1
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

2
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with
perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and
vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing
of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and
dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,

The sound of the belch’d words of my voice loos’d to the eddies of
the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields
and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising
from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the
earth much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of
all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions
of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look
through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in
books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

3
I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the
beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and
increase, always ***,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of
life.
To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so.

Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well
entretied, braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand.

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not
my soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they
discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

Welcome is every ***** and attribute of me, and of any man hearty
and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be
less familiar than the rest.

I am satisfied - I see, dance, laugh, sing;
As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the
night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy
tread,
Leaving me baskets cover’d with white towels swelling the house with
their plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my
eyes,
That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is
ahead?

4
Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and
city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old
and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss
or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news,
the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary,
Looks down, is *****, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with
linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

5
I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to
you,
And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not
even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn’d over
upon me,
And parted the shirt from my *****-bone, and plunged your tongue
to my bare-stript heart,
And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my
feet.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass
all the argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women
my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love,
And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap’d stones, elder, mullein and
poke-****.

6
A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more
than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green
stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see
and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the
vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I
receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the ******* of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out
of their mothers’ laps,
And here you are the mothers’ laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for
nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and
women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken
soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the
end to arrest it,
And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

7
Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know
it.

I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash’d babe, and
am not contain’d between my hat and boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,
The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.

I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and
fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)

Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female,
For me those that have been boys and that love women,
For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted,
For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the
mothers of mothers,
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears,
For me children and the begetters of children.

Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be
shaken away.

8
The little one sleeps in its cradle,
I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies
with my hand.

The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill,
I peeringly view them from the top.

The suicide sprawls on the ****** floor of the bedroom,
I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol
has fallen.

The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of
the promenaders,
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the
clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-*****,
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous’d mobs,
The flap of the curtain’d litter, a sick man inside borne to the
hospital,
The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall,
The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his
passage to the centre of the crowd,
The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes,
What groans of over-fed or half-starv’d who fall sunstruck or in
fits,
What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and
give birth to babes,
What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls
restrain’d by decorum,
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances,
rejections with convex lips,
I mind them or the show or resonance of them-I come and I depart.

9
The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow.

I am there, I help, I came stretch’d atop of the load,
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.

10
Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,
Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee,
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-****’d game,
Falling asleep on the gather’d leaves with my dog and gun by my
side.

The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle
and scud,
My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from
the deck.

The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,
I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time;
You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.

I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west,
the bride was a red girl,
Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking,
they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets
hanging from their shoulders,
On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his
luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his bride
by the hand,
She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks
descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d to her
feet.

The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside,
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and
weak,
And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him,
And brought water and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d
feet,
And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some
coarse clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
And remember putting piasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass’d north,
I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean’d in the corner.

11
Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,
Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;
Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.

She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,
She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.

Which of the young men does she like the best?
Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.

Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,
You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.

Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth
bather,
The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.

The beards of the young men glisten’d with wet, it ran from their
long hair,
Little streams pass’d all over their bodies.

An unseen hand also pass’d over their bodies,
It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.

The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the
sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,
They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending
arch,
They do not think whom they ***** with spray.

12
The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife
at the stall in the market,
I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.

Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil,
Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in
the fire.

From the cinder-strew’d threshold I follow their movements,
The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms,
Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure,
They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.

13
The ***** holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags
underneath on its tied-over chain,
The ***** that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and
tall he stands pois’d on one leg on the string-piece,
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over
his hip-band,
His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his hat
away from his forehead,
The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the black of
his polish’d and perfect limbs.

I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop
there,
I go with the team also.

In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as
forward sluing,
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,
Absorbing all to myself and for this song.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what
is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.

My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and
day-long ramble,
They rise together, they slowly circle around.

I believe in those wing’d purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet and the tufted crown i

A Tale for the Mid-Winter Season after the Mural by Carl Larrson

On the shortest day I wake before our maids from the surrounding farms have converged on Sundborn. Greta lives with us so she will be asleep in that deep slumber only girls of her age seem to own. Her tiny room has barely more than a bed and a chest for her clothes. There is my first painting of her on the wall, little more a sketch, but she was entranced, at seeing herself so. To the household she is a maid who looks after me and my studio,  though she is a literate, intelligent girl, city-bred from Gamla Stan but from a poor home, a widowed mother, her late father a drunkard.  These were my roots, my beginning, exactly. But her eyes already see a world beyond Sundborn. She covets postcards from my distant friends: in Paris, London, Jean in South America, and will arrange them on my writing desk, sometimes take them to her room at night to dream in the candlelight. I think this summer I shall paint her, at my desk, reading my cards, or perhaps writing her own. The window will be open and a morning breeze will make the flowers on the desk tremble.

Karin sleeps too, a desperate sleep born of too much work and thought and interruption. These days before Christmas put a strain on her usually calm disposition. The responsibilities of our home, our life, the constant visitors, they weigh upon her, and dispel her private time. Time in her studio seems impossible. I often catch her poised to disappear from a family coming-together. She is here, and then gone, as if by magic. With the older children home from their distant schools, and Suzanne arrived from England just yesterday morning, they all cannot do without lengthy conferences. They know better than disturb me. Why do you think there is a window set into my studio door? So, if I am at my easel there should be no knock to disturb. There is another reason, but that is between Karin and I.

This was once a summer-only house, but over the years we have made it our whole-year home. There was much attention given to making it snug and warm. My architect replaced all the windows and all the doors and there is this straw insulation between the walls. Now, as I open the curtains around my bed, I can see my breath float out into the cool air. When, later, I descend to my studio, the stove, damped down against the night, when opened and raddled will soon warm the space. I shall draw back the heavy drapes and open the wooden shutters onto the dark land outside. Only then I will stand before my current painting: *Brita and the Sleigh.

Current!? I have been working on this painting intermittently for five years, and Brita is no longer the Brita of this picture, though I remember her then as yesterday. It is a picture of a winter journey for a six-year-old, only that journey is just across the yard to the washhouse. Snow, frost, birds gathered in the leafless trees, a sun dog in the sky, Brita pushing her empty sledge, wearing fur boots, Lisbeth’s old coat, and that black knitted hat made by old Anna. It is the nearest I have come to suggesting the outer landscape of this place. I bring it out every year at this time so I can check the light and the shadows against what I see now, not what I remember seeing then. But there will be a more pressing concern for me today, this shortest day.

Since my first thoughts for the final mural in my cycle for the Nationalmuseum I have always put this day aside, whatever I might be doing, wherever I may be. I pull out my first sketches, that book of imaginary tableaux filled in a day and a night in my tiny garden studio in Grez, thinking of home, of snow, the mid-winter, feeling the extraordinary power and shake of Adam of Bremen’s description of 10th C pre-Christian Uppsala, written to describe how barbaric and immoral were the practices and religion of the pagans, to defend the fragile position of the Christian church in Sweden at the time. But as I gaze at these rough beginnings made during those strange winter days in my rooms at the Hotel Chevilon, I feel myself that twenty-five year old discovering my artistic vision, abandoning oils for the flow and smudge of watercolour, and then, of course, Karin. We were part of the Swedish colony at Grez-sur-Loing. Karin lived with the ladies in Pension Laurent, but was every minute beside me until we found our own place, to be alone and be together, in a cupboard of a house by the river, in Marlotte.

Everyone who painted en-plein-air, writers, composers, they all flocked to Grez just south of Fontainebleau, to visit, sometimes to stay. I recall Strindberg writing to Karin after his first visit: It was as if there were no pronounced shadows, no hard lines, the air with its violet complexion is almost always misty; and I painting constantly, and against the style and medium of the time. How the French scoffed at my watercolours, but my work sold immediately in Stockholm. . . and Karin, tall, slim, Karin, my muse, my lover, my model, her boy-like figure lying naked (but for a hat) in the long grass outside my studio. We learned each other there, the technique of bodies in intimate closeness, the way of no words, the sharing of silent thoughts, together on those soft, damp winter days when our thoughts were of home, of Karin’s childhood home at Sundborn. I had no childhood thoughts I wanted to return to, but Karin, yes. That is why we are here now.

In Grez-sur-Loing, on a sullen December day, mist lying on the river, our garden dead to winter, we received a visitor, a Swedish writer and journalist travelling with a very young Italian, Mariano Fortuny, a painter living in Paris, and his mentor the Spaniard Egusquiza. There was a woman too who Karin took away, a Parisienne seamstress I think, Fortuny’s lover. Bayreuth and Wagner, Wagner, Wagner was all they could talk about. Of course Sweden has its own Nordic Mythology I ventured. But where is it? What is it? they cried, and there was laughter and more mulled wine, and then talk again of Wagner.

When the party left I realized there was something deep in my soul that had been woken by talk of the grandeur and scale of Wagner’s cocktail of German and Scandinavian myths and folk tales. For a day and night I sketched relentlessly, ransacking my memory for those old tales, drawing strong men and stalwart, flaxen-haired women in Nordic dress and ornament. But as a new day presented itself I closed my sketch book and let the matter drop until, years later, in a Stockholm bookshop I chanced upon a volume in Latin by Adam of Bremen, his Gesta Hammaburgensis Ecclesiae Pontificum, the most famous source to pagan ritual practice in Sweden. That cold winter afternoon in Grez returned to me and I felt, as I had then, something stir within me, something missing from my comfortable world of images of home and farm, family and the country life.

Back in Sundborn this little volume printed in the 18th C lay on my desk like a question mark without a sentence. My Latin was only sufficient to get a gist, but the gist was enough. Here was the story of the palace of Uppsala, the great centre of the pre-Christian pagan cults that brought us Odin and Freyr. I sought out our village priest Dag Sandahl, a good Lutheran but who regularly tagged Latin in his sermons. Yes, he knew the book, and from his study bookshelf brought down an even earlier copy than my own. And there and then we sat down together and read. After an hour I was impatient to be back in my studio and draw, draw these extraordinary images this text brought to life unbidden in my imagination. But I did not leave until I had persuaded Pastor Sandahl to agree to translate the Uppsala section of the Adam of Bremen’s book, and just before Christmas that year, on the day before the Shortest Day, he delivered his translation to my studio. He would not stay, but said I should read the passages about King Domalde and his sacrifice at the Winter Solstice. And so, on the day of the Winter Solstice, I did.

This people have a widely renowned sanctuary called Uppsala.

By this temple is a very large tree with extending branches. It is always green, both in winter and in summer. No one knows what kind of tree this is. There is also a spring there, where the heathens usually perform their sacrificial rites. They throw a live human being into the spring. If he does not resurface, the wishes of the people will come true.

The Temple is girdled by a chain of gold that hangs above the roof of the building and shines from afar, so that people may see it from a distance when they approach there. The sanctuary itself is situated on a plain, surrounded by mountains, so that the form a theatre.

It is not far from the town of Sigtuna. This sanctuary is completely covered with golden ornaments. There, people worship the carved idols of three gods: Thor, the most powerful of them, has his throne in the middle of the hall, on either side of him, Odin and Freyr have their seats. They have these functions: “Thor,” they say, “rules the air, he rules thunder and lightning, wind and rain, good weather and harvests. The other, Odin, he who rages, he rules the war and give courage to people in their battle against enemies. The third is Freyr, he offers to mortals lust and peace and happiness.” And his image they make with a very large phallus. Odin they present armed, the way we usually present Mars, while Thor with the scepter seems to resemble Jupiter. As gods they also worship some that have earlier been human. They give them immortality for the sake of their great deeds, as we may read in Vita sancti Ansgarii that they did with King Eirik.

For all these gods have particular persons who are to bring forward the sacrificial gifts of the people. If plague and famine threatens, they offer to the image of Thor, if the matter is about war, they offer to Odin, but if a wedding is to be celebrated, they offer to Freyr. And every ninth year in Uppsala a great religious ceremony is held that is common to people from all parts of Sweden.”
Snorri also relates how human sacrifice began in Uppsala, with the sacrifice of a king.

Domalde took the heritage after his father Visbur, and ruled over the land. As in his time there was great famine and distress, the Swedes made great offerings of sacrifice at Upsal. The first autumn they sacrificed oxen, but the succeeding season was not improved thereby. The following autumn they sacrificed men, but the succeeding year was rather worse. The third autumn, when the offer of sacrifices should begin, a great multitude of Swedes came to Upsal; and now the chiefs held consultations with each other, and all agreed that the times of scarcity were on account of their king Domalde, and they resolved to offer him for good seasons, and to assault and **** him, and sprinkle the stall of the gods with his blood. And they did so.

There it was, at the end of Adam of Bremen’s description of Uppsala, this description of King Domalde upon which my mural would be based. It is not difficult to imagine, or rather the event itself can be richly embroidered, as I have over the years made my painting so. Karin and I have the books of William Morris on our shelves and I see little difference between his fixation on the legends of the Arthur and the Grail. We are on the cusp here between the pagan and the Christian.  What was Christ’s Crucifixion but a self sacrifice: as God in man he could have saved himself but chose to die for Redemption’s sake. His blood was not scattered to the fields as was Domalde’s, but his body and blood remains a continuing symbol in our right of Communion.

I unroll the latest watercolour cartoon of my mural. It is almost the length of this studio. Later I will ask Greta to collect the other easels we have in the house and barn and then I shall view it properly. But for now, as it unrolls, my drama of the Winter Solstice comes alive. It begins on from the right with body of warriors, bronze shields and helmets, long shafted spears, all set against the side of Uppsala Temple and more distant frost-hoared trees. Then we see the King himself, standing on a sled hauled by temple slaves. He is naked as he removes the furs in which he has travelled, a circuit of the temple to display himself to his starving people. In the centre, back to the viewer, a priest-like figure in a red cloak, a dagger held for us to see behind his back. Facing him, in druidic white, a high priest holds above his head a gold pagan monstrance. To his left there are white cloaked players of long, straight horns, blue cloaked players of the curled horns, and guiding the shaft of the sled a grizzled shaman dressed in the skins and furs of animals. The final quarter of my one- day-to-be-a-mural unfolds to show the women of temple and palace writhing in gestures of grief and hysteria whilst their queen kneels prostate on the ground, her head to the earth, her ladies ***** behind her. Above them all stands the forever-green tree whose origin no one knows.

Greta has entered the studio in her practiced, silent way carrying coffee and rolls from the kitchen. She has seen Midvinterblot many times, but I sense her gaze of fascination, yet again, at the figure of the naked king. She remembers the model, the sailor who came to stay at Kartbacken three summers ago. He was like the harpooner Queequeg in Moby ****. A tattooed man who was to be seen swimming in Toftan Lake and walking bare-chested in our woods. A tall, well-muscled, almost silent man, whom I patiently courted to be my model for King Dolmade. I have a book of sketches of him striding purposefully through the trees, the tattooed lines on his shoulders and chest like deep cuts into his body. This striding figure I hid from the children for some time, but from Greta that was impossible. She whispered to me once that when she could not have my substantial chest against her she would imagine the sailor’s, imagine touching and following his tattooed lines. This way, she said, helped her have respite from those stirrings she would so often feel for me. My painting, she knew, had stirred her fellow maids Clara and Solveig. Surely you know this, she had said, in her resolute and direct city manner. I have to remember she is the age of my eldest, who too must hold such thoughts and feelings. Karin dislikes my sailor king and wishes I would not hide the face of his distraught queen.

Today the sunrise is at 9.0, just a half hour away, and it will set before 3.0pm. So, after this coffee I will put on my boots and fur coat, be well scarfed and hatted (as my son Pontus would say) and walk out onto my estate. I will walk east across the fields towards Spardasvvägen. The sky is already waiting for the sun, but waits without colour, hardly even a tinge of red one might expect.

I have given Greta her orders to collect every easel she can find so we can take Midvinterblot off the floor and see it in all its vivid colour and form. In February I shall begin again to persuade the Nationalmuseum to accept this work. We have a moratorium just now. I will not accept their reasoning that there is no historical premise for such a subject, that such a scene has no place in a public gallery. A suggestion has been made that the Historiska museet might house it. But I shall not think of this today.

Karin is here, her face at the studio window beckons entry. My Darling, yes, it is midwinter’s day and I am dressing to greet the solstice. I will dress, she says, to see Edgar who will be here in half an hour to discuss my designs for this new furniture. We will be lunching at noon. Know you are welcome. Suzanne is talking constantly of England, England, and of course Oxford, this place of dreaming spires and good looking boys. We touch hands and kiss. I sense the perfume of sleep, of her bed.

Outside I must walk quickly to be quite alone, quite apart from the house, in the fields, alone. It is on its way: this light that will bathe the snowed-over land and will be my promise of the year’s turn towards new life.

As I walk the drama of Midvinterblot unfolds in a confusion of noise, the weeping of women, the physical exertions of the temple slaves, the priests’ incantations, the riot of horns, and then suddenly, as I stand in this frozen field, there is silence. The sun rises. It stagge

We are all human beings
We all have our own lives
And different ways we live them
But each one of us is a writer
And this poem is for all of you

All of you who have virtues and use them in your writing
Those who use flashbacks and revisit mental photo albums

Beginning the story from the middle for that’s usually where you mind is at
Looking back then looking forward
Studying the past so you can be ready for what is to come

Recording catastrophes with a number two pencil

Tales and blurbs of tragedy
Caused by love or the lack there of

Rewards and punishment
Self-reliance and self-fulfillment

We are mere narrators
Humble, maybe unreliable
Equipped with numerous devices
Ironic Paradoxes
Red herrings
Fortuitous plot twists
Metaphors
Allegoric hyperboles
Analogies
Oxymorons and onomatopoeias

We sling Chekhov’s gun like bandits of literacy

We’re visionary revolutionaries
Revolution of the mind, body and soul

Changing ourselves and examining who and what we are
To become what we are destined to be
The best

Rejecting convention
Building our own paths
That lead to cliffhangers

Romantic lust
Comedic affairs
Dark massacres
Spiritual healing

Religious speculation
And the questioning of the way we, the people are being governed

We use the tools we are giving to sculpt new art that the world can stand in awe of

Personification
Symbolic imagery

Practicing pastiche with respect
Dionysian imitatio

Surreal reality
Defying mortality

Reiteration and retort

Using nature to express emotion and thought

Doubts and fear

Opposites
Morals and ethics

Satisfying curiosity

Parodying what we see
Embellishing just a little

We us word play to dive deep into the topic of conscious, subconscious and unconscious thought

Using satire to poke fun at the human condition,  its senses and perception of the universe to get readers thinking

Expressing our anger, our boundless joys
Desiring unknown pleasures

Seeing past the fallacies put before us

We write with great candor about war, personal conflicts, and self-abuse

With hinting undertones to give these ideas a second thought

We write of the supernatural, metaphysical mysteries
Outlandish, obscure mind boggling theories

As the clock ticks too fast for us and the characters we’ve created

Demolishing the fourth wall with a sledge hammer of defamiliarization

Epiphanies in a parking lot
Speaking in the 1st, 2nd or 3rd person

Using fun things like anagrams and palindromes
Candy for the lovers of such things

Spontaneity is an understatement
Nonsense is an insulting overstatement
Absurdity seems to fit just right

We are chameleons
We can write in various forms
Streams of gratifying consciousness
Brilliant prose
Beautiful poetry

And chose to use or merely acknowledge the ways to achieve these forms
Rhetoric, rhythm  and rhyme
Meter and mora
Conceit and consonance
Assonance
Intonation
Working with phonaesthetics  

And accenting aesthetics

A poem can or could not be organized as such
If we want to get technical about it

We have a poem
With a number of verses
And in those verses
Are lines
And those lines might rhyme
And have a meter or rhythm
Stressed or unstressed syllables

In contrast to that we may write
Without all of that and use emotion
Feeling and structure our work with what we feel is the best way
Line breaks
Pauses and puns
Silly similes
Ambiguous antonyms  
Intonation, linguistics
Fight against the fascists of grammar and conservative correctness

So, in the end we are writers of a rainbow kaleidoscope forms, devices, ways and ideas

But we alone are the ones who make the world think
Make it move
Revolt
Renew
Learn
Look back
Remember
Cry
Smile
Forget
Ease

Write my friends write until your mind explodes and your fingers bleed

Read, read and become inspired
Even if what you’re reading is bad cheese

Forget getting published it’s the writing that matters
Disregard the off-putting, critical chatter

And if you think no one reads
Than be the seed and sprout a tree of astounding artistry
And let’s begin a new movement composed of ideals that will hold true forever
I might be preaching to the choir but it must be said that poetry; literature isn’t dead

“Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms, armed with jointed truncheons.”
                                                    ­ George Orwell, 1984* (published in 1949)

Which brings us, of course, to the subject of torture since 1949.
Come with me to the Casbah, Babaloo.
We begin in the 1950s with the French in North Africa,
****** baguettes in Algeria,
Couilles frits, anyone?
Electrodes wired to Mustapha’s *****.
And "Bigeard's Shrimps,” as the bodies were called,
Dumped over the Mediterranean from aircraft,
All things considered a je ne sais quoi,
Though Camus and Sartre gave it a whack.

Then the 1960s: the CIA dabbling in mind-control and LSD.
Later, a Phoenix Program,
Very secretive, sympathies with the Cong required,
Various elders selected,
The village disinfected,
**, **, ** and a bowl of Pho.

