sound meter
To measure the volume and decibel or the whispering of a breath.

Could you measure it in pints or cups or ounces in a measuring cup?
"My cup runneth over"
Can it be measured with a thermometer?
"I'm burning up."

How heavy is true love - can it be weighed on the scales?
Can you measure love with a compass - to what degree does love prevail?

Can a speedometer track the speed by which one falls in love?
Or an odometer measure the distance at which love can still be felt?

Can you use a syringe to limit your doses of love before it's lethal?
Can you attach a heart monitor and check how a lover's heart beats faster
or the health of their love - strong or weak?

Can the rhythm & harmony be counted out on a metronome
Can a polygraph test prove it is true?

Can the magnitude of love be measured using a microscope, binoculars or a telescope - maybe Hubble.  How does one know how to bring it into "focus"?

How mysterious that love is so indistinguishable, so immeasurable, so evasive & yet SO BIG!
Yet no one - except for God - knows the true measure of Love & its ability to heal, to hurt.
harlon rivers May 2018
Three thousand miles
navigating a storm
without drop of bad weather
Abacus odometer clicks
rotating forward ―  
spinning with the
world go round

Circling back down
a long and winding road;  
where unforgotten memories
were once searchingly explored,  
untrodden pathways
coursing way up north of alone
on the low highway
  
Now an aging shepherd
wonders without a compass ;
a vagabond deprived of light
from an ever blurring north star
Heart empty as a gas tank
with a broke down gauge,
running on fumes of hope
for unpromised tomorrows
Running from loneliness
just to be on the run

The gales of silence bellow
No feelings I can see ― lay me low

Wild-eyed daydreams
of Full sails billow out
through the windshield,
only hearing the unspoken
moments sigh restlessly ―    
The dull droning road rumble
re-sighs renunciatively,
a tired monotone voice
mimicking the loathe silent echo
wallowing in an
omnipresent hollow void
deriding unspoken chaos
between the passing centerlines ―

A frost heave pothole erupts,
with a leaf-spring rattling thud,
as a fleeting cloud of dust arises,
set adrift with the draught
headed off the east side
of the Alcan highway:
blown way outside the lines,  
towards the Alberta prairie

White knuckled steering wheel
held sway,  rolling down
a beckoning wilderness
          reincarnation; 
default reset button paused ― 
stuck in a moment ― until another jaw rattling
frost-heave pothole in the highway,
            jars it free

Leaving it all behind
like a sigh breathed
in a silence a heart has outgrown;
just a fleeting cloud of dissipating dust,..
         a paling whisper
the past seems to send forth
  like a fading last breath

Letting it all unfold to become what it is


     harlon rivers ... May 2018
       ... travelogue 2 of some
Only men remember the names of their cars,
the make and model and the year they got them.

They can recall the feeling on their thighs
from the cushioning of luxurious leather
as they slide in with a longing sigh.

There is no will power known to man
that can keep their fingers from caressing,
the steering wheel spinning in their fantasy drive.

Eyes scanning the dash to inspect the odometer
praising the low mileage of where she's been driven
fooling himself that he's the driver that counts.

If only they understood the true lust of leather
comes in the form of wedges or stilettos,
and not only noticed when they're kicked off.

Which, by the way, are Pradas,
sold by Neiman Marcus,
bought last month at Fifth and Grand.
LD Goodwin Feb 2013
A
tree
fell on
the roof
of my truck
early last Spring.
Put there by a tornado,
a very very powerful thing.
I am glad it landed on my truck,
I am so glad it landed smack dab there.
It had 480, 692 miles on the old odometer,
the engine was so tired and all the seats threadbare.
You’d think I would be mourning it's unplanned passing,
but when the Insurance man came with a 3,300 dollar check,
although I knew my demolished truck was only worth 700 bucks,
I took it
and said
what the
heck !!!!!
Harrogate, TN  February 2013
HR B Nov 2012
I heard someone utter the words,
"Sober is just another word for thirsty."

And I did not believe her.

Until my throat started itching,
the moment I stopped the stitching
of molecules that altered me,
turned me around,
I had been treading backwards.
My body ached with vacancy,
my hands trembled with an appetite
that played the part of
of my hands on the wheel.

It is an agonizing contradiction,
to be weighed down by nothing,
every drop that plunged into my mouth,
every plume that escaped
the narrow path to my lungs
was a nail in my soles,
keeping me firm to the ground,
I became stagnant,
only dipping under the influence
to ask for what I thought
was needed assistance.

