Might I travel through time to see the crulety?
Of what we define as death or human mortality
That Limits our joys and the Godly given totality!!!
It keeps us in fear of the mythical divinity
Regardless of not knowing to which divine is superiority.
Leading us to rage, grief, and pain with helpless tragedy
Which we might even come to enjoy its collateral beauty.
We are told that time would heal the wounds with its mystery
Pouring rains of happiness to the unforgotten memories
Instead it flows like a wind shaking the pleasant acceptability.
I'd say time is a rutheless illusion full of ambiguities
that make you question why on earth would Gilgamesh seek immortality!?

ich wagen hören ein grunz?! dare i hear an oink?! what is reibeninschmutz(?), if not: to rub in mud? what, if not: a platindeutschesprechen reply, ya? mischlingkeltesachse... scheisseblut, die alle betreffen englischspreschenwelt; two-tonne / teu-ton graft.*

man is not predisposed in
playing the cuckoo,
only woman,
   lays her foundation
upon the grounding of sand,
when it should be made of
stone...
no man man would lay claim
to a cuckoo foetus,
only a woman, might...
  and that's what ontology spreaks,
if one if to be darwinian about
it, rutheless about it...
never rub another man's
rhubarb...
         never lay claim to a woman's
promiose,
   given the fact she deceived
you,
   and hear not the opinion of the pleb:
for the pleb knows its place,
all too well...
      leave the pleb to be guided
by democracy,
  and lace your heart's
concern with the single
most importamt lesson:
as taught by your great-grandmohter:
how to tie your shoelaces;
now you mock me,
    as i  now i get to
yo-yo your jaw-line,
                rubbing it into dirt!
try me.