Apartheid anyone?
Thirty years of South African terror & torture.
Torment in the townships,
Shaka Zulu gold and diamonds,
De Beers in Swaziland swing.

1971: riots at Attica,
Prisoners abused and tortured,
Rockefeller’s overcrowded slammer,
An upstate New York katzenjammer,
Nelson’s finger on the trigger,
39 dead and counting,
But who’s counting?

The CIA, back in the news in 1973,
Torture chambers under Chilean soccer stadiums,
And the Khmer Rouge:
Those Wacky Cambodians with skull racks.  
And let us not forget the British,
With centuries of colonial experience behind them,
Occupy six counties in Northern Ireland.
Finally codify the imperial process,
The Five Techniques:
Sounds like a Motown group,
Satin smooth colored boys,
But more method than music:
(1) Wall-standing,
(2) Hooding,
(3) Subjection to noise,
(4) Sleep deprivation,
(5) No food and drink.

And there’s a bunch of horrible ****,
We still don’t know about the Argentine ***** War,
And other Mai Lai-like,
****-fest massacres in Vietnam.

How about torture since 1984?
Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo,
Come quickly,
(www.prematureejaculatorsanonymous.com)
To mind,
As do US-sponsored rendition facilities,
Spread throughout the NATO alliance.
And closer to home, it’s never a dull moment in the 5 Boroughs:
Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, The Bronx and Manhattan.
Take your pick from Giuliani’s Greatest Hits,
Rudy Kazootie’s campaign of law and order,
Not necessarily in that order.
More awful than lawful,
A bathroom plunger rammed up,
The Haitian voodoo ****** of Abner Louima,
While he be handcuffed at a Brooklyn station house.
Or, the NYPD partying like it was 1999.
When in fact, it was1999,
And a curious death it was for Amadou Diallo,
Would-be American citizen from The Republic of Guinea,
(No connection to Italy or Italians),
Abner & Amadou: a pair of cautionary tales,
Either/or reflecting standard procedure for the Po-Po,
Time and time again from coast to coast.
Either/or: poor Abner, no Haitian Papa Doc.
Poor Amadou, on his way home from night school,
When police squeeze off 41 rounds,
Most of them in his direction,
Hitting him 19 times.
Just the facts, ma’am:
Diallo had reached into his jacket.
A trigger-happy police officer yells “Gun.”
A jungle warfare quartet springs into action:
Shenzi, Banzai, Ed & Zazu,
Four equally trigger-happy colleagues,
Empty their weapons.
No gun was found on Diallo,
Only the wallet he tried to pull out,
Containing his Green Card,
4 U.S. dollar bills;
And a laminated,
Credit card-sized copy of the U.S. Bill of Rights.
(I just didn’t know when to quit, did I?
The wallet was there with Green Card and the bucks,
But I made up the part about the Bill of Rights,
Trying to add poetry to tragedy, as usual.)

I don’t have to say much about Rodney King (RIP).
You watched it on TV a hundred times,
And a picture’s worth a thousand words.
Or ten thousand or a million, I suppose.
“Can’t we all just get along?” asked Rodney Glen King.

Last but not least there’s Kelly Thomas (RIP),
Another incidence of police insanity,
It was July of 2011 in Fullerton, California.
Thomas, a 37-year-old homeless man,
Schizophrenic, but unarmed,
Beaten to death at a bus depot,
During an altercation with six Fullerton police officers.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2019225/Kelly-Thomas-Poli­­ce-beat-taser-gentle-mentally-ill-homeless-man­-death.html#ixzz1e­3­4QnHtr

Mervyn Lazarus | Attorney | (www.mervlazarus.com) Police Brutality, Excessive Force and Jail Injury cases | California . . . Albuquerque

Jackie Chiles perfect attorney -YouTube, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpcEietIoxk) Nov 17, 2010 - 13 min - Uploaded by Kroeger22 All the scenes with Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld."Chiles is a parody of famed attorney Johnnie Cochran; both ... www.seinfeld.com

Perhaps the greatest torture of all,
Is that which artists subject us to.
Let us examine the case of Roberto Bolaño:
Roberto Bolaño, the great Chilean writer,
Tells a fabulous World War II story,
About a Spaniard--an Andalusian--
Fighting for the Germans against the Russians.
Captured by the Russians,
He is tortured for information.
The Spaniard speaks no Russian,
He knows only four words of German.
The Russian interrogators strap him into a chair,
Attach electrodes to his *****,
Attach pincers to his tongue.
The pain makes his eyes water.
He said--or rather shouts--the word coño.
It is Spanish for ****.
The pincers in his mouth,
Distort the expletive,
Which in his howling voice comes out as KUNST.
The Russian who knows German looks at him in puzzlement.
The Andalusian was yelling KUNST,
Yelling KUNST and crying in pain.
KUNST in German means art,
And that was what the bilingual Russian heard, KUNST.
“This ******* must be an artist or something.”
The torturers remove the pincers,
Along with a little piece of tongue,
And wait, momentarily hypnotized by the revelation:
The word ART had soothed the savage beasts.
So soothed, the savage beasts take a breather,
Waiting for some kind of signal.
Meanwhile, the Andalusian bleeds from the mouth,
Swallows his blood liberally mixed with saliva, and chokes.
The word coño,
Transformed into the word *KUNST,
Had saved his life.
It was dusk when he came out of the building.
Light stabbed at his eyes like midday sun.

So, it’s a fact that I love,
Truly love the simple blunt Anglo-Saxon expletive ****,
****: I pray that while I am being tortured some day,
I have the dignity to scream the word out loud.
And if I am screaming **** at the very end,
When my nervous system finally fails,
When I **** my pants,
When my pulmonic heart and lungs collapse,
Is that so bad?
Is that so wrong?

Do you realize that 1984 came--
Came and went, without any significant cultural hoopla?
The networks ignored it.
As did the cable pundits.
No significant comparative analysis between,
Orwell’s book 1984 and the year 1984,
Was broadcast electronically or publicized in print.
Steve Jobs got it, but as usual no one else did.
Mr. Jobs (RIP) did his best,
To mainstream its profound cultural relevance,
But ultimately failed,
Despite the $1.5 million he paid one of the networks,
To air a one minute nation-wide commercial,
During the 3rd Quarter,
Of Super Bowl XVIII,
January 22, 1984.
Despite Ridley Scott’s astonishing spell-binder,
His 60-second spot for The Macintosh 128K--
Still considered a watershed event,
And an advertising industry masterpiece,
…YouTube it and watch it.  (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8ji0B98IMo).
See the hammer throwing athlete chick,
See her fling the sledge,
That huge sledgehammer,
Smash into Big Brother’s flat screen face.
Despite Jobs’ global presence,
Despite Steverino’s unfettered microphone access,
Whenever he felt an oraculation coming on,
Despite everything,
He was unable to move the powers that be,
To either hype the book or the prophecy come true.

So, what’s my point? I have two.
First, in April 1984 the estate of George Orwell,
And the television rights holder to the novel 1984,
Considered the edgy Jobs/Scott commercial to be,
A flagrant copyright infringement,
Sending a cease-and-desist letter to Apple Inc.
And the advertising agency that produced the spot: Chiat/Day Inc.
The commercial was never televised as a commercial after that.  
Score: Lawyers 1, Artists 0.

My second point is that in November 2011,
The U.S. government argued before the U. S. Supreme Court,
That it wants to continue utilizing GPS tracking of individuals,
Without first seeking a warrant.
In response, Justice Stephen Breyer (one of the sane ones),
Questioned what this means for a democratic society.
Referencing Nineteen Eighty-Four, Justice Breyer asked:
"If you win this case, then there is nothing,
To prevent the police or the government from monitoring 24/7,
The public movement of every citizen of the United States.
So if you win, you suddenly produce what sounds like 1984 . . .”*

My third point,
(Yeah, I know I said two, but *******.)
My third point is that I’m just so ******* angry,
All the time, late and soon like Wordsworth,
(Was anyone more aptly named?)
I am angry about so many different things,
And every day that goes by I relate more and more,
To the thousands of Americans that occupied,
Zuccotti Park and Oakland,
And countless other venues,
Out into the streets.
Across the country.
Around the world.  
I am humbled by their courage and perseverance.
Yet, I am afraid for them.
I am made paranoid by the scope and power,
Of the government,
Of the ruling class that controls it,
And the technology they allow us to embrace,
Technology’s sinister potential,
Now that more and more knowledge and information,
Has been digitized,
Existing only in cyberspace.                                                      ­                                                 
What frightens most is the realization,
That anyone with a word processor,
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.
The scary part is—
Repeating myself for emphasis—
That anyone with a word processor
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.

Does anyone out there give a ****?
Does anyone out there share my nightmare?
Do it to Julia.
Do it to Julia.

Noon; I swear by what the angels write,
When I met you the world bloomed in me, with flowers far and wide
Ahh of all times you have chosen winter to come
Its so cold here that I cant even feel my thumb
The snow falls into a pretty pile
Lets go and sledge, then drink a hot chocolate after a while
But in reality, I am sitting here on my chair
Trying to write new poems, ideas are quite rare
With pen in hand I will try my best
And see this as some kind of  a test
Until I may or may not run out of ink
Until I may am not able to think
And until I just want to sink into my bed
Ah my pen, you are so pretty, you're elegant and sweet
Documenting stuff with you is really so neat
Please pen write on


~ Umi

Look outside and watch the snow
If you see it falling then just go!
Have some fun in those pure white fields

Make an angel out of snow or even an entire man
And enjoy the winter as long as you can

You could also simply just go and sledge, if you find a hill
Surely that could give you a nice little thrill

Or enjoy the cold, cuddling your lover
A chocolate milk and a blanket would be a nice cover

Or you could write
Under an starlit night
Full of wonder and delight
Amazed by this season and its might


~ Umi

I've seen the look of presidents who know they are wrong
but still believe in charisma over honesty.
We want to be charmed apparently.
That or somebody has a gun pointed to his wife’s head.
Would you **** for a loved one?
There is no romance in pushing the button that drops the bomb,
it’s all in the explosion, mangled flesh
and the outcry that is content to exist in social media.
Sit kids down with dominoes
so they may grow up to know how to fall
into some actual form of impactfulness.
Until then, the children will grow up impotent,
with all that they believe true in the world to be contained in gossip.
We are almost onto something.
We know it to exist only through reading between the lines
of countries and cages.
Who built this?
Who lives here?
Who put clutter into the wide open?
Freedom is the space of sense
but where I live if you looked up that word
you’d see a rabbit pulled from a hat
screaming that nothing is moved by tradition.
If thought is language
then I’m concerned for all the smoke and mirrors
in my dictionary.
I’ve never met a Webster
but I know people who could make you rethink your education.
Make you wonder if ideals
are places you exist at the moment
ideas come to pass in action.
Then a space must have the air to move.
I want to breath,
approach the world when I inhale
and it to know me upon release.
To be reminded of this exchange every time I speak.
A fire sale of all I love
I am burning all the price tags off everything.
I am the emotion behind the sinewy meat
in the arms singing hammer fall
at a Berlin wall
full of vandalism.

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
  The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
  With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
  Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
  His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
  He earns whate’er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
  You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
  With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
  When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
  Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
  And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
  Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
  And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
  He hears his daughter’s voice,
Singing in the village choir,
  And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice,
  Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
  How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
  A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
  Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
  Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
  Has earned a night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
  For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
  Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
  Each burning deed and thought.

They put me by the door
And I could see below
800 feet to the ground
A solid green carpet
Looking soft enough to sleep on.
But the limbs underneath
Were sharp and deadly.
It wasn't a good day
For a jump I thought.
Who wants to jump out of a C-47
On their first airplane ride
Into the wild blue yonder--
No one with good sense
As I answered my own question.
I remembered hearing about
The guy who received a parachute
Not knowing it needed repair
But he had faith nothing happened
To a nice guy like him.
So when he jumped out
And didn't feel the jolt slow down
His descent to the ground
He looked up with panicked eyes
And saw the chute fluttering away.
He muttered a few cuss words
When he saw the ground come fast.
He didn't pull his reserve in time
And never heard the deadly thud.
Those were my thoughts
As the T-7 parachute
Opened with the snap of a whip
Just as the parachutist behind me
Started walking on my canopy.
I could see his boots sink in deep
And I hollared, get your sorry *** off
You low life no good *******--
A panic lingo that flowed out
Because I was scared crapless
At the turn of events.
Luckily my chute didn't collapse
And his chute started floating away.
No harm done except my nerves
Were a little frayed.
It only takes about 8-10 seconds
To get to the ground
From the time you leave the plane.
So I looked down and there it was
With the wind blowing about 20 knots.
I could feel myself swaying
Much like a pendulum on a clock.
I wasn't trained to land on my back
As I'd learned the five point landing technique
But then the ground slammed my rear
With a sledge hammer effect
Knocking the light off in my brain.
But I must have awakened shortly
As the wind had opened my canopy
Dragging me across the rocky landing zone
Till I became aware and remembered
To pull the bottom risers on my chute
To empty the air from it
So I could roll on top of it.
Then an instructor came by yelling
Get your *** up soldier
And take your chute back where you got it.
I responded accordingly
Wanting to keep my nose clean
And make the rest of my jumps
So I could get my Parachutist Wings.
It would take 4 more jumps that week.
I had to meet those requirements
Or they would send my derriere oveseas
Where a war was going on.
That was all the incentive I needed
To bust my **** gladly
And claw my way to paratrooper status.
Geronimo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
I thought sheepishly to myself
For my not so altruistic bravado.

1
Who will honor the city without a name
If so many are dead and others pan gold
Or sell arms in faraway countries?


What shepherd's horn swathed in the bark of birch
Will sound in the Ponary Hills the memory of the absent—
Vagabonds, Pathfinders, brethren of a dissolved lodge?


This spring, in a desert, beyond a campsite flagpole,
—In silence that stretched to the solid rock of yellow and red mountains—
I heard in a gray bush the buzzing of wild bees.


The current carried an echo and the timber of rafts.
A man in a visored cap and a woman in a kerchief
Pushed hard with their four hands at a heavy steering oar.


In the library, below a tower painted with the signs of the zodiac,
Kontrym would take a whiff from his snuffbox and smile
For despite Metternich all was not yet lost.


And on crooked lanes down the middle of a sandy highway
Jewish carts went their way while a black grouse hooted
Standing on a cuirassier's helmet, a relict of La Grande Armée.


2
In Death Valley I thought about styles of hairdo,
About a hand that shifted spotlights at the Student's Ball
In the city from which no voice could reach me.
Minerals did not sound the last trumpet.
There was only the rustle of a loosened grain of lava.


In Death Valley salt gleams from a dried-up lake bed.
Defend, defend yourself, says the tick-tock of the blood.
From the futility of solid rock, no wisdom.


In Death Valley no hawk or eagle against the sky.
The prediction of a Gypsy woman has come true.
In a lane under an arcade, then, I was reading a poem
Of someone who had lived next door, entitled 'An Hour of Thought.'


I looked long at the rearview mirror: there, the one man
Within three miles, an Indian, was walking a bicycle uphill.


3
With flutes, with torches
And a drum, boom, boom,
Look, the one who died in Istanbul, there, in the first row.
He walks arm in arm with his young lady,
And over them swallows fly.


They carry oars or staffs garlanded with leaves
And bunches of flowers from the shores of the Green Lakes,
As they came closer and closer, down Castle Street.
And then suddenly nothing, only a white puff of cloud
Over the Humanities Student Club,
Division of Creative Writing.


4
Books, we have written a whole library of them.
Lands, we have visited a great many of them.
Battles, we have lost a number of them.
Till we are no more, we and our Maryla.


5
Understanding and pity,
We value them highly.
What else?


Beauty and kisses,
Fame and its prizes,
Who cares?


Doctors and lawyers,
Well-turned-out majors,
Six feet of earth.


Rings, furs, and lashes,
Glances at Masses,
Rest in peace.


Sweet twin *******, good night.
Sleep through to the light,
Without spiders.


6
The sun goes down above the Zealous Lithuanian Lodge
And kindles fire on landscapes 'made from nature':
The Wilia winding among pines; black honey of the Żejmiana;
The Mereczanka washes berries near the Żegaryno village.
The valets had already brought in Theban candelabra
And pulled curtains, one after the other, slowly,
While, thinking I entered first, taking off my gloves,
I saw that all the eyes were fixed on me.


7
When I got rid of grieving
And the glory I was seeking,
Which I had no business doing,


I was carried by dragons
Over countries, bays, and mountains,
By fate, or by what happens.


Oh yes, I wanted to be me.
I toasted mirrors weepily
And learned my own stupidity.


From nails, mucous membrane,
Lungs, liver, bowels, and spleen
Whose house is made? Mine.


So what else is new?
I am not my own friend.
Time cuts me in two.


Monuments covered with snow,
Accept my gift. I wandered;
And where, I don't know.


8
Absent, burning, acrid, salty, sharp.
Thus the feast of Insubstantiality.
Under a gathering of clouds anywhere.
In a bay, on a plateau, in a dry arroyo.
No density. No harness of stone.
Even the Summa thins into straw and smoke.
And the angelic choirs fly over in a pomegranate seed
Sounding every few instants, not for us, their trumpets.


9
Light, universal, and yet it keeps changing.
For I love the light too, perhaps the light only.
Yet what is too dazzling and too high is not for me.
So when the clouds turn rosy, I think of light that is level
In the lands of birch and pine coated with crispy lichen,
Late in autumn, under the hoarfrost when the last milk caps
Rot under the firs and the hounds' barking echoes,
And jackdaws wheel over the tower of a Basilian church.


10
Unexpressed, untold.
But how?
The shortness of life,
the years quicker and quicker,
not remembering whether it happened in this or that autumn.
Retinues of homespun velveteen skirts,
giggles above a railing, pigtails askew,
sittings on chamberpots upstairs
when the sledge jingles under the columns of the porch
just before the moustachioed ones in wolf fur enter.
Female humanity,
children's snots, legs spread apart,
snarled hair, the milk boiling over,
stench, **** frozen into clods.
And those centuries,
conceiving in the herring smell of the middle of the night
instead of playing something like a game of chess
or dancing an intellectual ballet.
And palisades,
and pregnant sheep,
and pigs, fast eaters and poor eaters,
and cows cured by incantations.


11
Not the Last Judgment, just a kermess by a river.
Small whistles, clay chickens, candied hearts.
So we trudged through the slush of melting snow
To buy bagels from the district of Smorgonie.


A fortune-teller hawking: 'Your destiny, your planets.'
And a toy devil bobbing in a tube of crimson brine.
Another, a rubber one, expired in the air squeaking,
By the stand where you bought stories of King Otto and Melusine.


12
Why should that city, defenseless and pure as the wedding necklace of
a forgotten tribe, keep offering itself to me?
Like blue and red-brown seeds beaded in Tuzigoot in the copper desert
seven centuries ago.


Where ocher rubbed into stone still waits for the brow and cheekbone
it would adorn, though for all that time there has been no one.


What evil in me, what pity has made me deserve this offering?


It stands before me, ready, not even the smoke from one chimney is
lacking, not one echo, when I step across the rivers that separate us.


Perhaps Anna and Dora Drużyno have called to me, three hundred miles
inside Arizona, because except fo me no one else knows that they ever
lived.


They trot before me on Embankment Street, two hently born parakeets
from Samogitia, and at night they unravel their spinster tresses of gray
hair.


Here there is no earlier and no later; the seasons of the year and of the
day are simultaneous.


At dawn ****-wagons leave town in long rows and municipal employees
at the gate collect the turnpike toll in leather bags.


Rattling their wheels, 'Courier' and 'Speedy' move against the current
to Werki, and an oarsman shot down over England skiffs past, spread-
eagled by his oars.


At St. Peter and Paul's the angels lower their thick eyelids in a smile
over a nun who has indecent thoughts.


Bearded, in a wig, Mrs. Sora Klok sits at the ocunter, instructing her
twelve shopgirls.


And all of German Street tosses into the air unfurled bolts of fabric,
preparing itself for death and the conquest of Jerusalem.


Black and princely, an underground river knocks at cellars of the
cathedral under the tomb of St. Casimir the Young and under the
half-charred oak logs in the hearth.


Carrying her servant's-basket on her shoulder, Barbara, dressed in
mourning, returns from the Lithuanian Mass at St. Nicholas to the
Romers' house in Bakszta Street.


How it glitters! the snow on Three Crosses Hill and Bekiesz Hill, not
to be melted by the breath of these brief lives.


And what do I know now, when I turn into Arsenal Street and open
my eyes once more on a useless end of the world?


I was running, as the silks rustled, through room after room without
stopping, for I believed in the existence of a last door.


But the shape of lips and an apple and a flower pinned to a dress were
all that one was permitted to know and take away.


The Earth, neither compassionate nor evil, neither beautiful nor atro-
cious, persisted, innocent, open to pain and desire.


And the gift was useless, if, later on, in the flarings of distant nights,
there was not less bitterness but more.


If I cannot so exhaust my life and their life that the bygone crying is
transformed, at last, into harmony.


Like a Noble Jan Dęboróg in the Straszun's secondhand-book shop, I am
put to rest forever between tow familiar names.