My temporarily
stainless bloodstream
bred venomous ideas
while the darkest parts of me quivered
with insatiable hunger,
and made a show of it
with my fluttering fingertips.

I had dreamt
on nearly every day of the week
with my eyes open,
of clawing my out of this
canyon of flesh
I had been trapped inside of,
the echoes of an empty heart
were enough
to keep me awake for days,
witnessing a continuum,
of sunset,
sunrise,
sunset,
sunrise,
yet the sky never brightened.

The darkness was addictive,
I became a ****** for the murky,
and I have been buried.

Underneath habits
that stifle me.

Smoke that leaves my lungs
no room
for new air.

There is an invisible layer
of soot
caked onto my skin
falling from my nights spent
drunk and unaware
of which direction
I was growing.

My odometer
slowly screams
for me to stop,
to reverse,
begin again.

My shower head works hard.
It tries to bathe me in rebirth.
The shampoo bottle whispers
with its shape,
asks me to sing again.
Why did I stop singing?

Because I no longer enjoyed the sound of my voice.
I stopped believing in it.
Drenched in half truths
and uncut delusions,
my tongue was poison.

I had denied the beautiful methods
of me.
And employed the ugly.
I gave a managerial promotions
to the mean
the spitting mad
and the angry
slices of my heart.

But I will dig through
these concrete slabs
of toxic routines.

And I will take back my beauty
and revive my love.
And become who I am,
climbing out of who I have been.
Jason Apr 2021
A garden trowel in a patch of irradiated weeds

An odometer in an endless maze of MickeyD's

An encyclopedia in a pawn shop full of tweakers

A love song on a boombox with broken speakers

May I present several examples of useless things with nothing to do

Now if you think those're bad, you should see what I'm like...


© 04/09/21 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
Dan Hemsath Jun 2010
1

I will drive you to the beach today,
Because winter has outstayed its welcome.
We have no tolerance for rude guests.
After all, it’s been a pair of months since
We had our last snowball fight.

We can undress to the least amount of
Decent clothing the law permits.
We will take sandals that clap our heels
Uniformly with our strides through the sand.

I’ve already packed our wicker picnic basket.
We will have ham and cheese on white bread,
Because we both agree peanut butter is unpleasant to smell.

We’ve cuddled all winter long to keep warm.  Now,
We want to hold each other for the innocent pleasure
Spring promises.  Now, we’re going to the beach.

2

She and I held our anticipation together
With every rotation of our odometer.
We—together—would enjoy the simple pleasure
Of watching the overbearing nines
Give way to a fresh thousand.

She pretended the AM stations
Received alien transmissions at the ends
Of the dials.  When we listened, we heard music.

She had the idea to buy one another
New bathing suits.  Now, I wear too short blue trunks
With green dots, speckling me like an ill duck.

3

Skipping, and kicking up sand with uncommon grace,
The sun began to set as she pranced around
Our fire.  The blaze was burning out, as the sky
Took the light away.  I could only barely make out
The purple of her new one-piece, that so starkly
Contrasted with her pale legs.

As the sun almost hid beneath the west, like a fawn
Her silhouette casually strolled my way.
She held her head to the stars, presenting
All of her neck.  The only sounds we heard
Were the tide and her toes crunching sand.

She stopped, just toe lengths in front of me,
Arching her head back, as if deep in thought.
Her mouth opened like a growing crater
And when, in her shadow, I joined her skyward stare,
We—together—both watched the Moon come out.
Tyler Derksen Oct 2011
So many miles and feet to go,
I'm covering kilometers.
The petal's to the metal,
And I'm worried about my odometer.
The speeds to fast,
For the pace of life.
Continuously avoiding,
This kind with simple strife.

A mile so far,
A mile so close.
Your only a mile away.

The race to find desires,
I grow tired.
For something built for downfall,
I retire.
The goal for something newer,
Is acheived.
For the truth that drives my soul,
I turn to Thee.

Euphoria, Gloria!
And all I can think of for this story is... You!

A miles' so far,
But yet's, so close... Worth running to!
To find a home,
Where life's dreams may roam!
One heart to last a lifetime,
One beat to last one mile.
Thats all I need to give the rest of them,
To my one and all!

Because there's so many miles in the world,
And only one of them is the longest.
And only this one is the closest.

