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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.
Julian Jul 2022
The ruddy ailments of the dirigisme are twirling with the shimmering tilt of photosynthesis as they gabble with the gabelle of internecine brackish synthesis that aims for rejoinder rather than maleficence. The glowering malice of combustible hatred invokes the brusque remontant immortelles of perceived compunction broadsided by the reluctant generativity of a benumbed time revived by the agitprop of coagulation that leads to thrombosis that spells the doom of the people that see the caesarapropism as the negligent century of destiny. Although I falter in these words because of a potvaliant mistake I glower with the hatred of combustible envy that turns malice sour into a recyclable engine to dethrone the orthopraxy that belies indoctrination because we are whittled into swords of deliverance rather than the caustic prevarications of the sharpened engines of authoritative bandied provocation. Defiance is measured in gingerly exercise rather than foothot hamshackles of the clepsammia of aggrandized composts of belittled judiciary entrapment that squanders the resourceful energy and transmutes it into hollow solidarity rather than hallowed paragons that vault justice inviolable to protect the dignity of life and the procession of apanage afforded by the isagoges of those denatured by agitprop into a fundamental solidarity with wizened decried vehement declarations that we will not be outmastered or outgeneraled by the militarization of truth to be an insipid lifeless vehicle dead on arrival because of the turgid turpitude of enamored throes of parturition that bespeak the garments of elucidation that all might find commonwealth in the common tribe against tribalism. The ardor of lurid fascination is a kinkativy taint on the scared acrimony of sacrilege benumbed into zealotry rather than vulcanized into a solidarity of the vocal information that refrains from transmogrified violence and exasperates the intellectual tongue into a flavenicker ultracrepidarian saunter above the bricolage of the flombricks extant that predicate the rijuice of defamation sejungible from articulate truth and loved enamored blinkered diatribes against the hubris of immediate threat becoming the bellow of dismissiveness rather than the agentic force of virulent brands of truth. The pickthanks that piggyback with declension in their hearts neglect the finessed euthenics of a civilization on the verge of ecumenical empowerment rather than radicalized rage leading nowhere but the terminus of mandarism and the ribald coarse wiseacres that litter the “abolish the police” protesters convinced lawlessness will remediate the state and stench of law and order as the news outskirted with inflammed protest neglects my sophrosyne declaration that inflammatory rhetoric has no place in a civilized society and we should fight the feldtrounds of sloganeered slavery to an upcoming servilism that pretends a kumbaya when it kneels upon the cogwheels of freedom in the silent asylum of the protectorate of democratic venom in a society eager to become acerbic because of one voiceless whimper rather than the regaled heroism of triumphant vocalization of our fundamental prerogatives that cross racial lines and invoke the superseded clairvoyance of the few becoming the impediment to the aristocratic purblind defalcation of immutable scriptures that bend only to divine rather than human inclination. A deft anarchism is always the weal of those that suborn chaos rather than see the sejugible nature of provocative promulgation as a fissile immaturity wakened only to apartheid when the sensational becomes the gravitas of the omphalos of consideration rather than the phenakism of a trite statism making a foudroyant point with pinpricks of agitation superseding the clarity of epincion waged in this upcoming regalia that masters the artistry rather than the artifice of modular concatenation enough to swivel the attentive focus beyond the mediagenic hyperbole that always festers because they perpend on a fidelity of duty to the chaotic mainstream ridicule of the rigmarole in place to prevent preventable disasters because stagecraft shouldn’t be the nail in the coffin of prejudice or even the more militant counterprejudice of those that awaken to the determination that discrimination not faulted by raciology or faulty phenogenesis is always curtailed but enforced by the diacopes of our subversive inclination to disown the promontory of lawful abiding prerogatives to extend the message beyond the ludic tantrums of the tantony of those seeking indelible imprints in the evanescent fabric of forgetting that promotes the oblivion of recent events as a shattered fable of invulnerable atrocity. The impetus of impotence because of the shepherds of the dignotions of aristocratic impertinence silence the gavel into its own dirigible asylum rather than enthroning the vociferation of vehemence to ordeal rather than simpered jostles in the rumpus of the crowded sentry of pother intermediated by the fumiducts of a crumpled toxicity wilting in mediagenic warbles of malcontent but never becoming captive to the riddles of the conundrums of a time that bends by its own honor to the truculence of majoritarian upheaval but never silence the vocal incontinence of generations upset by the deranged stature of a ragged houndstooth checkered hubris of those to partial causes rather than global specters. Lets force the outrage to an impartial stature that declares that candor is a venom that beats the imposture of glaikery that suborns nothing but the vacuous insemination of chaos to reign in the interregnum of a dutiful Republic to the clashes predevoted in time to express the ordeals of outrage rather than the tribulations of awakened reckoning not to neuter the prosodemic outrage but to channel it beyond the blinkered checkers of a ridibund pasquinade of the riotous petulance of a bereaved polity endeavoring to swamp the airwaves but forgetting that the gavel depends on the eccedentesiasts filtering through the siphon of their own agenda a culpable indemnity that slithers with awakened patrons of a novantique beyond division not to excoriate false actors and instead indict true treachery where it fathoms the gravity of its own sopiter that maybe the treacle of modernity evokes the motivation rather than a fickle finicky consternation because the whittled hatred of anathema belongs to those who seek to obrogate the untenable with virulent strains of the eventual carapace of designed cackles among those who feign outrage but seek nothing more than a perdurable confederacy that is milquetoast in its arraignments of truth by enthroning BLM above the more justified causes of universal ecumenical reformation of the enlightened claque to speak beyond the fumes of the voiceless in order to entrench a new virility responsive to the mercurial enmity of divisive fricative visionaries who seek only to disempower clairvoyant clarity rather than subsume the honesty of their stature to not politicize every convenience in weaponized form for the sacrilege of impediment. The diablerists eager to expurgate my knowledge from public repositories will stop at nothing to be diminutive with finicky perseverance to decimate my legacy because the spurts of mind control that hijack me into the morning are beyond my control because they are so powerful it is very easy to craft that mind control considering they monopolize my brain to make me irrelevant.
June 5th 2020 Writing 11:03 PM MST