The castle tower above the leafy tumulus grows small and there is still
a hardly audible—is it Mozart's Requiem?—music.


In the immobile light I move my lips and perhaps I am even glad not
to find the desired word.

"Wagons East (1994) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0111653/ Internet Movie Database Rating: 4.7/10 - ‎3,545 votes (stylized onscreen as ‘Wagons East’) is a 1994 western comedy film directed by Peter Markleand starring John Candy and Richard Lewis. The film marked one of Candy's last film appearances although it was not his last film release. His last film, Canadian Bacon which he had completed before “Wagons East,” had a delayed release in 1995. The film was notable for its leading actor Candy dying of a heart attack during the final days of the film's production. A stand-in and special effects were used to complete his remaining scenes and it released five months after his death."

And it’s Wagons East!
John Candy’s last mega-bomb,
Released 5 months postmortem.
Alas, even the sympathy vote stayed home,
Reject the we-owe-it-to-him-for
“Planes, Trains & Automobiles”(1987, IMDB).
The role, like money in the bank,
Earning diminishing returns,
Yielding interest but losing value over time.
The myth of INTEREST:
Das Capital, 2015.
The Prime is at 0%,
Yet, Inflation soars at, well,
At inflationary rates,
Digit-pounding inflation,
Higher food & shelter prices,
Masked ever so cleverly,
So deftly obscured by benevolent gasoline prices.

“Planes, Trains & Automobiles” (1987, IMDB)
Meet Del Griffith,
An obnoxious slob,
A complete schlemiel
(Also shle·miel (shlə-mēl′),
A serene shower curtain ring
Salesman and tour de force.
A film illustrative of everything
We love about farce,
(Merci beaucoup, Molière!)
And love about any
John Hughes/Steve Martin collaboration.

Needless to say,
I watched “Wagons East”
On TV the other day.
It was ten o’clock in the morning.
Will-o'-wisping in the ashtray,
Smoke from my first joint of the day.
The ashtray, a mosh pit carbonara--
Actually, an inverted exoskeleton dome--
One of dem big muthas,
I once free-dived for,
Offshore Mendocino Coast,
Back in the day,
Back when THE FRENCH LAUNDRY . . .
(The French Laundry: Thomas Keller Restaurant Group, www.thomaskeller.com. Chef Thomas Keller visited Yountville, California in the early 1990's on a quest for a space to fulfill a longtime culinary dream: to establish a destination for fine --314 Google reviews · Write a review 6640 Washington St, Yountville, CA 94533 (707) 944-2380. Daily Menus - ‎Make a Reservation - ‎Restaurant)
Back when THE FRENCH LAUNDRY
Paid beaucoup bucks for
Well-tenderized,
Sledge hammered slabs of illegal,
Black Market abalone.
Most assuredly, I digress.

So where else would I be?
My laptop was open & willing,
Legs spread, wet and waiting for
Whatever comes what may.
What came was a film
Earning pitch perfect
Dramatic chops for Candy.
We owe you, Del.
We owe you for this Anthem:
“You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I'm an easy target. Yeah, you're right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you . . . but I don't like to hurt people's feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I'm not changing. I like . . . I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. Cause I'm the real article. What you see is what you get.”
But that was then,
This is now.
Wagons East:
A disastrous ****** bomb.
A vapid character jambalaya:
(1) A defrocked doctor
(2) A sagebrush *****.
(3) A queer book vendor.
(4) A Donner Party Survivor
Sounds can’t miss, right?
Or was it a classic Broadway/Hollywood sting?
Redux: “Spring Time for ******.”
N'est-ce pas?
Four *******
Heading east by wagon train;
Giving up on The West,
Heading east for Saint Louie,
Where freaks & geeks go undercover.
Down go their guards.
Camouflaging the chimera,
Transits the urban Wasteland,
Vast & nasty, as it were.

St. Louis, Missouri:
A much more tolerant
Hideout place.
THE WEST:
Just too much of
A hassle, I guess,
Too much for one’s
Flat-lined human mind,
Bored too shitless by
Buffalo turds to venture thought.
THE WEST:
Neorealismo italiano.
Complete Jolting-Joe reality,
A veritable wake-up call
Devouring any & all
Residual romantic fantasies . . .
THE WEST:
Struggle & Drudge,
Life lived west of the Mississippi.

Rangeland Romances #9 Go West For Your Man! Kindle (www.amazon.com) Books Literature & Fiction Amazon.com, Inc. Start reading Rangeland Romances #9 Go West For Your Man! Get the free Kindle Reading App or read on your Kindle in under a minute. Don't have a Kindle? www.amazon.com

That’s right: another advertisement,
Smack dab in the middle of
Of the ******* poem!
My invention, by the by,
Putting herein another plug for
A preferred memorial gravesite,
The Shrine To Me!
Situated in Scituate,
(Always wanted to say that.)
Scituate MA (www.scituatema.gov)
Knowing my kryptonite crypt,
My not-marble-nor-gilded
Princely-monument,
Had no chance to outlive
This fakakta rhyme scheme . . .
The Shrine To Me!
My final resting place:
My very tony, exclusive
Sub Zip Code?
The South Transept
Westminster Abbey
The so-called Poets’ Corner,
Of course!

Which brings me to my true purpose:
My true intentions for you this morning?
To publicize the strange Case of
CHARLES ROCKET:
(Go ahead, ******* Google him!)
“Charlie Rocket, found dead in a field near
His Connecticut home on October 7, 2005,
His throat had been cut.
He was 56 years old.
The state medical examiner
Later ruled the death a suicide.”
And if you believe the Coroner,
A Medicine Man &
Master of Self-Interest;
If you give that sharp-dealing,
Proverbial Connecticut Yankee his due,
Then you will probably also think
That millionaire Robert Durst
Didn’t **** Susan Berman,
Even as we see him
Getting away with ******.
Again.

there was a little husky in land so far away
he would pull as sledge each and every day
pulling very hard through the snow so thick
going very fast going very quick
he had big bright eyes they were coloured blue
with a big fur coat a husky through and through
he would take his sliegh to the trading post.
so they could fill it up. the thing he liked the most
then he would go away again with his little sled
till he got very tired then off he went to bed

Sinner

What have I done to my world?

Egrets

Pelicans

Whales

Are you diving into the plume

A 10 mile depth of black hell?

Are you in another dimension now?

Have you given up on this world of

Easy living?

I am guilty.

I work too much and care less

As one superficial lifestyle Blends into the other

Money seems like security blanket

It is Not.

My land is covered in a part of me that dies

As the sea spits up the overdose of

Consumerism.

Each time I feel the powerlessness of hope fade

I take my plastic water bottle and throw it into a

Bin labeled

RECYCLE…

HA!

Plastic

OIL OIL OIL…

PLASTIC

******* Hell,

I bet oil is in my food chain somewhere

A box that makes it easy to cook in

A packing tool to deliver me the goods

OIL OIL OIL

Saturated Guilt

I feel like a harlot

A sinner

A part of something I cannot stop

I don’t want my world to look like this

Stop Me.

From the desire for convenience

Let me take living down a notch or two

Let me see with a part of me that is lost

THIS IS A CRY IN

(the
sledge of redemption)

I remember my body gave me another chance

When I filled it with poisons that made me feel good (you know what they are)

Will you do the same?

Oh heavenly body that holds my own.

Can you ever forgive me?

Linaji

Your love is like a hammer, babe
hits me like a twelve-pound sledge.
Your love is like a hammer, baby,
hits me like a twelve-pound sledge.
Breaks my heart wide open,
knocks off the rough edge.

Your love is like a fire, babe
burns me to the ground.
Your love is like a fire, baby,
burns me to the ground.
Glowing in the ashes
some diamonds I have found.

Your love is like a mirror, babe
one I don't want to see.
Your love is like a mirror baby,
I don't want to see.
Staring in the fiery eyes of truth's
not a place I like to be.

Your love is like a hammer, babe
It can break or it can build.
Your love is like a hammer, baby
Break or it can build.
Your love will make me stronger
if it doesn't ****.

Psst
Hey man
You looking for a boost?
Some bud? Molly? *****?
I gotch you
Let's be out

Let's look forward, shifting eyes
Thick blunts, welcome to The Court of Miracles
Where no ones ever dry and everyone's good

The whole place was flooded with music
Pounding, pulsing, entrancing
thump thump thump thump
Laser lights flashing neon colors
Multicolored creatures of night dancing to the whimsical noise

The DJ was young
Attentive to his machine that dispensed exuberant sensate explosions
Rocking back and forth, flipping switches, turning knobs
We are, we can, we will live forever
Then it all went silent and the whole place shot out with a feeling of anticipation
WE ARE IMMORTAL
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
The bass caused everyone of us to vibrate and pick up the vibrations of one another

Hey bro
Take this
Molly
Nerves become fervent

Now meet my other friend
Lucy
Mind is widened
Now you're candy flipping
Hippy tripping

We met a girl
Her dad was a record producer
She was way out there
She was out of her head

We met an artist
He used different types of wood
And carved shapes and patterns in to them
Then painted it with acrylics
Then smashed it with a sledge hammer

People bought it
He was brilliant
He was ******
I was dazzled

She tasted like *****
He tastes like cigarettes
***** devils
Looking for a time

I saw veterans from Iraq letting loose
Thank you
A sea of sweaty smiles going for miles
Under a baroque moon

Sleeveless shirts
Minuscule skirts
Beads, glow sticks
Unity

Altogether
Under one universe
Dedicated to this single moment
And what it means to us
One mind
Joined
For equal freedom

It is one fourth inch thick.
God must have granted you
An extra one fourth inch
At least.
Bullets may still have
The power to shatter
But those words spoken
Never had a living chance
To break through
That one fourth and
One extra one fourth inch
You have.
If words were a sledge hammer
I would have to crack your skull.

The room was filled with burnout nuts who looked half crazy dear lord what was someone as normal as me doing here.
Yeah dont laugh im being serious or however ya spell it.

The group slash cult leader approached the mic.
Hello im Dan .
Hello Dan.

Dear lord these people were some brainwashed hampsters almost as bad
as that voodoo priestest Taylor Swift yeah Her new song sounds just like her last okay.
the only people who like her are kids and perverts that reminds me gotta put that video on mute when i
watch it it really messes up the mood what!
Im talking bout when im writting ya perves haha no im not.

Enough with the foreplay kids.
The man went into his speech how he used to snort lines that went from here to texas
picked up hookers drank till he passed out.
Hey No wonder this man was a leader he was soon becoming my hero.

But then I hit rock bottem and stopped found Jesus once honestly i didnt know he was lost.
Now he hadnt had a dam bit of fun in four years i couldnt contain my laughter
what a ***** huh?
I said to the old drunk beside me.

Hey what you got in that cup there grandpa.
He just looked at me in a strange manner must be on a hell of a trip lucky *******.
He spoke slow in a ***** old seductive kinda scared shitless by me manner
It's Koolaide.

Yeah weird mixer what ya trying to pick up kids ya nut what else is in it?
This oldman was playing a game yeah  sure dont share you old ***** hound
my flask was nearly empty and my patience was fading with every sober ***** that took the stage Jesus people it was listening to Jeff Foxworthy it's great if your ******* but honestly its one step above a ******* puppet.

The group of lame areses was almost done when they looked at me hey there friend feel like sharing?
It was something I should fight but a mic and stage was as tempting as a
wild turkey and college keg party.

Why not.

Hey Kids Im Gonzo!
Hey Gonzo jesus it was like dealing with a human parrot or Brittney Spears really
you've  seen one mindless drone ya seem em all.

I took a deep sip from my coffee with a little something extra cup
mmm acid and folgers it goes togather like teens and ****** reallity  shows ******* MTV!

Well Im Gonzo , Hello Gonzo.
Look meeting of the living braindead it's funny the first time okay.
Okay jesus these people were bad as a boy band dam three tenors yeah your all
hot and can sing opera but wants to party to that ****.

Look here  Ive been drinking since 12  umm commited alotta fun crimes
Once paid the babysitter to show me her *******  yeah I know winning.
Ive been in 20  car crashes some of em not just other peoples cars  like I can afford one.

Ive done every drug known to man and some that arent made by people named skull and eightball.
dated strippers snorted coke off of more than just a table  get your mind outta the
gutter cause if ya dont your gonna end up like me serious!

My wife is full of life and strung out on pills that reminds me
i gotta pick her up after cheerleading practice.
Ive been in the iron bar hotel many a night yeah that ****** but he hairy guys are great to cuddle with
like big teddy bears who'll **** you yeah that ****** so ive herd well yeah.

The group was silent till DR Downer spoke up but when did you hit bottom.
Sir thats my personal life okay and besides i not that hung okay.
But you stopped right.

Stopped what are you high on crack Bobby Brown?  
First off amigo its cheap second I aint stopping till im dead yeah i could work out have no
fun and spend the rest of my life speaking in front of nuts who used to be cool
Like you Irene hey personally i wish i had seen you in the ******* cause you seem
like a nice lady and really easy to get into bed okay yeah im
sensative I always pay after that's manners.

The crowd was filled with something what was this place Jonestown
Look at what ya all become eating cookies and drinking **** I wouldnt even
drink when i was ******* five okay.

And you ****** Dave well okay it's kinda weird ya hung out in park restrooms
But if only you had met George Micheal maybe then he'd still be making good  records but ya gotta have faith im just saying.

Sure you can be nice live good yeah then one day ya cross the street and some *******
spoiled brat   teenager  who just got his license runs over your *** cause he's texting sally
asking to see her **** to share e with the rest of the football team okay.

Hey whatever happend to *** drugs and rock n roll kids.
**** living forever.
Lets party now and ***** tommorow cheers I kicked back the last
of the wild turkey hitting that liver like a sledge

The group was silent yet again **** I had crossed the line yet again ahh someone needs a spanking
but enough bout lady gaga.

Sir there leader said leave now!
Just then like something off of saturday night pro wrestling.
A folding chair hit the
hugging preachy nut over the head.

***** this guy the old drunk exclaimed lets go get trashed my life ***** lets get some ***** drugs and
Irene crank the music.

And like something outta a stupid wholsome after school special my heart grew
okay aybe thats a bit much .

We were off like fellow addicts set lose in a world as ******* up as us
And everything was as messed up as us we partyed laughed made some movies of are own that probaly wont be seen on tv anytime soon.

And we lived in the moment cause its all we ever have.
And this perves gonna make sure his is
******* fun stay crazy and avoid the clap love always
Gonzo

stress I’m not like the rest. hell half of what you hear these kids write about is me I’m all that they have in there lives. no dad, no mom, no home, there best friend is drugs, cigarette burns in the rug. **** all they wanted was a hug. stress is doing its best swinging a sledge at your back hoping you’ll crack. these kids don’t see there are ways to rid themselves of me. but they just are to blind to see the guy who will take that heavy bag off your back for just one fee. tell him how your day is. whats on your mind. anything because he cares. but nobody is in the line with zero wait time. no they all just keep to themselves walk along as there back cracks.

there was a little husky in land so far away
he would pull as sledge each and every day
pulling very hard through the snow so thick
going very fast going very quick.

he had big bright eyes they were coloured blue
with a big fur coat a husky through and through
he would take his sliegh to the trading post.
so they could fill it up. the thing he liked the most.

then he would go away again with his little sled
till he got very tired then off he went to bed.

Tonight, whenst my soul wasth dancing about its walls,
I chall-enged myself to potter about th' halls.
Having adjusted my red shawl and added some more
tints of blush into my frazzled cheeks, didst I swing myself
out of my chamber.
A sleek rain wasth but mumbling outside; and evoked within me
a longing for domestic adventures-to **** th' silent drear of
th' dying evening! With only th' rain as its ember, flitting away
wasth its cold shadows, with shards of plainness around
its damp, frail body, awash in th' childlike pouring shower-
th' one t'at would betray it soon-and ended with a blunt
thump as th' morbid clouds hanging aloft, dyeing th' sky faithfully red,
but consoling in such irresistible ways! How I remembereth its leaving a scent
to my skin and constitution so soft, and indulged it away, so unlike
th' smug moonbeam-immaculate like th' stars, but unsettled and tumultous
at heart-and in th' lap of bleak, unsoundly thunderstorms would be torn apart.
So ventured I, downstairs! No soul was rolling around th' corridors,
in spite of th' lamps, t'ose yellow halos against
th' wooden walls. How I gleefully descended th' adjacent steep bars-
downwards, in a quiet stroll, whilst coolly whistling to my own *****-
to procure the merriment of letters-yes, th' abodes of t'ose ****** words,
unappalled yet by th' venerable worlds. And t'eir tiny chambers, t'ose neatly
glued; inked papers, flocked into t'eir serene boxes this afternoon-ah, by those
blokes so punctual, honourable indeed areth t'eir perseverance, strength,
and little carriages! With horses as divine, crowding people's lives
with th' ornaments of phrases carved within envelopes
in t'eir leather bags-an occupation so holy! It is-it is, indeed! Like a sledge
t'at never utters a complaint-or sheep t'at dares not to leap, or
wiggle, in th' threat of its young master, albeit grimaces of sickness,
and pain, pain as of giving mortal births, affordeth. And howeth it shalt invade
its listening hearts with blades of agony-whose sullen grass
is bitter but never to wither-a resemblance of long-living memory,
so dark but unspoken-and whose life is but willingly tethered t' th' snow beneath;
a pampered sea of whiteness with bonds of accusation
enshrined along its surface,
regardless of th' pure-hearted toil of th' reindeer,
and its honesty t'at so charmingly planted within its roots. Agreeable element,
just as it is! T'ose men so deserving of praise-hark, hark how t'ey clutched at my letters,
and gently shoved 'em forwards; amidst t'ose gloomy bits of chuckling dews!
Frosts t'at sent chills through th' afternoon's vigilant pains,
o, what dormant a serpent, as t'ey wert! But now wert t'ey inventing t'eir slots
out o' t'eir caves-andeth greedly rendering it more gratuitous
t' th' old man's eyes. Horrendous! Inescapable! Disagreeable! How t'is fate, but fate
t'at is intimate with wonder-obstinate in 'tis own credulity, and paths
of security, esteem, and actuality; fate t'at canst ot'erwise be unfathomable-
at th' most desirous times such as t'is!
Thrown was I into th' view of another, fancy who it was-
a former friend, about whom my heart once so dearly throbbed, and perchance
plentifully longed to meet! But as encounter, didst we-a river of grand, prosperous ambitions
and plots of weaving merciful fortune, andeth devious thirst for far precarious,
yet precious, lore-forgotten wereth thus our memories, and stepped away but we,
from each ot'er's undeniably hearty regions.
But he! How, this evening, with t'at pair of eyes
kind with endless blueness-blowing so handsome into my face,
t'at lake of golden hair, and skin so moist in its ripe, whole whiteness,
as bright as th' moonlit skies above-sensuous and translucent
in his searing youth, o my dear!
How he entereth th' door with t'ose passionate airs about 'im,
and abruptly captivated my soul! Atoned, hastily, wasth all my grief
and pangs of gloom, upon my laying my first sights on 'im! What a majestic being!
A charm so frank as th' most desired odour of nature;
and unbreakably calm in its greetings-a lure so powerful to my entire soul!
How decent, yet enticing, t'is gentleman to my comprehension!
How lovable wasth his manly voice-as he first attempted to speak;
blanketed and cheered most adorably
by colourful fogs of courage, waves of veritable determination-o, how a gaze
can be so tender into my heart!
O, but it now appeareth t'at I ought to doubt not
about falling in love again;
with t'ese new fits o' charms I've found,
of a soul t'at was but so long abandoned
whilst I let myself being disheartened-so cruelly
and unthinkingly, by that poor fiend! A brute, a lonesome wretch as he is-
whose love is but unworthy, fraudulent, to my eyes-
a rustic, odd liar! And let him but shrink
into nothingness; and be unthoughtfully buried within th' cold arms
of th' dismantled sun-wherein a wrathful furnace shalt he burn, and cry,
cry sorrowfully in deplorable hatred, with no-one else to shoulder his castigations
and bestow neither any ot'er love-nor pity, for 'im,
as th' wife whom his chest daintily adores
is but th' sin he has made, andeth th' ashes of his ungodly remains-
As cursed and woven away from t'is world by our kingly God-just as how she
hath misled him hitherto, and duly tortured wasth her by our new faith-
whence soulless was she left, a thin, uncrucial vapour of triviality-as most sane creatures
shalt know! How after t'at disaster of death,
damnation becameth her home and bower,
whereth howl wilt she like a prone elf-
andeth be th' mourning fire itself.

there was a little fox he lived in a hedge one day when it was snowing he built himself a sledge
he pushed in the snow till it began to slide then he jumped on top so he could have a ride
he it took  a hill and pushed it from the top till it reached the bottom then he made it stop.
he was having fun on his little sleigh then came out the sun to the melt the snow away
then the fox went back and climbed into the hedge waiting for the snow again so he could use his sledge.

Decolor, obscuris, vilis, non ille repexam
  Cesariem regum, non candida virginis ornat
  Colla, nec insigni splendet per cingula morsu.
  Sed nova si nigri videas miracula saxi,
  Tunc superat pulchros cultus et quicquid Eois
  Indus litoribus rubra scrutatur in alga.
  CLAUDIAN.