A mile so far,
A mile so close.
Your only a mile away.

Be still,
Turned into an expression of.

You're miles away, and...
I miss you.
Your across the room,
And I...
Under a bold lettering of pinholes
  A night time sky cast in early essence
Lay - infog.the remains of a broken bell
  Hidden in a lost hum of silence,
   The first cries- a grebe or grieve..
For the time to rest our eyes is over
The blue starts to show again, slowly
Whats waiting in an envelope,
Fortune cookie type numbers odometer
Coffee
Our radio kicking back into itself
Folk take buses , trains, automobiles
Some walk- others sleep
And i . Breathe
And cough
Put my shoes back on
Come to a stop to-
Wait in line for a cigar
Go home and climb sore, not soar
Aching- into the only bed i long for
My dreams
3000 miles ago
I shut off the radio
Thinking of you,
Plenty of bumps on this road
To jostle memories
Of when you used to sit
In the seat next to me
Skipping through songs
Until you found the one
That would make you sing
Like a free bird
Canary in the wind;
Spirited butterfly
In the rear view mirror,
And now
Even in the silence
I hear the echoes
Of all the chorus
Of all your laughter,
If I close my eyes
I can still see
Your hair shifting
In the hurried breeze
And I wish I could
Reset the odometer
In my head
Switch out the alternator
In my heart...
APAD13 - 117 © okpoet
Jenny Cassell Oct 2009
The miles melt beneath the tires
As the odometer climbs higher
Towards my next oil change.

The sun shines in a cloudless sky
As the green fields go sailing by,
Their cows oblivious to my passing.

The needle on the gauge sinks lower
As the gasoline powers the motor,
And I make my way home.
I'm not a pretty girl,
But I don't expect you to notice that.
You see you easily turn left,
When I turn right, at the last second.
I have issues with my odometer,
And there are cracks in my peripheral vision.
There are burn marks between my thighs,
And my veins are pockmarked,
From the deprecation of free running love.
And when I play the piano,
When I can't,
I expect you to be near,
Placing a hand on my high held shoulders,
Decompressing the weight of a thousand clouded blue skies,
And imprinting a lifetime of security into my collarbone.
You see I have razors in my oesophagus,
Words spit out like dying blood,
And I feel like I'm dying from the inside out,
And, and, who can carry this load?
There is nothing but a mile in me,
To carry this, these feelings,
Because sometimes my legs don't work, and,
The 'Trying' is hard.
And my pelvis is tilted from the burdens I bear,
Nothing fills the void.
You see, where my heart is,
Is a storm, a tsunami contained
In a tri-vector of trust, fear and hope,
And it cuts my hair short,
It makes my tongue poisonous
And my eyes innocent.
You see I'm not that pretty,
But I don't expect you to understand that,
When you don't understand the times that I am.

You see my eyes hold a thousand memories of love,
And within these thighs burns passion;
My shoulders carry the weight of those that I have saved,
My oesophagus has eaten a thousands words of pain,
And my tongue has survived the most toxic kiss.
My hair is short because I wanted to lose the weight of,
Who it was they wanted me to be,
My legs, my ****** legs carry it all,
They just, keep, going, going, going, gone.
My heart, the tsunami, is entirely made of passionate storms,
That will consume you with love,
If you let it.
My pelvis rocks slowly in candlelight to carefully rock,
To sleep, the burdens i bear,
To music only a piano can make,
And through my veins courses courage, determination and strength......

You see I'm not pretty,
Because you don't see,
How astoundingly beautiful, I am.
Mara Siegel Mar 2013
I am a well-maintained automobile,
battery charged and tires rotated,
brake system probably needs to be adjusted and my drive-shaft may need to be realigned
but otherwise
you could probably make a decent profit off of me.
My blood is thick motor oil, and
my scent, a lit cigar
ever-burning down to an infinite ****.
I'd probably go for about $10,000 (if you turned back the odometer 20,000 miles).
wordvango Nov 2017
never been there
West Virginia
or anywhere like your heart

covered bridges
ancient ridges
all those lonely miles

between the coasts
I wonder what every mile
every smile is like

a coal miner's daughter
miles tick
the odometer

as I traverse
states
many ladies addresses

all forgotten as
I go now with only
one destination
Frisk Nov 2014
"you symbolize living here, and that's why some
days i miss you more than others. some days, i
can forget about you. mostly, it's next to impossible."