The drazel caitiffs of doctrinaire aplomb in the wravel of expounded litanies of resurgent acrimony borne out of the ephemeral substantive wisp of the legionnaires of the sunblind heliosis of incidental arbitrage weaken their fettle as the weal of the wednongue becomes an indomitable craven creative force of the bulldozed halvork of ochlocratic vice becoming the melancholy of truculence that besieges all simultaneous fronts to be widely echoed in the polyacoustic cisterns of favored design that we might shield Acts 17:26 and bereave our call as shepherds of an enlightened flock only to make the petty satraps and popinjays they enlist the wagtails to a normative heterodoxy of inclusive ramshackle order sizzling in the fricative fictions of articulate design beyond the flombricks that plodge their way into the edifice of vixens that the hierodules elect in the olasin wave of embedded enchantments becoming  redominage in the artifice of inconvenience that is an aswallone of the enantiodromia of the farce becoming the gladiatorial eager spectacle of decline without subversion and elevation beyond the plaintive lugubrious dirge of the antagonism itself rather than the protagonist for the zalkengur of ripe rather than brusque ribald generativity for ingeminating gammon to swill the coffers of the elite girdle of gridlock blunted by the trauma of seeing the ventilation of etiolated choleric spates that conglomerate into wellsprings of viparious welter that sinks in abaddon because of the stultimathy of the rigid sclerotic design bending in the enforcement of normative stereotypes clamoring for neoliberal and neoconservative chantage above the flays of delamination that sputter with their graunchers that the frescades of summer dawn on the least of all creation rather than fulminating against the most brawny mutilation fathomed in the spectral tomes of a hidebound liturgy lost to the fractions of time that depart from the thrombosis of planned frogmarches into delirium rather than sanitized calls for enforced radicalization that entombs too many witeless brittle and centrobaric forces to contain within these pithy gibes against the hacked jackals foisting the forest above the treetops. The rijuice of jawboned jury-rigged nescience topples the emporium of rectiserial encouragement met by a sterling brute of arbitrary boschveldt coincidental to the ragged ragtaggers of a new age paltry parched apostasy against rivulets that profane the sacred cows and demarche rather than delope against the lurid spectacles that become emergent titans draped with a ludic empowerment that is so baseline that is only its own invidious demise as the crumple of femicide wreaks havoc upon the industrious layers of filigree busted through by the hacked logic of the axile sapwood that eventually the titanism of the scaldabanco will wheedle the society we depend on for sustenance to halvork into a renewal of creative verve and sizzle rather than a flamestun flavenicker remorse of all the petty inclinations suborned  by the lewd depredation of mind and numinous authority at the clawing vehemence of deposed rigid authoritarian welds on the canvass of a dehumanized populace clanging with insistence that the decried hearsay becomes the otiose rampart to an enunciated ploy of skullduggery biding in plain sight to make those that livid luxuries enchant blind to the ecphonesis of riches in generativity rather than follies in hindsight bias bludgergrumbles which fail to elicit even the snirtle of pigs that prowl the owleries and recede into the shadowy umbrage of a demiurge of insulted bravery that they must concede the deferred plansters to warspark that the dissgowl is too prevalent to mask the albatross of their covvenger plots to swivel against the retinue of the righteous cause above the frisky dalliance with politicized gammon. Acts 17:24-31 NIV
24 “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. 25 And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else. 26 From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. 27 God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. 28 ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’[b] As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’[c]
29 “Therefore since we are God’s offspring, we should not think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone—an image made by human design and skill. 30 In the past God overlooked such ignorance, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent. 31 For he has set a day when he will judge the world with justice by the man he has appointed. He has given proof of this to everyone by raising him from the dead.”
We are a churned tide of sopanaceous sultry broods infuriated by the feral clutches of the stultimathy of the clambered vipers enforcing the vespiary matrix of a womb we inhabit and cohere beyond numinous calculus or superlative counsel that we might too be called to engineer the future with imagination rather than regress into the pother of exasperation that denotes boundaries for the nations and elects the Titanic design of faultless logic superseded by the euhemerism of the futile cause banished by the barristers of recrimination by the criminals themselves that lawlessness reigns and factions among the factors that determine flaws fade into the alpenglow resistance of the galvanized deputies of enforceable doytins through the maskirovka of celebrities that scrimshank fundamental duty in order to shepherd the malevolence of causes beyond our own into their heyday of sneered scrutiny by those that possess the inclination to swerve away from manufacture and impose clarity rather than suborn fagins into the frogmarches of a radical racism reversed upon itself to condemn the source of agitprop as the vehicle to be trounced in design but never overtures to the planster economy rollicking in enthused flamestun vigor because of the trollops of a reclaimed destiny spawn a newer order of triumph rather than stench. The whinks of kisswonk warspark because they invent the flabbernounced regalia of an otiose whimper decrying a limited specter of scepsis as an enlarged totem and token to a petty tokenism of cordial respect tramples over the historic efforts of those that proceed in ceremony to tralleyripped accord swimming in vainglory to become the wallbaggers of retinoise rather than the arbitrary motions of a motatory justice configured for proper deliverance. The tiresome plastic consumerist treacle is devolved upon the spectral enemies of time that issues promulgation above the timeless as mere defeasible artifices whinking with the kisswonk of the allonker rather than the protagonism of thrusted impertinence to clangor upon the diseased noisy cacophony begging for more than a froward entreaty but a ridibund ridicule that lambastes the haranguetangs even as they writhe in contortions of largesse afforded by the henchmen of a defalcated statism bought by officialism of the licentiates lickerish in their malapert hypocrisy as they blaskerg at their complicity in the webbed design of fomented rickets of the rijuice of complexity. The heatwave of enthused disorder is a diseased artifact pounced upon by desiccated laments of prevarication that riddle the consternation of the awakened flock to the fact that the ravenous prowl above the seemliness of destiny is more integral to our warpspeed bushwhacking that needs to take place. The rigors of a sappy saccharine judiciary neutered wayspayed wesperm of profligate injustice is a humdinger invented by the sciamachies that became spectacles and the scepter of power shifted through the rudimentary siphons of a perceived moment of triumph when in fact the heterodyne retromorphosis of society is nothing but a sad vitriol flickering with vestigial promise even in alveolate protocol that simper with sidereal disarmament of intellect to spuddle through the bodged articles of a rigmarole beyond the delimited courses of the corsairs that teach the designation rather than own the polity. Despair is incongruent with the pangs of deliberative widened gazes at the celestial conformity to the wednongues of purposive violence that shatters the paradigms of peace by domestication of the sheltered animals of instinct that become an invictive stampede beyond the zoolatry that encages the swell of the crestfallen so they must always sink beneath the edifice rather than maneuver their way through the slinky potvaliance of the crimes never surmounted by rationale alone. The clench of grit is overstated but the radical riches of troves beyond contempt deserve an upbraided kempt spectrum of kenspeckel denouement rather than guarded finalism becoming an alley of escape for the podlecs who patrol the authority of law-abiding negligence. The whadronque primposition of the gavels of impetuous internment of exotic trangams that are suited habiliments to cloak the serpentine excesses of a saboteur of division inseminated in the flombricks of a flyndresque revitalization of the rudimentary gnomic apothegm that in sockdolagers of spirituel gift become an odium beyond reprisal because of the stultimathy of the tortivinity of the hackencrude revolt against prolific streams of steamy wisdom that emanate from God above but also the meddlesome inclinations of man to superimpose a cosmogony that defiles the protected and protects the cravens who submit to absolute anarchy or worse hyperarchy in a visionary attempt to trailblaze through the thickets of conundrum the best possible remonstrance against the alvantage of the farsighted announcement of a superlative strain of mettle above the finicky prestidigitation of an all-encompassed time that doesn’t genuflect to merely human traditions without a skeptical poise and pause above the frazzled contrition of the enervated tribes of belief. The trillops of the implucture that countermands my vocal denunciation of the mind control behind my steep fall from agracerie into the contemptible mud of the most opaque subversion manifest so callously and clearly among the litany of deeds done without conscientious objection that I might find myself groveling to stay above the orbit of the crambazzles as the senectitude of the septiferous frikmag enjoins further rebuke as they stay alacritous among the shibboleths they do possess because their hyped alimony is just an affront to decent justice in an indecent time. Madcap wallsongs to a squandered preeminence of intellectual titanism is a sad spate of the defecation of the vultures among the squabbles of braseros that try to disenchant me from my valorous integrity to God rather than the insipid provocateurs of a rankled craven and rancid injustice that teems with infestation beyond the curdacts of reasonable authority wielded by the henchmen of the state that needs a minatory reclamation of prowess rather than a muted mutiny against subversion itself. Mobilized by the inactivity of the dormant squirm against the wreggled mountebanks that think their derelict verdict of seedy boweries becoming the gerrymandered future of the voiceless meet the sternest reprisal in the courts of dalliance between the linear jaunty natatoriums of the futile thoughts of a disempowered alacrity to verberate the yobbery of those that superimpose disorder as a gimcrack for inane vapid provocations of insane decorum in a world whipsawed by the rankle of its own toxicity negligent about the futurition that depends on the stakes of justice rather than the cleavage of conquered cities becoming welcomed rather than fathomed and there exists a stark difference between the heralded contrition and the unsung liars who profess innocuous inoculation even when they brandish the seamstress of all dovetailed lies into a bricolage not meant to withstand even the vagaries of the uncial gains of months by the gainsay of critique which should be not a henpeck in these deplorable times but rather an epincion against the racism that festers into continual rot because the sophrosyne are impeded by the rijuice of preordination that swelters beyond all terminal diseases into a ragged moth-eaten swill of elitism. The hollowed but hallowed recourse of destiny rewards the guerdon of the long-lost patronage now disorderly in gammons to reprove the belittled taradiddles of rookery in a roodged society of roosters squawking with the simpered vitriol of agency against the marauding Viking spate of calculated diminutive crags of whittled dimensions unseen but clearly fathomed by denigrated alacrity that we might too find the paradise lurking at the end of abscess and abeyance that violently caves into the ploys of the modern ****** becoming a post-modern plea for justice rather than enervated senselessness. The lientery of abortive endeavors squabbles with the marauders who provoke the dismal glimmer of epigone rather than daunt the intrepid gauleiter with the showmanship of force beyond the demonstration of the impropriety of those stagekeepers who own the postcennium of kenspeckel macroscian hackumber that runs amok because it is neutered by the wesperm of the ingemination of futility into the mindset of conquest to bereave rather than provide well-earned fortune on the verdict of a day consummated by the squaloid vermin that scowl in protected hedges of secrecy without valor to trounce  the oppositive support for a vindicated but never finifugal society. What a debauched day where a private powerhouse of cryptadia can fossick through the thickets of sapwood and sentiment to usher in a pettifoggery known only to the brave soldiers who blare against opprobrium to the reconnaissance of departed flamestun gambits to entrench their ulterior command of a divisive spurt of econometric capitulation in catabasis rather than shepherding the valorous vigor of intrepid champions to outmaster the lingering resentments that boil into potboilers that renounce the truth only to a pickthank’s travail in overcoming the obstacles that bereave us because of a tigrine and rigid subversion of moralism in clairvoyance to become a turgid refuse of the offal of chattel lost in a frapplank with an otiose but revived assault on the precipice that cadges the lewdness of rumpus over the donnybrooks of donnism itself. The glamborge of the amporge that relegates all consideration in ransom to the truthful declaration of coarse sentiments from the clutches of an unrepentant evil that lurks shadowy and invulnerable as it cripples entire generations of thought into the messy vitriol of froward fomented officialism in malcontent over its own incompetency that I might meet and beat the rapknocks that thwart my eloquence and the privy internecine swivels of a newly minted prerogative to own autarky above the doytin of the aimless ridicule that swims in an ocean of debauched lies professed by the rigmarole of flickers of anointment fading below the scepter of righteous might that I might make more generations captive to the highest order of conation rather than the unwitting dupes of the ulterior sabotage of the elitism that seeks to expurgate history against the samizdat of maskirovka becoming evident that the benumbed stupefaction I now linger between and around will fade into a heightened stratosphere that renounces former sin and parades the righteous justice of novantique that learns from wayward profession the ability to navigate toe-to-toe with the throngs of oppositive saboteurs relinquishing any attempts at seamless order of the dovetailed might of the empowered conscience because their ******* enchantments are a vehicle for a depredation without rebuke and a sentimentalism that foments nothing but the worst fumiducts into the cadges that perdition permits but God exorcises because of people like Epenetus who survived with valor in Asia despite its hostility. I am dismantled by a juggernaut which is often repudiated for its thuggery and menacing dacoitage to make my thoughts seem like a philander with colposquinomia rather than the callisteias and kalons that effervesce into a remedial triumph in these lagging hours where my vigor is a vapid emanation of a withheld empathy becoming an entreaty to simplicity rather than a beacon of vaulted virtuosity that uses sheen to deplore the undercroft while surmounting the challenge to destroy the umbrageous evil of the camorra that lurks behind a curtailed curtain of infallible designs conflated by banausic pretense to curb rights rather than inform duties to apprise those rights as integral enough to swarm the grievances and belong to propriety rather than sink the sunken hidden  mainour of restive intellect above the fray and frazzle of meaningless absurd contrition that belongs to another century beyond my own foresight. The surgical emoluments of crafty duplicity attempt their forestalled delay of my charisma and duende to enrage the battalions rooting for the intellectual clutches of tentacles of revivalism to spark the flamestun of powerful admissions of guilt that they tremulously balk at the religious authority of magistrates because of the witted menace of the deliberate provocation of the worst most untimely sentiments to become cacoethes of a plucky reductionism that makes the puerile sempervirent rather than the ontocyclic countermanded by the periblebsis of flavor above the sultry vacuum of the listless entropy of an evil overhang of swandamos that skillfully delegate meted disaster to portend over the future bailiwick of my own behest craven by tribulation but emboldened by the humane interface that my heyday is among the future articles in the limelight rather than the irrelevance of glaikery to the tomfoolery of the captaincy of a conscience bereaved rather than a conscience reclaimed by the inferior bastions that sulk the crapehanger recruitment of all demented barks that recoil without civil exactitude at precise purpose perpendicular to my swank and emanating the forces of the benighted world upon the clairvoyance of the chosen virtues of a New Testament understanding that shelves Deuteronomistic Law as among the curtailed remonstrance of inefficacy belonging to a barbarous time where the incondite superseded the others by pomp and celebration alone that incense should be recensed against the termagants that wage war on the ridicule of revival.
Now that the brunt of the oppressor congeals his thickened plot of muddy turgid heterodyne syncopation of effete ideology rather than ecumenical unity we see unmasked the true author of vitriol belongs not to the sour malignancy of the rijuice of crime but the criminal repartees of the negligence of abiding saccharine creatures that swamp the light of day with the shrouds of connivance to dethrone the ecumenical insistent endeavor to provide novantique to maidan lands and renew the vigor of the people beyond the temporary temporal subversion of trite tortneyed hackencrude whadronque against the flyndresque refracturism that solders with one united cry for a belittled peace to become a mighty warrior against the decried deposition of majesty upon inclement hours that portend to future calamities wrought by the banausic barleychildren of an otiose corruption wilted in the dead fields of our forefathers littered with the graves of sacrilege in unnecessary consecrations of sacrifice that become unholy vestiges of the rampicks of ordeal because they are drenched with the stigma of belonging to the witeless travail of the wreggled imposture of a maleficence negated by beneficence only enough to permit my respiration in the conservatories of resonant reasons to reach to the stars and their starry-eyed surprise to the delight of generations that truckle but to the doom of those that refuse the grandeur of God’s gratuity to enlist an exemplary agracerie of insulted jaundice fuming with avenues of deception that seek to crush my vindication in order to rollick in the ruin of the shambolic craters of a beleaguered apostolic duty to inform the world that the librations of the quivering moon are a scattershot of whemmled liberation rather than an aimless scourge of prosodemic interpolation fused to an incorrigible calculus that seeks my temporal femicide even with the eternal guilt that amaranthine flowers fade because of the grit of tenacious boschveldt ploys to trample with oppression rather than voice the properly aggrieved complaints of the victimization of privilege rather than the assaults of vainglory upon the outrecuidance that leads away from the humility of God’s grace and into the doomsayers that renounce my dignotions of contempered metaphor as some minor boyg of the evaporative sentiments of a fickle nation crumbling because of the treacle of violence rather than cloyed by the proper castigation of elementary logic becoming superlative in its annulment of the confederate licentiousness of depraved autarkies livid with contumely against the agentic force of a rictus of merriment denounced as an impropriety in a time where fewer virtues are confirmed than many injustices hallowed as the cement for a new world built less on noogenesis and more on the piebald skeumorphs of bricolage countermanding my swift embarkation to a land of promise rather than a staid quilted repartee of the tapestries beyond that proclaim open season upon my impediments to the frikmag subterfuge that reasts upon the recocted mediagenic formulas that will cosher the cosseted vengeance of an evil time rather than the yernage of simplicity designed to forgive the oblivion of conscientious errors in derelict fashions of knavery that they might be expunged from the record to entrench the value and pertinacity of original seminal balks at the currency of the exchequer of the hidden boschveldt which supersedes my attempts to foil its own benighted plots scalding with enormity but hidden from the vantage of the commonwealth to guard the vestigial neuroscience of craven caitiffs who beleaguer me with incestuous deceptions of the pederasty of immoralism. Now that I have launched a flanked assault on the rigmarole of the confederate polity of mistaken grandeur using the maskirovka of inane bleats to conform to the idolatry this world should revile but instead confirms with the lecherous tentations of empiricism wed to the naivety of blank-slate politics we espouse the highest creed afforded to the righteous that belief in the calvary and the agony suffered for our sake is more than a token emolument it is the paradigm that shuffled civilization into endearment and rebuked the catamites and hierodules that scampered throughout the Earth without any recourse as their ironclad vestiges of tridents of petty gauleiters of a suborned authority fell milquetoast and riddled with the foraminated scars of a now cortinate world caught in a trespass of the inviolable screeds that inform the spirit of God to stampede towards the righteous avenue rather than shrink in sheepishness that the revelations of our author our grandest King who reigns beyond the shadows and filters the light of the sun and holds the mountains on a scale of balance that we might curb to his divine majestic formula for renewal rather that glower in an iteration of enmity divorced from the true justice of Almighty Creation to invoke oblivion upon puerile deeds and consummate the highlight  reel of a generation that depends not upon the renewal of the newfangled vogue but the invocation of the spirit of the words of God so that we all might meditate in conation and consecution our privy path to the ways of light beyond the brackish afterglow of a distasteful gloat over hibernaculum that relish after the calamity rather than rest against the girouettism ****** upon us by the siege of bronteums beyond the power of thunder to rebuke that the scales of history vindicate the power of the righteous voice rather than tremble because of the flickering mettle of people that squirm in attrition rather than balk the servitude of servilism that endangers our perpended glance at the eternal lychgate ajar for belief and conviction but closed to the finicky agents that cadge the elements of perdition into constellated forces of abrasive recrimination against a vacuum that anathematizes itself as nothing more but a prop of a propitiated absurdism in a nulliverse of our own creation rather than our goaded resolve to witness the finality of God and behold the splendor of the history he carved through justice rather than impediment to rejoice at the final awakening that swings against the puerile betrayal of evil and renews the promise of temenos and reverence. We have already within our tenacious grasp yet crippled by the memory of opprobrium compounded by finicky formant and froward vehicles that poisoned the wellsprings of the righteous with the cowardice of persecution that curglaff is an unnecessary and abominable relic of the regelation of society into a morass of interregnum that seeks a delimited lawlessness to supersede the vocal clarification that God’s grace depends not only on the volition of conviction known to the body of composite belief but also that the pangs of modern consternation are deliberately provoked to renew an equity that trembles when the revved engines of personal entelechy become titanism that enlarges the pleckigger of deprivation so that all might feast on the transubstantiation of the figurative forms of shadow into the permanent light of abeyance found in jolts of awakened liberty above the corrugation the visagists of plastic cosmogony invoke to inflame turpitude and ransack the perfidious deceptions of former proclivities to swindle the world with a powerful beacon of deceptive flourescein that straggles boundaries in its casuistry to invoke an AstroTurf malignancy to prevail over the righteous words of the sentries of God rather than the epigones that balk at the soteriology of a wide-eyed curiosity for a world desperate for something more ennobled to discuss because the otiose tittup of pretense masquerades as an avenue to the ways of the Lord even when failing its fundamental duty to rebuke the constellations of puerile enchantment that rob the dignified of their perch only to enthrone the owlery of calculated gambits of nescience compounded by the dacoitage of the bomans that guard vigilantly the aim of billingsgate but rarely conceal the maleficence of the heliosis of the hibernation of conscience in times where the entire world was betrayed by a staged artifice that sadly achieved its vengeance upon its own recrimination by sultry broods of provocation without the outsmarted resolve of the many refusing to crumble into the checkered hubris of bias bias that subverts entelechy. The bland blandishment of appeased ego remains the ulterior affront to the alienavesced flapdoons of eccentric orbific forces at work beyond the philandered grasp of wraveled mendicants that spurn the sparrows for their dovetailed wallop of the radical agenda of separatism rather than the humbled modesty of those that seek in God’s word that lasts eternally the modicum of truth necessary to defeat the encroachment of an oleaginous regress of reactionary doctrinaire foments of syndicated hatred becoming the wilt of girouettism to spawn the draksteng of terminus but scald the provenance of foresight as a reckless soundracketeer that mounts an acme to see the apogee for its truest clarity rather than its pathetic resemblance to the true nature of the transmogrified impotence of the world to heal itself when the clamor and clangor of defamation is permitted to scowl vindictively at the armamentarium of assemblies of truth marching heroically down the journey of itineration to invoke God above the mercurial nature of hamartia among the men and even the titans silent in the recoil of provocateurs of the most impotent justice for relegated creeds renewed in the hackencrude to desiccate the desert rather than seed ingeminations of the centupled quandaries becoming quarries of lavadero siphons of the truer enlightenment found in the God we all serve with benevolence rather than neglect because we earnestly renege the careful cull so that we are not swamped by intellectual pretense but that we walk in light of emulation always reverential of the ultimate kisswonk of the authoritarian nightmare becoming the crapehanger against the buoyancy of clarified virtue disentangled from tertiary and subsidiary meaning as a vindication of history that it anoints its strident defenders before it finds guilt in intrepid endeavor. The malice of wiggletemper of flakmention depending on the testy shroff of trykle as the swallock of bleats squandering the proficuous light of the Lord because they pale with their pallor and nebbich cretaceous calculus to delimit things in ordinary times that despise extraordinary prowess because of hapless seances with the spectral doom of empowerment leads down a despicable path littered with estanders of vinsky robbed of their prominence at such a milquetoast juncture that the timid become entrepreneurs of the wiggletemper of those they seek gradgrind control of through euthenics that they might also be rebuked by their faulted subhastation because they orbit the life of brackishness in a catadromous world only to benefit from the collapse of civil disorder into the mercurial foment of sizzling calamity that  belongs to the hotbed spell of draksteng and rancid calumniation of all goodwill and meritorious discernment  that seeks once and for all the beneficence of the compassionate and eager servants of the embodied visages of creation to coagulate into an urbane movement that owns enough leverage over kitsch yobbery to renounce the former prerogative for the selfless ambiguity of repudiation met with cloaked valor in the tempests of an obscene mockery of timely judiciousness only because of a provincial oversight into overtures of affair rather than merely just scandal. Leaping with vaulted foudroyance against the noisome ridicule of imperseverant trollops and trangams that astound slot-machine politics as the gimcrack that gerrymanders the tortoise by the waterdrips of inseminated vagary superimposed by the cordial respite of egestuous pallor into an insubordination against a system rigged beyond sloganeering to favor the wise instructor and his recourse of tutelage we must summit the articles of contrition shrived properly by a shared atonement that the perfectibilism of God’s magnates becomes a magnetic fascination of those who are dancing vertiginously with centrifugal hatred armed at the pretense of justice that bandies with muted solidarity to a trite hackneyed truth rather than surpassing former imagination into the frontier of serendipity founded on discovery rather than lackaday otiose portents becoming the fixation of the elementary canon yet devolved in splendor because of balderdash of bletherskates who evade justice and squander power only to their own demise as the kerygma we champion has the power to defeat the snares of the wicked enchantments that make parturition difficult because of the aboriginal lapse of the protoplasm from which smithy we belong ultimately to in the provenance of a contempered history of the lineage of God foreseeable to the lineaments of man carved from his image that rebuke should be upon the lips of the sophrosyne while restraint should hamshackle us into fiduciary duty beyond vassals and rapscallions but better than the ripe codlings of urbacity predict because evasive maneuver catapults jaunty sleek destinies we have yet to entwine into our magistrates enough to demand reparation humbled by its powerlessness or contrarian power structures to mettle the scoundrels that police the towns that matter to the strings of harmony sweltering against privilege rather than scoffing at  the disdainful apparatus of contravention established by the riotous outrages rather than the picaresque yernage of heyday rather than mayday. The very predicate of darkness invokes the presence of light and love to prevail over the vacuum relinquished by the enantiodromia of a transubstantiation of benighted virtue to become a parallax mirrored imagery of whiplash that assaults the pedigree of any juggernaut conundrum becoming a boyg in rapid decline to reprove itself in order to vanquish the fundus and the mainour relished by the ****** gawsy attempts to blinker the hubris of the kenspeckel because the owlery of pettifoggery seeks a delaminated prevalence of hamartia rather than ergotall wisdom that deafens the aspiration but enables the fascination to swell in the rhythmic squalor of the oceans belittling those who dwell in habitations of landed gentry that they might be the fewterers of a new kennel rather than a lapse of deracination seeking a final excuse to dismiss peremptory wisdom because the thorns of coverthrow are no longer permitted by the mediagenic titans that spotlight a maleficence of haplessness over the lore of glorification and the splendor of light.
The rindstretch of insular plaudits against the fiddle of foghorns of blaring semaphores of singled and signaled alarm are swashbucklers against a systematic tribance of the slivverdeck of the fatewrench of many outmastered by the fox hounds who swoop beyond their natural inclination to corner the tripwires that the graklongeur of the enervated mediagenic effigy of justice proclaims we must renounce the horrified countenance of the disempowered and seek the agraceries of tremendum that forgives the trespasses of deliberative mind control to foment a squabble of lifeless puerility and must fasten our commitment to a perdurable creed that shelters the just cause from the pertinacious wiseacres of those who blankly stare at the realms of salvation groaking for the sustenance of their own erratic happenstance because they scowl by prediction what is denatured by rendavation of the entitled man to his entitled coverage despite the traipses against polity wagered by the rivulets of the swamp rather than the brooked endeavors of scampered sullen swelter to manage the prideful intolerance of kenspeckel injustice. The flarmey of obganiation built on the grindole of the hambaskets that relish the comfortable commode of the nosocomial hospice of irregular griffonage despise the faction that annihilates the narrative fliction of mobilized regress for nominal taunts of the hindsight progress motatory in subtlety whereas the sublime becomes a tapestry embedded by the sly wry grins of eccedentesiasts deciding the worth of revalorized mettle against the hypostatized glamour of aborning generations shielded from the phenakism of the media juggernaut discarding me because of deliberate sabotage by mind control that made me look foolhardy when in fact I am a master of my own victory rather than a passing fad of the trinkadour odontoloxia of the aggrieved prejudice of an unrelenting flash mob of regaled violence.
Gimdermangs rollicking in gregarious solemn indentilation by the slellums of their own negligence in shouting the hollertraps of a castigated caste of renegade hamshackled buffoons escaping the levity of the turmoil of finicky magpiety that elects cockamamie sentimentalism to lead a country desperately in need of reformatory order that oppugns mind control for my downfall and exonerates me for my trespasses against adulthood because to define a person by a solitary transgression that was remanded into being by the siphon of nefarious force calumniating an abject philter as a frolicsome naivety is a poison rather than a posture because the relegated dissgowl in the silentium of their asylum because they protest how quickly an evaporated story of flarmey can overpower the memory of their triumph scalds the conscience of superimposition of counterfeit scruples discrediting the rengall beliefs that stabilized the world for generations beyond and generations before my hallowed prophecy and thereby they should occlude this pother and ceremoniously induct me beyond infumated hatred of cosmetic cosmogony in order to belong to the tribunes that reserve the mention but despise the deplorable in a vacuous silentium of obrogated truth.
The trimscreet glorified by their altruism in triumphant verdict rather than spurned flarmey of a resigned obligation that renounces righteous splendor in order to coverthrow the system in attempts at regalia found only in the newsworthy hyperbole rather than the simpered luxuriance that suborns lawless chaos rather than turgid effervescence berating the gnostic grapnels of keelhauled curglaff that remands a separatism rather than a desperation. Vocal by the retinue of provocation the mediagenic hyperbole is finifugal and retrofugal simultaneously because it sees a decrepit flarmey of qwersy maleficence becoming a perpetual throng for the crowded rumpus of relegation to shield the light of day from the preeminence of an umbrageous character benumbed by the litter of an apostasy beyond caricature and a diminished ethics of normative squaloid imposture impoverishing my future to highlight the few rattled errors of the crotaline sabers that ****** me into negligence rather than offer piety and suffrage to a recklessness that belongs to the arbitrary witticisms of a bulldozer carapace of indignity as my modern-day slavery is glossed over in favor of an interminable oppression that glazes the fascination of beadledom but promotes nothing regenerative within the constitution of society to fundamentally provoke reform like my henpecks at mandarism proclaim with every measured step to avoid the dimples and freckles of the foraminated hatred the media glowers with as it ruins another gossamer life because of a rijuice of the retinoise of the noisiest conflagration of recent memory.
Stupefaction aimed at noisome odium that simmers in the smithy of formative duress is a recourse by shameless eccedentesiast rot of moral virtues that perpend on the issues of sin and righteousness and the infested erratic trimpoline buffoons that gravitate towards the overmilked hypocrisy of justifying racial inequality while memorializing apartheid by negligence of the proper recourse is surmounted by a challenge to supremacy rather than a sunken vitriol of inefficacy because the selachostomous boatswains of ribald wesperm should never be the ultimate ullagone for pontifical authority accorded upon me by the latrias which sustained generations past and engrave future generations to scald indemnity and fight the corruption that festers into a primordial corrosion which spares few cogwheels from the missionary zeal of revocation belittling heroic triumphs because of the tittup of angled anger at a momentary flaw slamming the virtuosity of entire generations just to supersede my story as an enemy of the whadronque.
The sputtering engine of a ribald cackle at my ephorized vainglories prompted by the outrecuidance of defiance rather than a petty allegiance to a corporatism outstretched but now refusing to account for their missteps of hapless promontories of fizzling racial injustice to seek the defeasible prerogatives I once enjoyed eradicated from the semblance of the sane sanitization of all history beneath the unfurled triumph of what is now whittled into the henpecks of rigor rather than the lackaday compunction of officialism that scoffs at people who indict the system for its jaundice and permit  the flarmey of designation to eternalize the struggle yet efficacy of that struggle to dismount the sejungible pathway in a walloped error of rigged judgment because the convenience of thorns is understated and the elective privilege of generations is not a ****** gaffe worthy to be marginalized by the sempervirent fortress of duplicity but  rather exonerated from the skeumorphs of forgotten lapses whisking the timely into promontories of the timeless slivverdeck of the wrikpond beyond its own reckoning.
With schematic consolidation fathoming the subtleties of the taxemes of the scaffold that is an aperture into the flanged derangement of the senseless becoming a sejungible recrimination of itself while becoming bloviated by an internecine balkanization that grovels in servilism that it shepherds the penury of the querulous into renounced rebukes and suborns the cadge of conundrum into a lactose intolerant subterfuge may we marvel at the mediagenic kenspeckel realism that fights armed with the vesicles of perdition a war to enthrone a darkened visage of an exemplary titan as a subsidiary nuance and nuisance for  the planned demolition of contrite solidarity predicated only on the mind control of pettiness becoming solidified as more magnificent than all of the deeds accounted for by the metagnomy of time that now fumes in lapsed accord that the intorgurent hypocrisy of militant fumiducts of duplicity scampers the Earth to provide asylum only for  the privileged rather than sanction for the validated truths that oblivion cannot cast aside and that the inerrant standards of a finicky justice cannot forget but the trespass of modernity to encroach upon my sanctuary with the traipses of the tripwires of involuntary cacoethes to ruinous plumage will be held to account for their misfeasance as the drowned sorrows of one unjust death can mobilize millions while the phenakism of one untold soul can do nothing but reiterate the pointed critique of happenstance against the authors that redintegrate the societal matrix into an accordion that bellows out not a toxicity of an urbane fascination but the permanence of belief among neither the unctuous nor the monoideistic tribes of society.
The tribunes of mendaciloquence relish their phenakism of demoting me because of the tortneyed triumph of planned extortion surmounts the challenges to foment societal engraved injustice that doesn’t apologize for its bulldozer machinations because in unrepentant hearts of those that refuse to shrive for contaminating the collapse of a heroic visage and visagist of the eternal order they cast aside compunction and elevated the tittups of maleficence above the piggyback that shelves the memory of malice and provides bridges rather than sultry mendicants of petty satrap authority to impose beadledom over enthused righteousness which cannot be forfeited by an involuntary mistake invisible to all ears but the ones that illegally spied on me that I might forever be banished by the  barristers of protective oligarchy fomenting their oligochrome into black-and-white specters that remediate only minor atrocities rather than the ribald pother of invulnerable aristocracy lost in abandon and hyped into rampant scorn by the trepidations of underminnow to curtail righteousness rather than proclaim the fruits of the spirit. John 10:27 reminds us all that a mere posture of humility rendered inefficacy by the barnstorm of profligate mendicants who repudiate the incarnation of love and light as a retch worthy of nothing but the prolonged glower of a simmering disdain need to remind themselves with gratitude built in their foundations that if it wasn’t  for me the acceleration of valor and the entrenchment of virtue would be a muddy miscegenation of garbled gabble of prioritization that triages racial apartheid its sublime champion rather than the rags-to-riches ascendancy of the coryphaeus of the righteous congregation rather than the bethel of invented conditions of contingent reaffirmation that they must account for their lapse and atone for their negligence because my proofs of God outweigh your fictions of man and all voices know that the deceit of your glamborge of surfeit that installs a racial epithet as your prolonged scalding disclosure as a reminder of your fickle loyalties to fiduciary competence in a time beckoning the righteous assembly rather than the turpitude of the chicanery of devolution rather than evolution because no momentary lapse is worthy of the pangs of remorse I now feel because the cherished vintage world you renounce is the captain of the billowing ship aimed at your provisions of countermanded vitriol and vindicated by  every justifiable word that my memory will not be a sullen disclaimer of the temporary disdain of a finicky world but the ultimate providence of a just God who never abandons the manager of his flock in times of produce and prudence rather than your deadstock revival of cowcatcher ignorance.
Entrapped by a cobweb of entreaty that appeases the toonardical reverence for the bulwarks of sanitized revelry funded by the virulence of provocative schemes to depose lawful assembly by ****** calculations meant to dissuade the righteous assembly of those who profess and believe deeply within their compunction that God is the master vindication of the human race the world doesn’t need another potboiler prevarication of a haranguetang that doesn’t even read their own conscience as they mindlessly  spout out radical propaganda to demerits and declension rather than majesty in effectuated justice that commands the sentries of authority into a battle between energumens and anacampserotes because my eutrapely is unsurpassed by the outrecuidance of those who think that esteemed negligence outmantles the appearance of spiritual penury despite the glaringly obvious fact that I spearhead a revolutionary prowess rather than a recyclable spear of hatred that devolves into an abortive obganiation that you meddle with so nefariously to seek the retinoise of the false covenant rather than the voice that needs to be heard and exonerated from purblind error rather than prolonged castigation. John 15:26 vindicates me completely. Isaiah 61:1
The callous excuse for my ultimate segregation from the human fraternity and a preclusion of my ascendant destiny is predicated on the maleficence of a recycled lie that my posture is crippled by thoughtlessness upon awakening provoked by hypnopaedia yet you fail to acknowledge that the darkness that exists in this world is a fault-finder of querulous retched factitious reasons to abandon me to the stench of abaddon rather than enthusing the courtesy of a world  that overlooks the blench of manufactured errors by the graklongeur that seeks convenient dismal dismissal as a capstone epitaph on a grave leaden with so much controversy yet provocative and evocative of so many truthful trumperies against the prevarication of stilted liars bolted to a rigid conduct code that determines who breathes and who survives in a world where the viable are renounced by the heresiarchs of finicky hatred with prosodemic vengeance upon their bletherskate mentalities. Insurrection is effete against the machinations of church and state using officialism as a decoy in the dacoitage of eternal infamy superseding the victory of fame against the roiled slummock of those who prepossess themselves on hamartia rather than overlook an involuntary trespass because they have magnanimity engraved in their heart and are suspicious of the connivance of the enemy trying to depose me because of an overwrought vindictive ****** against the liberated class Isaiah 50:8-11 NIV He who vindicates me is near.
    Who then will bring charges against me?
    Let us face each other!
Who is my accuser?
    Let him confront me!
9 It is the Sovereign Lord who helps me.
    Who will condemn me?
They will all wear out like a garment;
    the moths will eat them up.
10 Who among you fears the Lord
    and obeys the word of his servant?
Let the one who walks in the dark,
    who has no light,
trust in the name of the Lord
    and rely on their God.
11 But now, all you who light fires
    and provide yourselves with flaming torches,
go, walk in the light of your fires
    and of the torches you have set ablaze.
This is what you shall receive from my hand:
    You will lie down in torment.