I sat beside the glowing grate, fresh heaped
  With Newport coal, and as the flame grew bright
--The many-coloured flame--and played and leaped,
  I thought of rainbows and the northern light,
Moore's Lalla Rookh, the Treasury Report,
And other brilliant matters of the sort.

And last I thought of that fair isle which sent
  The mineral fuel; on a summer day
I saw it once, with heat and travel spent,
  And scratched by dwarf-oaks in the hollow way;
Now dragged through sand, now jolted over stone--
A rugged road through rugged Tiverton.

And hotter grew the air, and hollower grew
  The deep-worn path, and horror-struck, I thought,
Where will this dreary passage lead me to?
  This long dull road, so narrow, deep, and hot?
I looked to see it dive in earth outright;
I looked--but saw a far more welcome sight.

Like a soft mist upon the evening shore,
  At once a lovely isle before me lay,
Smooth and with tender verdure covered o'er,
  As if just risen from its calm inland bay;
Sloped each way gently to the grassy edge,
And the small waves that dallied with the sedge.

The barley was just reaped--its heavy sheaves
  Lay on the stubble field--the tall maize stood
Dark in its summer growth, and shook its leaves--
  And bright the sunlight played on the young wood--
For fifty years ago, the old men say,
The Briton hewed their ancient groves away.

I saw where fountains freshened the green land,
  And where the pleasant road, from door to door,
With rows of cherry-trees on either hand,
  Went wandering all that fertile region o'er--
Rogue's Island once--but when the rogues were dead,
Rhode Island was the name it took instead.

Beautiful island! then it only seemed
  A lovely stranger--it has grown a friend.
I gazed on its smooth slopes, but never dreamed
  How soon that bright magnificent isle would send
The treasures of its womb across the sea,
To warm a poet's room and boil his tea.

Dark anthracite! that reddenest on my hearth,
  Thou in those island mines didst slumber long;
But now thou art come forth to move the earth,
  And put to shame the men that mean thee wrong.
Thou shalt be coals of fire to those that hate thee,
And warm the shins of all that underrate thee.

Yea, they did wrong thee foully--they who mocked
  Thy honest face, and said thou wouldst not burn;
Of hewing thee to chimney-pieces talked,
  And grew profane--and swore, in bitter scorn,
That men might to thy inner caves retire,
And there, unsinged, abide the day of fire.

Yet is thy greatness nigh. I pause to state,
  That I too have seen greatness--even I--
Shook hands with Adams--stared at La Fayette,
  When, barehead, in the hot noon of July,
He would not let the umbrella be held o'er him,
For which three cheers burst from the mob before him.

And I have seen--not many months ago--
  An eastern Governor in chapeau bras
And military coat, a glorious show!
  Ride forth to visit the reviews, and ah!
How oft he smiled and bowed to Jonathan!
How many hands were shook and votes were won!

'Twas a great Governor--thou too shalt be
  Great in thy turn--and wide shall spread thy fame,
And swiftly; farthest Maine shall hear of thee,
  And cold New Brunswick gladden at thy name,
And, faintly through its sleets, the weeping isle
That sends the Boston folks their cod shall smile.

For thou shalt forge vast railways, and shalt heat
  The hissing rivers into steam, and drive
Huge masses from thy mines, on iron feet,
  Walking their steady way, as if alive,
Northward, till everlasting ice besets thee,
And south as far as the grim Spaniard lets thee.

Thou shalt make mighty engines swim the sea,
  Like its own monsters--boats that for a guinea
Will take a man to Havre--and shalt be
  The moving soul of many a spinning-jenny,
And ply thy shuttles, till a bard can wear
As good a suit of broadcloth as the mayor.

Then we will laugh at winter when we hear
  The grim old churl about our dwellings rave:
Thou, from that "ruler of the inverted year,"
  Shalt pluck the knotty sceptre Cowper gave,
And pull him from his sledge, and drag him in,
And melt the icicles from off his chin.

The forcible torrents rave on, ceaseless
Turmoil spins in a topsy-turvy wave
Bodies in shambles, minds twisted, restless
Drama and crises, emotions we crave
Twerking with the devil, licking the sledge
Morison's snake ride to "The (darkest) End"
Pushing the limits over the damp edge
Following and tweaking the latest trend
Emotional upheaval - rebellion
Creative juices overflow with paint
There is art in every great Hellion
But little ink flows from the mighty saint
Be content in the rich chaos of youth
It's the rains that nurture the seeds of truth

Words are a fickle thing.
They claim those faint of heart,
Destroying those heathenish men,
Who dare try to control the world
Through the power of words.
Those who try are instantly conquered
By the omniscient dictionary,
Destroyed by their constant use of a thesaurus,
And taken over by attempting mimicking another man’s voice,
Instead of trying to find their own.

They fail because they write for the wrong reasons.
They fail because of their selfishness.
They fail because they want fame.
They fail because their words are…
Lifeless….
Hopeless...
Stubborn…
Their words refuse to conform to their ideas.
Their words punish their minds with sleepless nights,
Over their horrid word choice.
Crush their dreams with metaphor upon metaphor.
Win over their imaginations by continuous simile stacking.
Imagine if you would,
Attempting to perform heart surgery,
With a sledge hammer,
While a hungry lion is in the room,
And you’re in your underpants.
That is the challenge that these miserly men face
When they sit at their desks, with their pens twirling,
And their minds racing, asking why their characters
Are like puppets with no puppeteer.
Why their poems have no reason.
Why their words truly have no power.

When you write, think not about what you want to accomplish.
Don’t think about what will make people stir.
Think about what you feel.
Feel your heart pound and your soul quake.
When your words make you want to dance,
That’s when you know that you wrote something worthwhile.
Because it made sense to you, someone else will feel it.
Someone else will know exactly what you mean.
Always remember that your first draft comes from the heart.

I often wondered what thoughts were running through his head
as he stared out the window chained to the floor by his bed
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his last great escape?
Did he know then that his hanging would never come to be?  
Did he know then that before nightfall once again he'd be free?
What ever his thoughts he was interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd **** me on the spot.
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got.
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two,
because I'd love to be the one who gets to **** you.
I've got 16 silver dimes in each barrel of my shotgun.
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run.
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door?
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet ******* *****.
I'll **** you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet."
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
" Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut.
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?"
"Don't do it Bob," Bell said angrily, "or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure
for killing a man in cold blood who was chained helplessly to the floor.
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed.
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed.
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn.
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here and guard the Kid until you return.
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack.
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back."
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place.
One thing's for sure. Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace.
They were arch enemies who fought against each other during the Lincoln County War.
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall, Billy's employer, friend and mentor.
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy.
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key.
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor.
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door.
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him.
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin.
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff.
"You fall in there Kid," Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough."
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door.
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure."
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell.
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell.
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned.
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun.
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run.
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done.
He shot and killed Bell, then went for Ollinger's shotgun.
The Kid never found pleasure in killing, but Ollinger was indeed the exception.
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below.
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs.
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more grey hairs.
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed, "The Kid's killed Bell!"
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun and whispered,
"Now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart.
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face.
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place.
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed.
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you *******!"
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape.
"I don't want to hurt anyone, but I'll **** anybody who tries to prevent my escape."
In the office he found a sledge hammer and smashed the chains of his leg irons free.
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately.
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body
and many eye witnesses admit
that The Kid looked upon him and said most remorsefully,
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it."
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast.
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street.
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground.
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound.
Once again Billy mounted the horse and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing.
Many say that as he rode out of Lincoln County that they heard the Kid singing.
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past,
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.

My poem lay
in fragments
over my desk.

I tried to sculpt it to my will
but it only cut
my flesh -

tried for hours, days, weeks,
slicing myself more, coating it
with my dried blood.

Hordes of flies reveled in my poem.
Disease infested, it only grew
until that came

blasting through
my dead-bolt door.
Your toad of a poem arrived,

feasted itself on my massive poem
unyielding, even when it grew full.
It wouldn't stop

Exploding, a sickening squirt.
Flies, blood, entrails,
bile, and shards

enveloped me, my house
with a vast loden fog killing
my neighbor's pit bull.

I called you on the phone
said ****
said I had a twenty pound sledge.

A twenty pound sledge
and was coming over to thank you.

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/l8njruxa73yee9b0jzmhd/The-Ultimate-Unabridged-Guide-to-Esoteric-Working-English-2.docx?­rlkey=kunoar7ghpfkb7fjk5xkdgx95&st=i84ornny&dl=0