then again, chasing you felt like racing to the hospital.
as the odometer rose, the pain inside my chest only
grew from moderate to severe. the safe haven was
the hospital room where you would stabilize and
make your patients feel better. the car was going
eighty five in a sixty line. no matter how far we got,
it seemed like the cops were at every corner waiting.

the speeding tickets would only hold me back for
so long until the pain would become something
only a legendary warrior of battle could ignore.

and when i finally got to the hospital, no patients
were getting let in. i'm still in the waiting room
where the pain is next to impossible to ignore.

you symbolize this hospital room. this is what
i waited for to ease my pain, but at what cost
when i got a lollipop and a smiley face sticker
for my speeding tickets and the unbearable wait?

- kra
YOU KNOW I STILL MISS YOU RIGHT? YOU KNOW I DON'T HATE YOU AND I WANT YOU TO BE ABLE TO TRUST ME BUT IS IT THAT HARD TO GET CLOSE TO ME?
JovialPup Jun 2018
What is your mileage?
What distances have you carried yourself?

Tell me of the roads.
Of summer evenings spent gliding on smooth, black asphalt. Tell me about the sounds, harmonizing with the warm thrum of your heart.

Tell me of the beaten paths.
Of midday walks on cracked, uneven sidewalks teeming with life, giving way to budding blades of green, and dandelion dreams.
Tell me how the sun stung your skin, how soft breezes whispered at the nape of your neck.

Share with me the memory of winter mornings past.
Of the biting chill kissing your cheeks as your feet trudged through soft white expanses.
Of the cold that set in your bones as you waited for the bus, and the fat wet flakes that fell in flurries.

Tell me all of it.
About the freedom that spring brings, the buzz of bees and possibilities. The gorgeous lull at 10am and the swell of your soul.

Tell me the way the falling leaves of autumn trees speak to you. How their crunch tickles your mind.
Tell me how October skies dazzle you, while the stars shine, reflected in your eyes.

Spend with me a moment of intimacy. Show me the things beyond the windows to the soul.
Share with me what your odometer reads.
Let me read the map of you.
Started off as a thought in the car, kind of ran away from me as I wrote.
Raven Jun 2018
I feel drained, empty on gas.
There is no more adrenaline in me
To push the pedal forward,
To feel the surge of energy in my veins
As my speed rises up, up the odometer.
I am coasting,
Stuck at thirty-five miles per hour,
Flattening my foot down
In an attempt to feel a rush,
Yet remaining the same as before
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Should I turn to the nearest guardrail?
Stop completely and give up?
I am afraid they will revive me,
And I will continue on
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Now stuck knowing,
That there is nothing I can do
To change my course.
Martin Narrod May 2017
I want to make room inside me for you
A piano solo misses you softly
No stranger could closely close unto
It's a strain of the fortune never closing never folding. Events unfold me, a hostel membership where I can never go. A brief reminder from that stranger to never leave my house in just a robe.

I want to make a space inside you,
A place for me and all the things that never grow. My cement stains the grace within you, then falls against your legs beside that home you've never known. Instead of pain my paint is thinning, while parents shake their heads while you've spent so many years alone.

Hold my face like the beginning. A devil doll, white skin, blue eyes and little legs and quiet moans. On a park bench where we went living, no words, no places hands would never go. Inside the rehab where I found you, the splinters and the quill we wrote each other letters late into the night. Until the space inside us melted, I snuck you out, I hid you in my scars and wrote you into bedroom. Bestowing me your skin and miranda, your record player gave plus ones for parties we never threw. My odometer met the sidewalk's end, my blackened threads. Where I woke alone in my robe.