The telltale signals of a decadent mediagenic menace is its ability to shield the avetrols of guarded privilege while suborning the rest of the world to derelict the prescient visionaries that clamber through the rugged halls of a tattered time beyond the dominion of petty persecution because the righteous valor of the oppressed overcomes the oppressor only when the saboteurs account for their glaring blaring errors of flagstench that feed the toonardical deception that flashbangs through the smoke of a rigmarole of time to dismount the perceived profligacy of the innocent without compunction for the suffrage of their just cause. The defamation and femicide waged against me is terrified of prosodemic enlightenment rather than the rugged turgid slummock descent into madcap cockamamie identity politics that invokes no justice but professes indemnity because the world deserves a better fate than the one currently chiseled at by the militant scepsis of ulterior graft. The cement of the bricolaged tension of lawlessness is sternly rebuked by the liturgies of the informed who balk at superstitious gibes as articles of the lazarattea resistant to change and glowering with a misguided sense of hatred to aim their vitriol squarely at me rather than enjoining the media from piggybacking on the regress rather than the progress of civilized societies and it is a turnstile of rapid-fire death that provokes people to undercut rather than underscore my heroic legacy which might seem like a picaresque knavery but in reality  represents the triumph of the supernal numinous realm to castigate the Earthly perdition of swollen ignorance too bolted firmly into place by stricture rather than anointed by scriptural purpose that solidifies the legacy of the few heroic enough to castigate the bulwarks of authoritarianism to turn everyone against me in ploys of desperation to ensure my demise by a slowpoke turnaround reviled aplomb that suits the decorum of the backstabbing media in its petty vindication that it elevated my cause only to demolish it in a matter of minutes to ensure I died alone and forlorn when in fact I am the most triumphant voice for truth and intellectual revolution this generation has yet witnessed and nothing can deprive me of my right to exist on a world of turpitude that I might puncture the balloons of superstitious pretense on the grounds they are convenient inkthorns that vituperate rather than circulate my emboldened embroidery of the candor of vicissitude rather than entomb the lifeless carcass of vendetta waged for centuries against my ennobled cause and causality.
My compunction leads me to believe the mediagenic cartel is absolutely terrified about my ability to roam free right at the convenient time when I can lollop about in freedom so they piggyback with charlatans spouting  the fumiduct of lies and escort them to prominence and preeminence because they fear what I could accomplish in the light of day walking in the grace of the Lord rather than suborned into a walking terror that dismantles my plumage overnight because of an expediency primarily because they fear their own reprisals which outnumber their laurels by a large margin by monopolizing the minds of the resourceless and provoking them into needless panic or restive frenetic frenzy just because they seek to expurgate the wizened sophrosyne wisdom of the attenuated truth from reaching more ears and captivating more minds to reject  their purebred dogmatism. Their desperation to  dethrone my eloquence and imprison my elegance within a narrow cloister of a forever ignominy is a petty vindictiveness of unfettered hamshackles of panicky resentment that fears my uproarious rise through the ranks of enchantment rather than the bedazzled frontier of evil knaveries I hereby rebuke in the strongest terms because they suffocate the victim of years of benighted persecution and just when there is a strong lambent light awaiting me at the other end of the tunnel they squelch my rights to be heard and nullify all of my majestic feats because of brinkmanship in complete dereliction of their moral duty to serenade this prophecy to completion rather than the havoc of the disorderly rumpus of the mannequin charade they have a harder time containing than their tenuous grasp on the litter that fumes with atrocity without rebuke as they seek partisan war  rather than rectiserial arrays of compromise and whomever is behind this debauched ploy to estrapade because I represent a virulent threat to their system of inculcation will be judged mercilessly on the days of judgment that await them on the other side of their ridiculous barnstorms of benighted muddy opaque statemanship that sees me as collateral damage unavenged when I will be the marksman of authority if never estranged from the emanation of light that percolates beyond boundaries of country and state to encourage proactive literacy while they suborn the sopiters of the operose negotiosity of yesteryear while I clamber for formulas to rectify the divided human race into the fellowship of polite polity rather than brusque decimation of character that is a violent scourge of the scurrilous fear of the elite that I might swell too much in power if unchecked or that I might simper too much in lugubrious natures if unfed but either way their doom is spelled out because fewer and fewer people choose the virus of the news to pollute their lives with half-baked belletrist of evil maleficence that goes unfettered in its demarche trying to appease the authoritarians rather than solder together in the bonds of liberty and the tithes to the family structure we should all uphold beyond the wretched enslavement of weak politics becoming an engine of unrefuted graft menacing the streets rather than providing recourse for the permanently oppressed rather than the turgid emboldened proclamations that denigrate their petty gauleiter stature as an imposture greater than any I have ever mounted because I am always authentic and God is on my side rather than the side of the aggressive martexts endangered by free thought. 1 Peter 2:9 showcases that my existence is a preordained outcome of virtue over the squalor of depravity that ransacks the venal minds of those who fear my emergence from the throes of isolation so much that they hoist the mythos of persecution even higher with sensationalized bodewash common more to the drazels and humgruffins of the thuggery in Hollywood than the decent upright men of stature that these foolhardy eccedentesiasts represent in the minds of men that ponder the inescapable monopoly of a media cartel that feeds the impoverished with the slavering hypocrisy of groaks and sheepish bleats sublimated against righteousness to promote the wages of sin and death rather than becoming ardent rejoinders of the stature of corruption on our Earth to swivel against its greatest champions in order to enthrone fake paragons in the canon and dismiss the eager readership motivated towards curtailed change that seeks the deposition not of my righteous valor but the lies spoonfed to the crambazzles that are tethered to the monopoly of subliminal subterfuge in a realm dominated by domineering graft that is so obvious in the frikmag that they seek to eradicate my memory from the formulas of time so that fewer people see past the blinkered hubris of the coalescence of evil tribes trying to superimpose order over mass chaos and expect different outcomes when their partisan leanings lead to a weal of aristophrens that feel begrudged by their privilege that now avenge the righteous truth of my belonging to the fellowship of God rather than the agency of the nefarious that subverted me in my prominence and preeminence to make me look foolish when the evil diatribes behind it cower behind their publicity stunts and double-take still-framed moments and use that underminnow to undercut rather than underscore my message of invictive accountability in the mediagenic sphere so that the causes of family rather than forsifamiliation prevail with their righteous bailiwick over the termagants of a mercurial man dissuaded by duende and charisma rather than enchanted by the exercise of latitude and license in the rejuvenated youth of the forever young who celebrate their limelight rather than revolt against the people who suborn evil against it because of petty gripes unsubstantiated to institutionalize dogmatism of a more casuist order that ingeminates the radicalization of people against religion in my absence rather than the convent of people who seek the concave absolution of time to abolish the sinful depravity of the wretched conclaves begging for my eternal persecution.
The ultrageous ultradian rhythms of the heterochrony of delusion spoon-fed by mediagenic sopiter to the guileless audience of grangull bedazzled crambazzles or those who lack the abiding access to the internet is a mannequin taxidermy of plastic values that crumples instantaneously when met by the scorn of the ultroneous mistakes of hypnopaedia that suborns the lawless puerile ontocyclic reversions that become ullagones to lost authority withered in the respite of the virulent winds of change that lost in translation their squelch of vehemence only backfires because if you think about it the American system of media is completely rigged by a few henchmen think tanks at  the top of the rectiserial food chain of privilege where the henpecks are bossy and unrepentant while the clangor of din crowds out the rumpus of donnybrooks while clearing the way for insuperable graft to micromanage the petty souls clinging to the vitriolic acerbic whimper of a defeated mediagenic squalor that finds fewer avenues of recourse than ever before to refute the poignant realism that Trump is validated in his conviction that the media is a malignant force of the enemy rather than a boanerges of elective enlightenment because now that they have called my case forlorn and exhumed the corpses of a few black men to overshadow my preeminence of infamy they are dredging on all channels the ruinous psephology of belittlement to ingratiate the overlords who maximize the peak of the pessimum while the stock market roars because of intelligentsia movements that are a rollicking subsultus that revs up the system against reversal and towards the parallax of Heaven and Earth with the celestial neighbors cheering our triumph rather than jeering an intellectual revolution I helped to manufacture by my obfuscated but sublime rejoinders against the ultrafidian or nullifidian credence that milks lactose intolerance and steamy racism to an amaranthine purpose of subversion of Republic and betrayal of core Constitutional Principles that stand just as inviolable as the renewed covenant ushered in by the latria of aggiornamento far behind and beyond my travails because the retromorphosis of a fearful society no longer quails in restive frenzy because they now see right through the parched thirst of the mediagenic juggernaut for ulterior control of the impressionable through the subtle nudge of agitprop in the formula of dissolution that disembarks to foreign interests faster than you can call them out for being verboten with their stigmatophilia that obsesses over the minauderie of graft with their eccedentesiast bomans guarding the show with the sizable appeal of livid personas on a carousel of enantiodromia of respectable order as an underbreath of the pasteurization of the sterile Republic that bends more to the underminnow of involuntary subterfuge waged by the vehement enmity of the agentic force behind the promulgation of heatwaves of intellectual furor now retreating into comfortable commodes beyond the fray of embrangled hatred because they see the easy recourse is just to all embrace the hollow sloganeering that enthused past generations but with vehement frikmag we see past the graklongeur because we are famished of relativism in truth as the absolute arbiters that restrict us with trespass and bludgeon the indelible imago of ignominy above the embroidery of progressive salvation from the slavering groaking incompetence of people that are unipotent in the wrong direction is now outmantled by the irenology of people that distance themselves from the furor of confused ideology that is a prop for ironclad idolatry that spurns my wisdom because it indicts their intrepid trespass as an inviolable blasphemy because their ultimation of neglect provokes my assault on the fact that six major media outlets are the only source of live commentary on Television and many fewer people are in charge of the zeal for reprobate politics that fuels against revolutionary intellectual revision the policies that can contribute to the dismantled caste system that currently runs congress pullulating with pickthanks and wagtail terriers to the encroachment of mandarist tyranny that is rarely if ever brassaged properly because if they had it their way I would be the exhumed corpse of a dignitary from a foreign land buried in the charnel after the battues of indignity walloped me into prone submissiveness because they cadge the inclement belief that some puerile ontocyclic invention of the state that oppresses me makes me culpable for being a fictional prophet when I-in my honest estimation-am the most significant prophet for intellectual truth in the past millennium and among the top three prophets born in the past millennium behind Martin Luther and Joseph Smith and that with the help of the juggernauts that beseech the authorities to overlook petty frethorns of mind control I could overwhelm the world with vespiaries of militant truth percolating throughout the noosphere to enthrone enlightenment above the frazzle of combustible outrage that enslaves many lesser patrons that capitalize on outrage to ventilate the inferiority of their station while becoming maudlin props in the pacification of all to a kumbaya agenda that always is blinkered in its oblivion about Hispanic representation and thereby is a squaloid engine with selachostomous posture that devours the soul of an entire nation festers it into prolonged violence and meditates without remorse over how it exasperated an already suffocated situation with further infestations of deplorable opprobrium that was leniently reported as though this cadge would unseat the Republic to diminish the wagered campaign of orthopraxy against the ridicule of those who seek the decimation of candor and who seek to anathematize my revelations of truth as tertiary vehicles rather than primary movers. The typhlophiles that run amok with their petty ubications of usucaption of the funneled channels of graft undeterred or daunted by the intrepid intelligentsia which seeks with esquivalience to ditch the mainstream agenda and bandwagon with the promontory of craggy truth rather than reviled blarney and blench that steamy idiots will cling too with more pertinacity than the educated zealot will cling to the 2nd amendment is an affront to civilized decorum and deserves to be widely ignored rather than celebrated for their debaucheries of lawless serenades that capture just how much dissgowl it takes for a hostage media to pay the ransom of coverage that needs fuliginous fulmination of the uberufen to incite their desired poignant twinges of remorseless headway into the conquest forever of minds and hearts in that order so that the dogmatic slaves of intolerance of intolerance or just flat out racism are becoming firebrands of lunacy fuming with periblebsis rather than castigating  the righteous conduct of the ennobled gentry in their assailed vaunted capture of strongholds for odalisques that exist in yobbery to ensnare the chantage of a mindless echopraxia rather than encouraging a eutrapely of mindful meedless convivial celebration to evict the hype of brinkmanship swerving away from its own narrative to balk at draconianism while simultaneously failing to address the core prognosis of why draconianism exists in the first place of the ultrageous few that elected the conflagration many are reeling from primarily because the stage is a massive lie and the propitiation of the audience to believe the actors that represent the elite interests of our aristocracy are somehow behooved to become a new pulpit that decries religious somber authority  because it threatens the boondoggles of the future. The troudasque assault on the reified hierarchy of the taxemes of rigmarole becoming an intelligible assault on the freewheeling license of latitude to swarm into emergence and corner the arbitration of truth with an insemination of integrity is ignored because the yumdimbers of our visagist times are too much invested in autodimplage because they have been conditioned from birth to be ludic feral animals of predatory instinct that reviles any authority other than a solidarity with the flirtatious wave of kenodoxy that becomes from the pleonexia of those seeking the cordial wrinkles of a corrugated happenstance exasperated into strangulation of rights and overhyped fears that remonstrate against the freedom of license to outwit the barbarity of plagues of casuistry that enlist many duped volunteerism charades to gradgrind us into a position where the insuperable leviathan of the wragatek is a fortress which cannot be captured because its vetuda and panopticon is too visibly entrenched in extortion is a humdinger of warning and admonishment that the adumbrations of lawlessness are a further declension of the clawed mendacity of a crawling liturgy of the secular pulpit intrusive upon all vehicles of despair or accidia and promotes a culture predicated only on the reversal of privilege that disadvantages the Hispanic community without remorse because of the artwrench of the extramundane fascination is the sveldtang of relevance that is always germane despite the flickerstorm of the flamestun audience reeling from a perfidy against the people that swiftly and brusquely abandoned me in the frenetic poise of my rejuvenation to whittle down my sapience and carve the spelunkers into bolides of oblivion that crash with geotaxis which exceeds the credibility of the credulous dupes that swim in reiterative propaganda that shelters hidebound prejudice within the subtext of the antinomian waves of overpowering overreach of autarky becoming enslaved to a lewd licentious covvenger of vengeance beneath the witticisms of God and beyond his domain because the wretched corruption of the media needs to be addressed because the media is more of a vehicle against free assembly of propriety in speech by regaled conduct than any government could ever be. I am a gyrovague bibliopolist efflamen because my yulliver sensitization to incidental rebuff is an incorrigible stain on my destiny to majestic overthrow of dogmatism because the scourge of prosodemic lies that infumate and become chalky vesicles for impropriety lollop around the nuisance of the complicity among the caste system in Congress and even up to higher rundles of legislative authority to find themselves in mutiny that is a formal calculus of an ophiuran system of fungible saboteurs working from both within and beyond the paludism fundamental to the ecosystem of telmatology that they must be a participant connivance in the supercherie of all major affairs. With nimongue witticism I can exorcise the gaffe-prone hyperbole of suggestibility by enthroning a countermeasure of mesmerism that finds predicates in the dominions of the frappern created by the missionary zeal of those agentic forces that provoke the proactive righteousness of vigor rather than the suborned glaikery of the foofaraw which once reigned indomitable because it exposed human weakness to the schadenfreude of the elitism which preyed on the weaklings that still get routinely gouged by excessive crimes of patronage that rollick in the festivity of active promulgation against sidereal proclamations of human inferiority damaged by the tentacles of the tabernacle which issues justice from above rather than swampy prerogatives from beneath to elevate society above a whimper but beneath a squandered din of inefficacy calculated to become a boyg conundrum because the metage and metagnomy of the wider world is besieging my citadel and I am armed to the teeth with wisdom. More often porlecked by the thronging insubordination of cross-examined futility I stand by the halidom that cements my prophecy on Halloween 2008 as a seminal frescade with the adventurous reclamation of an assailed essay on the fragility and frailty of a crumbling equipoise grounded on farcical precepts that are rarely challenged such as the idea that spontaneity can coexist with punditry which is an abominable lie of perverse idiocy that should rankle people that all scripted social engineering is remediable from the top down but yet rebuffed because Derek Chauvin becomes a ploy of the state rather than a curtailed actor on the stage of infamy. The checkered shambolic ruin of the collateral damage of ******* with the qwersy voice of the newfangled enlightenment with great vigor dismantling the authoritarian voice of the deskandent lunacy of estrapades convoked upon the latticework of dissolution is that when you derelict the champion of freedom expect the recoil of liberty to be a whiplash upon your extended lineaments of fascination that the flargent many will crumble in cerulean clavigerous claptrap that fulminates against few agencies but the once hostage credibility of a machination that snarls with menace and reeks of opprobrium that is rarely challenged to a duel of honesty in wit because the real debate is how do we protect the order of orthopraxy from the incursions of the dilapidated credulity of an overhang of patibulary politics in an agitprop state? Retchanvil verdicts perpend over the recensed ballicatter of the keelhauled virtuosos that are signatories to a slavery-by-design system where the sclerotic agents of the mediagenic are held culpable to enforce the coalesced agitprop of consensus by refraining from their fork-tongued vitriol against injustice lest they be stampeded by an uproar of the retchallop of exchequers deprived by the state and privileges revoked by the aristophrens that are skittish in the skirmish against the retchanvil provocateurs that estrange the vainglory of pother from the potagers of enlightened mosaics of the macadamized diversity of the freeways of interchange strangled by the scuttle of piebald skeumorphs of zoolatry that fascinate the alienavesced conscience as they view as bystanders the madcap cockamamie fixtures of a modern world overreacting with mercurial redhibition their haunted fears of the scepter of war and chaos for the forlorn but never a pittance for the privileged license of exoneration above the pitiable depths of the dearth of humane enchantments provided by the modern engines of demoralization. The wipple of puerile ontocyclic regressions is turning into a steamy backfire for the sopiters that count the gullibility of massive disenfranchisement as neither detriment nor merit to the compromised solution of the diplomatic truce between embattled enemies because the wesperm we face is against virility and for the sterilization of the flosculous and pertinacious troudasque orignality of a true belief rather than a derided legacy of lies and deranged politeness as they mock your catastrophic level of nescience and plumb the abyssopelagic for hints of the mainour of the sapwood of rampicks so disillusioned by the hype they cower in scrimshanks of duty forsifamiliated by their own tribe to commence a tirade against decency rather than upholding the zeal of the lawful demonstration rather than the conflagration of repartee to enforce a newfangled decorum that is honest enough to encounter the brusque bruption of reneged agreements rather than the salty saunter of the piggybacked immoralism that sinks beneath the artifice above. The dratenk of the foibled fables of invulnerable arbitrage by boursocrats to outfox the system greatly abetted into competent leverage by the finesse of autodidactian prestige is overlooked by many as incidental when in fact the measurable demarches for the unified front of enlightenment don’t devour their frenemies but instead resort to negotiable pinhokes of devolved clarity that wravels the system and oppugns the oppression of the listless weal of warmongerers and freebooters alike as corsairs of the same syndrome of pleonexia that is a marauding force for vehement fiction becoming engraved as cretinism and certitude in diplomatic gamesmanship that is a humdinger sockdolager for the ages that provokes us to a sophrosyne neglect of the ulterior channels of furrowed outrage in the sulcate grooves of hypocrisy twirling with gawsy chocolate-box surfeit to try an install a puppet rule and a gentreng honesty that makes no concessions to a systematized persecution of the ribald witwanton effrontery against the profligate syndicate that syndicates a warbled wipple as the justified end and entombment of a prominent leader as self-sabotage is never convenient but their overstated neglect is their own pitfall rather than their collaboration in triumphant rhetoric to quizzically spurn the contumely of unstated harangues of charlatans who invoke beadledom to impose the corrosive corruption of optative choices to silence opinionated voices out of pragmatic necessity rather than cordial disagreement. The ammenque loitering against the trillops that guard the treasuries of flakmention and flarmey is an implucture of all talent corroborating a false narrative so that it is plucky enough to withstand the rooster assault on primposition of redstrall bluepomp that is the rapknock against the efflamen to endanger their safety and besiege their glamours and scintillating glints of appeal because appellate courts justify the dratenks of flombricks of wiseacres of benumbed clarity to invoke a martial order rather than an irenic francketor metanoia towards God rather than against his frenetic barnstorm for clarity and clairvoyance withheld to the ******* of redominage in the hyjamb of repcrevel.
The symbolic resistance to galvanized divestiture makes me a homeless king domineering over entire regions despite the nosocomial welcome of the evil poltroons and scullions that withhold justice from my presence because they taunt me with insubordinate factions of facture rather than the foofaraw of faffle in useless deskandent poverty because my otiose wealth swells into a dormitory of dormant passions simpering with the luxuries of time to engorge coffers rather than create coffins. I am drastically tired and wilting from the pangs of contrition that I seek the appellation of the Lord but my appendages are conflated because I sought my own outrecuidance rather than a redivivus of reclamation because I stand stranded from my own euphoria as a punitive measure because I trusted too much in quacksalver remedies of parched apothecary wisdom that now enliven barely any part of me as I have cleansed the remnants of my advantage to squander.
I am equipped for long-haul visionary prowess but I am paraded around as a nuisance for noisome vapid conglomeration to supersede my valor of purpose. Hebrews  13:1-3 NIV 13 Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. 2 Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. 3 Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.