THE EUPRAXIA OF  PRISOPTOMETRY SIDELINED BY THE SOPORIFIC PROMACHOS OF ABSOLUTION MIGHT WE CONVENE THE CABOOSE OF ANACUSIC TALENTS FOR SURDOMUTE  REGALIA IN THE MUGIENCE OF  DUGONG BECAUSE OF EXASPERATED DECREES SEEKING TO TRIGGER SARANGOUSTY IN PRIMIPARA PENTAPOLIS THAT ARE SCREWBALL WITH ANTERIC RAGE PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF A HOPSCOTCH MORALISM RATHER THAN A EUHEMERIST LAXISM. DUGONG DUCDAMES OF EISOPTROMANIA AGAINST  THE PODEX PNYX BECAUSE OF TRUTINATED CNICNODES OF SCENOGRAPHY FOR SCAPPLE AND STANNARY PLAGIARIZED FROM THE CLAVATE OF MOST STERLING ELITISM BROCKFACED IN BRONCHOS BECAUSE OF BRADYDACTYL FEATURES  OF TOWERING GIANTS OF THE TADPOLE MACROPTEROUS WINGS OF INSIPID OR ORGANIC ORGANITY IN THE SCHWERMERIE THAT IS A SPANGLED BANNER OF RADICAL TRUISMS OF CATAMOUNT CATALLACTICS AMONG THE CORDWAINERS THAT SWITH WITH COUNTERFOIL BRAZEN IN ALL CARNAPTIOUS FRIZZ AND FOMENT ENDOWED WITH THE FUMATORIUM OF EFFLUVIA UNSPOKEN PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF HACHURES OF DURAMEN AND THE ARGALI OF MEGALOGRAPHY FORSAKING THE OLMS AND ESBATS OF PECCADILLO AND REGAL SECRECY PRIMARILY TO ACCELERATE THE TAGHAIRM. THE ARTIFICE OF RUDENTURE IN MUGIENCE WHEATEN EXASPERATINGLY WITH POIGNANT GRAPPLING-HOOK TENACITY SUCH THAT WHEALS AND  WARDCORNS ARE ZUGZWANGS OF NARRISCHEIT FORMATIVE IN THE PROWESS OF TIRED DROOPY EYES AIMING AT  GEOSELENIC SATURNALIA OF THE PANTOGLOTS OF PARVANIMITY ACKNOWLEDGED BY THE PASILALY OF GUBERNATORIAL REMEMBLES OF REPINE RATHER  THAN OPINION OF SCARAMOUCHES THAT BECOME RAFFISH FOR LAFFY TAFFY JOLLYBOAT JOLLY RANCHERS BECOMING CENTRIFUGAL TO THE MAGNETS THAT ONLY THERBLIGS OF ERGOGRAPHY CAN ESTEEM THE STELLIFIED STELLIONS OF IMMORTAL DEGREES OF CREANCERS BOOMING IN THE SEMPITERNAL FLAGRANT FOUL DELUSIONS OF A CASTRATED DESTINY AGAINST ORTSAC PRIORITIZATION OF A SECURE WORLD OF OCREATED ARCEATION OF ELAPHURES THAT IN UNSEELED RIGMAROLE OF JAUNDICE CREATED AND SUSTAINED BY IMBREVIATED KNAVERY OF BLESBOKS TRYING TO PLAY OPERATIVE CHESS IN A CHECKERED HUBRIS SPANNING THE GAMUT OF SPEED RUN HYPOCRISIES NEVER FULLY FLESHED OUT BECAUSE OF RIBALD CORSAIRS OF COCARDEN. SKELDERS OF SCAZONS OF BRUTAL INTEMERATION OF CARTHAGIAN GLADIATORIAL WRIKPOND WREPOLIS MERGERS OF THE PRIZED ANTIQUITY DEFINED BY SUBERIC VINTNERS OF PLACKIQUE THAT BARNSTORM WITH FERVID SPUMID SPURIA OF THE SCORIAS THAT STARTLE THE STRICKLE SUCH THAT NOT A SINGLE  WAGERED PAXILLOSE STRETCHER EVER FALLS BY THE AERONAUTICS OF ARENAIDAN FORESIGHT CONTUMELY ENAMORS IN SLEDGEHAMMER DEFECTED CRAVEN BRITTLE REDSHORT SELACHOSTOMOUS SEDERUNTS INVOLVED IN THE SENNET OF REGULA BECAUSE OF LAVADERO IVORRIDE. NEVERTHELESS OFTEN OVERRIDED BY EUCRASIA AND BY THE ACCIDIA OF PAST TENSE RIGORS OF CALUMETS ESTRANGED FROM WIDDERSHANCY BECAUSE OF THE CONVENIENT WANCHANCIES THAT WE DEPLORE DESPITE THEIR DISCRETIONARY ADVANTAGES OF GALLOP POLLING GALLOPING HEADLESS HORSEMEN OF THE VERDERER AS THE PERCURRENT CENTURIES ELEVATE DUGONG FOR DIDDICOYS OF ART TO LICENSE THEMSELVES BROADCLOTH MASTERY OF WUNDERKINDS THAT CARESS THE COSSETED COGNOMEN OF THE CORRIGENDA BECAUSE OF THE RIBALD PALLOR OF CRETACEOUS OLASIN EPOCHS OF MACROBIAN SENTIENCE EVOLVED FROM EMOTIVISM TO VOUCHSAFE THE METEMPSYCHOSIS OF JOCKO JOBBERNOWL FINFIGUAL NIHILISTS AMBITIOUS TO DEBUNK EVERY THEORY THAT PROVOKES THE POIGNANT TRIBULOID QUALMS OF A RADICAL MURENGER CHARGING MURAGE IN HIS SPRINGHARE OBSESSIONS. IN DOOMSTERS ADEEM WITH SUCCULENT SACCHARINE TONSILECTOMY SUGAR OF APIKOROS NOVANTIQUE SPRAWLING IN EVERY CREATIVE DIRECTION OF FUSIONS OF CREATIVE NUCLEOTIDES THE CENTERPIECE OF A NIMBLE PATRIARCHY WED TO PRIMIPARAS OF MULIEBRITY SUCH THAT GALLANT ARGALI LEAPS OF AUGENDS TOO COMPLEX TO TURBINATE BECAUSE OF TUBIFACIENT LORE SLOGMARCHING INTO URBANE BOWERIES SUCH THAT COUNTERFOIL IS COULROPHOBIC AND THE BALLAST BRONTEUM OF ALL CIVILIZED RANSACKED FOSSORS OF THE MOST ELOQUENT OF TIMES. THE CODSWALLOP ABOUT GERENDUM IN CARELESS HASTY MISTAKES GRANDEVAL GUDGEONS OF GUFF AND GUIGNOL OF RHYPAROGRAPHY AGAINST THE ROENTGENOGRAPHY OF ACCIDENTAL POSTURES OF LOLLIPOP TOOTLES OF TOPGALLANT ROYALTY RESCUED FROM THE SNATCHES OF  ***** DEARTH AND THE ACUMINATION OF ACERSECOMIC URCEOLATE ACHARNE WHICH IS THE WEAPON OF TIROCINIUM TYROS THAT BEBLUBBERED THEIR WAY INTO INTREPID INFAMY AND NOTORIETY BY IGNORANT OVERSTEPS BY LARGESSE IN RACEMATION FOR RHIZOGENIC RADICALISM IN MAXIMALIST MATHEMATICISM PRIMARILY THE SKIRMISH OF SCHMEGGEGY BY THE STANHOPE AUTHORS OF JESUITICAL JANSKY AGAINST BLARING CATACOUSTICS WHICH FILIBUSTER THE DILATORY DESULTORY JAUNT WITH JIGGERY-POKERY WALMS AND WASMS OF ESCALIERS OF ESCULENT ENANTIODROMIA THAT SUFFRAGETTES OF BLOCKHEADED CHOCKABLOCK JAWBREAKERS BETROTHED TO MATRIMONY OF NATIONAL ESTEEM AND JINGOISM SWELTERING IN THE HEYDAY OF ONEIRODYNIA. THIS HAMSTRUNG QUANDARY SADLY STRADDLED IN COMBUVIROUS SPATTEES PRIMARY TO THE HUES OF  CHALKING BRISTLES OF BARBEDWIRE LIES AND SUBLINEATED MAINLINE FRIGORIC FRIGOLABILE RETINACULUM THAT THE SWARF OF HEDERACEOUS IVORRIDE AND THE OCCAMY OF MEHARIS BELONGING TO MEGACERINE FEARS OF HYPOCHRONDRIA BECAUSE OF THE PREVALENT JERBOA DYSCHROA OF SYNAPHEA THAT STARTLE HAPPY ACCIDENTS AT FINISH LINE CAMARRA THAT CATAPULTS THE FILTH EDGY BY COMSTOCKERY THAT THE TAME TENDER LOLLOP OF LONGINIQUITY AND LESSER DEMIURGES WHO FIGHT THE SPECTER OF TIRED ISOLATION SUCH THAT THE PEDESTRIAN IS A SPRINGALD NOTORIETY THAT FIGURES OUT THE WAINAGE OF SAPROSTOMY BECAUSE OF CERBERIC WANIGANS OF THE ULTERIOR GALLIVANT BROCKFACED INTO EVERY TITANISM BY THE DROLLERY OF DROOPY SERRATED EDGES OF CURTAILED CURGLAFF SURROUNDED BY PLASMAS OF AUREATE AURIGRAPHY AGAINST ATOCIA OF THALEROPHAGOUS NEOMORTISM TWISTED INTO WARPED CONTORTIONS OF RHADAMANTHINE DOUBTS. THE ALABASTER ALCOVES DREAMING OVER EVERY HEAVEN IN SONDAGE AND BRISK BRITSKAS OF BANDOBAST BERGAMASKS THAT SPURN THE SPURIOUS SOPHISTRY FOR THE CATALYST OF CLEPSYDRA. THE KATABOTHRON OF KALIMKARI KYMATOLOGY THAT IS SWARTHY SPATHODEA REPUDIATION OF NYALAS OF NAGORS OF NUTATION BECAUSE OF OBLATE BOLAR RANCOR FOR THE CALVERS NEVER OF A CALVOUS LENDRUMBILATION NOR A PANCRATIC ACCORD OF GRAVEDIGGER SERENDIPITIES SCOWLING AT HEADWINDS FROM THE PARAVENTED LAIRWITES OF MOONRAKER JOLTERHEADS WHO EMERGE FROM THE THICKETS OF THE DENSEST ELITISM EVERY MANUFACTURED BY THE HEGEMUNES OF SECULAR RETINUE AND CORTEGES OF THE VENTRAD AND VENTRALABRAL FAMIGERATION BEYOND VENOSTASIS AND AGAINST THE HEARTH OF ATRABILIARY ECCENTRICITIES OF ALIDADE FISTICUFFS. SCOFFLAW MACROPICIDE IN THE TEDIUM OF SWELTERING PARASELENES OF KNIGHTED SQUARSONS SQUARROSE UPON THEIR SQUIRMING SQUALLS OF STRAPONTIN IN INTRORSE SOPHISTICATION MIGHT THE LANGUOR OF EXHAUSTED BEATLES MEET THE TIMESPUN RICHES OF ALL FORESIGHT PRISMATIC UPON HINDSIGHT IN THE CHRONOBIOLOGY OF CARAPACE AND THE REGIMENTATION OF TESTUDO THAT IS A GLAMOR OF AFFLICTION RATHER THAN A BEAST OF CRUCIBLE IGNOMINY FOR MALINGERING GIAOUR ESBATS BENIGHTED BY THEIR OWN PARLOUS PLIGHT IN POIGNANT HEYDAYS OF NEPHROLITH CALCULATED FOR NEPIONIC ENRICHMENT AGAINST NIDOR THAT STRIVES WITH CABRILLA AND CACHALOTS TO PROVIDE AUSTERE REFORMS. THESE NEGATE AUGUST SUPERCALENDAR DIVINITY BESPECKLED BY MONOCLAR SEPHIROTH TAXED BY SYLLABUB LAGGARDS IN THE TRIUMVIRATE OF ULTRAMONTANE GLEE AGAINST BATTLEDORES OF SABOTAGE SPANKING EVERY MONKEY OF MONETIZATION FOR THE ROODS OF MISERICORD TO BECOME PARABOLASTERS FOR NEW WORLD ATTRITION IN ATTINGENT AND ATTEMPERED AURILAVES OF ALGOR AND THE ANACHORIC RESIGNATION OF PENTAPOLIS THAT SQUIREBELL CLORENCE OF NAUCLATIC FAIRGOERS SERENADES AS THE WORLD DEMARCHES FORFENDED AND FORERIGHT OF ALL INDIGNITIES THAT THEY MIGHT EXCEED ESCAPE VELOCITY SUCH THAT THE ELASTANE ELASTICITY OF INVENTED DEMAND SHOWCASES THE DUGONG DURAMEN OF THE CLASS AND CLASSIFIED SECTORS OF SALVATION BY ARTIFICE AND THE LAST HOPE OF JANIZARIES OF JANGADA. AND TO STROLL PAST LUCRATIVE BUT SULLEN LOURS OF PARKS BEYOND EVERY ESCARGATOIRE KNOWN FOR POGROMS OF DESOLATION. THE ALFORGE OF AFFOREST BECAUSE OF THE ACRASIA OF ANACHORIC LIVING LIVID NIGHTMARES OF HENPECKS OF ATTRITION LEADING TO SALIFIED SALMAGUNDI IN PARALLAX WITH THE TRIUMPHANT BLARE OF SAXHORNS NOTAPHILY FLUMMOXES WITH REPARTEE IN RESCRIPT THAT TRANSCENDENTAL TWINGES OF POLLARCHY MIGHT DISHEVEL THE ARRONDISSEMENT OF BLETTONISM BECOMING HEAPSTEADS OF HYPOGEIODY. WHEN WE ARRAY AND ARRAIGN THE ZEITGEIST FOR ITS BLENCH AND BLARNEY OF CAPSIZED EPITHETS AIMED AT VOLUMINOUS FLUMINOUS SKELDERS AND BROOKS OF ROARING TEMBLORS SEQUESTRATED FROM THE VARSAL SCOPE OF HUMANE TOTEMISM IN SUBSTRATOSE AGGRIEVEMENT WE MIGHT FIND THE SUCCOR IS THE WHITTAWER OF WOOLD IN BEAMISH HUES OF SATURNINE BETROTHED FIDELITIES TO NOCTIDIURNAL DIESTRUS FRAGRANT WITH TERPSICHOREAN DAVERING DIPPYDOS WHO BLANDISH THE FRANGIBLE PULVERIZED METTLE OF CENTURIONS AND LEGIONNAIRES OF FILIBUSTERED CASEFIED CASEMATE JORDANS BOUND BY JOUGS OF JUDOGI AND THE BROADCLOTH FASHIONS OF YASHIKIS BEYOND THE THERMOSTAT OF ISOLATION AND THE THERMODYNAMICS OF LABILE OPPRESSION FOR LABROMANCY BECAUSE OF LANCINATION. WE MIGHT GRANT STOMACHERS A GRAND AUDISM OF THE SERVILE POTAMOLOGY WHICH CARESSES THROUGH COUNTERFOIL WITH APOLAUSTIC PEDIGREE AND EUMOIREITY INGRAINED IN THE CELLULOID OF TIMELESS CUCULINE AND CUNICULOUS FERRETS AT THE PARAPET OF BRISURE BECAUSE OF THE BRIQUETS OF NOMOGENY WE SEE THE PRESBYTERY SMIRK AT THE PLIGHT OF THE STRIGINE IN AN ERA OF HEYDAYS OF GENEROUS REMUNERATION BLANKETED BY A CHIONABLEPSIA DEFINED BY CHIMINAGE OF OXYGEUSIA SUCH THAT THE NEMESISM OF NOETIC NOOGENESIS IS NEVER NIDIFUGOUS AND NIDAMENTAL WITH RESPECT TO BARRULETS ABOUT BANDOLIERS IN THE CHAPERONED CEREMONIALISM OF THE GRAND INSPECTOR GENERAL’S SOVEREIGNTY WELL BLACKGUARDED BY KILLCOWS SEEKING STOICHOLOGY AND SYNECHIOLOGY. MIGHT THEY SLAVER OVER POTENT TONICS OF SWAG AND SWAGGER FOR REDINTEGRATION IN HYPAETHRAL HEIGHTS OF ATHENAEUM FOR THE HAMARCHY EMERGENT FROM THE DAWN OF NOTAPHILY IN BLOCKBUSTER SUMMERS NIGHT DREAMS BECOMING RANCID NIGHTMARES OF GULLYWASHERS OF ANTEBELLUM RECIDIVISM FOR CANEZOUS OF CANZONE TO ESTABLISH THE CHRYSOPOEITICS OF A GALVANIZED VENOCLYSIS BECAUSE VARIMAX VARIPHONES UPON THE HYDRAHEADED ODYSSEY OF PRINCELY FANDANGLES FROWARD IN RABID DENIAL OF TAMARAWS ENLISTED BY INSTINCT AND DEPREDATED BY THE TORPOR OF LETHARGIC AIMLESSNESS FOR LUDIC PALUDISM SADLY THE SPITE OF ALL PIRANNHAS COWLING AND COWERING IN SHEEPISH SIMULTAGNOSIA FOR HETEROCHRONY AND THE ARYAN ASSENT AND ASCENDANCY OF THE EQUITABLE TINTINNABULATION OF KNELLING SESQUIPEDALIAN SYBOTIC SONDAGE LOST TO THE MESMERISM OF YESTERTEMPEST OVER THE YUAN OF YENTA.  THE FORMIDABLE JAPAN LACQUER THAT AVOIDS GARISH TARNISH AND HARNESSES THERBLIGS TO PREVENT ENCROACHED THALWEGS OF INTREPID GROWTH AND THE FLOWERS OF MAY AND THE SEASONS OF A ZOMBIE TIME FOR PULCHRITUDE IN PHANTASMAGORIA. TURGID TURMOIL OF THROMBOSIS WELDED TO THE WELD OF  WELKINS OF WALLFISH WALLETEERS BECAUSE OF STRADOMENTRICAL NEUTROSOPHY IN OPTIMIZATION OF SUBFOCAL SUBINTELLIGENTUR FOR THE BALISAURS THAT TREACLE THE SUBSERVIENCE OF CREATIVE LICENTIATES OF DUGONG OF FURLOUGHS OF POVERTY-STRICKEN OLASIN REGISTRIES OF INTERMINABLE PRESTIGE AGAINST COMBUVIROUS FOGRAM RECAPITULATIONS OF THE FLOW STATES OF SEGUE SUCH THAT HUCKSTERS OF MASKIROVKA IN THE WHIGGARCHY AMOUNTED TO MANY COMPRACHIOS THAT STING THE STALWART SPARTAN STOICISM AGAINST HEBENON MIGHT THE HUMAN PEN OUTWIT THE PARCHMENT OF THE INVETERATE BIAS OF GRANDFATHER PARADOX PARALLAX BETWEEN HEAVEN AND THE DENEHOLE MOULINS FOR OLIVASTER NEUSTONS AND NOILS SURVIVING THE VIRTUALASIS OF TWADDLED TWANGS OF  DELIRIFACIENT PERIBLEBSIS SQUEAMISH BECAUSE OF A RIGMAROLE AND RABBIT HOLE WORMCAST WORMHOLE BURROLE OF ROTTEN APPLES TACKLED BY WREST AND WREATH IN THE WROX OF WHEALS OF COMMOTION AND LOCO LOCOMOTIVE ENGINES FRAZZLED BY SPIVS AND SPAVINEDS IMMURED INTO THE FABRIC OF THE SPANDRELS OF  INTERTESSELATED WEIGHAGE AMONG THE STEVEDORES AND PORTREEVES. THESE CONTINUE THEIR ROLLICKING  MAGPIETY GALLOP AGAINST THE FRICTION OF RUMCHUNDER COAGULATION SERRATED TRAVAIL  OF THE DYSTOCIA OF GAMMERSTANG BLUEPETERS ENRAGED BY CONFLAGRATIONS OF CAMARADERIE AND BONFIRES OF GEZELLIG THAT INDWELL INGLENOOKS SWAPE WITH MAJORITARIAN ETHOS TO PROPITIATE THE GAVELKIND CELEBRATION OF ROOSTERS HENPECKING  THE DOORS OF PERCEPTION AGAINST THE REAL ESTATE DEGRINGOLADE OF PHUGOID GROUNDPROX SWIRKS OF CHOSEN VESICLES OF MEDIOCRITY BETWEEN BLARING  SEMAPHORES AND FIRECRACKER WISEACRES THAT ARE AN ENDLESS PARADE OF INSULTED CONTUMACY BREATHING SWELTERING SIGHTS OF INCREDULITY SUCH  THAT THE BRONCHITIS OF ROENTGENOGRAPHY IN GNOTOBIOLOGY MIGHT BECOME BETTER THAN PETTY GALEANTHROPIES FROM VULPECULAR HENCHMEN OF THE FROTHY TAMBURITZAS AGAINST WHERRETS BECAUSE OF WHIFFETS OF THE YAFF THAT IS ASTRIDE OF ADEEMED ADEMPTION OF DETAIL HARANGUING THE MONKEY BUSINESS GORDON GECKO MODEL OF HACHURE AND FLAGRANT  REPOSE. THE  HANDSPIKE OF PICKELHAUBE NEPHELOMETERS OF NEUTROSOPHY PREDICATES TO NOETIC NOMOTHETIC ENNOMIC MASCON PREROGATIVES THAT RELY ON GEITONOGAMY BECAUSE OF A VULPECULAR TRUST IN SPHENOGRAMS OF THE STUPE OF STUPULOSE PARTISANSHIP BECOMES THE VANGUARD SPIRACULATED IZZAT OF THE PROBABLE PORBEAGLES THAT ANTICIPATE THE ILLUMINISM OF POLYPHILOPROGENITIVE PROCREATION OF NUBILE INCHOATE BUT SOPHOMORIC TROPISMS FOR TROMOMETERS IS THE GAINSAY OF ALL GENERATIONS BENT BY SYNCLASTIC HARPOONS OF GALERICULATED FOCUS SUCH THAT THE MASCARONS OF KYMATOLOGY UNDERSTAND THE CTETOLOGY OF CURMURRING PRODROMES OF A LARGESSE ECONOMY BUILT ON MOONRAKER BALISAURS WHO IMMERGE THEMSELVES INTO THE ETHEREAL  REALM OF ELDRITCH FASCINATIONS.  