I want to save the space inside us.
I want to keep the room where we used to often go.
And if I could keep you,
I'd keep my mouth shut instead of breaking up our home.
Little death spread onto silence, the ails of *** and flesh, where hands and eyes could lull. I've lit a million little matches, I've set a dozen fires to guide me, but everywhere it seems there's nothing left to glow.
That is what I have got
This mileage leash pulled very tight
It is ok
I just won't come home tonight
I will save my mileage for a morning return trip
But then again you will be alone
I hope you enjoy all the Control
you think you have
Because if I really wanted to I could take a cab
Go ahead and take my keys
Nothing I ever do will ever please you
Everything I do ever do goes past your eyes
You see nothing good, you pick only negative
That is why today divorce is my objective
Setting my odometer back to zero
just made you my personal hero
Now I will drive straight to the court house
YOU pumpkin will turn right back into a mouse
Cinderella is leaving your castle
Living with you is too much hassle
In 55 miles I will be gone
leaving you nobody to pick on
Enjoy yourself defeating ways
While I POSITIVELY
Go on my way
gothicc Oct 2016
odometer, speedometer
juxtafuckingposition
all these big words don't mean **** to me
what's your mission?
animosity
doesn't define me
'cause I'm not a dictionary
and best believe I'm not listening
to your irrelevant commentary
to your bullshitting
the clock is ticking
no time for tocking (talking)
every previous line and everything after
that's all me
bypass the gossiping and talking
mike May 2021
All this poetry
Walkin around
Lookin for someone to pretend to be Host.

Its not me.

Im not the Odometer of Madness.

I dont know the beast.
I didnt set the roast.

   I am the beast cooking.

You'd be too if you'd stopped looking.
Mike Hauser Jun 2018
leaning on the fender
of someone else's dream
am i really in here
or just pretending to be
not ready yet to wake up
please don't pinch me

the owner of the dream i think
looks at me and smiles
rust on my britches
this dreams been here awhile
i glance at the odometer
it's got a lot of miles

no wait, he's a dream salesman
asks if i'm here to buy
says this is one of the best of them
go ahead and kick the tires
i go ahead and kick the tires
this guy is not a liar

now i'm in my very own dream
spinning down the road
never really had a dream
i could call my very own
90 miles an hour
safely tucked in my bed at home
(alternately titled: jump starter for clunky, *****,
quirky, xyz mechanic wanted in tow tow -
chassis what I mean?)

As the proud graduated
honorably rolled 2009 Hyundai
Sonata vehicular property
belonging to a mister
and missus Matthew Harris
(fifty shades of gray

if that makes any difference),
I experience nervous
rack and pinion quaking
shimmying, whining, and zipping
also twittering, shuttering,
linkedin kickstarting powertrain

even before chugging,
huffing, puffing, spewing...
like magic dragon along boulevard
of broken automotive debris
regarding upcoming
emission/inspection

due before stroke of midnight
August 31st, 2019
last year this time...
aye yie yie...
oil my pan, a major overhaul
comprising driver side suspension

engendered shock,
I...could not absorb
even now, yours truly strut er ers...,
and doth recoil scary undertaking
smattering of months thereafter,
(I wheely cannot engine ear

recalling exact amount of time)
what in the name of... car nation...
then... driver side rear brake assembly
required replacement
giving said owners run off
Golden Gate Bridge for their

newfound moneyless rendered situation
(ex post facto new battery got installed)
sorry to zap at greased lightning speed
and (mane lee) take lion's share
of social security electronic deposit,
(what with fuel tank filler ups,

and insurance - no matter
Nationwide always on my side)
understandable decent folks
would prefer to steer me
off cliff side, but
my dear friend SEPTA

doth not cam into hinterland
namely Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
thus imposing prohibitive dollars
tooling them around
mainly medical appointments,
cuz at ten plus years old,

and odometer clicking away...
mechanical malfunction,
could diesel lee, axle dent tully
risk life and limb,
thus park my exhausted words
this fellow gas guzzling,

motoring, rotating tire
screeching hot rods...
ole clunker auto know,
but hates tappet cob Bosch,
and get cha piston off...,
but tread carefully,
and curry big stick shift.
Of "permanent" Sleep

Abbott, nothing beats the
     immortal heavenly reincarnation
     after mortality odometer
     unexpectedly set to zeros
preparing deceased
     body, mind and spirit,
     as I eternally rest in peace
     asthma terminally ill self pitched

     forever and anon deathly yoyos,
no matter rigor mortis froze
poised position aye chose
with limbs akimbo
     as final seconds didst close
before transcendent
     shimmering light rose,
     this sentient being

     now en route to bro's
and twisted sistah,
     I pleasantly heard angels
     counting black crows,
thus, aye beamed delightfully,
and joyus lee, when innocently
     proudly dashed of this prose
during, what seemed an infinite

    walk to the gallows,
nonetheless, an everlasting
     slumber awaited compared
     to a brief, yet
     temporal quality repose,
now soul to keep
     will join rank and file
     standing straight as arrows