The guild and build of compunction is predicated on the ethos that an eternal generosity not flickering in a disdain for discipline avoids dippoldism but chastises the wicker of the wicked so that the snuffed ambeer of rijuice becomes a permanent abode of those that aim for righteous conduct and a pivoted course above the travail of useful operose laborious krifts but also against the principalities of darkness that overcome the world with maleficence even in times tithed to eternal remembrance that they might be integral to the sejungible fractures of history that don’t bluster with importune crestfallen dirges but siphon through lavaderos the rectified remembrance of all virtuous deeds consummated through the renewal of covenants too herculean to master by any one apostolic visionary because I apply my wisdom to the nature of a servant dutiful in my fiduciary duty to the covenants that are foiled or proven but simultagnosia overcomes neither  the dissident nor the zealot because it is squelched by the coming of the light of aborning tides of day bequeathed from the night of lucubration that is the pedotropy of a new century rather than a rigid certainty of the last century that lapsed with grievous war and forlorn strife that the trumpery of evasive rookery doesn’t roodge people from their tranquility but instills a surpassed peace that placates the understanding of the placid miracle in the turgid ponds of absolution given as gratuity to the marvels of those without blemish or defect yet many fall short of the grace of God but are we all indeed sinners or is there a rare batch among us who is so blameless that he becomes blameworthy in the eyes of a glowering sentiment of perfection being impossible. I offer the exemplary wisdom of this age to renew that which is only impossible without the counsel of the aggrieved generation eager to novantique but disregarding the sentinels that seek the destruction of the womb and the matrix which harbors all life and neuters through death the covenants of old that a wizened corrugation of reclaimed prophecy might have enough mettle to fulfill the law of the Lord. Let the blameless procession of ceremony anoint newfangled rulers in the interregnum between lapses predevoted by the diablerists of contamination of the purified license of a ragged continence becoming the bewrayed secrecy of a furtive cloak of deliverance that professes no partisan allegiance and defies no creed but the ultimate salvation of as many of the members that constitute the living God of composite symmetry with enlightened and awakened wisdom rather than the slumber and the slummock of the radical princely rebuke and rebuff of the polished sentries of terriers too loyal to the fewterers that gave them life and not curved enough towards the beneficence of compunction actionable for levity against the gravitas of levitation afforded to the few if rarely by seldom simpers that the luxuriance of man be cloaked in the majesty of the throne rather than the ensnared tomb of sandapiles of petty eternity Matthew 5:17-19 NIV 17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. 19 Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.