PREEMINENT IN THE GARBLED GABBLE OF DESIGN AND THE TABLATIERES OF THE TABLATURE OF REGULA MIGHT WE WITNESS A NAUFRAGUE NOYADE WHICH SPARES THE MOST CLEMENCY AND AFFORDS THE GREATEST FORCES OF REVALORIZATION TO ENNOBLE THE PRESTIGITATION OF SEDIGITATED MACHINES SUCH THAT TIME BECOMES ITS OWN RECURSIVE ANFRACTUOUS TERMINUS TO THE THERMOLYSIS OF ALL CIVILIZED TROPES OF METAPHORICAL LITURGY THAT SCAMPER THE TESTUDO INTO THE DELITESCENCE OF HIDDEN BOSCHVELDT SCRANCHES OF PRIORITY BY SECURITIZATION OF ALL OVERLEVERAGED FINANCIAL INSTRUMENTS OF MATHEMATICISM FOR THE APOTHEGMS OF OUR AGE TO BE BLINKERED BY COCARDEN IN ACRONYCAL COLORATIONS TO BEGUILE AND SUSSULTATORY SPATTEES FOR SCAPPLES AGAINST SPAVINEDS OF THE BERLINE INVENTION. THE GALLANT ELAPID OLASIN EPOCH OF CIVILIZED RUDIMENTS OF ABECEDARIAN ABDERVINE MERIT THAT AVOIDS THE CODSWALLOP OF ALL BOLAR STADIOMETERS OF WANIGANS OF  POWELLISATION THAT BECOMES VIRTUOSITY IN AGATHISM THAT IS SPECULAR IN BLEMISH AND SHEEPISH OVER VAUNTED VAUNTLAYS OF VECORDY BY  THE METHODOLOGY OF VASTATION. THE UNINTENTIONAL SCURFY SWANK OF BALATRONS OF BAISEMAN WHO CARVE THE SYSTEMIC DESIGN OF SANGFROID AGAINST GALERES WHO USE THE STOMACHERS OF  THEIR OWN PALATABLE FILIGREES THAT WE MIGHT NEVER ENTHUSE THE GOURMANDS OF TIROCINIUM TRUCULENT RATHER THAN SWASHBUCKLING WITH VANITARIAN BUMICKY BADIGEON TO REPAIR THE REVETS OF THE CHEVROTAIN OF YOUTHQUAKE THAT JANITRICES OF JANSKY SWOONING ON THE ENGORGED WREPOLIS OF GARBLED MISCEGENATION OF WARTORN IGNOMINY THAT TRAVESTY APPOINTS THE BELLWETHER OF ALL JUBALS GRAND INVENTIONS BECAUSE WE REMIGATE THE SCALARIFORM CORDWAINER NOMENCLATURE TO SHOULDER DISHEVELED RATOMORPHISM THAT BELONGS TO AGROZIATRY BECAUSE OF  THE PREVALENCE OF URANOPLASTY IN GLABROUS OR HIRSUTE ARTS OF GEOSELENIC ACCORD THAT CALUMETS OF WALDFLUTES IN THE SONDAGE OF CRUEL COMPRACHIO AVIZANDUM IN THE BYRES OF BUSHWA IN NONSENSICAL COUNTERPATRIOTISM TRYING TO HEDGE MALAISE WITH IVORY TOWER CREEDS OF CREDENDA FOR THE VISIOGENIC APLOMB OF CIRCULARITY OR ELLIPSIOCITY IN THE GRAVAMENS OF GRAVITAS. IN THE VERVE AND FASHION OF KNEAD MALAXAGE FOR THE MITTIMUS OF SUCCEDANEUM WE FIND THE PETTY FAULTS OF PECCADILLO ENRAGED BY IGNOVIMOUS IGNOSCENY TO BE IDEMPOTENT IN SEDIGITATED  SEGUIDILLA OF WILLOWISH FASHIONISTAS AND BARRISTERS OF CABOOSE AND SNARE. THEREBY, SPECTACLES OF GRAFT BUSHWHACK THE UNDERBRIDGE OF RECTISERIAL HOMILIES OF WOUNDED WOMBS THAT THE SUFFRAGE OF PROMACHOS TRITANOPIA OFFSET BY CONTRARIAN PROTANOPIA MIGHT FESTOON LUKEWARM REVANCHE FOR THE  DYSANIA TO OUR OWN FAULTED COMPLEXIONS AND OUR QUIRKY QUISQUILOUS STERNWAYS OF BANDOBAST STRICTURES IN BAGGING COAMING COBALTIFEROUS VINEGAROONS OF PICKELHAUBE PORBEAGLES OF MENACING RESIDUE TO CHURN THE MILKY SEAS OF CONTRITION INTO FORMIDABLE BASTIONS OF PHAROS OF PHANOPEIA WHEN WE FIND THE OUTSKIRTS OF ALL REMEDY NEVER A SHEEPISH EMBARRASSMENT BUT ALWAYS A DOCTORED TRAVAIL OF NAVARCHY LEADING PAST TEMBLORS OF SATIETY IN GLAMOUR AND GLOZING GNOTOBIOLOGICAL CONFEDERACY SWOONING WITH TESTUDOS OF BOYAU PROXENETES THAT WE MIGHT OVERCOME THE THRUSH AND SLEDGE OF DREDGED IRENARCHS AND INFAMIES BECAUSE OF TRICOTEES AND TRICHOSIS THAT CEPHALIGATION IS AN UNNECESSARY NODALITY OF NICCOLIC NIDAMENTAL NANCIFUL NUMBATS WHO ESCORT THE PASTIMES OF CHOMAGE BY METEORIC SPRITES OF SPALDING ASPHETERISM BECAUSE OF CORPORATE TWINGES OF MORAL CONSCIENCE IN REGARD TO PROFICUOUS LEGERDEMAIN AND LOGODAEDALY BY DEGREES OF PYCNOSTYLE RATHER THAN PALTRY OBSESSIONS WITH WROTH AND WROX IN THE NEIGHS OF CHIRK AND CHAMPION. THE GYMNURE OF PRICKLY TRIBULOID SCANDALS OF  SCANSORIAL MOULINS FOR OLIVASTERS BURROLING STANNARIES OF  STANJANT FOR HISTRINKAGE SPANS ALL PERCEIVED GAMUTS OF HETEROCHRONY THAT DISHEVELED RESIDENT ADVISOR SOCIETIES THAT INTUITIVE SURGICAL SOLUTIONS TO THE GNOMIC PROPRIETY OF GLAZED POTVALIANT POSTCENNIUM THAT  PREDICATE THE AGATHISM OF AGATHOCACOLOGICAL DISASTERS THAT IN THEIR FLEX OF SUPREMACY AND THEIR LEAPING PAGEBURNING FLIPPANT DISCORD MIGHT ZITHER THE HARP AND IN HARPSICHORDS OF WALDFLUTE BY WALLETEERS OF GROOM AND GALLANTRY. MIGHT WE FATHOM THE HOLOBENTHIC DIMENSIONS OF A LITURGY OF MAGNANIMITY CODIFIED BY STRICTURE RATHER THAN RELEGATED INTO AUXILLIARY COMPLICATIONS OF BYZANTINE MIRED MAZY MAUNDERS OF MARAUDING VIKINGS OF DIPPOLDISM BECAUSE OF RAPID TACHYTELIC TACHYPHRASIA STUDIED BY ORGANUELLE AND RHADAMANTHINE RASPS OF WASPY HORNETS NEST MIKE BOSSY BOSE FOR THE STRANDED ISLAND OF INSULAR HOBBYHORSES THAT MONETIZE THEIR OWN CONSUMER FETISHES FOR THE ZAP OF FRUITION TO MANIFEST IN DESTINED TRAIPSES IN COLLARBONE VESTMENTS OF HABILIMENTS OF SCORN AND PILLORIED IGNOMINY THAT THE HIDDEN GUILT ASSUMES THE SPECTRAL DIMENSIONS OF PALTRIPOLITAN URBANE COQUETRY GROWING ROARING ENGINES BEYOND PRETEXT OR PREVARICATION TO SUBSUME THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CONSTELLATIONS AROUND WHICH MAROONED MOONS SEEK THEIR GEOPHYTES OF MORPHOGENY IN RACKRENT ACERBATION IN SPHACELATED METROPOLIS . THIS IS DEFINED IN RETROGRADE MOTION TO DISCERN ALL PROPER RECIPIANGLES FROM THE MASTERATE TO THE MATACHINS OF MELODIKON FRAZZLING THE FRAYS AT THE EDGE OF REVOLUTE DISINTEGRATION OF LACK VANISH IMAGINATION. THE BLEND OF GUILLOCHE DEMARCHING BEYOND DELOPES IN PRAXEOLOGY ENTOMBED BY VESTIGIAL FOOTPRINT DACTYLOGRAMS AND KINDERGRAPHS OF FLASHBANG GRENADES OF SMOKY HARNESS AND REPLETE HARVESTS OF THE RADICAL STALINISM DEFEATED BY MARINERS OF  THE MAROONED POGROMS THAT REVANCHE DESOLATION VANDYKE PROXENETES OF STATURE USE VASTATION FOR RHEOTAXIS AND UNDERSTAND THE RACKETEERING OF MORAL PERJURY IN OBOLARY HEDONISM SCRUFF IN DANDRUFF ECONOMETRICS DIVORCED FROM LEVERAGED BALANCE SHEETS WITH CASH ON HAND FOR GOVERNING PRINCIPLES OF ASCENDANT LITURGY RATHER THAN NESCIENT OLIGOPSONY OF BANGTAIL ARTIFACTS OF BEGUILED ARTIFICE ESTRANGED FROM MORAL DOGMATISM USEFUL IN ECCLESIOLATRY. PUNDONORS OF IVRESSE DERIVED FROM PRECISE IAMATOLOGY OF AUDILE ARYANS GHAWAZIS ENVY IN THEIR RACKRENT BEATSTERS ADEEM BECAUSE OF ACHARNE WIELDLESS OVER ERAS OF EPHORIZED ZOOLOGICAL MALCONTENTS OF GRAMPUS IN TRUCIDATION AND BARNSTORMS OF ABSTRACTION BY PARABOLAS RECOCTED AND INCENSED BY THEIR BETRAYAL OF SURDS AND SURDOMUTE SCRIVELLOS SUCH THAT AUGENDS ALWAYS CARRY ENUMERATED STRINGS OF STRING THEORY DECIMATION OF MINIMIZED TRACTION FOR EVERY LAGGARD HOBBLED WORKADAY MANTLEPIECE OF NUMBERED NOMOGENY BECAUSE THE NEKTON IS A GRAVER THREAT TO TROMOMETERS THAN IS THE CHIRKED SWAY OF PALM TREE OASES ON THE VERGE OF VERDERERS GROOMED BY RANGING PLAINS OF CHAMPAIN AND CHAMPERTY IN THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE STRUGGLES OF VOLITION AGAINST CURTAILED CURGLAFF BY BRACKISH INCALESCENCE FOR WHITTAWERS OFTEN BEREAVED BY THEIR OWN HUBRIS OF A MOMENTARY VICISSITUDE OR VRAISEMBLANCE OF VORTICISM LACKING VOLTINISM BECAUSE OF UNIVOLTINE TRESPASS. THE PULICIDE OF HAECCEITY WITH RESPECT TO QUANTIFIABLE QUALIA TRANSPOSED IN BLINKERED RHABDOS AND REPINED REMEMBRANCE OF THE SOVENANCE OF WUNDERKIND YOUTHQUAKES BORNE FROM WINTERBOURNE SPRINGS DESICCATED FROM WELLSPRING  FOUNTAIN PENS WORTHY OF SCRIPTURAL REMIGATION SUCH THAT THE OLIM ARE PERSECUTED BEYOND ALL MANNER OF DEMARCATION SUCH THAT TWINGES OF HOROSCOPES MELLIFEROUS IN VEXILLILOGY GRASPING EVERY PENITENT ITCH IN EVERY WEIGHAGE OF THE CUSTODY OF SOULS THAT SUDDENLY THE TRAULISM OF MODALISM IN MODULATED STEPWISE RECOURSE OF BECHIC AND BEDAZZLED MYTHS OF HADEHARIA BECAUSE OF IMPLODENT EVENTS OF PREDICATE VALOR ONLY IN THE PRESCRIBED ANOINTMENT OF DIRECTIVE ABOVE DIMINUTIVE REGELATIONS OF BREVET AND THE CACHES THAT SURMOUNT TITANIC AND HERCULEAN TASKS WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE BECAUSE OF THE NODALITIES OF SYNERGY IN CEPHALIGATION DESIGNED BY ENCAUSTIC MANDATES OF NOMOTHETIC NOOGENESIS THAT SERTIVINES BELONGING TO JABIRU TRIBESMEN MIGHT TROUNCE EVERY LOLLYGAG OF PRALLTRILLER PRAGMATISM PRIMARILY BECAUSE THE PROVENANCE OF ALL HORTORIGINALITY RELIES ON EMOTIVISM FUNNELED THROUGH SIPHONS OF CAFFEINATED LAVADERO SUCH THAT THE SUTLERS OF  SECTILE ECONOMIES CONTINUE THEIR PLOUGHSHARES OF DEADSTOCK MIGHT IMPINGE ON QUALITATIVE GOLD FOR QUANTITATIVE HOGWARTS METHODS OF SORCERY ABOVE VEILLEUSES OF TRAMPOLINE REVERB THAT OUR BRONCHOS IN THE  RELEGATION OF THE FREE AND THE BRAVE IS THE UTMOST TRAVESTY OF RIMOSE RANKLES UPON TRIDENT SEAS TRAVERSED BY ACHILLES MOONSHOT ORBITED SATELLITE EXURBIA. THE PUTCHERS OF FRIGOLABILE VANDYKES OF VASTATION IN JASPERATED JARVEYS FOR FROWARD BARTONS OF PANMIXIA IN A WORLD LESS ACCOLENT AND MORE NOTORIOUS FOR ITS FAILED CHIVALRIES OF PEDERASTY SCHLEPED ON THE DENOUEMENT OF ALL DELIVERABLE COMMODITIES OF CREATIVE BRINKMANSHIP BROOKING THE TRAVESTY OF TURNVEREINS OF GRAMERCY AND VISIOGENIC VISIBILIA IN THE VETANDA OF TABOO STIGMATA FROM THE URCHINS THAT SWERVE INTO ABYSS AND ABANDON FOR LACHRYMOSE INSISTENCE OVER TIME INEXORABLE SUCH THAT THE FLUX AND FLOW OF CRYPTODYNAMISM STRICKLED THE COAGULATION OF BONNYCLABBER WASES OF WAPENTAKE TO EDGE TRUMP TO ELECTORAL STAMPEDES IN ITS HONEST VALOR AND MAJORITARIAN RALLENDORK OF ULTIMATE SYNCHRONICITY SUCH THAT GODS PREROGATIVES WERE OBEYED. THE UMBELS OF VERTIGO DEPENDENT UPON THE APOSTILS OF HOARDED HOARY WIZENED GRAY AGING REVOLUTE FRAYS OF SURDOMUTE RATOMORPHISM OUTSMARTS TITANS WHEN THE NODALITIES OF THE NOILS OF CEPHALIGATION FORMATIVE IN THE DURESS OF EFFICIENT ECONOMIES REACHES SUCH AN APOGEE AND ACME OF THE ULTION OF THE INANIMATE AGAINST MACROBIAN SENTIENCE MIGHT WE MARVEL AT THE SUBROUTINES OF THE GLOZING GLOTTOGONIC GNOTOBIOLOGY OF SEMAPHORES IN A VAGANTES VACUUM OF THE VASTATION BY VAPULATION FOR THE LAMBENT LAZARETS OF EPOMANIA BECAUSE OF STRIDOR AND STRAIN WE FIND OURSELVES IN GINGLYMUS ARRAYED AROUND GENIUS SUCH THAT HOLOCRYPTIC HOLMS AND OREAD NYMPHS FREQUENTING THE LABORIOUS INDUSTRIALIZATION OF HUMAN IMAGINATION WE FIND THE MAROON OF THE HUMAN TALENT FACTORY OF FACTOTUMS TO BE ENDANGERED BY AURILAVES OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE WHICH SURPASS ALL LIMITS OF CONDIGN HUMAN MELANCHOLY BECAUSE OF MERCURIAL VENGEANCE OF VENDETTAS THAT SEEK AGATHISM RATHER THAN TERROR AND NOTORIETY RATHER THAN CENTRIFUGES OF THE LISTLESS AND USELESS RETINUE OF VESTIGES OF WOODSHEDDED WOONERFS BELEAGUERED BY BRIMSTONE AND THE DAMNATION OF A HYDROELECTRIC SYSTEM OF RELUMED LOURS OF SOFT MARAUDING LIGHT OF THE TWADDLING DANCES OF THAUMATURGY IN THE MIRACULOUS AFTERBIRTH OF THE MOST SECURE VARDLES BECOMING THE MOST DESPISED ARTIFACTS IN THE HISTORY OF LABOR BY HOFFA TACTICS IN UNDERHANDED MUGIENCE OF NEGOTIOSITY FRUSTRANEOUS TO ALL FLICKERING FIZZGIGS OF SODA POP GENERATIVITY PUNCTUATING CENTURIES WITH CONSUMERIST PLIGHTS OF ADDICTION BY THE LABARUM OF THE LORD RATHER THAN THE WHIMS AND CAPRICE OF ANEMOCRACY. WE ARE OUTFOXED AND AT THE SURRENDER OF THE DACOITAGE OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE STORMING FORWARD LIKE A BLITZKREIG TEMPEST MET WITH THE ANGARY PETTIEST  RESISTANCE OF PETTIFOGGERS AS THE PANTECHNICONS OF THE FUTURE CONVENE UPON THE GOLDMINES OF KATABOTHRON AND SYRINX WHICH IS A JOCKO JOLLYBOAT FOR FULMINATION IN CHIMNEYS OF ORPHANS THAT LEAD US TO  THE PRECIPICE OF TOMORROW THAT ONE DAY WE MIGHT BE DUMBFOUNDED BY OUR OWN ANAPEIRATIC EXCESSES OF ALGEDONIC IMBALANCE BECAUSE AURILAVES OUTNUMBER COMSTOCKERIES AND WE FIND OURSELVES FISSILE VEES BURIED IN THE HEAPSTEAD OF THE BULGUR OF BUDDLING TIMMYNOGGIES THAT ARE SEMPERVIRENT BECAUSE THE IMMORTELLE IS ESSENTIAL QUIDDITY IN QASIDA AND QUERENCIA ABOUT DROOPING EYELIDS OF LOUR AND LEER BY LEARY DESIGNS OF TUNE IN TURN ON AND DROP OUT SOCIETIES OF EPIPHENOMENA RATHER THAN SOLID ENGRAVING ON THE TABLATURES OF MIGHTY MACHINATIONS AMONG INTELLIGENT ROBOTIC HENCHMEN OF THE DEEP STATE WHICH SCURRILOUSLY SCARE ALL PUSILLANIMOUS FIFTH COLUMNISTS AWAY FROM GEOTHERMAL POWER BECAUSE OF ECCENTRIC OBSESSIONS WITH THE TALISMAN OF THE SORCERY OF MODERN WORD CRIMES MONETIZED INTO PRIGGISH LAPSE AND CRENELLATED ROYALTY BYPASSED BY ABORIGINAL SPITES OF PRISON COLONY PREROGATIVES THAT THE AVARICE OF MAMMON IS THE MANIFEST DESTINY OF ALL GORDON GECKO FLEAS WHICH HERDS THE CANINE SENSIBILITIES OF THE CAMARILLA AHEAD OF THEIR NEAREST COMPETITORS OF MAINPERNOR. THE INFERIAE OF DUGONG DIDDICOYS OF DAMSEL IN DISTRESS VIRTUALASIS TETHERED TO THE CORDSLAVE BOLAR ENCHANTMENTS OF BLEAK DREARY HUES OF FUTURE DYSTOPIA MAGNIFIED BY ALPENGLOW VISAGISTS THAT PARLAY ALL WRIKPOND WREPOLIS TAMBURITZA FORTUNES AGAINST THE WHERRETS THAT SOCKDOLAGERS OF HERCULEAN BETS MAKES IMPROBABLE MIGHT THE CAGOULES BE TERRIFIED THAT THE MURAGE OF THEIR ANTIQUATED CASTLES OF CRENELLATED PREJUDICE MIGHT COLLAPSE INWARD AND IMPLODENT UPON AN ARCEATED WORLD THAT TARGETS DEFICIENCY AND SOLVES THE STATOLITHS OF NESTITHERAPY WITH A GREGARIOUS INSOUCIANCE BECAUSE OF NEWFANGLED INTERRAMIFICATIONS OF MAN TRYING TO KEEP PACE WITH THE IMAGINATIVE ****** OF BALBRIGGAN TECHNOLOGIES WHICH ARE COVERT IMPLEMENTS OF NIVELLATION AND ENTHYMEMES OF UMLAUT PROVIDING AN ANTIPANGAMY OF PANEGOISM AND PANDATIONS THAT BLUR A GAUSSIAN SPHERE INTO COMPOSITE COMPONENTS DEMASSIFIED BY ADVANCED ASTROPHYSICS IN THE QUANTULATION OF INEVITABLY SUPREME NUMERICAL HEIGHTS OF IMPOSSIBLE REACH ONLY ABRIDGED BY THE HUBRIS OF PROSTHESIS BECAUSE OF THE ABDERVINE MERIT OF A WORLD BRONZED WITH SWORDS OF DOUBLE-SIDED SHEATHES OF STEELING EYES AND STEWARDS OF OLYMPIC CABOOSES IN MARATHON TRANCE SETS FOR THE WALDGRAVES OF THE NOBILITY OF CANQUE BUILT BY JORDANS TO SURMISE THE YARAKS AGAINST YIRDS THAT CARNIFICINE ALBATROSS AND EAGLE FETCHES EVERY SQUARED COMPASS AND EVERY HEDGED GYMNURE THAT WE MIGHT PROPEL OURSELVES BEYOND GAUDY MACHINATIONS OF LIONIZED INUREMENT TO THE RAGGED HETERONORMATIVE EXCESSES OF A PHILANDERED ESCULENT PARVANIMITY ENDANGERED BY VARSAL PERSPECTIVES OF VITRAIL PROPHECIES SEEING THE TURTLEBACK FREEZE IN HYPOTHERMIA LIKE A JACK DAWSON SUNSET INTO THE CRUEL ABYSS OF NIGHT BY KNIGHTED DEGREES ABAFT OF THE SCHWERPUNKT THAT MESMERIZES AGAINST THE CHOANIDS OF SARANGOUSTY A MAGNETISM OF THERBLIGS AND ERGASIAS THAT SURREALISM COVETS AND PRAGMATISM ABSOLVES WITH ABLUTION AND BLUNT TORPOR BECAUSE OF AVENGED SEVENFOLD BATMAN CORDWAINERS OF CODSWALLOP AND CURMUDGEON BECAUSE TIME IS ITS OWN CUCULINE BEHEST OF ORGANITY IN THE BUSHWAS OF THE MOST ABSURD BEING THE LABILE IMAGINATION AND VORTICISM OF ALL CONTRARIAN MOVEMENTS AGAINST SOLIDARITY AND TOWARDS INTREPID BALKANIZATION. ORIBIS OF ORICHALC SHANTUNG BECAUSE THE BLESBOKS ARE INCULCATED ON THEIR HAUTEUR OF JAUNDICE PRIMARY TO THEIR ANTITHESIS TO MODERN SURGING SWELLS OF SPUMID FROTH BETROTHED TO THE ELEGAIC HEARSES THAT TRANSPORT THE LIVING REMNANT OF THE DEAD REVENANT AMONG THE LITURGY OF MEN ABOVE THE CURGLAFF OF GODS WICKED SPITE EVEN IN HIS PERFECT  MAJESTY WE SPURN THE REDACTION OF PEREMPTORY CALCULUS OF IATROMATHEMATICS BECAUSE OF MUTUALISM IN AUDISM THAT IS FORSIFAMILIATED FROM FEWTERERS AND GRAUNCHERS OF JOLTERHEAD JANGADAS SURROUNDED BY ARMIES OF JANIZARIES SEEKING TO ABRIDGE THE TENURE OF THE GROVELING GRIPES OF ESCAPADE AND ESCARGATOIRE BECAUSE OF PAST POGROMS THAT SLAYED THE DRAGOONING FORCES OF DEMASSIFIED CARNAGE IN WAR THAT THE CAMARRA MIGHT BE AVENGED PENNYWISE BECAUSE OF RAPTORS CROONING LOUD SONGS FOR THE ETERNAL REGISTRY AND CADASTER OF HEAVEN MIGHT IN SEDERUNTS OF SYBOTIC SYCOMANCY THAT THE PENULTIMATE DEGREE OF PROMACHOS ELEUTHEROPOMANIA SLEEKLY NAVIGATE EVERY NAIVETY SUCH THAT NO IMPLODENCE OF PIRANNHAS CAN EVER CAPSIZE OUR TITANIC VESICLES OF VENDANGE IN ASPHETERISM. AND, BECAUSE OF ARROGATION IN THE PALACES OF THE THRONE AND THE CRANING CULPRITS OF WEGOTISM THAT BECAME THE ORGULOUS OF CENTIPEDE CONTRACTS CONTRAHENT TO JAPANESE TOILET ASSEMBLY LINE CRAFTY DIVERGENCE FROM AUTOSOTERISM IN OUR TECHNOLOGICAL EMPIRES OF ENTROPY CURVED AROUND THE PARABOLAS OF GOOD WILL HUNTING VENATICS AND VENDIBLE RACEMATION OF LASSITUDE PRONOUNCED IN THE HEARTH OF ABODES OF ADOBE MATERIALISM WOBBLING UNDER WIZENED PRESSURE BECAUSE OF THE VOLTINISM OF STACKS AND SPETCHES OF SOLIDARITY THAT CRIBBLE THAT TANTREL OF DEVOURED DEMIURGES OF DRAPER HIT ADEEM DOOMSTERS AGAINST PETTIFOGGERY LASTING INDELIBLE IN THE CONSCIENCE OF SINNERS AND TAX COLLECTORS UNABRIDGED IN THEIR MISERICORDS OF CORDSLAVE WORD CRIMES THAT SPAWN A THRILLER FRIGHT FOR GHOULS OF THE GASPING GHASTLY MOONLIGHT DRIVES OF CAREFULLY CULTIVATED