Plenary veils...infinitely unveiling the bride--
her face will never be seen, ovoid porcelain,
angling candles...upon a UFO altar.
The relentless Hand that pinches and lifts her
veils...has seen her face, and kissed her lips
so many times--that her infinite unveiling...
is love's ****** regress...a deathless imagining
made real.

Finger soldered brilliant new gold band
proudly circling nuptial sun
orbiting eclipsing the clans
completing a family connexion
with others ovoid chipped but fondly funded
wearing thin on hardened blue veined hands
some waving some proclaiming all belonging.

There is only you and I
One in the same..

We had decided to descend from the sky
To experience this game

To abide by our etheric blueprints
Bound to each others' name, eyes and flame

A reflection so unique
Only you and I can admire
              
     One in the same..

On an evolutionary path
Self discovery is to find
Union with God

But merging,
Et de fusionner avec toi,
IS Union with God

                                  **
|VB|

In Africa the lissome eucalyptus leaves
Sharply ovoid, a washed celadon,
Turn their silvery backs, yield, bend with
The promise of on-coming rain.
You taught me this
Sign, this tree-voiced prediction, long ago, among
The tenderly sloping, densely viridian hills
And heavy, somnolent, rolling fogs of Iowa.
And so, I turn my back. I yield, oh, how I yield.
But, you didn’t foresee, didn’t know
How, much later, my heart would
Flake and flay
How great sheets of myself
Would peel, would fold
Would slough off just like
The bark, the back of those massive whitened eucalyptus trunks, you
Didn’t, couldn’t foretell how this long union
Scars, clings, sinks so deep, tattoos itself so that eucalyptus-like, despite
Repeated rain lashings, leaf bowings, droopings and sun decimated leavings
My heart, my soul sheds, molts, reforms, renews itself and just as those
Sharpened leaves arch and curve and arc and sway
So I bend, I turn, I give in, I give in
To the chafing wind, to the scouring hurt, to
The on-coming African
Rain.

He knew it would take muchos huevos to play,
but his game plan was good, and he’d be okay.
Cause his were as big as the black or the bay

patrolling with tabletop backs that were stacked
with corrupt, hairy pigs who loved to talk smack,
and who bristled with weapons to fend off attack.

And, though the opiners would say it was rash,
he never could stand it to sit on his ***.
So, he hurled his armored gelatinous mass

with a splurge of insouciance at all those legs.
The guards slung pejoratives – bent to fillet
his ovoid trajectory into a splay

of malfeasance – but their slashes only caught air
as he flew like a mortar past their stony glare
and that bold lettered sign he had read as a dare:

“Tis Forbidden To Sit On the Wall” -- the King

'                         ^  
'                        /  \
'                       /    \
'                      /<o>\
'                     / _      \
'
I heard there was a secret orb
it's ovoid laid and it’s for the horde
but they don’t really care for vaccines voodoo.

Well it goes like this just close your fist
a minor thrall of the aged list
the muzzled crowd reposing hallelujah

hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah

Your mate was wrong so you were aloof
you know she’s scathing about your proof
her baulking of your insight over threw you.

She lied to you which wasn’t fair
she spoke alone and she didn’t care
and sipped more ale her hebrewed hallelujah

hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah

You say I look as if in pain
I'm pinched as salt not in a grain
But if I am then silly, what’s it to you.

There’s a craze at night all round the world
to some it matters we’re not a herd
the whole of thee a token hallelujah.

Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah

I beat my breast your out of touch
I will not kneel I will not slouch
I am a sleuth so I cannot let them fool you.

And even if it all goes wrong
I’ll stand before the mighty throng
with nothing in my veins nor hallelujah

Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah.




Ryan O'Leary 17/08/2020.