To heed the call of discipleship invoked by the peremptory sophrosyne commandments of my prophetic tentacles that for momentary transcendence evolved beyond  the lapse of a cursory glint of sheens of iridescent squalor lost to the futility of a timeworn design  that I might measure up as worthy in the kingdom of Heaven to issue decrees and anoint the latria with newfound growth without decimating the spirit of the Law nor the words that constitute it despite minor grievances with the subordination of women and the slavery of men that have been remanded by ecumenical benevolence because of secular paragons celebrated widely for enlarging the sphere of humane compunction so that zoolatry and idolatry do not consume the  comestion of the Earth before the outrage of the contrition of those that knock and seek and find ajar the doors to the lychgate that leads to paradise beyond rather than turpitude beneath. As found percurrent through the human facetiousness about stricture caving into witwanton pressures to rectify a modern law to supersede a valorous insurrection of petty cordslaves mentoring themselves into indigence rather than cloaked with resplendent jovial grace we must find ourselves vindicated by magnanimity and renewed by the agony of calvary before we can call ourselves disciples rather than loutish repugnance that glowers at the dimples of time rather than pounces on the eager testy reaches of limitrophe and charter to centuries beyond our own which will either heed my wisdom or disregard it as less than sagacity embodied and more of an individualist bent but carved throughout the Bible was the insemination of the redaction of pure sentiment into cobbled perfection and yet lacking the insight to discern the future yet elapsed I contain within me a joyous discernment that the torpindages wagered through time traindeque the integrity of the trykle of inconvenient bristles that apportion the loaves and the fish evenly among those seeking food that abundance derived from dearth enriches all for in my petty  insights humbled by the porches and porticos of my assembly and ascension into a more sanctified practice I might become licentiate rather than licentious because the key difference between the disciple and the master is that the master has grasped within his truth the full measure of the scales of tip-toed justice and judicious foresight never overlooking the niceties that glamorize the vogue that contains the ebullience of artistry to entertain the flocks of Heaven and Earth and among the celestial realms earn a reputable stature as canonical enrichment rather than belittled provincialism. Gardens of the propriety of genteel regaled zalkengur will shimmer beyond resplendent imaginations never splenetic or phlegmatic in rejection of the covenant which binds us to the promise of Isaac both with the deeds of Moses succeeding him to bequeath the riches of tattered lands favored by the timeworn compunction of design to end the apartheid that rules a war-torn patchwork desolation that reigns in destitution weary of its own shadows that umbrage offends both God and Man and thereby is revoked with the privilege of the few capable of vulcanizing the totemic prerogative into a democratized  bailiwick that seeks the rijuice of remanded custody of the future to the diligence of the hands of crafty craftsman rather than other disparate clenches of the tenacious idolatry of the purebred past fed the ligony of reputable deeds or worse knaveries that are obliviated from the highlight reels that accept correction and lead prolonged lives of gallivanting gallops towards the pastures of prosperity gleaming with the boodle of the well-earned realty of labor rather than just the pretense of levied taxation upon the unfair distribution of things beyond man’s petty grasp of the junctingent reality that seeks its own heyday beyond the stegmonths that broaden the pains of parturition given as punishment to seek the reward of oikonisus rather than the dissolution of accusative whispers retreating into embanked subterfuge rather than swiveling among the creatures of light so that all might have the courage to approach the lambent presence of wisdom despite the fettle of doubt and the hamstrings of desperation that curb our mettle and cast aside our reigns to tatters rather than scullions who devour all with their charnels of brutish injustice.  The enigmatic linchpin of guarded furtive secrecy is that the lambent light shimmers with sheen but only by propinquity and proximity can it be fully fathomed so thus we must shepherd the courage and audacious resolve of the many to surmount the challenge of conation beyond the despair of failure so that the marginalized fruition of the devolved prosperity of contempered metaphor leads to the regaled histrinkage of phylogeny beyond racial divides and for the profiteers of a new century gilded in light rather than regressing into the darkness of chambers that sulk because they are seedy rather than impregnated with the fruit that distinguish the bowery from the metropolitan urbanity of clairvoyance.
The dissipated pogonip of punitive dippoldism is antithetical to the relache of paradoxical inoculations cadging dissolved juxtaposition to internecine tangential respites in the clamor of time to speak on its own behest to the calamities offset from the friction of a world slick in furtive details but evasive with dodgy harangues about the radical imposture of jingoism above the right of the voiceless to amplify the stern ripostes against warped dementia and fortify the strongholds of a guaranteed compunction contingent upon the tincture of attrition yielding a cloveryield for ambassadors to the true living wisdom of the Almighty presence of supreme authority rarely invoked but established by careful entreaty to evacuate the endangered sultry lickerish malapert licentious broods of those taxidermies that squelch the feral gregarious spirit of the untamed limits of imagination that spawn new worlds and better deeds from the spools of the woolen greenhorns that mete out our deeds for feted reclamations of the novantique. The stipulation of providence leans on the weal of turnverein abiding by amaranthine dictates that are supervenient with a beneficent attempt at recoiled surrender to divine will but met with a firm individualism that seeks to picaresque rejoinder the ultimatum of time itself to seek and find or to be stranded and evoke. The poignant twinge of individualism is a harrowing force of idiosyncrasy to triumph by hortoriginality rather than leak like a rusty faucet by the whimsy of formula and calculus both arrayed in constellation to abide by the cretaceous dictates of lifeless discipline bent by the ferules of improbability and the acatalepsy that precludes any judgment of the impossible because  the vanquished sandapile of the aggrieved coffins of former titans breathes less under the scrutiny of silk than it does when the emigration of souls in tenure and tutelage of others depend on the living sustenance of the active word Heb 4:12. We exact a precision of balance against the stultified weather of a grievance of sorrow and somber semaphores that portend gloom rather than shimmer with optimism in light but a benighted day is but a prelude to the sunblind coronation of the rigors of  mettle becoming the refracturism of a conclave that divides time in half to recursively reiterate itself in reversal and then become sejungible from holistic parcels itself to rejoin into one solid entity even when the indivisible becomes soluble in the mysteries of the ultimate querulous enigmas foreign to many minds prepossessed by anteric spite or the spate of dissuasion rather than goaded adventure that spars against the spartanism of rigged gladiatorial spectacles that appease the aceldama much to the agony of the participants who issue not even a whimper of resignation in their trumpery over courage because they foist their momentary battle as an exaggeration of the prowess of invented celebrity that is much belittled in the artifice of war that is checkered against the hubris of outrecuidance that gloats over the dumose duress of shattered paradigms while regnant upon the face of the dormant courtesy of designation rather than design for the supercherie of evocative throngs of rumpus and cacophony to settle into the sedimentary victories of tallespin rather than internecine gambits of glaikery lost in the ****** creeping galvanization of artistry met with inclemency. The sophrosyne proclivity pivots on a propinquity of asseveration of sacerdotal mandates and individualism untethered by the boundaries of the purely lucid and pellucid thoughts known to the conversant tongue because to regiment the historical lineage of a crafty kisswonk that avoids the pitfalls of egestuous penury of conservatory conservatism and neglect the thorny imbroglios posed by the ragtaggers of freebooted hornbooks sold by the colporteurs of the aboriginal swindle of defalcation from public treasury we must find treasure in all composite works as mosaic artistry becomes the granular comportment of majesty unfurled by emblazoned ascertained certainties without being flummoxed by the crestfallen pause of the waterdrips that stand nesiotes in silentium insular in design only to be found among the troves of the value that designates the valuable from the worthless and we must determine the integrity of deeds supernal and faith provisional the restive pause of soteriology that all matter is better than all sense only because without matter sensation would lack its testy limits to the mathematical postulate that carving sapwood is easier than the whipsaw of the contrition of centuries grieving over  their compounded losses rather than prizing their compounded interests of atocia and wesperm of neutered virility swamping the industrial sentiments with clockwork vanities rather than humbled or even humiliated revenants of carnation believing never the credulity of partial lies but swerving away from temptation even upon faulted pages that superstition will evict. The boiled subsistence of many odd epistolary requiems are omitted from memory because the reverse evasion of an unmerited life earning  few keepsakes worthy of a tithe to a modesty of reprisal rather than a ruckus of betrayal that casts asunder the former ******* for the emergence of the stegmonth and the barleychildren of emigration to newly crowned visages storming the frontier of not headlong abandon but the sad recadency of vitriol upon sentiment divided against itself like a creaky vestige of a craggy hill surmounted by an edifice of sterilization rather than perdurable anointment. We whimper with resignation that this overlooked passage through the turmoil of the yearned heyday upon the grunts of labor will forever be stained by the petty numbers that emblazon the recumbent posture of inconvenience riddled with foraminated despised countenance belied of its own true nature to wither into the crumples of ashen dust memorialized by fewer than the momentum of catalysts demands. Proverbs 8:22-35 NIV
“The Lord brought me forth as the first of his works,[c][d]
    before his deeds of old;
23 I was formed long ages ago,
    at the very beginning, when the world came to be.
24 When there were no watery depths, I was given birth,
    when there were no springs overflowing with water;
25 before the mountains were settled in place,
    before the hills, I was given birth,
26 before he made the world or its fields
    or any of the dust of the earth.
27 I was there when he set the heavens in place,
    when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep,
28 when he established the clouds above
    and fixed securely the fountains of the deep,
29 when he gave the sea its boundary
    so the waters would not overstep his command,
and when he marked out the foundations of the earth.
30     Then I was constantly[e] at his side.
I was filled with delight day after day,
    rejoicing always in his presence,
31 rejoicing in his whole world
    and delighting in mankind.
32 “Now then, my children, listen to me;
    blessed are those who keep my ways.
33 Listen to my instruction and be wise;
    do not disregard it.
34 Blessed are those who listen to me,
    watching daily at my doors,
    waiting at my doorway.
35 For those who find me find life
    and receive favor from the Lord.

We were all borne of the smithy of the furnace of the aboriginal yet it is lapsed in our memory as the stardust of a time beyond volition and therefore repentant not because contrition for secondhand deeds without moral pedigree tethered to altruism requires few hymns of atonement that we were there when the protoplasm engulfed the Earth and rattled the cages of the celestial realm so that the emigrants from the future and the distant sidereal neighbors we barely know with intimacy saw us in a decarnate form crass to perception but not immune from the pregnancy of rebirth that is the incarnation of all flesh and blood lived in the loitered remembrance of eons that flashed by in seconds rather than draped over countless millennium with a poise and a pause. There is a tenure of conviction which abides by a deputized authority that fossicks every creaky hinge of absolution to demarcate the boundaries of stardust that impregnated the world with life in variegated diversity not for a haughty zoology of the sneer of outrecuidance or merely the capitalization of the syndicated gains of collectivized enlightenment but the higher realm of betrothed fidelity to the tutelary plenilune dictates that are in sultry sullen broods of oligochrome to the tentative ear but swivel silently to the journeys ineffable that make life memorable and peaceable with armistice rather than desperate recoils of militarization against domesticated furor rather than foreign malevolence that depreciates the tegular carapace of conversion to summit the tropes of tramontane fables archaic in literacy but bundled in the comestion of design that are formant proprieties of spates of flamestun twinges that spurn the ferule and bound the jackals leapfrog above the bushy secrecy of a pointed swarm rather than a pointless scorn that disavows its prejudice for pride but becomes an empty vehicle of subversion rather than empowerment when the people abounding in its glorified presence  become captivated by transfixed valuable temporal achievements rather than the core of mettle itself to divide the plunder on even ground.  The fickle atoms that when divided provide the ulterior gainsay of destruction are the same unitary properties that should stand forever indivisible in the resemblance of an effigy never berated because of insensate brevity in sensible sensation but always applauded because the constitution of all matter belongs to the ephemeral spars among stars and the violence of bolides of collision rather than ramparts of desecration. The offspring of this shambolic awakening is the seminal procedure beyond the reiterative quips of awakening that seems to make few demands that are heard beyond hearsay and a great deal of ordeal ruckus and character building at the centerpiece of a mosaic permutation of fundamental perpended democracy that shelves its prerogatives to obganiate the tired point of the tiresome hackneyed narrative that seems steamy and running out of gas and thereby stranded in insular vagary. This gay-baiting ******* deserves to belong to perdition in the deepest barathrum of hell because schadenfreude should not overpower moral logic because of corrupt evil henchmen that won’t surrender a petty point in a war they will lose completely by my vindicated triumph over the ugly tittups of desiccated vigor intermediary to triumph that regales only the worst of society to curbstomp me because of ridiculous lies that deserve the strongest excoriation demanded by the exigency of this scenario because you can’t justify slavery to prove GLAFD vindicated.
I stand in solemn triumph that this psychological debauchery cannot reduce the agency of God into some petty psychological experimentation with human virtuosos to make them grand empirical diatribes of the suborned fagins of robbery and thievery that sneaks around the thickets to reprove the vindictive ****** of God against his many coagulated enemies. I am here to declare the Black Lives Matter slogan a fraud to enslave dumb people that aren’t awakened to the true trumpery of supercherie that governs our country negligently while many itch for the grievances of legal recourse but feel intimidated by the strangulation of the armies of evil promoting consternation to demerits rather than plaudits. I am a righteous agent of valor rather than a deposed reiterative squalor that vanquishes the enemy despite their background because I don’t shrink from a fight even when embattled by the shepherds of evil maleficence that simpers with disdain at my heroic attempts to beat Truman Show politics that shelve moral fiduciary duty to subsidiary status while I campaign for the valorous enrichment of God’s bounty beyond limits of the petty  finicky resolve of the enemies that surround me with finicky subversion. The inexcusable crime here is that the majority of malcontent deals with slavery rather than George Floyd whose memory is memorialized as a sopiter to the dumb people watching TV dying of senectitude that don’t research the  internet when the truth is far more glaring Facebook mafia and Silicon Valley are holding me hostage to prove a petty point about the schadenfreude of a never ending torrent of bashing Beto’ O’Rourke style that would end in a terminus of despair to promote a radical agenda that is now being hijacked by BLM despite the fact most of the momentum is being catalyzed by my injustice and the grappling moments with the demons that estrange me and suffocate my movement to squalor and entrenchment. Wake up! This is not BLM anymore it is a hijacked excuse for the slumberous old people who only watch TV and don’t do research and there is a concerted effort to limit free speech even when I have license and latitude to exercise my authority to exorcise demons that haunt this skrimch that resides in eternal evil for petty political ploys deranged in lunacy rather than ennobled by God’s justice and this maleficence will never end until my dying day because I will not resign to the pressures of divestiture to lead a prosperous life only to find perdition at the end of my path because I abide by God’s covenant without flinching and I will march on for the solidarity of liberation rather than the squalor of demerited apartheid.
White prejudice tried to systematically erase me from the records despite my continual truth in interrogation that subverted me in the most minatory way imaginable. I stand reformed by my character in the face of depredation because their faultered attempts failed. They should be degraced from their positions of primposition of the police state that avenges all petty losses in the SB era at a time when I was prone to querulousnesss. Benumbed by crisis the world will be inoculated from truth to subversive values that inculcate the vulnerable rather than exonerate the bridewells of encomium. I justify my works by God’s compassion to bless me with such encomium even in these balkanizing circumstances that we all might be remediated by the grace of the one who sent us to the missionary zeal to compunction that delivers the sentinel vision of terriers of goodwill and justice!
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
Goats eat and **** the grass of ramparts,
stupefied cannons sit, garrisoned sentries
primed for nights of buccaneers,
seared by centuries of sun. Down shadowed
cobblestoned tunnels fortified shutters
covet rifle forend and barrel,

wresting rumored slave rebellions
from the locker of history,
while languid waves whisper indifferently
a roll call of human cargo,
chattel displaced, cast to the sea.

Here history sways to sounds
of brown skinned children
at play in breakers,
laughing, shrieking, thrashing,
buoyed by time to this vaulted brick
reverberating chamber,

here a window’s light is cast
beckoning vision past the beach,
to seek the horizon Icarus like,
to fly towards beauty in terror where
an azure sky conjoins a turquoise bay.


Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
160707F
There's a meadow past the village
On a hill...where magic swarms
You can see it on a summer night
When the clouds predict the storms
Life from time eternal
Starts appearing in the field
Gnomes and bluebell fairies
and the magic that they yield

You can see them from the village
Dancing in the moonlights glow
You can see the lightning jumping
You can see the ebb and flow
The pixies and the fairies
Folk who are part of their own world
Light up the distant meadow
As the magic is unfurled

Daisies and soft bluebells
fill the meadow in the sun
there is clover and some dragonflies
And young children having fun
The magic folk are hiding
Lights are hid, and tucked away
Until the humans in their world
Pack to end the day

It's then, from down the village
That the meadow lights begin
Where the magic lights the sky up
In the early gloaming din
If a human breaks the borders
Coming out and much too near
The lights go dark...and silent
For the magic world has ears

There are sentries in the meadow
All unseen to you
That alert the makers of the lights
When the humans are in view
there is magic in the meadow
magic lanterns are set free
where the world becomes a canvas
Of dancing lights for all to see
Valsa George May 2017
As the sun moves to the western horizon
Colors are skilfully blended in a palette
In an instant the sky becomes an exquisite canvas of art
Making even Van Gogh burn in jealousy

With the last glimmer of sunset
When the shadows chase the light,
The aerial folks fly back to their nests
Like black and white specks dotting the sky

With a dark drape stretched across the Earth’s face
The arrival of the night is a spectacular sight
Cicadas and crickets welcome her with their ceremonious band
And street lamps blink their eyes to catch a better view

While truant clouds still wander around aimless
The cerulean sky signals them to hurry
Stars slowly appear in the night sky
Like sequins stitched on to a blue brocade

The crescent moon smiles down
The empress of the night, proud and regal
She and her retinue keep guard over the slumbering Earth
The unpaid sentries of the night!

A gentle breeze makes a palanquin ride
Wafting in the scent of opening buds
The beauty of the night sends me to raptures
My heart exploding like foaming wine in a bottle

Yet I cannot but keep wondering
How many dark secrets
The night holds
Within her tenebrous folds!
What a pleasant surprise, this poem is made the daily. Thanks to everyone for making it possible through your likes and kind comments. These days I can't see the daily and I don't know where to look for it. The site is sometimes quite tricky.....Thanks a lot once again !
The crockets are launched
The people are killed
Crits are ringing
Sentries are shooting
I know this, I was there
I'm not a dactor, not yet at least
I took spawn camping to the next level
It's true, they can confirm it
look it up yourself  next gen spawn camping
I did it, you didn't (unless you were there)
it was at 11:00 this morning
yea
Rob Sandman Mar 2016
First Contact
"How did I get here,I can't remember,
my brains burning out like a dwindling ember,
are those tears in my eyes?-no its pourin' rain,
I'm lying on my back in the bottom of a stormdrain,
hunted like an animal,but still I'm deadly,
like a wounded lion,you better bet ye,
will lose more men than I've already taken(taken sample),
the hunter hunted? I think you're mistaken,
I'm a one man army,armed or not,
you didn't bring enough manpower,have you forgot?,
that the sandman(badman,phantoms in the dark)
has more in his bite than you do in your bark,
it's getting dark now,tables turning,

tyger,tyger,my eyes are burning,

better keep your guard up,I've been confronted...
but how can you tell who's hunter or hunted? 16.

Riposte

Better count your sentries,I think ones missin,
when you see his blood glistenin your pants your ****** in,
should have been listenin,I gave you a chance,
now its time for the Sandman to do his dance,
like a praying Mantis I move so swiftly,
bullet's fly like locusts,but each one missed me,
the Locus and Focus of my 3rd eyes movin,
got your sentries rifle,but I won't even use it,
taunt you haunt you,flaunt skills I honed,
from a broken home,to the streets to battlezones,
catch you alone,smash your skull with a hanbo,
appear behind you from the mud like Rambo,
bodies placed like hannibal,a deadly scene,
you're a ****** housecat and I'm wolverine,
told your boss you could get me now you know you fronted,
cat and mouse reversed-YOU'RE the one who's hunted.