BRIMBORIONS FOR BRILLIANTINE JASPERATED JARVEYS OF IATRALIPTIC LONGEUR PRANCING AT THROTTLEBOTTOM TOCODYAMETERS THAT CODDLE EVERY VELCRO SOOT BELABORED WITH CONSTRAINT AND CRAZED UPON SCALDING THIRSTS FOR DUSTBOWL RUNAGATES FLOATING WITH WHELVES ABOVE EVERY METROPOLITAN GASP OF COACERVATION ESPECIALLY IN ANACHORIC CONDITIONS CREATED BY REGIONAL BANKING SECRETS PEDDLED INTO BARNSTORM BY ORCHESTRA AND GALLOWS. THE RINKOMANIA OF RINGENT RAREFACTION IN THE QUIBBLES OF QUESTERMONGERS GRAPPLING THE TETHER OF ZIP LINE DECLASSIFICATION SHOWCASES THE ATOMIC NATURE OF VEEPSTAKE VEESES OF VARSAL QUANTULATIONS OF PROBABLE EXIGENCY BECAUSE TRIMSCREET NOTAPHILY THAT NEWELS TREAT WITH MUGIENT RUDENTURE MIGHT ONLY ASTOUND THE PEOPLE OF A BADIGEON MISTRUST IN THE SYSTEM OF STANDPIPES AMONG THE STANNARY BECAUSE IN THIGMOTAXIS A CHUCKWALLA CAN ACCOST MODERN PLIGHT BY DEMOCRATIC HEFT ESPECIALLY IN CLADOGENESIS AND SPODOMANCY BECAUSE NO LONGER IS THE SINECURE A FACTOTUM TO DESTINED UNBUTTONED SNOOZES OF THE CHAVISH OF MANY BIRDS ALL AT  ONCE IN CONCLAMATION AVERTING THEMSELVES FROM MODERN TANTRELS OF TANQUAM TANTONY BECAUSE OF GIROUETTISM AND TIMMYNOGGY BOTH PART AND PARTICIPLE OF THE CONSTELLATED CONSTITUTION OF A WORLD BEYOND TRICKSTER HUCKSTER NEGOTIOSITY ****** WITH NEBULIZED NECROLOGUES AND THE ATTEMPTS OF NECROTYPE IN WHERRET LONG AGO DEMYSTIFIED THAT SUCH A HIGH DEGREE OF OXTERS SUFFERING FROM THE OVERLOCK OF NACREOUS YAFFINGALE YELEKS OF YASHIKI BECAUSE THE BINTURONG FINFUGAL COMMONALITY OF ALL CHAPERONES TO RABID DESTINY BECOME A MOTATORY MODALISM OF MOFUSSIL INTEGRITY ABOVE FREEWHEELING LICENTIOUSNESS IN PROFLIGATE SHOCK VALUE AND FLAGRANT FOUL GROIN INJURIES OF DENTICLES AND CORBELS THE SINECURES OF MAINSTAYS OF LEVERAGE BEYOND THE SNATCHES OF COQUICIDE. TOO MANY EBBERMANS EXPLOIT THE EBRIOUS TENDENCIES OF MALADROIT ECCOPROTIC ECDYSIASTS OF ECCENTRIC ORBIT AROUND THE MYTHOS AND BATHOS OF THE CULMINATED VARIETIST FOLKLORE OF WILLOWISH WITWANTON PERSIFLAGE FRISKY IN BOUNDED LOLLOPS OF DENIZENS OF PRIVY FRIVVERSCRABBLE BECAUSE OF COCARDEN SELF-FULFILLED DESTINIES OF GORDON GECKO HUCKSTERSHIP ARRAIGNED BY THE OBOLARY COMPRACHIOS ABOVE EVERY ANOINTED PROXENETE OF BOYAU SUCH THAT THE OUTFOXED GALLIVANT OF LEADEN DREAMS MIGHT INCUR THE RANCOR OF SOOT IN FULIGINOUS FUMIDUCTS BLINDING BLINKERED IMAGINATIONS IN CHECKERED EXPECTANCY BECAUSE OF THE LIABILITIES OF MANUFACTURE OF POLITY BY PELITIC MEASURES OF PIEZOMETERS WHICH ABIDE BY THE AGRACERIE OF TRAGELAPH TOURBILLONS OF TOMECIDE PRIMARILY BECAUSE SAMIZDAT ONCE BURIED BEFORE CHRONOMANCY COULD ALIGN SHOWCASES THE TWINGES OF HENPECKED HINDSIGHT OF DEADSTOCK KEELHAULS OF INTEMERATED DESTINY TO BE THE APTITUDE OF DESCRIPTION SOUGHT BY DOXASTIC ONCOSTMAN OF MINERAL SUFFICIENCY ENOUGH TO BROWBEAT MIGNON ATTEMPTS TO SWAMP THE STREETS WITH LETHAL CARNAGE AND SPURTS OF SOPHOMORIC CRIMES OF THE PETTIER SORT BY THE ADOLESCENT FABLE HALLOWED BY PERSNICKETY CONSTRINGED AND CONTECKED CARFAX CARRACKS BELONGING TO PANTOGRAPHS THAT DELIMIT AN AUSTERE FUTURE BETTER THAN A BRACKISH PISCIFAUNA OF PAST MISERY MEASURED BY DEPRIVATIONS IN MOUNTENANCE BECAUSE OF IDEMPOTENT SQUALOR REITERATIVE OFTEN TO THE DIMINUTIVE PREYING MANTIS SCORIA OF TRICHOSIS SLIPSLOP UPON THE RUMCHUNDER SILK OF RUPESTRIAN COMPREHENSION IN LANGUISHED EXHAUSTION OVER AGING RHETORIC SUITING DIFFERENT ZEITGEISTS WITH DIFFERENTIAL GRADIENTS OF SERRATED SECODONT GOLIARDY AND OTHER CAMELOPARDS BRICKBAT MANSIONS AVOID PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF THE CREAM AMNESIA HEDONISM OF AN ERA DEVOID OF MORAL PERJURY BECAUSE OF UNIVERSAL PURGATORY AND THE ITCH TOWARDS URANOPLASTY HOWEVER MISGUIDED THAT ULTRAISM OF REQUEST MIGHT BE UPON THE RESCRIPTS OF LEGALISM LITIGATED BY FILIBUSTER AND RETROACTIVE IN THE ENLISTMENT OF SPECULATION TO STORGE BARMCLOTH ECONOMIES WITH A HYBRIDIZATION OF MOONCALF DEMISANG STOICHOLOGY WITH THE SYNECHIOLOGY OF BIOLOGICALLY ATTUNED ATTEMPTS AT ACHIEVING ETERNAL LIFE THROUGH WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY TO COMPUNCTION AMONG  STELLIONS AND STANDPIPES TO THEIR SWAPES RATHER THAN THE AXLE ROSE SWARF OF JUNGLES OF SCHOENABATIC RHABDOS RUNAGATING DELIRIFACIENT FEARS AT FORFENDED PROSCRIPTION OBEYED BY ALL MORAL KERYGMA CURVED INWARD AND BELEAGUERED OUTWARD. THE ECHARD OF MAEUITIC THOUGHTS THE IMPRINT OF ALL EMOTIVISMS EVOLVED BY TACHYTELIC EVOLUTION BY THE HARPSICHORD REFINEMENT OF CALUMET BY CAMPANILE STANDARDS OF CETACEAN LEAPS IN INVOLVED MATHESIS MIGHT PROVIDE THE DOXASTIC ONTOGRAPHY OF CATADROMOUS TAMARAW BECAUSE THE FLOURIDATION OF THE THIRST MUTILATION OF A DECREPIT SEEDY BOWERY OF MALCONTENTS OF BUSHWA COMPOUNDED BY BYRES OF SUBTERNATURAL JUNGIAN ARCHETYPES THE COMPOSITE OF MANY RHIGOSES IN HYSTERICAL OUTRAGE OVER THE PRONOUNCED PROVIDENCE OF HIGH BETA CORPORATE TRAJECTORIES MIGHT CREATE AN ECLAIRCISE RATHER THAN AN ECREVISSE BECAUSE THE HISTRINKAGE OF GOURMAND CABOOSES OF INGREDIENT SALMAGUNDIS STORGED IN MOTLEY FORMATIONS AROUND THE QUIDCUNX OF ALL MASONIC LORE SWORDFISH TECHNO BELLOWS FROM THE RAFTERS OF TSUNAMI ELEGIES IN HOMILY DESIGNED TO OVERHAUL AND OVERTURN THE DILAPIDATED INSTINCTS OF INCARNATION BY DECRASSIFICATION BECOMING AN IMPLEMENT TO TRAVERSE ALL SCALE OF TIME AND SPACE FOR MESSIANIC ARENOID ECLEGME MIGHT WE FASHION A BETTER VILLAGE OF UPSTAYS OF THE DENORATUM BECAUSE OF THEIR PERSNICKETY BAILIWICK OF PROVINCIAL SHIBBOLETHS THAT HAUNT THE MINDS OF GHASTLY MEN ATTEMPTING GHOUL GANG SLAUGHTERS BECAUSE WALTER MCGINN NEVER STOOD A CHANCE AGAINST CARNIFICINE BOLIDES OF BOMAN DACOITAGE BECAUSE OF THE FERVOR AND HEIGHT OF DRAMATURGY IN DACNOMANIA BLISTERING THE RACIAL FOOTPRINT OF ANCIENT SOCIETIES CONGREGATED AROUND HAMARCHY MEGALOMANIA WE FIZZLE AND DISSOLVE THE SIMPERS OF THE DISSOLUTE INTO THE FORMIDABLE CONCOCTION OF HOGTIED JOUGS OF CANQUE MIGHT THE ELASTANES NEVER HAVE THE COURAGE TO OUTMANTLE THE FENESTRAL FENNEC THE UNDERBELLY OF SOCIETIES CRAVEN IN DISREPUTE BECAUSE OF THE  CLADOGENESIS OF CRIME FROM THE CRYPTADIA OF NOTAPHILY AND THE URGE OR CACOETHES TOWARDS NOTITIA PRIOR TO THE DAWN OF THE POWELLISATION OF WANIGANS AGAINST POTICHOMANIA FOR SOLIDARITY, TRUTH AND A RABID SENSE OF JUSTICE NEVER FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FROM THROMBOSIS. IDEMPOTENT IMPLODENT SQUALOR MANDATED BY AVIZANDUMS OF CRUEL SAMIZDAT DIVORCED FROM GEZELLIG BECAUSE ONCOSTMANS OF INDWELLS AND THE INKTHORNS OF PRIMIPARA SURREYS OF BROADCLOTH MODERATION ON THE MOFUSSIL MODALISM THAT PROVES NEOVITALISM BECAUSE ACATALEPSY STRAINS CREDULITY TO SUCH A CONTRAHENT RESPECT THAT IT CRACKLES WITH SUBORNED SUNS SETTING LONELY LOVERS FREE ON GONDOLAS FOR GONDOLIERS BECAUSE OF THE CHAMOIS OF GOLIARDY IN SUBSULTUS JOGGLES THAT BERATE JOCKOS FOR THEIR IMPUDENT REGARDS TO POGROM AND PASTRY MIGHT WE CONVENE THE BETHEL OF THE BROAD SEAS SPRAYING THE HORIZON WITH CURGLAFF BECAUSE PETEDORES ARE TOO MALCONTENT TO STOWAWAY LEVERAGE IN WELTER THE BELLWETHER STORMS OF STRIDENT TEMPESTS OF STRIDULATION ITSELF BECOMES THE STRADOMENTRICAL DIMENSION IGNORANT IN BARAGNOSIS OF GRAVIMETRICAL DISDAIN OF PINGUEFIED WORMCAST VOGUE SAGINATED BY SURETYSHIPS OF SERICULTURE THAT MADDENS THE FATTENED VEAL OF VEILLEUSES THAT BELONG TO GROMATIC REVOLUTION COUNTERCLOCKWISE TO EVERY ORANGE ORANGUTANG HARANGUE IN THE BLOCKBUSTER MERGER OF CAPITAL WITH INTELLECTUAL HEARTH SPRAWLING PALTRIPOLITAN ARROGATION IN WEATHERBOARDS OF ARROGANCE MIGHT THE BETTER DIPLOMACY BECOME A MORE REIFIED CHARADE FOR THE PROMENADE OF GULLIBLE SWANSONGS TO THE  CHAVISH OF ELEMENTARY PATAPHYSICS SUCH THAT ALL DELINEATED SUBINTELLIGENTUR TRACES ITS FORMATIVE LITURGY AND LINEAGE TO SOBRIQUETS OF SOVENANCE FOREVER EMBEDDED IN CHARACTEROLOGY. THE KYMATOLOGY OF THE SARVODAYA BELIEFS OF THE UPAS UMBRILS OF UNUFERUN DEGRINGOLADE DROOPY WITH LOURS AND LEECHES OF SANGUINOLENT HOPES FOR IMMORTALITY BUILT INTO BYSSINE INTERTESSELATIONS OF HAUTEUR GRANDEVAL IN TAGHAIRM AND MYSTIFIED BY THE PYRAMIDAL TECHNOLOGY OF SPHENOGRAMS THAT STUPE AND STOPE AROUND THE STULMS OF ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT OR OTHERWISE THE ATELIOSIS OF SEROTINOUS TALENTS AGAINST DIABLERISM AND HADEHARIA BECAUSE OF THE COMMON REFRAIN OF EVIL POLTROONS PARTICIPANT IN THE JEMADAR OF BANNOCK BECAUSE OF THE  WROTH OF WURLEY DISTRACTIONS BURIED IN THE VARDLES OF THE TEMPLES OF TIME AND CHIEF TABERNACLES OF PRINCES OF JERUSALEM MARAUDING AROUND THE AGATHISM PREVALENT IN FREEMASONRY THAT DEFILES THE EDIFICE OF ENNOBLED HUMANITY MIGHT EVENTUALLY WE SCOUR EVERY ACME AND PERIGEE SUCH THAT SYNCLASTIC BREVITY BECOMES A PRISM FOR THE LIBERATION OF TOLERABLE SOCIETIES ESTRANGED FROM FINIFUGAL BINTURONG CHIFFON RUMCHUNDER RHUBARBS THAT THE VENOCLYSIS OF GREAVES AND GRILLAGE APPOINTS THE JACK-O-LANTERN SPECIFICITY OF ROODS NEVER MORE PEREMPTORY IN THEIR AFFORCED CONTRITION IN PENITENT HALLS OF WINDING RESOFINCULAR DESIGNATIONS OF DEVASTATION RECOILING BY DISAGIO IN ARBITRAGE BY THE DESIGN OF THE CURTAILED GAFFES OF UNIVERSAL DOVETAILS OF ONDOMETRY BARELY EVER DEMASSIFIED FOR  PRYING INSPECTION BECAUSE OF THE CJ MACKINTOSH EFFECT WE WILL WITNESS THE CYANOTYPES OF ALL WORLD ORDERS CONVERGE UPON MIRACULOUS FORESIGHT MET HALFWAY BY THE PULLEYS OF HINDSIGHT  THAT CLAMBER IN INTRORSE DIRECTIONS TO METE OUT EVERY CALCULI AT THE EQUIDISTANT POINT BETWEEN GENIUS AND IGNOSCENY IN UNDERSTANDING NUTATION IN CRAVEN DISTURBANCE AND PAYABLE ON DEATH PEDIGREE THROUGH THE POISON IVY OF VENDIBLE GOODS RATHER THAN PROFICUOUS VENDANGE. THERE EXISTS A SWARTHY RAPSCALLION ECREVISSE LURKING IN THE SHADOWS OF HEYDAY AMONG ZEITGEISTS MARAUDING AROUND GRANDIOSE PRETEXTS FOR PRESCIENCE BECAUSE DORMANT CATAPULTS THAT ASSAY THE REGULA OF RINKOMANIA WHICH IS THE SWARF OF PIXELLATED FRINGE BENEFITS OF CARNAL OUTRAGE MIGHT THAT DEFALCATION OF EXCHEQUER FROM CHRYSELEPHANTINE GAMBITS FOR OUTRAGE PERCURRENT IN GEOSELENIC SERENITY OR OTHERWISE SUBSULTUS OF TEMBLORS OF CHAOTIC HAECCEITIES IN DUNGEONS OF DOOM BLASPHEMIES CAN NEVER EXPIATE WITH FULL SLEDGES OF PIER 39 WHARFINGERS ON WASTELOTS BECAUSE OF WALLFISH CENTRALIZING THE OMPHALOS OF GRAVID PLENIPOTENTIARY AND PLENARY ASSEMBLIES THAT CAVORT WITH NETHER QUANDARIES TO SPAR AGAINST CONGENIAL SERPENTS BRAZEN ONLY BY THE BACKBITE OF THEIR AUTHORITARIAN REGRESS. THE STENCH OF BLENCH AND BLARNEY BLANDISHING TOADIES OF SYRINX IN THEIR HOSPITABLE KALIMBAS OF DARK SPATHODEA ABIDING BY THE TURF OF WOONERF STRUGGLING FOR WHIPSTAFF RATHER THAN JACKSTAFF BY NYALAS PREROGATIVE BECAUSE THE ESTEEM OF BRIQUET LEADS TO BRISURES IN REGAL FAMILIES AGAINST DEFENESTRATION SUCH THAT THROTTLED CONSUMERISM MET WITH THE VOLTINISM OF VORTICISM MIGHT BE THE VRAISEMBLANCE OF ALL VAURIEN REVALORIZATION IN THEIR PIVOT TO THE ESOTERIC ARTS OF NAME AND DATE, BYWORD AND CREVASSE, TRAVESTY AND TRAGEDY THAT THE IMPLODENT COMMEMORATION OF FLASKS OF WHIPLASH PLUCK THE PLUCKIEST OF THORNS TO REACH THE MOST EFFLORESCENT OF ROSES SUCH THAT WE CAN SURVIVE THE TIDE OF CERACEOUS POWER OF SEMPERVIRENT BELLETRIST WIREWOVEN INTO EVERY REPUBLIC SUCH THAT LANDSLIDES OF PSEPHOLOGY BECOME THE HABITUE OF A SOBERMINDED WORLD RARELY IF EVER BLINDSIGHTED BY NIMIETY BUT ALWAYS STELLIFIED AND CONSTELLATED BY THE CELLARER MONKS OF THE HIGH ARTS OF SOCIAL SCIENCE IN THE HALLOWED HALLS OF GUARDED BARRULETS THAT TEEM WITH CARBONATED CERTITUDE IN A  CANADA DRY WORLD SUCH THAT THE BLUEPETER GAMMERSTANG TRIAD OF TRIAGE MIGHT METE OUT MULIEBRITY NEVER BEYOND THE GASCONADE OF GUFF GUIGNOLS OF RHYPAROGRAPHY THAT  TRAUMATIZES THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF BLITZKREIGS OF SCHWMEREI AND CELIBACY IN THE SECRET TROVES OF A HISTORY PUNCTUATED BY ATROCITY AND RANSACKED BY THE DERMATOLOGY OF THE PATINA BETTER THAN THE CINEASTE OF DEEPER SUBINTELLIGENTUR WHICH IS SUBERIC LIKE A VINTNER TO PRESERVE THE RESURGENT BOOTLEGGING MOONSHINE TIDE TO THE LIMITS OF ALL POSSIBLE IMAGINATION THAT THROTTLEBOTTOMS BRACKISH IN BARNSTORM THAT  THE WASES MUST BE OBEYED TO PROVINCIAL WAPENTAKE BECAUSE OF THE SYBOTIC UNSEELED ARBITRARY MEASURES OF SGRAFFITO IN WAPENSHAW TRANSCENDENTAL OVER ALL ROMANTICISM SUCH THAT THE ORDER OF THE KNIGHTS OF MALTA KEEPS THE PERDURABLE SECRETS OF REGALIA ALIVE IN THEIR PRIVATE ALCOVES OF SQUARSONS OF A DIFFERENTIATE SQUAMATION OF SEQUESTERED REALISM IN REALITY TOO BOLAR TO WITHSTAND GRAFT. ECTHLIPSIS WITH THE EBBERMANS VAUNTLAYING THEIR PROXENETE BOYAU JIVE TALKING TRAPS OF STAYIN’ALIVE HAUTEUR OF SUPERCILIOUS TACT BECOMING IRONICALLY AN EIRENICON FOR THE STOMACHERS THAT PREVENT MISCEGENATION OF SPRINGHARES AND MURENGERS FROM PROSCRIBING THE SELCOUTH SERROWS OF SERICULTURE BALLOONING INTO INTREPID RAPTORIAL THREATS GRIMACING HEADWAY UPON THE DAYLIGHT WALKERS OF THE PISMIRISM OF ECHOPRAXIA IN PSITTACIST LIGHT REFRACTION THAT BYPASSES NATIONAL DIRECTIVES TO BRACKLE WITH NEVERLAND NAIVETY SUCH THAT CREDULITY IS A CLEPSYDRA OF THE MALAXAGE OF CARNIVOROUS FREGGETS OF FENNEC PRIMARILY OF A BLUE PRIMACY OF UNSPOKEN GAFFES OF GARBLED GABBLE OF THE GABELLE OF SCRIMSHANKED DWIZZENS AGAINST DRAZELS THAT PRANCE WITH ELEGAIC BALLET FOR BALLOTEMENT FORMATIVE IN DURAMEN AND SCAFFOLDED BY THE UTOPIAN IDEAL BECOMING AN ONEIRODYNIA OF FASTUOUS FERIAL FLAPDOODLES OF FLANNEL IN RETCHINATION OF HATED QUALMS BECOMING THE LOCKSTEP BRATTICE OF BANDOLIERS VACATED AND VACANT FOR PRISMATIC REMIGATIONS FOR REMEANTS FROM THE VALLOR OF MOONLIT SKYLINES SPHACELATED SO HIGH BECAUSE OF DRAMATURGY SO SUFFICIENT IN ACCIDENCE AND ADVENT THAT THE PARLOUS RABELASIAN COURTIERS MIGHT SLINK THROUGH THE MARSHY RESIDUE OF AN OLD DYING REPUBLIC PREPARED FOR ALL EXIGENCY BURROLING ALL CORTEGES CLOSER TO BALMORALITY THAN INSANITY. FALLIBLE MISTAKES OF A BLACKGUARD ZEITGEIST OF ANIMADVERSION FROM PRAXINOSCOPES OF DUGONG SUBVERSION SLOPPY IN ARCHITECTONIC TACT BECAUSE OF ELAPID BRINKMANSHIP IN THE SWANK OF PILLORY AND THE IGNOMINY OF LEONID METEORS AND BOLIDES INFILTRATING GREAT WHITE BUFFALO BRIMSTONE AGAINST THE HEFT AND SCHLEP OF BUFF BLINKERED CHECKERING MALINGERING HUBRIS OF INSTANTANEOUS TRAPS OF ENTRAPMENT BY PULCHRITUDE THAT THE MAJESTY OF THE REPUBLIC WILL ALWAYS BROWBEAT THE REGATTA CREWS SAILING THE CAMBRIDGE SEAS OF RECOGNIZANCE AS THE SERRATED TIMEPIECES OF EUPRAXIA MIGHT LESS OFFEND AND HEAL VULNERARY WOUNDS SELF-INFLICTED BUT RARELY CONDIGN IN SYNCLASTIC ROBBERIES OF HUMAN DIGNITY FORMATIVE IN CONSCIENCE RATHER THAN DEBATABLE IN DOUGLAS DEBATES OF DISTRICT ATTORNEYS SCARED SKITTISH BY A HARVEY DENT VANDALISM OF NEBULA AND PARSEC FOR NEPHELOMETERS OF WHARFINGERS OF THE UTMOST ELITISM OF EKPHRASIS OF THE EDAPHA THAT RARELY EDULCORATES THE EFFODIENT AFFLATUS OF AFFINE ALGORS OF ARGALI SUCH THAT SILK ROAD CHIFFONS BRASHLY CONTEND IN THEIR SUNKEN RATIOCINATIONS ABOUT THE RATIO OF SUBSTANTIVE GOODS AND MERCHANDISE OF CHOICE THAT SQUALOR SWIMS IN SPATTEES OF SIFFLEURS BEYOND THE SNATCHES OF  SEGUIDILLA IN SIGLA PRIMARILY ORBITED AROUND JIMSWINGING ATROCITIES ALWAYS HALLOWED AS TRAVESTY ADULTERATED BY THE CRUEL