of Harris Hessian brigade,
     (though unusual, untimely,
     and unnatural death,
     I am NOT opposed
     attested by this germane guy),
     than...,undoubtedly
     much more refreshing
     albeit prolonged dose,

where the corporeal self goes
into permanent deep slumber,
     yet impossible to regale,
     and add depose
(of beatitude), until
     til the end of timed minutes
     after eyes close,
where eyelids shut tight

     like miniature steel trap doors,
     and subconscious self flows
into deepest forever
     rapid eye movement
     from head to toes
sublimating forever into
     vividly profound, albeit
     immediately forgotten dreams

     representing lifetime aiming
     to get deceased expose
zing for all the world to see
     how non wakeful state grows
absent heroic measures
     prolonging awful existence,
     whew did close
subsequently brows

out, asper misguided
     wrongful death sentence, aye
     whole heartedly embraced
at long last NO more
     struggles, aye suppose,
NOR fending off grogginess,
     when living times predominantly
     felt many futile attempts witnessing

     chronically tired state, whar
     this plain being oft times
     took **** NON
     fatal Kamikaze nose
dive finding (not ready
     for after life prime time player
     unpracticed to prolong fatigue pros),
say ick lee, hence physical self

     dove right back dwelling
     amidst sleepy hallows
presently able (I cane)
     cease worrying stave off
     indomitable drowsiness succumbing
     to overwhelming tiredness,
which occasionally (nee daily) warranted
     necessary advantageous measures

     intravenously access
     sing caffeinated jolt
     to get a headstart, jumpstart,
     and kickstart from
     sipping morning "Joe," Blows
i.e. coffee than marveling
     as "FAKE" energy
     noel hunger grows!
Aha - argh... oh my dog...
don't mind me muttering, eh?

Earlier today (May 5th, 2020),
I forget thee exact hour
found me utterly beside mice elf,
matter of fact even at this moment,
yours truly doth feel mad at himself
cuz Aldi's merchandise (mostly food)
needed to be restored to their proper shelf.

Upon further contemplation
me thought quite futile
and pointless to expend energy subsequently nill...
best swallow figurative bitter pill
and maximize opportunity to take quill

in an effort to salvage sanity lest poetaster
schrieks with voice noticeably shrill,
thus if curious to discover visa vis
motive poem got crafted read further if ye will.

Electronic Benefits Transfer (EBT) card, i.e.
formerly known as food stamps
I never secured into wallet for safe keeping,
mine minor ohm my dog oversight surged thru me
(as if charged with a bajillion amps),

said aforementioned revelation occurred
while standing in a long line at Aldi's
attested whereby other patrons stood
pipsqueaks in tandem with their gramps
which snaked all the way to "5th and Japip."

Pointless regarding yours truly,
ordinarily insightful and adept
(in short, a generic and garden variety
local ******) who schlepped
courtesy rubber express
(think shoe leather) - except
sneakers adorned little (mine) feet
thus imagine hypothetical inept

hobo or ***** his bindle
slung over shoulder
traversing countless miles,
cuz an odometer he (I) kept
indicated staggering and sprawling distance,
sometimes on all fours (faux pas) he crept
hence no way would exhausting effort
be made for nought.

Riches to rags summarizes bio in short
former spendthrift and prodigal son
with lip service paid toward quaffing port,
whence reduced to penury, a courtship wasted
mein kampf of pennilessness insync with sport
despite feted happy occasion,
I discreetly did cavort
unbridled shenanigans bedding young nymphs

entailed minimal effort,
when lavish catered affair slated to celebrate
one lovely slip of a lass,
she (no rookie) beguiled
stealthily intended marriage to abort,
nonetheless gaining handsome dowery
with quintessential private escort.

We both acquired deserved comeuppance
therefore allowing, enabling and providing
me opportunity to attend contra dance
by going stag
wowed by gamut of coeds

moost who with subtle nonverbal cues did entrance
oft times imagining traipsing across France
courtesans attending every private need
ah... so much for castles in the sky
invisibly concocted via
strong swooshing dominant arm with lance.

In reality scratching out what began as prime
motive to detail forgetting ebt card
intending poem to communicate
spending more',n dime
times one hundred

hemorrhaging checking account
as momentary lapse of reason with rhyme
as often occurs time and again
poem takes fabulous convolutions
squeezed like figurative lemon going from
ridiculous to the sublime.
Aims to trigger cerebral ******;

Other terms for said phenomena are
"brain tingles" and "head ******."
This sensation is described as a pleasant,
even euphoric, tingling warmth and/or feeling
of relaxation that comes in waves across
the head, neck, and spine.
This phenomenon is often triggered
by soothing auditory
and/or visual experiences.