Denoument*

Now I know who you are,and I know where you live,
and in this line of work I can't forget or forgive.

We were partners once now you've betrayed my trust,
taught you everything you know,now it's ashes and dust
your bodyguards are good,but they know I'll get ya,
more ghost than man,a modern day ninja,
leave you injured,begging for mercy,
but you know the concept is alien to me,
grabbed the bull by the horns,my hand you forced,
you're a moveable object,I'm unstoppable force,
force feed your limbs til you beg for death,
line your family up and slowly take their heads,
then I'm in the wind,gone like keyser sozey,
the word is spread,don't try to **** me,
you were my friend,but you crossed the line,
try to hunt the Sandman,"you're all ****** dyin"
For everyone else who loves a "ripping yarn" in a poem/Song. :)
Hunted is based on personal experience in the Security Sector.
to hear Hunted as a song with my Band Eclectic Collective Eire (or just E.C.) go here-
https://soundcloud.com/eclectic-collective-eire/hunted-try-to-hunt-the-sandmansee-what-happens
Edna Sweetlove Apr 2016
A poem by my friend Stan Blackberg (the total ******)

There are flowers standing proudly, one for each whose loved ones mourn,
Speaking out so clear and loudly, for that fateful treacherous morn,
When the aircrafts bashed them up and all their flesh got burnt & torn!

Do we honour them with killing, taking up arms to spill more blood,
Or take lesson if we’re willing, a bitter pill for common good,
Or sit unbeguiled with our faces stuffed with fattening food?

There’s no god would take such action, justify such murderous deed,
Those insane within such factions, find posthumously they heed,
It's upon such wickedosity that our nostrils froth and bleed.

Hear the painful hard earned lesson, lest their names we desecrate,
Take not slaughter as your banner making killing escalate,
And by no means forget to have a mutual *******!

Place our sentries all united, shed thee not another drop,
Silence now all angry gunfire, when’s the killing ever stop.
And the blood falls from above with a loudish plip and plop.
Stan is a ****** but he gave me £1 to post this here.
She looked over his shoulder
For vines and olive trees,
Marble well-governed cities
And ships upon untamed seas,
But there on the shining metal
His hands had put instead
An artificial wilderness
And a sky like lead.

A plain without a feature, bare and brown,
No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood
An unintelligible multitude,
A million eyes, a million boots in line,
Without expression, waiting for a sign.

Out of the air a voice without a face
Proved by statistics that some cause was just
In tones as dry and level as the place:
No one was cheered and nothing was discussed;
Column by column in a cloud of dust
They marched away enduring a belief
Whose logic brought them, somewhere else, to grief.

She looked over his shoulder
For ritual pieties,
White flower-garlanded heifers,
Libation and sacrifice,
But there on the shining metal
Where the altar should have been,
She saw by his flickering forge-light
Quite another scene.

Barbed wire enclosed an arbitrary spot
Where bored officials lounged (one cracked a joke)
And sentries sweated for the day was hot:
A crowd of ordinary decent folk
Watched from without and neither moved nor spoke
As three pale figures were led forth and bound
To three posts driven upright in the ground.

The mass and majesty of this world, all
That carries weight and always weighs the same
Lay in the hands of others; they were small
And could not hope for help and no help came:
What their foes like to do was done, their shame
Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride
And died as men before their bodies died.

She looked over his shoulder
For athletes at their games,
Men and women in a dance
Moving their sweet limbs
Quick, quick, to music,
But there on the shining shield
His hands had set no dancing-floor
But a ****-choked field.

A ragged urchin, aimless and alone,
Loitered about that vacancy; a bird
Flew up to safety from his well-aimed stone:
That girls are *****, that two boys knife a third,
Were axioms to him, who'd never heard
Of any world where promises were kept,
Or one could weep because another wept.

The thin-lipped armorer,
Hephaestos, hobbled away,
Thetis of the shining *******
Cried out in dismay
At what the god had wrought
To please her son, the strong
Iron-hearted man-slaying Achilles
Who would not live long.
Aroused and angry,
I thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war;
But soon my fingers fail’d me, my face droop’d, and I resign’d myself,
To sit by the wounded and soothe them, or silently watch the dead.

1

First, O songs, for a prelude,
Lightly strike on the stretch’d tympanum, pride and joy in my city,
How she led the rest to arms—how she gave the cue,
How at once with lithe limbs, unwaiting a moment, she sprang;
(O superb! O Manhattan, my own, my peerless!
O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis! O truer than steel!)
How you sprang! how you threw off the costumes of peace with indifferent hand;
How your soft opera-music changed, and the drum and fife were heard in their stead;
How you led to the war, (that shall serve for our prelude, songs of soldiers,)
How Manhattan drum-taps led.

2

Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading;
Forty years as a pageant—till unawares, the Lady of this teeming and turbulent city,
Sleepless amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth,
With her million children around her—suddenly,
At dead of night, at news from the south,
Incens’d, struck with clench’d hand the pavement.

A shock electric—the night sustain’d it;
Till with ominous hum, our hive at day-break pour’d out its myriads.

From the houses then, and the workshops, and through all the doorways,
Leapt they tumultuous—and lo! Manhattan arming.

3

To the drum-taps prompt,
The young men falling in and arming;
The mechanics arming, (the trowel, the jack-plane, the blacksmith’s hammer, tost aside with precipitation;)
The lawyer leaving his office, and arming—the judge leaving the court;
The driver deserting his wagon in the street, jumping down, throwing the reins abruptly down on the horses’ backs;
The salesman leaving the store—the boss, book-keeper, porter, all leaving;
Squads gather everywhere by common consent, and arm;
The new recruits, even boys—the old men show them how to wear their accoutrements—they buckle the straps carefully;
Outdoors arming—indoors arming—the flash of the musket-barrels;
The white tents cluster in camps—the arm’d sentries around—the sunrise cannon, and again at sunset;
Arm’d regiments arrive every day, pass through the city, and embark from the wharves;
(How good they look, as they ***** down to the river, sweaty, with their guns on their shoulders!
How I love them! how I could hug them, with their brown faces, and their clothes and knapsacks cover’d with dust!)
The blood of the city up—arm’d! arm’d! the cry everywhere;
The flags flung out from the steeples of churches, and from all the public buildings and stores;
The tearful parting—the mother kisses her son—the son kisses his mother;
(Loth is the mother to part—yet not a word does she speak to detain him;)
The tumultuous escort—the ranks of policemen preceding, clearing the way;
The unpent enthusiasm—the wild cheers of the crowd for their favorites;
The artillery—the silent cannons, bright as gold, drawn along, rumble lightly over the stones;
(Silent cannons—soon to cease your silence!
Soon, unlimber’d, to begin the red business;)
All the mutter of preparation—all the determin’d arming;
The hospital service—the lint, bandages, and medicines;
The women volunteering for nurses—the work begun for, in earnest—no mere parade now;
War! an arm’d race is advancing!—the welcome for battle—no turning away;
War! be it weeks, months, or years—an arm’d race is advancing to welcome it.

4

Mannahatta a-march!—and it’s O to sing it well!
It’s O for a manly life in the camp!
And the sturdy artillery!
The guns, bright as gold—the work for giants—to serve well the guns:
Unlimber them! no more, as the past forty years, for salutes for courtesies merely;
Put in something else now besides powder and wadding.

5

And you, Lady of Ships! you Mannahatta!
Old matron of this proud, friendly, turbulent city!
Often in peace and wealth you were pensive, or covertly frown’d amid all your children;
But now you smile with joy, exulting old Mannahatta!
I

1 Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us ...
2 Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent ...
3 Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient ...
4 Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
5 But nothing happens.

6 Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
7 Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
8 Northward incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles,
9 Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war.
10 What are we doing here?

11 The poignant misery of dawn begins to grow ...
12 We only know war lasts, rain soaks, and clouds sag stormy.
13 Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army
14 Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of gray,
15 But nothing happens.

16 Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence.
17 Less deadly than the air that shudders black with snow,
18 With sidelong flowing flakes that flock, pause and renew,
19 We watch them wandering up and down the wind's nonchalance,
20 But nothing happens.

II

21 Pale flakes with lingering stealth come feeling for our faces--
22 We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed,
23 Deep into grassier ditches. So we drowse, sun-dozed,
24 Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses.
25 Is it that we are dying?

26 Slowly our ghosts drag home: glimpsing the sunk fires glozed
27 With crusted dark-red jewels; crickets jingle there;
28 For hours the innocent mice rejoice: the house is theirs;
29 Shutters and doors all closed: on us the doors are closed--
30 We turn back to our dying.

31 Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn;
32 Now ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit.
33 For God's invincible spring our love is made afraid;
34 Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born,
35 For love of God seems dying.

36 To-night, His frost will fasten on this mud and us,
37 Shrivelling many hands and puckering foreheads crisp.
38 The burying-party, picks and shovels in their shaking grasp,
39 Pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice,
40 But nothing happens.
Fegger May 2010
The lantern sways, as shadows flash,
Mists draped in night so still;
Illuminating fleshless arms,
Creep-out along this hill.
Such guardians of soul-less mounds,
Wooden markers of the poor,
Bow in hallowed reverence
As sentries evermore.

Weeping, yet un-frightened,
She trips between each aisle;
Casting light against each stone,
Acknowledge each beguiled.
Then memory finds her grasping,
And clenching cold, damp stone
Denoting ‘neath a vacant plot,
For he never did come home.

‘Pon scattered grass and gravelly dirt;
Drops to reverent knee,
While fanning simple pleats about,
Her dress, in modesty.
She twists the **** and raises wick;
And it curls with cloak of flame.
She whets her lips, inhaling deep,
Then summons ‘pon his name:

“Bartholomew,  Bartholomew,
Can you see that I ‘ave come?
Are you near, me sweetest husband?
‘Tis I, your Mary Dunn!
I had me thoughts to come t’night,
To ‘ave a word with you,
That’s pressin’ on me heart so fierce,
Ya’ ‘round Bartholomew?
Aye, that’d be just like ye some,
To wait fer me confess;
A’twisten’ in me awkward words,
No salve fer me distress!
Yet I—I need t’hear yer voice
An’ calmin’ words to heal,
The anxious quiver, here, inside,
A’longin’ to reveal.”

The widow paused, collecting will,
And questioned own intent;
To cast a net to spirit’s world,
To herald self- repent.
She wrings her fingers nervously,
While waiting ‘pon the dead;
When suddenly a breeze did rise,
Then a hand upon her head.

“Mary Dunn, me Mary Dunn,
‘Ave not better things to do;
Than wander ‘bout such crypts at night,
A’hovered by the moon?
What keeps y’here in dank an cold,
So callin’ out fer me?
Ye know fer fact I’m dead by now,
An rottin’ in the sea!”

“It’s good to see ya’ too, my love;
Better then, to hear;
That death din’t take away that tongue,
Or how ye prone t’snear.
I ‘spected that I’d smell ya’ first,
That rancid scent of whale;
Yer eyes were once quite darker,
Yer skin not quite so pale”.

The spirit corpse then spun about,
Examined high and low,
The fiery bride he’d left behind,
With heart so still aglow.
Warmed by her excited eyes,
And cheeks so pink with life;
He felt a distance aching,
Longing for this wife.

“Ye got a bit of lonely, Mary,
That why ye come tonight;
‘Spectin’ glimpse ‘ov me, like this
‘Wud turn ya’ heart to right?
Sensible is how ye was,
Yet be scurryin’ to find,
Such wisdom in yer harkin’,
To terms ye felt unkind.”

“Stop with ya’!  Stop with ya’!
Ya’ stubborn, briney goat!
T’wasn’t me who boarded ship
An’ failed to keep afloat!
Aye, the heaven hasn’t tempered,
The iron in yer will.
Judge me not Bartholomew,
One, amongst the krill!”

The bearded ghost then chuckled,
‘Til tears came to his eyes.
Proud he was to have such time,
To spend with feisty bride.
He then retreats in silence,
As he gleans from her distress,
That she torments with a secret,
To him, she must confess.

“"Bartholomew, me love,"
she embarks to make her plea,
"Ye left me young an' fruitful still,
yet no child ‘pon me knee.
I'm not as sturdy as y'think,
An' tremble at the thought;
deprived I am of husbandry,
my womb be saved fer naught."
Without ye then, I’ll ‘ave no spring,
No child to remind,
Of splendid days, brighter sun,
Me husband now divine.
I’m askin’ yer forgiveness,
And yer permit to pursue,
The kindly callers come to me,
In absence then, of you.”

“Yer speakin’ of the cooper, Tim,
Or Drew, the smithies’ hand?
Aye, better off with men who keep,
Their feet upon the land!
But Tim, I’m sadly knowin’ that,
His time is comin’ due;
An’ if a child be yer design,
There ‘ain’t no seeds in Drew.
I’ll not be one to keep ya’,
To an empty marriage bed.
Lord knows ye d’serve a finer life,
Than keepin’ with the dead.
But ev’rythin’ that’s in me,
Needs ye hurt no more.
Death ‘as grant me favored eyes,
I ‘adn’t known before.
I’ll come ‘ere, e’vry night,
An’ visit, yer desire.
Honest, I will always be,
Tendin’ yer require.
Love ‘been mine for days of flesh,
Then, for eternity.
Go then now, me Mary Dunn,
An’ make a life for thee.”

With courage she did leave that night,
With freedom then realized,
To pair with then, another mate,
Forsaking former ties.
Yet, on the night that followed,
And for thousands after, too,
She chose the comp’ny of the ghost,
Her lost Bartholomew.

Each night she braved nature’s serve,
Through rain, or cold, or sleet;
Imbibing ‘pon such moment’s time,
To feed on love so sweet.
Each minute spent, Bartholomew,
Rejoiced in hardships, laughter;
And only God and Time will know,
Such treasures in hereafter.

One night, amidst November freeze,
Mary staggered there,
Among the stones akin to home,
With her husband shared;
Lungs revolting, gurgling swell,
Mouth of staining red;
Contrasting earthly suffering,
Found solace ‘mongst the dead.
Fevered to delirium,
Wet, silver-tainted hair,
She settles ‘side familiar post
And finds him waiting there.
Struggles so to form a breath,
In hopes that she may speak,
Surrendering the day’s accounts;
But fears she is too weak.

“Aye, ‘tis time, me Mary Dunn,
A’time that ye come home.
Beyond this night, forevermore,
Y’ll nev’r be alone.
I wish that I could reach ya’ now,
An pull ya’ ‘cross the veil
That’s kept us ‘part these many years,
In spite of what’s prevailed.”

“So ‘lighten me, me whaler man,”
She coughed a pale reply.
“Why’d ya’ choose to lie to me,
To keep me as yo’r bride?
The cooper, he outlived us both,
Eight children sprung from Drew;
Ye lied to me for all these years,
What say, Bartholomew?”

“I feared me own accord, me lass,
From terms set forth above;
Ye cannot cross to waitin’ arms,
Unless ye go with love.
An’ I, but one love known to life,
This chance then rest with you
To be me escort to the Lord,
This, I say is true.
Should ye have taken ‘nother man,
I feared that ye’d be his;
An’ ye’d be taken up with him,
While I’d be left like this;
A-hoverin’ in between such space,
An’ time, by lonesome self;
While pinin’ for me heart of life,
Me Mary, ‘n no one else.”

“Aye, such flat’ry from  des’prate ghost;
It was my life ye know;
I seen ya’ for deceiver,
So many years ago.
But I choose’d to keep me vows to you,
‘Til heaven takes me in;
An’ if I granted sim’lar choice,
I’d choose the same a’gin’.

I’m dying love, I feel it now,
Me spirit needs to leave;
This body sez it’s had enough,
Me time is done, indeed.”
“Lay down, me lass, breath peace,
Lay down ‘n be there, still;
Our fate, as love, ‘pears destiny,
As both our lungs were filled.”

Mary Dunn surrendered then,
To callings of her spirit;
With forever longing arms of his,
She had no cause to fear it.
United once again, at last,
Of faith and love of few,
She crossed into Eternity,
With her love, Bartholomew!
As this represents a needed edit, I'd like to extend my gratitude to Drew for precise observation, critique/guidance and to my dear poet friend, Ron Gardner,  who donated several verses to this piece that were clearly more appropriate than what I had penned originally.  Thanks, so much, gentlemen!!!

If you are reading this, you did me a great favor of time...thanks.  

Fegger, 2010
For the past two hours
this Mac has hypnotised
my gaze to its white screen
and every website has
sentries at the door -
Username ? Password ?
Already registered ? Login

When did we become so
chary one of another ?  Were
folks so paranoid in the pre-
digital age when existence
had not been magicked into
noughts and ones in Silicon
Valley?  It did not seem so.

(c) C J Heyworth July 2014
The surreal sci-fi novels written by Douglas Adams had a hugely comic character called Marvin The Paranoid Android.
I suspect that the advent of modern technologies and their endless capability to snoop has turned all of us into a generation of Marvins.
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2011
Orange hazards blink in gloom
Autumn mist in early light,
Traffic cones direct the flow
Attenuators keep it tight.
Through the mist construction looms
A mighty swath comes into sight
A structure massive, incomplete
Sweeps past the Birdcage portal light.

Burrowed deep within the Park
Surmounted by its stark white beams,
The tunnel curves towards the Bridge
To emerge near the Victory screens.
Symmetry in huge largess
Biblical in size and form,
Built by puny hands of flesh
Man inspired, conceived and born.