Contrasted
Occlude
Nutation
Turntable
Reclusive
Apathy
Portmantea­u
Oedipus
Soliton
Inerrant
Tricorn
Inculcate
Ovoid
Nowhere

:/noun/ käntrəpəˈziSHən; A relationship between two indications when a Thing with affirmation of another are also a negation of the affirmation in the opposition of the other.

it was a kiss with coyote’s embouchure, with the river’s casket, with gelified venom, with the apron’s appetite, with compact distortion around portable lip cuffs, with trite lies liquified, with mud clumps in mercury clasps, with spit woven theses, with unwound ovoid wellsprings, with sun-hidden shadows, with the frayed nighttime squish, with closeted hand dice tossed, with chance in the fistfuls, with detuned static and bellyaching bramble, with losing yourself, with entropic dissociation, with fleeting tokens, with sayonara stamps, with honey pumping nozzles, with inside out stratus veins, with the pain of history tucked in the trail fringe, in the pebbles kicked outward, with fried abandon, with seatless balconies, with the touch of an insect unexpected while straddling a brick wall with electric grout, with eyelashes trimed by the wind, with patterns passed, with breathless shapes and shaping dimensions, without the taste of lavender or the mosquito’s lonely thirst, with time passing, with time passing, with time passing, without passing time, with the sky dumping elected dead bodies, with spoonfuls of miracles, with starvation kicking, with moon swells forgetting the fomite sea, with weather inside, with dry mouth drawer memories, with omens and herrings with teeth and tongue.

Parable of Torvisco: “branched among the thickets of ignorance, their foliated stems speak of the white blood that has fallen from the souls that resiliently endured the solitude of their limbs and who enjoyed their ruddy bark and the pubescence of the Daphnes that gawked at over them turned into Laurel, she being a spatulate flower of Vernarth, like Apollo elliptically adoring her with the underside, and something fuzzy hiccuping over the teachings of someone who is not loved. Being the Daphniform Torvisco, of appressed retractable sepals that are pronounced on the laurels in Dafnomancia of the pubescent Torvisco on the first ******* of Daphne, leaving the ovoid crusts near the foliate stolon of the grayish spurs on the fins of the Pelecaniformes Petrobusjos, leaving the Malloga the lice. of their plumage that they are eaten by laurels, as a carminative antispasmodic digestive degassing, in the flora of the intestinal Torvisco engulfed by their pride and eagerness of nobility.

Parable of Sacred Bud: “first the animals and the buds that emanated from the inflorescences were venerated, as gods of the occult sprouting from the long-lived saps being miscellaneous family taxonomies that were consecrated to gods trapped by the mists of their foliage, over the colonies of other species with outbreaks of bud expiration in the distant buds of the leaves, towards non-renewable woody plants, for critical tempering to germinate on the dogma of woody herbaceous plants, as sacred shoots of ferns without their cell walls. Here is the tree of evil and good, sprouting one of each but as hyper-sprouting, which deceived the eyes of those who wanted to cut it because of the human snooping in bloom, on the shores of Medea's hands, growing on the shore of a headless river deity, who was not yet poisoned by an Olympian gesture, agreeing to have long fragrant and rosy hair on the pubescent teenagers who dared to call themselves Medea "

(Prócoro redoubling his sinister imagination of the Rosé of the Witches and grotesques, he was still ecstatic at the expectation of the extensions of the Rosary of the Evangelista San Juan simulated in the crowned Torvisco, for purposes of the genetics of the world in the hands of pubescent bodies that were embodied in the bodies and their stolons, like retrograde shoots going towards the spheres of the pelecaniform Petrobus and its little lice that resided in it as vital alarms. Structuring thus, the grazing that ran from its wings with vigorous fine pediculosis, which was abstracted from the scalps Medea decked out in megalomania in the sprouts of the Enchanted Torvisco)

Every four years at the
beginning of the Rugby
World Cup, I boil an egg,
    put it on my tee and
      convert to Islam.

We all have secrets
Our insecurities that we feel we must hide
Some hide behind mask of jokes and smiles
Or a pretty face
However many hide behind a screen this screen that we hide behind to where I don’t know your name and you don’t know mine
We refuse to let our lives show the real emotions we all feel at some point because it’s so much easier behind a screen
I’m no exception I wish I could say what I think without second thoughts of what if’s
I hide behind a fake smile and laugh cracking jokes that I use as a defense to ovoid feeling
But behind a screen where I don’t know you and you don’t know me it’s so much easier to say what I think and to think about what I say
I have no face on the internet no meaning yet I feel as words can carry my meaning from my fake laugh and jokes into the real me that can shown all the insecurities
Form me to you my screen

Pound:

"the age demanded an

Image of its accelerated

grimace."

Onoma:

an ovoid, yokeless plenum.

(fissures of negative space

playing chicken.)