Though puzzled regarding
the minor biochemical
or perhaps neurological mystery
underlying tumbling, plummeting,
and nosediving libido of mine,
nevertheless, I blessedly accept reality,
whereby once raging testosterone
figuratively analogous to former gushing spigot
of hormonal secretion
now (yes pun intended) runs bone dry
and (contrary to any fallacy),
NOT sorely missed!

Yours truly (me) surmises absent *** drive
linkedin to side effects of one or more
of the nine prescription medications
taken to offset anxiety, dysthymia,
palmar hyperhidrosis (sweaty palms),
obsessive compulsive disorder, and
restless leg syndrome)
subsequently an aspiration arose to arouse
at least one unsuspecting reader
to experience mental excitement
courtesy yours truly

(mine) poetic and prosaic foreplay,
especially concocting double entendres
that titillate Wernicke's area, i.e.
a critical language area
in the posterior superior
temporal lobe connects
to Broca's area via a neural pathway.
Wernicke's area is primarily involved
in the comprehension.

Historically, this area
associated with language processing,
whether it is written or spoken.

Unlike setting up blind dates for myself
more than half my lifetime ago
(with long sought after ambition, expectation,
and utilization answering call of the wild
read for tactile sensory sensual experience)
courtesy, Craigslist, Philadelphia Magazine,
Single Book lovers, or other mediums
to post or answer
personal classified advertisements;
nowadays, the quest when responding
to friendship requests thru Facebook
ala Messenger sofa now couched
with intent for platonic familiarity.

If/when words masterfully baited
usage of English Language
without recourse to any rhyme nor reason
admittedly, gloriously, and undoubtedly created
upsurge of... palpable excitement,
though medical experts invariably
would most likely challenge
if I actually averred (honest to dog)
coalition, fusion, integration,

et cetera of genitalia
between consensual adults in general,
and oral ******* in particular execrated
from fervid, lurid,
or perfervid fantasies of mine;
methinks attaining the big "O" oversaturated,
cuz in my paradigm,
no erogenous zones need get sated
to attain contentment eliciting joie de vivre.

An intense passion runs rampant
when reading and
to a slightly lesser degree writing
about pleasurable sensations
affecting the mind imbibing
heavenly essences helped along,
when heightened state of mental acuity
brought about thru restful sleep
coaxed along with five hour energy drink,
or other caffeinated beverage.

Exercising on the stationary bicycle
(no way to determine distance traversed
since I removed odometer and other
sundry mechanisms), nevertheless
key objective regarding cardiological workout felt
cause resistance to push pedals
set to highest tension, generates mild euphoria,
which approximation of nirvana
heightened while concentrating reading out loud
hearing thought provoking material.
S Liam Spradlin Dec 2019
Meeting you like this

The road smelled like
Dust and maple syrup. The
Wind blew one direction,
Then the next. Cigar ashes
Had burned random patterns
In the floor board. A few busted
Springs under the cloth seat
Made the ride uncomfortable
At times. The only excitement
So far was an Appaloosa galloping
Widely along side an overgrown fence.
Between the curves in the road I
Kept glancing down at the odometer
Just take make sure  I was still
Moving. I had been chasing the sun
All afternoon,  but now it was dropping behind
A mid west hillside . The air now smelled
Like burnt oil and wheel grease. I had noticed
That the radio station had faded and only static
Churned out the speaker.  If I was lost, it
Was because I chose to be. A low tire squealed
As I left the Last Chance diner . 2 miles up the road,
My crooked high beams flashed over a figure
Wearing a tie dye top and  a thin wrinkled
Skirt. Knotted hair hung down past her shoulders
And she held a bandana in her hand. I rumbled
Closer. She stuck out her thumb .
badwords Jul 29
Where does our mind wander,
For all the dreams we've squandered?
Where do our thoughts rest,
With nothing left to test?

When we are only young
Ideas are never unsung
Temperament, time, older.
Proclivities grow bolder

Less adventurous, per se
Life in a ritualistic way
Tempered and more object
Analyze the subject

Many years, under the hood
Odometer miles, some good
We are now at this place
To look our choices in the face

And answer:

'Has it been a good ride?'

— The End —