Columns in the concrete mass
Loom as sentries, side by side,
Level in majestic sweep
Through the tunnel’s corner glide.
Massive beams locked overhead
Cap the roof’s gigantic clasp,
Reinforced by gridlocked steel
Bound within the concrete’s grasp.

Mounds of blue, congealed wet clay
Layered in an old sea bed,
Hauled away from ancient crib
By Fletcher excavators red.
Roaring diesel truck and tray
Loaded overburden high,
Water blasted ***** and span
Keeping highways clean and dry.

Monstrous cranes with hanging rig
Lower weights of ponderous steel,
Gently to the tunnel base
Led by Dogman’s coaxing feel.
Urgency in every move
Hard hats drill with diamond core,
Fixing massive panel slabs
To the looming concrete’s bore.

Well below incoming tide
Pounded by the drenching rain,
Four inch pumps snake to the sump
Ensuring flood control’s maintained.
Foremen bark and keep control
Hard hats share a secret smile,
Safety first for every man
Think before you lift that pile.

Gate girls smile at passers bye
Politely chiding those who stray,
Holding up a halting hand
With trucks inbound in hazards way.
Smoko at the Bowling Club
Murmur of a hundred souls,
Grubby in their hi vis vests
Munching on the caterers rolls.

Morale amongst the working men
Is high because they feel the cause,
A project that is so worthwhile
They KNOW that it  deserves applause.
Traffic roars above it all
Passing in a steady stream,
Brake lights on the viaduct
Cop cars flash and sirens scream.

This project has a consciousness
A Heart, a mind, a soul.
And an inspirational spirit
Which guides us to the goal.
To eliminate the bottleneck
In Auckland's traffic day
And to streamline the system
Of our vehicular motorway.

Politicians snarl right now
Champing at the huge expense,
But by next year’s finish date
Congratulations will commence.
The jewel in the crown they say
Is found within our park of green,
The Victoria Park Tunnel, friend,
Is a true magnificence, to be seen.


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
5 February 2011
Laura Coulton Nov 2019
The thin, green tendons curl and creep along the unrelenting metal.
Sprouts cover the abandoned trail, growing, climbing, maturing.
White buds surround the path like a floral passageway, awaiting its next guest.
At times, the beaten track disappears beneath thorns, grasses, seedlings
And the way is concealed, a missing link between the beginning and the end.
You almost become displaced from reality, but then you find yourself at a modest clearing surrounded by weeds and beautiful little blooms
And an old, wooden bench.
Inscribed in it are many different names, holding the remembrance of people who visited before,
but who have now gone their own way.
The scratches in the ragged wood are memoirs of the ones before us, who have spent small moments in this opening when it was pristine, fresh, neatly pruned.
Sitting on that moth-eaten bench, you can see the glow of the sun reflecting off the tide as it murmurs gently to the sky.
Gone are the days when the path was easy, when the seat was sturdy and the metal was clean.
Leaves now tickle your neck as you walk through the thick shrubbery, and reach down to touch your legs, your arms, your back
as though wondering why a perfect stranger is now back in its home,
Invading the serene area,
after so long being isolated.
When it's sunlight, the ocean glistens and whispers its secrets to all who will listen.
The hills stand tenacious and guard over the innocent.
Everyone below goes on with their lives, without glancing at two figures sitting on the hillside, barely visible amongst the thicket and brush.
When nightfall comes
It seems as though all the stars have fallen upon the city, one for each person,
And the dark expanse of the hushed sea stretches on forever, the ending out of sight.
The heavens and the earth seem to have merged together, so it is now one.
No movement below, except for the wind slowly pushing past weak branches, tugging at leaves and sleepy flower buds, humming a song while the city slumbers.
All man-made objects obscured in the dark, and now it’s just raw nature,
Pure and simple.
When the rain begins to fall, it becomes even more beautiful.
The greenery turns silver under the faint glow of the moon breaking through its prison of clouds.
The raindrops fall off sodden fronds, silently soaking into the dry earth, petrichor filling the air
Seeming to relax the world.
The air sounds static, the constant sound of the droplets impinging the clammy terrain.
This is our place. It is where we spent our days when it was easy to access, when there were often others sharing the space with us, but also once it was fenced off and deemed too treacherous to enter.
Still, we, sentries, go up to our lookout,
And watch the world go by in front of our eyes.
I wrote this about 4 years ago. It is a very special place and I miss it and him. Every day.
There are colors yet unknown in my finite view of Earth , artistic wonders undiscovered , to this day quite alone .. Geometric shapes where Sweetgum trees silhouette the majestic Dawn .. Enchantment with every turn go I , to study my religion by day , collect my thoughts and observations by night .. To interplay among life undiscovered  , to revel someday in its happenstance ... The weathered profiles of a million botanicals unknown or forgotten . An ocean whose riddles remain unsolved , seventy percent of our precious world where exploration has barely scratched the surface .. Dark , rainy afternoons reconfigured with burst of light , the surface of oceans ever mysterious , highlighted by the Moon on hazy nights .. I flew over Moccasin Creek to sample fresh water and take in mountain greenery ..Walked the treetops of the Oconee Forest to witness the floor of the woodlands as a squirrel , crow or eagle ..Slithered along the Georgia clay like a Black Racer , cautiously studied each image before me with the curiosity of a Red fox .. Enthralled with the Savannah Dancers of Tybee Island , precious gulls , blue ***** and brown pelicans .. Welcome every change of season , Dark pine thickets tell of death and renewal ...

                                                          II­
Jagged , blue grass approaches , green straw tops , quiet
cinnamon needle oceans connected by silver streak spider webbing ..
Warm winds divide earthen cover , lifeless termite ridden forefathers lay in testament to bitter destruction ... Our Noon star nourishes bold , sylvan seedlings , beneath her languishing February predicament however ... Grassy field roads lay locked in period of service , daylight path corrections , marble land buoy sentries within thistle , dandelion and Sawgrass .. Gold , knee high cover caresses , reaching skyward beside the field road , lying forgotten , left to the mercy of kudzu , marble and granite .. Scrags reclaim rusted encroachments , tin in battle with the tepid wail of afternoon wind as stick pines mimic the Appalachians , gently roll toward the awaiting lavender blue horizon ... As pasture returns to woodlands , blanketed in hues of brown with forest echoes , carry whispered voices into tomorrow ... Lively crows live to tell their wintry tale , resting among scuttled pulp wood entanglements , to be born again , covered in the pity of lingering broom sage ...                                                              ­                                                  

                                                        III    ­                                                                 ­Across the edge of twilight where soft lavender hues lay at
rest atop her riparian horizon .. Dandelion blooms pepper the
red clay embankments , lone bucks survey brown fields of harvested
corn ..Mourning doves cry for the end of day , wild hogs lay tracks at the rivers edge . Toms sing of their loneliness  , persimmons lay bitter along country lanes , the meat of Chestnut not harvested , the final years of tall , stately Pecans go shamefully unnoticed .. Barbed wire divisions etch Winter burned pasture , Morgans and Appaloosas graze the fertile , ambrosial green narrows .. Manmade pools dot the Crescent lady , cattle ditches appear along creeks and rivers holding Rock bass , Shell ******* , Yellowbellies and Bluegills ferociously hunting the waters surface , Alligator Snappers and Mudcats work the turbulent bottoms ... Hayfields , peach and muscadine arbors flourish , boiled peanuts and sorghum syrup , collards and sweet potatoes ...Blackberry , grape , watermelon and okra ..Water oaks have taken command of the front yard ,  moss and honeysuckle line fence rows , flowing patches of wild grass and snake berry , rocks from Cotton Indian Creeks line hand built flower beds and walkways .. Rhode Island Reds , Buff Orpington's and White Leghorns work these plantations . Sassafras and dewberry , wild plum and rabbit tobaccos . Gardenia , Crape Myrtle , Magnolia , Pine and Chestnut trees  flourish to this day .. The Old Bridge behind Millers Mill still visible , what stories this elder pass could tell before the confluence of the Indian Creeks .. Crayfish , Bream , Largemouth bass , Crappie , Yellow perch and Flathead catfish ! The tale of the Crescent lady lives forever and ever ..
Copyright February 29 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
My friends without shields walk on the target

It is late the windows are breaking

My friends without shoes leave
What they love
Grief moves among them as a fire among
Its bells
My friends without clocks turn
On the dial they turn
They part

My friends with names like gloves set out
Bare handed as they have lived
And nobody knows them
It is they that lay the wreaths at the milestones it is their
Cups that are found at the wells
And are then chained up

My friends without feet sit by the wall
Nodding to the lame orchestra
Brotherhood it says on the decorations
My friend without eyes sits in the rain smiling
With a nest of salt in his hand

My friends without fathers or houses hear
Doors opening in the darkness
Whose halls announce

Behold the smoke has come home

My friends and I have in common
The present a wax bell in a wax belfry
This message telling of
Metals this
Hunger for the sake of hunger this owl in the heart
And these hands one
For asking one for applause

My friends with nothing leave it behind
In a box
My friends without keys go out from the jails it is night
They take the same road they miss
Each other they invent the same banner in the dark
They ask their way only of sentries too proud to breathe

At dawn the stars on their flag will vanish

The water will turn up their footprints and the day will rise
Like a monument to my
Friends the forgotten
Jesse Bourque Aug 2010
A foul wind blows off the wastes
Across a border set in stone
A land caught in winter's embrace

A fortress stands,
Stark and steadfast against the dark
Walls that have broken sword and tooth

Helmeted sentries
Alert and ready upon the ramparts
Never knowing peace
Wed only to death

Within the walls, life goes on
The chatter of townsfolk,
Hawkers shouting their wares,
The stomp of armoured feet
Marching to the city's heart

The keep
The citadel at the heart
Firm and steadfast
Held by men of valour,
Peace favour their swords.
(c) Jesse Bourque
spysgrandson Aug 2012
Monet, Manet, Morisot, and the tortured Vincent
a long century or more ago,
filled their palates with color,
their canvases with impressions of life, love and loss.
And we, the great masters of civilization,
have treasured these like newborn babes.

I wandered through the polished halls
of antiquities to see them—
some hidden even from the harsh light of day
to protect their precious prinking from decay.
I strained my eyes to see their soulful strokes
and wondered why artists carried such painful yokes

McMurtry’s ranch has no paintings
but sculptures from a vanished sea.
A quarter billion years it’s been,
and yet they’re here for all to see

Rocks carved by patient scratching time
and stock tanks covered with putrid slime.
No lilies float on pools of blue
and no guard carefully watches you

Their sentries are the desert rattlers
and the sun scorched prairie lands,
but these ancient masterpieces
are safe from filching hands.

When I kneel on hard rock soil,
I forget my daily useless toil
and dig in clean eternal dirt
with no canvases to belie the hurt
of gentle men who felt the call
to let their heart be seen by all

Monet, Manet, and Morisot
are now laid to rest, with their burdens set aside,
but their colors are a reminder
that beauty and suffering abide

McMurtry’s rocks no longer feel,
but who could say they are less real
than colors fading from the light
and lonely artists’ painful plight.
In the summer of 2008, I made a trip to the Kimbell Art Museum in Forth Worth, Texas, USA, to see the Impressionist Exhibit and then 48 hours later was digging in the dirt for fossils at the ranch of a close friend--the hot dry rocky inhospitable terrain I seem to love. I was struck by the contrast between my experience with high art on a Saturday and clawing in the hot hard earth the following Monday
st64 Mar 2014
plea of oddities: bring the tinkling back
its bell lies silent


1.
Existing (not entirely) alone
entertaining itself with nightmares witnessed from long ago
It waited and waited
until the neighbour-orb grew to a level sophisticated enough
to house that lovely assortment of fine specimens.. of females
       that flock of dusted-crystals so long dreamt of
       that mould of sensibility, that plug of warmth
       that banner of softness
which all mirrored the opposite of their ways


2.
they fled in quiet-rebellion from inhospitable hands of the boor-males
altogether, in a ship.. down into the bowels of their breaking planet
subtleties long abandoned by the barbed-wire handling of  rough hands
these gentles could take no more and *uncoupled
themselves for good
burning, like the bridges behind them
               they disconnected and slid into a nether-sphere

When the males woke in stupor to find them gone
                 they flipped and fed in anger
and with access to goodness gone and unplaced voracious appetites
It decided to encase them.. in a giant glass-jar, preserving them in ire
until the time was right.. like a tea awaiting perfect steeping
In stasis, they remained for what seemed aeons
the glass-jar which held this army of men, was reduced
became small, like a coin.. which Foog summarily swallowed
and waited . . .  


3.
The sun turned its face in blank-horror of severe sights
                                                               splayed across the surface
forests shrank to toothpicks and died
         blue seas curled and dried
                                 meadows melted to greyish slush
every flying creature lost gravity and got ****** away, too high..
                                                        into harsh deafening-holes
when the tall sentries of oxygen.. twisted and became wiry-distorted
the sky sank and folding itself up.. hid in a black corner
                               behind the crumbling mountains

Foog hid beneath a crater made of ice, on the dark side of said planet
and once every millennium
        it felt the colliding-smack of a passing planetessimal
and it swore that somewhere, somehow..
        that punishment awaited new life

So, it shut its senses to the bay of life
       while hankering viciously for the scream of warm blood
The bell-jar inside, silent and
                        also somehow.. obscenely waiting in its oblivion



4.
Then, came Earth spinning round in flourish.. oh, the day on hand
Yet, veryyyyy far away.. an eye slowly opened
                      / /  roused by the smell of fressshhh life . . . / /



5.
A popping sound and the bell-jar was birthed from a slit on its forehead
It looked nearly quizzically at this odd creation beneath the silent-glass
this assortment of creatures trapped in the folly of Foog:
                                                                ­     oh, shall I, or not?
A cosmic joke, almost.. with so few revisions
The lid lifted and with proportion righted once more..
                                they came, oozing out in droves
Roaring from their milleniac-slumber,
                               crazed in half-remembered wounds
But alive with burning-purpose - - to find the equivalent
of
those soft-crystals

To melt the iron.. inside.



(unsolicited but self-warranted visitations:
camouflaged abductions.. secret prodding..
subtlety re-learnt.. poverty rehashed..
Fugue in a glass bell-jar.. unleashed)  



But alas, when sweet-sounds are closed again
see at whose smart-hands calamity befalls Life
Yet.. who are ultimately the ones
picking up the pieces after devastation wrought?





st, 27 march 2014
woke from nightmare.. to find this on my waking-plate.


sub-entry: day to dawn

It came in a dream.. and told me so
a day to dawn
for reckoning.
Genma J Mar 2011
Eyes closed, counting the careful sheep
Bounding over broken fences breathlessly,
Tired and unused to tripping over traps
Spared by the seconds sat in contemplation's lap.
Your lids, lying lushly atop layers of
Dark pools of depth, spinning splendid tales of love,
Trust, and heartache, I can truly tell today
Was a day of definition for words I wisely said.
Lips moving in silent rhythm, rhyming, I imagine, with words unsaid.
And as I assume the memories in mind the moment falls silent and dead.
A quip, perhaps, spawned by sentries of silence growing lax,
Falling in frequent motion to the floor - hypothetically, for I cannot ask.
Your sleeping state causes silence to spread and create
An empty essence in the heavy air around us
Birthed from broken intentions and misapprehensions
I had upon our meeting of matters as such.
Please, presume to sleep through my present departure
Deprived of arrows from Venus's archer
Allow my invading presence to avidly intrude
Once more, though his objection's mouthpiece does not move.
Lightly, so as to lay loosely upon the morrow,
I brush bold lips upon the brow pulled in sorrow
But whose silent reverie starts in sleepy surprise -
But, to my relief, falls back to oblivion with a sleepy sigh.
Brushing trembling tips of fingers foolishly
Across the air that passes on the lips
That burn with oxygen's contact with it -
I start when I see his tired eyes
Regarding me with scant surprise.
Those dark pools of infinite sorrow lay sight
On me, caught sneaking silent vows of affection,
And a blush engulfs everything from my eyes to my knees
On which his wary hand waits in his wakeful state.
Several silent moments descend indignantly,
And I dare to risk retribution for crimes committed
But to my sudden surprise I see a challenge in his eyes
And abruptly I am bound to the ground beneath him
And though I know once I stole a simple innocent kiss
He steals now from me my heart through my lips.
Nicholas Rew Jan 2012
Isolated faces paradoxically surround
Bound by wants infinity
I strayed away from banks
Cause greed was just to trendy
The idea of friends and numbers
Threw me to the ground
Figured we'd crown 4 quarters instead of 100 pennies
Swede shoes, silk shirts, and bentleys
By some is defined as plenty
While little Lenny with stomach empty dreams of Denny's
Or some water or a Father would help immensely
Afgani blowing and Hennessy gulping MC's
Take their aperture and narrow it densely
Make millions off the Emmys some how erases Memories
Of pennies struggling in this world
Mother fiend'n they're just fending
Against the many
In class they're considered lowers
Below us they just a penny
I say our morals need reordered
cause no doubt that they're all Quarters
And deserve entry into this bank of respect
That has become run by hoarders
Loving to build borders 3 times the size
Of their self righteous shoulders
This is a disassembly of a culture surrounded by sentries.
I enjoy writing some hip hop verses every once in awhile and this is all that was intended when writing the piece
R Saba Jun 2014
black sky, black road
yellow lines like warning signs
i turn my head away
from those flashes of colour
and look out the window instead
at the grey fields of evening

grey fields, grey grass
bulrushes like sentries
and one bird that calls to me from beyond
as if it understands this feeling

some days it mocks me
other days, it lets me speak
and i hear it often late at night
telling me to dry my eyes
and sleep

black sky, soft wind
that creeps through the netting across my window
and sweeps the salt water from my cheeks
while the coyotes howl, voicing what i cannot
and the crickets play their violins
as if i needed a soundtrack to this

and the next morning, my door opens
revealing brown skin and a summery smile
and when the sun hits my face
i feel the cold embrace me once again
feelings washed from my body and escaping
back to my bed, waiting
for the sun to set and for my body to hit the sheets
and for my mind to remember a day full of nothing

and nothing sinks into my tear ducts, opening up
the river, and i cannot for the life of me
remember why i am doing this, but i am
and the black sky watches without comment
as i take the bird's advice, drying my eyes
and sleeping

the sun rises again each morning
and so do i
The kindness of melancholy and the trusting stars
Of all sentries, within our slumbering sight
Whose watch was kept by a distant scout
Who held his peace, till death put out the light.
Jack Dec 2013
Lights strung above this out of place darkness
create shadows of an invisible existence
Filaments of glowing hopes and wants
droop towards empty heart beats

Alone in this overcrowded nightmare,
checking the time on faceless clocks
in no particular sequence standing
like sentries on broken boundary lines

An endless runway of lifeless orbs
dot the landscape in Morse code warnings
as I turn away in a curved defiance,
unable to accept the words touching my eyes

And still, glistening raindrops fall from overhead wires
reflecting each tear drop of prism’d descent
For even if I wake, screaming as the night disappears
she will still be gone, like every other burned out dream
Torin May 2016
Magnificent castles
Impenetrable
Fortified as a heart
Who let's not an enemy in
Castle walls
Unscalable
Protection from the world
And all of its pain

The lonely king
Wants nothing more than a queen
To love him
As he honors her
As he showers her with gifts of a kingdom
And as she speaks

These kings defense
Boundaries
Armies and treaties
Sentries in the night on guard
Shields and armor
Impenetrable
Blades and arrows
To strike invaders down

The lonely king
Needs nothing more than a queen
A beautiful love
A glorious empire
As he's ruling by divine right
He puts God on her side
Bucolic piedmont woodland avenues , where rain clouds touch the hillside after welcome showers have passed
Where pungent fields of green native wild grass connect ones place
with his past
Red-tailed Hawk sentries stand guard o'er Loblolly Pine forest
Contemplative Blue Herons work scenic marshland unnoticed
Land of Pink Dogwood , Cane and blackberry thicket
Of riparian wonders , foggy cattle- worn bottom land , lake dancers that twirl morning side West Point , Lanier and Oconee inlets
To rural lanes colored with the blessings of home* .....
Copyright 16 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
i sometimes think the thunder is the sky raging
                                             for some unrequited passion
                                                      the­ li
                                                              ­      gh
                                                        ­  tn
                                                            ­          in
                                                    ­        g
is its showing
the gashes in its heart
                                                           ­                                                                 ­     bright shining silvery blood
                                                           ­                                               splattered across for all and sundry to see
but for no one to understand and feel
an ache unrecognized must be
so much heavier a cross to bear
                                                            ­                                                        with no one to nurse or heal or care
                                                            ­                                                              the­ sky must be lonely up there
all it can do is roar and thunder
acting out its anger
                                                   the moon and the stars just stare on
                                                    unblinking­ sentries keeping watch
                                                           ­        from too far

and when I think like that I feel my worries slip away
no longer afraid of the thunder and lightning
its just a poor hurt boy
crying his heart away

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   15.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Francie Lynch Feb 2017
Called-up to muster on the streets,
Lay siege with pencils and paper shields,
Place couplet sentries on every corner,
March in-step with iambic feet,
Shoulder prosaic figures of speech.
Launch antithesis and irony,
Landmine metaphors and similes.

The poets engage guerilla warfare,
Surrounding the body politic
To water board with words and wit.
Our units are indeterminate,
Smearing ink for camouflage.
Be wary of everyone you meet,
Every tree lining your street;
We're making notes in small black pads,
To explicate the nots and haves.

Pens are shovels digging trenches,
Editing walls and blue pencilling fences,
Giving refuge to the marginalized,
From the onslaught of towering directives.

We're parading in our uniforms,
Raising banners, ragged and torn,
Calling on all to weather the storm,
To brace against cyclonic edicts
That swirl and funnel from posturing egots.
egot: an Irish word for idiot
thomas gabriel Dec 2011
Brother moons chalky,
saturnine crescent
could barely penetrate
the giant’s
match-stick forest:
its burnished copper foliage
would remain latent,
for now.

This night antagonized
                          our souls,
darker when I stared into its
vacuous depths
than when glanced
from my minds periphery.
Pervasive,
it exploited the valleys repose.
Crystal.
Morning’s volition was heralded
with a transient
thaw.

December’s waking drafts
spoke ardently
of a daughter lost:
for centuries
a solitary bloom,
sustained by unseen conduits,
grew
upon the surface
of a fallow field.

Now it lay,
                                       defiled by my hand.

Her blood-stained spray seeped
into the earths russet tunic.
Dawn’s sentries:
two soot black crows,
stalked a field’s beaded
hawthorn seam as a
                                                church knells cadence
punctuated
the airs discourse from its holy precipice;
death, death, death
sonorous
on my ear.





©*Thomas Gabriel
No entry,
they're putting sentries down in Whitehall
and snipers on the roof,
the truth is, they don't want to see
how they've ****** up
society.
They'll be shooting us like mad curs
there's no reasoning with them and
they'll be laughing with the bankers.
This is the ministry of gentlemen!
Jamie L Cantore Jun 2015
Sitting here silently stripping my mind of the setbacks in my life, is just what I do to set the record straight for myself -it's so simple, I smile. I travel in my seasoned mind to the streets lined with live oaks along the streetcar line on Saint Charles Avenue and stand in the shimmering sunlight between the dancing shadows on the broken sidewalk for a while.

In the classic void of reminiscences,  I see the staggered walkways set askew by the carelessness of Time, meandering past the stately antebellum homes, guarded by hushed sentries, these whitewashed lions tinged with the chartreuse hues of age and forgetfulness.

Sentries sitting for centuries on static haunches, frozen in place by inertia, while azaleas bloom 'neath the Magnolia blossoms that fill the humid air with a perfume that beggars the reek of Forget-Me Not flowers.

If I must travel in my dreams, let them be daydreams of the fruitful past, when the uptown scene seemed complete, with moving pictures in technicolor themes; and they moved the wooden seats back, facing home.

The end of the line was a block from the muddy Mississippi, and my lover's house was too, (although further up the Old Spanish Trail.) Once I followed it all the way to the Pacific, and a different time zone alone.
Judy Ponceby Apr 2015
Lighted sentries stand guard
Over slickened steel rails

Rails that reach into the painted skyline
Traversing life's trail to the clickety-clack of time

Time's learn-ed history passes by
Enlightening life's travelers at every bend.
Sleepy Sigh Jun 2011
Down in the forest,
Amid the creaking pines,
Are two rusty old silos.
We call them the tin cans.
A brave few will climb them
And balance on the walls
As sentries to those inside.
Encircled in old metal
There's a pow-wow going
Between the chieftan of North Can
And the princess of the South.
Bubbles drift as smoke from their mouths
And their round cheeks stretch in yawns
That betray the distant setting sun.
Our war is over, the chief declares,
But neither side has won.
That's true, the queen smirks back at him,
And neither ever can. What do we do?
He glistens with battle sweat and
His soldier's breath is heavy.
You and I will draw up a treaty,
He says, and war another day.
She acquiesces and signs her name
On a bit of leaf in invisible ink;
He does the same, and both recline
A moment against the flaking metal walls
While the topmost edge of the sun falls
Below the curve of the earth
And the dark branches of the trees
Cradle a baby night.
Up top a sentry calls dinnertime.
Jaffa
Ioannis regression

Describes Vernarth:
On a warm morning they landed ..., archaeological evidence shows that Jaffa was inhabited around 7500 BC. The natural harbor of Jaffa that has been used since the Bronze Age, and its first inhabitants were probably Canaanites. The city of Jaffa is mentioned in a past writing from 1470 BC. from ancient Egypt, glorifying the conquest by Pharaoh Tuthmosis III, who hid armed warriors in large baskets and then presented them to the Canaanite governor of the city. Jaffa is mentioned in the Torah as one of the Hebrew cities of the Tribe of Dan (one of the Tribes of Israel), hence the term Gush Dan, which is used today for the coastal plain. Many of Dan's descendants lived along the coast and made their living as sailors and sailors. In the "Song of Deborah" the fortune teller asks: "Why do you want Dan to stop me on ships?

After Canaanite and Philistine *******, King David and his son Solomon conquered Jaffa and used its port to bring, from the city of Tire, the cedars used for the construction of the First Temple (2 Chronicles 2:16). The city remained in the hands of the Jews, even after the division of the Kingdom of Israel. In 701 a. C., in the days of King Hezequías and the Assyrian King Sennacherib who invaded the Jaffa region. It is also the place where the prophet Jonah embarked for Tarshish (Book of Jonah 1: 3) and was the port of entry for the cedars of Lebanon for the Second Temple in Jerusalem (Book of Ezra 3: 7). After a period of Babylonian occupation, under the rule of the Persian Empire, Jaffa was occupied by the Phoenicians of Tire ..., defeated by Alexander the Great in the famous siege where he defeated King Porus at the Battle of Hydaspes (326 BC) In the New Testament it is related how Peter resurrected the believer Tabitha (Dorcas, in Greek, gazelle) in Joppa (Jaffa) and, later, how near this city he has a vision in which Yahweh told him that he should not distinguish between Jews and Gentiles, while ordering the removal of ritual (kosher) food restrictions followed by Jews.

While Vernarth described, all this history was paying attention, the beautiful situation of entering Jaffa in this millenary port was imminent, so that they could touch the Holy Land with their feet with all the avatars that awaited them. Vernarth had this great preamble and gift to return from the Exile of St. John, due to his exile ruled by the Emperor Domitian. They all came praying in the ship, Eurydice got out of the mask to descend and go with them to Jerusalem. To travel the Lithostrotos, Gethsemane, The Via Dolorosa, Golgotha, the Holy Sepulcher and many holy places where the apostle had a correlation with the Messiah ..., bordering on being still in the hosts of all those who loved him, especially in the town where they met with the apostles after the crucifixion in the Apostolic sees, where they are still seen to be together from the first day through the centuries of the centuries. Some claim to have been founded by one or more of Jesus 'Apostles, who are said to have dispersed from Jerusalem sometime after Jesus' crucifixion (c. 26-36), probably after the Great Commission. The first Christians met in small private houses, known as Paleo-Christian house churches, but the entire Christian community of a city could also attribute to it that it would be named and ignored, as any act of sedition to avoid disagreements with its anti-Romanesque legacy.

In Limassol one day dawned, when another day it was twilight in Lod ..., here they were getting ready to dine all together in a wheel of fire in the tents moved by the blow that lands and bounces from their sallow tents, to the walls of Jerusalem that he sensed that They came and went with the Saint accompanying them. From the last dizziness of the sun, Uriel appeared to them saying…: “Against the background where a ship is born in ruins and catacombs, the sentries of the Limassol Medallion will reside, it will be jealously guarded by my peers, by the Christian Gladiators of Kourion who they are preserved in my fragmentary decrees and honorific decrees, as well as in the epitaphs. In neo diplomacy supporting Alexander the Great and Bucephalus, protecting the Medallion. In the west of the Lycus River, the sentinels will go to the bottom of the sea every day to watch over it, so that from here they can shelter the Medallion with their tricks, which of such luck will be sponsored for their meritorious scriptural phraseology on the Walls of Jerusalem, where other walls are more they will continue ... "

Describes Vernarth:
The grand commision; Matthew 28: 19-20 contains what is known as “the Great Commission”: “Go therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; teaching them to keep all the things I have commanded you; and behold, I am with you every day, until the end of the world ”. Jesus gave this command to the apostles, shortly before He ascended to Heaven, and it essentially describes what Jesus expects the apostles and those who follow them to do in His absence. Interestingly, in the original Greek, the only specific command in Matthew 28: 19-20 is "make disciples." The Great Commission commands us to make disciples as we go through the world and as we go about our daily activities. How are we going to make disciples? Baptizing them and teaching them everything that Jesus commanded. "Make disciples" is the mandate of the Great Commission. "As you go," "baptize" and "teach" are the means by which we fulfill the command to "make disciples."

Many understand Acts 1: 8 as part of the Great Commission, "But you will receive power, when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." . The Great Commission is enabled by the power of the Holy Spirit. We must be the witnesses of Christ, fulfilling the Great Commission in our cities (Jerusalem), in our states and countries (Judea and Samaria), and in any other place where God sends us (to the ends of the earth). The Great Commission is the instruction of the risen Jesus Christ to his apostles, commissioning them to spread his teachings to all the nations of the world. The most famous version of the Great Commission is Matthew 28: 18-20, where on a mountain in Galilee Jesus urges his followers to baptize all nations in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Even more than the Great Commission of the twelve apostles, which together with that of Matthew and Mark, as an exalted counterpoint are dividing twin souls among all, to take electro cathode in the Parousia (At the second coming of Christ). With them. The electromagnetic Fides Pronus "Benevolent Faith" ruled by God, ruling in the electro anode flow, giving wide access to the Great Universal Commission.

The Apostle Saint John reinterprets it: “The Great Commission is Matthew 28: 18-20, and then synoptic gospels, Luke also presents Jesus sending disciples during his ministry, sending them to all nations and giving them power over demons, including the Seventy disciples. The Scattering of the Apostles, in the traditional ending of Mark, is believed to be a 2nd century summary based on Matthew and Luke. "

They all heard very astonished words so fluted, without being able to come out and harmonize the ears of those who were there ..., and there was no room for doubts or questions! They all thought to travel all the fields of the world in free camel caravans so many times through the Holy Land, thus thinking of changing history by the flat legs of the camelids, changing the quantum dynamic geography, thus making them participate in going on a being in which we split mounted. In the distance it would be fulfilled. 12 camels were coming, they invited them to get on and rest on their backs. Every hundred kilometers the deepest questions were answered by camelids Saying ...:

Camelids say: “I carried Saint John  on my ciliated membrane backs and Matthew too…, they never knew that I knew the end of the story…, that the Great Commission would never end, because all of us witnesses continue wandering through the desert waiting to see the Master lighting our starry way of gifts for the holy nights, to serve you again, Until the End of the Parousia ... "

To be continued, / under edit
IOANNIS REGRESSION
Jonny Angel Mar 2014
The gun bled crimson
tracers
under moonless skies,
penetrated the ramparts
& those with tattered knapsacks
remained vigilant
as stalwart sentries
fell in ****** tatters
to the ground.

Maniacally,
they laughed
at such insane acts,
buried their own dead,
full of enemy-lead.
Jonny Angel Aug 2014
At Hinderfall she slept,
a beautiful shieldmaiden,
her bed laden
with fine riches.
In a ring of flames,
she drove all the men
insane,
save one,
a valiant solitary warrior,
who made it
past her watchful sentries
& into her private chambers.

And there
in the moonlight,
he loved her.
Buried fully
to his hilt,
he unloaded into her
with great fury,
with the might
of Thor's Hammer.

Undercover
she did not waver,
nor did she fight him.
She savored
every spasm,
every blow,
with the strength
of Byrnhildr,
genuine
sweet lovers.
echo Jul 2013
Night- paces and restlessly stations
leaf'd sentries in the silhouette sky;

Black* - cossetting, scissored, jagged
tatoo'd trees lend watchful eyes;

Branches - whisper aches and pains
with sweeping hands of hurried lies;

Trust - exhumes her two-cent breath -
*"You promised not to compromise.."
Tonight the trees were
black
lace
curtains
that silhouetted the sky
the breeze
shuddered
and
whispered
to me:
"Take care of your promise ...my child"
Mike Essig Oct 2015
in truth
mostly nothing
ever gets done

those tasks remain
marking time like
stiff silent sentries

pointlessly patient

proof against doing

frozen by the hand
that neither waves
nor moves
         and legs
that will not lift
having lost

all interest in
maintenance

all motivation
for the mundane

hiding oblivious

safe and motionless
within the castle

of memory and words
Michelle Brunet Mar 2014
Bring me back to you,
So that I may see you.
Grace me with your presence
So that I can confess to you.
Admitting this love that I've kept
Hidden for so long
That walls have crept up
And now you are gone.

Pining away, I wait for you,
Slowly pulling apart
This fortress around my heart,
Brick by brick
So that when you do
Come back, you will see.
The guards have left,
The sentries gone.

Bring me back to you
And you will see that
It’s finally just you and I.
I promise I do love you.
There’s never been any doubt.
I tried to be platonic
But that was bound to fail.
You just walked away.

I hope you feel me
In your heart, ready
To open up to you.
Ready to open the doors.
I’m afraid to show you
But more so to lose you.
I know you’ll leave for real
If I don’t open my heart to you.

Be warned now, it’s dark
Under all the brightness
That fills the top layers
Of my soul. Buried deep,
Dark secrets never told
Fears.
Anxiety.
Depression.

You can see it all.
All these parts of me that
Makes me whole.
Just as long as you
Are a part of this puzzle.
Without you, I’m incomplete
A mess of pieces,
Never whole.
© Michelle Brunet 2014

— The End —