IMBRUTED TRAGEDIES OF MARKETABLE TIME IN WANHOPE AND WANION FOR DESPERATION IN GASCONADE. THE ARCEATION OF MODERN ECONOMIES IS BUILT ON THE ECCOPROTIC ECTOBATIC ECHARD OF THE MAIEUTIC EDULCORATION OF FAMISHED WARLORDS BENIGHTED BY THE FOGHORNS OF SEMAPHORES OF THE DAYLIGHT PRISTINE MOONLIT CAVERNS OF PATHWAY AND ENTELECHY IN SOLUTIONS TO THE PATAPHYSICS OF HUMAN THERMOLYSIS IN CONTRAHENT DYNAMICS THAT STORGE THE WORLD AGAINST STULMS AND STOPING AGENTS OF STANNARY MIXED WITH THIXOTROPY MET BY INCLEMENT TACITURN CHISELERS IN THE ANCIENT PREMODERN FRAME THAT THE SPECTER OF BUGABOOS OF DEATH AND MAUDLIN BEBLUBBERED BECHIC BOLIDES CARESSING A TIMELY TOME OF A FUTURE SCRANCHING THE FILIBUSTER OF ALL FUTURE CALAMITIES SHIELDED FROM THE DESTRUCTION OF THE GAUNTLET OF PRIVATION SUCH THAT THE OPTIMAL DEASIL MOTATORY MOTIONS OF PLANETARY ALIGNMENT SUGGEST A NATURAL NOMOTHETIC ORDER THAT IS PREVENIENT IN ALL MAJOR AFFAIRS BECAUSE OF THE DEFT EXPERTISE OF THE UTILITARIAN SCALES OF NEGOTIOSITY WHICH ANALYZES NEUTROSOPHY AGAINST SPARTAN TRAVESTY BECAUSE OF A STOLID WORLDVIEW THAT SIMPERS THE CAULDRON OF GROWTH BEYOND THE LEGALESE OF DOUBT SUCH THAT A NEW FRONTIER OF CIVILIZATION ARISES FROM THE POTSHERDS OF VEXILLILOGY RATHER THAN ENAMORED CYMBALS OF SYMBOLISM IMPREGNATED BY THE LOVE OF THE PORBEAGLE BECOMING THE CIPPUSTURE OF WIDDERSHANCY TO ELECT THE KNIGHT OF DIVERGENCE SIMULTANEOUS TO MUTUALISM IN CONFORMITY TO RELEASE AN ECHOPRAXIA OF OMPHALISM IN MORALE THAT BOOSTERISMS ANOINT BEYOND ADVENTITIOUS ACCIDENTS OF RIGMAROLE CREATED BY OVERSLAUGHED BERLINES IN THE VERDURE OF KIPPAGE IN THE KITH OF KITTHOGE IN ATTEMPTED FEMICIDE TO REPUDIATE THE KYMATOLOGY OF THE GRAVID WORLDVIEW THAT SUSTAINS URCHINS AND BARNACLES ALIKE SUCH THAT WEGOTISM PLUMMETS FROM THE PROMONTORY OF THE IVORY FORTRESS OF PERVERSE ****** MORALITY AND IMMORALISM BECAUSE THE AURILAVE IS DESPOTIC AGAINST UMBRILS BECAUSE OF URCEOLATE UMBRACIOUS UMBRAGE BECOMING SILLOGRAPHS OF PANTAGAMY WE NEED THE GRAUNCHERS OF OUR ERA TO DEMASSIFY A TRIBUNE OF TRUTH TO PREVAIL OVER MENDACILOQUENCE AND THE SATINETS OF RADICAL JACOBIN WORMCASTS SUCH THAT SUPERSTITION CLEAVED FROM CAVALIERS AND MAVERICKS BEAM THE ROYAL ARCH MASONS FROM THEIR SLUMBER THAT MOONLIT YOGIBOGEYBOX IS THE SAUTERELLE THAT CREATES THE TURNVEREIN AND THE  GLADIATORIAL DIVERSION OPERATED BY THE HENCHMEN OF CHURCH AND STATE COMPLICIT IN HIDEBOUND WARNING KNELL AT THE TOLL OF TINTINNABULATION BECAUSE FEWER ARE VAPULATED IN A WORLD OF COLLECTIVE SOLIDARITY AROUND INDIVIDUATION RATHER THAN BACKBITES OF SLANDEROUS REGIMES OF HEGEMONY DEPARTED IN THEIR RUDENTURE OF VILLAINY SUCH THAT THE RUBEFACTION OF THE RUDDY SANGUINOLENCE SHEPHERDS RENEWAL RATHER THAN RETROMORPHOSIS. WE BELONG TO AN AGELESS EPOCH PREDICATED BY THE MATHEMATICAL RIGORS OF TAXATION WITH REPRESENTATION AND THE ENCROACHMENT OF  DERIVATIVES OF THE THIRD ROOT SOLUTION TO TURBINATION THAT TRUTINATES THE HUMAN HEART TO ANALYZE THE MEGALOGRAPHY OF MAN BEYOND HIS PETTIEST LIMITATIONS OF EGINTOCH KILMARGE AND PRURIENT PRIGGISHNESS DONE IN THE SECRECY OF THE REREDOS AGAINST THE BEST  WISHES OF TORCHIER PHAROAHS. THE URCEOLATE BERGAMASKS OF IZZARD AND ZOUK AGAINST THE ZEKS WHO SUFFERED THE  SUFFRAGE OF  STERILIZED POGROMS DESERVE THEIR  DUE COMPENSATION FOR THEIR BEREAVED SKULLDUGGERIES OF APOTHECARY SUBLIME RANCOR AIMED AT TRUCKLING TRUCULENCE TOWARDS AN AMERICA-FIRST AGENDA THAT EXAMINES RATHER THAN EXCORIATES ALL WORLD INTERTESSELATIONS BECAUSE THE BRIQUETS THAT HISTORICALLY MONOPOLIZED THE PARAPET TO ENSURE FEWER BRISURES OF CASEMATE SPODOMANCY MIGHT BE BRUISED AND BATTERED BY THE POTICHOMANIA OF AGED BUT VENERABLE BERLINE INSTITUTIONS OF GALEANTHROPY BECOMING GALERICULATED BY PALTRIPOLITAN VALUES THAT SKEW AND  SKELDER FROM EXCORIATION THE VILE AND VEHEMENCE OF THE OPPRESSED MIGHT THEY FUSION THEMSELVES EQUIPPED BY SCAPPLES AGAINST STULMS FOR THE BONANZAS OF STOCK MARKET PEDIGREE AFFORDED BY ONE FAINEANT PRESIDENTS TIME TRAVEL GAMBITS AND ANOTHER INTERREGNUM OF OBSOLAGNIUM AMONG THE MATURATION OF NEPIONIC NIDOR SCRUFF IN GUIGNOLS MEANT TO HORRIFY BY BACKPIECES STEADIED BY ICEBERG ICEBLINK UPSTAYS OF POTEMKIN VILLAGES OF MARTINGALE MIGHT THEY FIND DEFEAT IN THE LEGACY OF MAN TO BETTER HIS WISDOM WITH THE PROPER COMSTOCKERY ARRANGED BEHIND THE SCENES TO PREVENT THE PETTIFOGGERY OF TRANS-INCLUSIVE TEACHERS THAT TRY TO BRAINWASH LITTLE CHILDREN INTO SELF-STERILIZATION AND PERMANENT MARGINALIZATION BY STIGMATA AND THE VETANDA OF THEIR LONGINIQUITY CREATED BY IMPRESSIONABLE MORAL STAGES IGNORED BECAUSE OF LUDIC MARAUDERS AND VIKINGS OF ****** INFIDELITY AND THE LAIRWITES OF THE SLEAZIEST CORRUPTION ON THE BOOKS AS THE MANACLES OF THE URCHINS OF MEN THAT ESPOUSES RANCOR OVER GENTEEL GENTILITY DESPITE GENTILIAN MINORITIES PRIZING THEIR NAZES IN THEIR CAPE TOWN CAGOULES PRIMARILY BECAUSE THEY RESENT THE RANCID CREEP OF ENCROACHMENT WITHOUT THE PENALTY FOR APPROPRIATION OR VAGANTES ARROGATION THAT SUBSUMES THE BRONTEUM OF ALL MATRIOTIC DUTY ABOVE SELFISH PORNOGRAPHIC AMBITIONS BY THE WORLDS WORST FEWTERERS OF HUMAN IMAGINATION TO SUCH A DEGREE THE OUTCAST STIGMATA BECOMES AN IMMARCESIBLE FORCE FOR IMPLODENT SOCIETAL DECADENCE IN AN ERA OF DECLINE OF AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM TO CREATE MORE EXCEPTIONS RATHER THAN BECOME RANGIFERINE IN THE CULTIVATION OF THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT AND THE PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC AND ALL OF THE AGGIORNAMENTO THAT FIGHTS THE STULMS OF VIACOM AND OTHER WINDBAG PEDOPHILES TRYING TO REVERT OUR COUNTRY TO A SOCIETY OF EUNUCHS AND *** SLAVES TRAFFICKED AS THE NEW NORMAL IN A DERANGED WORLD THAT DESTROYS INDIVIDUATION AND BULLDOZES THE INTREPID ENTERPRISE OF A FOCUSED ECHOPRAXIA RATHER THAN A PSITTACIST NIGHTMARE OF LAZARETS OF ELASTANE PANDERING THROUGH BLOCKBUSTER CRACKJAW EPOMANIA. WE CANNOT AFFORD A SOCIETY THAT TOLERATES BOTH THE ASCENDANCY OF BILL THE BUTCHER AND THE DEMISE OF WALTER MCGINN BOTH BY SEPARATE URCHINS THAT EMBODY THE CARNAGE AND BYRE OF RAREFIED EVIL PURIFIED AND MAINLINED AGAINST SUBINTELLIGENTUR TO SUBTERNATURAL PEOPLE THAT DON’T ADHERE TO THE CONSEQUENCES OF NIDIFUGOUS IMPRESSIONABLE EUTHANASIA OF MORAL VALOR AND THE RESPECT OF ALMIGHT EUMOIREITY MIXED WITH THE PROPER ASSORTMENT OF THE PURSUITS OF HAPPINESS THAT DEFINE THE BEST WORLD REPUBLICS BECAUSE WE CAN LIONIZE THE FREAKSHOW HOUSE OF MIRRORED HORRORS AS WE FOCUS ON THE DECREPIT MODERNIZATION OF A NIVELLATED SEXUALIZATION EVEN WHEN THE SPECTERS OF FAT SHAMING AND BULLYING ARE OVERLOOKED IN FAVOR OF A MICHIGAN STATE SPARTANS MODEL FOR THE BOWDLERIZATION OF ALL CANONICAL TRADITIONS IN THE SLOW TIMBERLASK LURCH TOWARDS INEVITABLE DECADENCE IN THE NIDOR CREATED BY RAMPANT SKEWERING OF SLANTED WOBBLES IN ECCENTRIC ORBIT AROUND ECCENTRIC ****** FASCINATIONS THAT HOBBLE THE ENTIRE AMERICAN BRAND AND ENDANGER THE EUROPEAN ETHOS BECAUSE WE CAN NEITHER TOLERATE THE DEATH OF WALTER MCGINN BY THE WEGOTISTS OR THE ASCENDANCY OF BILL THE BUTCHER IN INEXORABLE BERGAMASK WHIMPERS AT THE FLACCID URCEOLATE WHEELBARROWS OF FINANCIAL REDINTEGRATION THROUGH THE DECLASSIFICATION OF GROWING EMERGENCE OF ECONOMIES OF SCALE AND SCOPE FOR A MORE HORIZONTAL APPROACH RATHER THAN A VERIDICAL VERTICAL LIMIT FORCE TO BLIND THE BLINKERED FROM THE HEIGHTS OF EVEREST IN ANACUSIC DISREGARD CREATED BY PERCURRENT DECADENCE IN THE CURRICULUM RELATING TO EARLY SEXUALIZATION. WE NEED NEVER TO BAN A BONFIRE OF BOOKS ON THE AUSTERE AND VENERABLE HISTORY OF MINORITY CULTURES NOR THEIR EPIPHENOMENA BUT A PEDERASTY LURKING IN THE WOODED BEWILDERMENT OF SUBTERNATURAL KUMBAYA RAINBOW-PAINTED SKULLDUGGERY NEEDS TO BE THWARTED BY THE CAREFUL APLOMB CALCULUS OF VIGILANT TEACHERS AND EVEN MORE VIGILANT PARENTS THAT AVOID THE AURILAVE AND REPLACE IT WITH THE UMBRIL TO PROTECT THE SANCTANIMITY OF OUR YOUTH BECAUSE THE ROT OF POISON IS A RANCOR HARDER TO WITHSTAND IN A NATION FALLING  INTO FLAGSTENCH BECAUSE OF CLEAVED CAVALIERS RATHER THAN UPSTART MAVERICKS WHO UNDERSTAND THE LOLLYGAG AS A SCAMMONY OF STEMSON RATHER THAN THE STEPNEY OF IMPORTUNATE PIONEERS TRYING TO MONOPOLIZE WITH BANGTAIL OSTENTATION TO EXCUSE THEIR QUALMS OF CONSCIENCE BY NORMALIZING ABERRANT BEHAVIOR ON A WORLDWIDE SCALE WITH LANGUAGE POLICE AND THE BERGAMASK SILENTIUM OF THOSE WHO SIDELINE THEMSELVES OUT OF EITHER APATHY OR COMPLICITY TO DEGRINGOLADE OF THE AMERICAN PRESTIGE AND THE EUROPEAN CREED OF PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC AGGIORNAMENTO AGAINST THE SEXUALIZATION OF THE YOUTH AND THE INCULCATION OF VICE AND GAMBLING AMONG  THE SUSCEPTIBLE. NOW THAT MY INVECTIVE HAS BOILED INTO EFFERVESCENT TOXINS AGAINST THE AGENDA AND CORRIGENDA OF MODERN NEPIONIC DEVELOPMENT OF LUDIC CONSCIENCE AND DESULTORY CREATIVITY DEFYING THE AURILAVE DEMASSIFICATION THAT IS CORROSIVE TO THE AMERICAN YOUTH AS WELL AS YOUTH FROM ALL OVER EUROPE IT IS IMPORTANT TO VOUCHSAFE THE RIGHTS OF THE MINORITY ON THE CONDITION THEY DON’T BARNSTORM AGAINST THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN CREATION SACROSANCT BY LURID DEGREES OF VIGILANTE PARENTS UPHOLDING TRUE CHRISTIAN VALUES OF EUMOIRIETY WITHOUT A HINT OF CHARLATAN PATAPHYSICS IN THEOLOGICAL CONTORTION BY CLOSET NIHILISM TRYING TO PANDER TO RELIGION IN ORDER TO SOW THE MUSTARD SEEDS OF DESPERATION THAT RANKLES ALL PARTIES INVOLVED BECAUSE WARHOLICS THE CLOTURE OF THE CLITTER OF THE CLINKSTONE OF RUDDY EXTINCT SHRILL IDEAS OF KNELLING BELL-TOLLING ENTER SANDMAN RECIDIVISM MUST RECEDE INTO THE WHIMPER OF A  SHEEPISH NIGHT SO THAT THE REAL KNIGHTS OF TABERNACLE AND PUBLIC SQUARE BECOME THE CENTRIPETAL MOON CERACEOUS IN ITS TIDE OF MORAL VIRTUE AND VEHEMENT VIRTUOSITY BEYOND THE BAD PARENTING OF THE PARENTS THAT STORGE THEIR KIDS ON INTOXICANTS WITHOUT CHECKING THEIR FACTS OR REALIZING THE FRAUD OF THE FRAUDSTERS THAT TRY TO INOCULATE THEMSELVES FROM BLAME BECAUSE OF THE ZEITGEIST-NORMALIZATION ARGUMENT WHICH IS SPECIOUS SOPHISTRY BECAUSE ABSOLUTE MORAL KERYGMA EXISTS TO STAND AS A STANDPIPE TO REVOLUTIONIZE  THE LOT OF THE SUBTERNATURAL PEOPLE THAT SKILLFULLY NAVIGATE SHARK-RIDDEN WATERS AGAINST WATERGATE JAWHOLES SO DEEPLY CRENELLATED WITH THE INSIGNIAS OF IMPRIMATUR IN ELITISM THAT SCOFFLAWS CHEAT THE SYSTEM RATHER THAN RECOIL IN THE BLARNEY AND BLENCH OF THEIR OWN SUPREME SHAME FOR THEIR CAGOULES AND WEGOTISTS BOTH WAGING WARS AGAINST DIFFERENT SEGMENTS FOR RADICAL RHIZOGENIC BETRAYALS OF THE GAME AS CHUCKY VS. THE GIANT TORTOISE PROCEEDS AS AN EMANATION OF THE NETHERWORLD OF WANION AND THE WOODSHEDDERS THAT DEFEND THE CREED AND CREDENDA OF VISIBILIA FOR CRETACEOUS LORE AND CERTAIN ABSOLUTION THROUGH THE ABLUTION OF THE SACRIFICE OF CULMINATED PROPHETS THROUGHOUT HISTORY MARTYRED FOR THEIR REMIGATES AGAINST ENTITLED ENTRENCHED AUTHORITIES CARING MORE OF MEGALOMANIACAL SPRITES RATHER THAN TURGID GARISH IRONIES OF THE SERENDIPITY OF DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS RELATIVISM. RANSACKING POLEMICS OF EXEGESIS THEORIZING ABOUT PROFLIGACY IN CONTORTIONIST STRIPPER CONFLAGRATIONS IN RAPID DEGENERATION RATHER THAN THE CONVALESCENT HOPE OF INTELLECTUAL REBIRTH ESPOUSED BY OUR FOREFATHERS IN INFINITE WISDOM DESPITE HANDSPIKES OF GOSSYPINE SUBVERSION IN THEIR NESCIENCE OF ZEITGEIST-NORMALIZATION ARGUMENTS WHICH ARE EQUALLY INVALID NOW AS THEY WERE THEN BECAUSE WE MUST UPHOLD THE APOLAUSTIC PURSUIT AND THE TWINGE OF EUMOIREITY BEYOND HYPOCRISY AND GOD BEYOND TRAVESTY. THE NOILS OF NUMBATS NEOTTIOUS IN THEIR VARDOS AND VARDLES THAT VAPULATE THAT VAUNTLAY OF REVERSE VASTATION IN RHEOTAXIS OF AIMLESS YOUTH OF A NATION PAYABLE TO THE TEACHERS THAT EXERT THE GREATEST CENTRIPETAL FORCE OF OMPHALISM MIGHT WE FIND A CULTURE OF OPTIMUMS WITHOUT LOSING AMERICAN VERVE AND EXCEPTIONALISM WHILE BOLSTERING MORALE FOR THE DISPOSSESSED AND THE BULLIED WITHOUT PIGEONHOLING ADULT-AGED ****** MINORITIES UNLESS THEY ARE GUILTY OF TRYING TO CORRUPT THE YOUTH THAT EVENTUALLY THE SARSENETS AND BOBBINETS OF STEEVE INTERMINGLE TO FORM A RENEWED MUTUALISM CAPTIVE TO THE RAPTURE OF THE EYES THAT HAVE WITNESSED THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD BECAUSE HE DECLARES ABSOLUTION AND ABLUTION AGAINST OPPRESSION WITHOUT OPPRESSING THOSE THAT OPPRESS BECAUSE OF JAUNDICE IN AN EQUAL TWILL AND TILT OF TWADDLING WOBBLES OF INTRANSIGENCE. THE REVOLUTE FRAYED EDGES OF CARNASSIAL MODERNITY TOO CRUEL TO STOMACH THAT ZEKS EXIST IN THE POGROMS OF DERELICTION BY A CONSUMER TREACLE AND TRICKLE OF CLEPSYDRA ERRATIC IN DEGRINGOLADE MIGHT WE INSTEAD MEET A RESURGENT BOOM FOR BONANZA IN SPECULATIVE ECONOMICS BY PROVIDING THE CARRACKS AND CARNETS WITH THE ACUMINATION AND DELICATE DECISIONS AROUND ACERBATION THAT YIELD MORE THAN JUST A TANTONY OF TANQUAMS FOLLOWING BLINDED SHEPHERDS OF CORRUPT PERIBLEBSIS BECAUSE OF WHIMSICAL ROTUNDAS OF ROTUND PEOPLE BRAVING THE BARMCLOTH OF THEIR BLUEPETER ALLEGIANCE IF ONLY TO THE AUDISM OF IAMATOLOGY MIGHT WE STEWARD AND CHAPERONE A BETTER REGALIA FOR THE CHIFFON AGAINST THE SHANTUNG BECAUSE TO SOCIALLY ENGINEER AND UPRIGHT PARVENU IS TO BECOME A BOOSTERISM TO THE JANGADA OF HIDDEN THICKETS OF YOUTHQUAKE WEALTH IN THE GRAVIMETRICAL PROPERTIES OF THE SILKEN SILT OF SUBSULTUS REARRANGING A RAPIDLY EVOLVING SOCIETY AGAINST INTRANSIGENCE BUT FOR THE BETTER FORMIDABLE FIGHT OF MATRIOTIC DUTY AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS BEYOND THE HATCHES OF THEOCRACY. WE FUNNEL THROUGH LAVADERO AND DELIMITED NEAT NEXILITIES AMONG PATAPHYSICS AN AGE THAT REQUIRES MORE STEM CANDIDATES THAT LIONIZE THE HIGHEST ARTS AND COLLABORATE WITH BENEVOLENT ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TO ENLIST A CREATIVITY BOOM RATHER THAN A LAPSE INTO THE LAZINESS OF ELASTANE LAZARETS SUCH THAT POLYPHILOPROGENITIVE GLOMS OF THE GLABROUS MOON AND THE HIRSUTE WHEREWOLVES THAT BELONG TETHERED TO THE CONNUBIAL BETROTHMENT TO MERIT BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY THE GIRDLE OF ALL STUNSAIL GENERATIONS OF THE PROMACHOS FOR GROWING SIDELONG EMACITIES TACKLED WITHOUT A CACKLE AND STUNTED WITHOUT A PUBLICITY. WITH THE HELP OF SENTIENT NODALITIES OF NIDDERING NIDAMENTAL BANDOBASTS ABOUT WHICH QUISQUILOUS STERNWAYS EXIST AND COMPANIONWAYS ARE RECOURSE WE SEEK THE BELLETRIST OF A RENEWED ERA TO BECOME THE TESTUDO OF AMERICAN FORTITUDE AND FRENCH VALOR SUCH THAT THE GRANDEVAL TAGHAIRM MEETS THE MODERN DAY RECLAMATION AND CONCLAMATION OF SUPEREROGATORY AMBITIONS, VIGILANT PARENTS, TACTFUL TEACHERS, AND POSITIVE WHIPSTAFF ROLE MODELS WHO TEACH MORAL REASONING AND INSTITUTE A THEOLOGY-INCLUSIVE EDUCATION THAT SPENDS MONEY TO ENHANCE DIDACTIC TECHNIQUES AND TO BE ECTOBATIC TO REMOVE MANY A DISTRACTION FROM THE VARSAL GESTALT OF NIDOLOGY TO FOMENT A CATACLYSM AGAINST A CATASTROPHISM OF ABAXIAL DENOUEMENT SUCH THAT WE REAR THE REAR GUARD AND BLANKET THE WORLD WITH SEMINAL INSEMINATIONS IN BOTH CREATIVE ARTS AND BIOMEDICAL SOLUTIONS TO STATOLITHS THAT BROADSIDE THE GALLANTRY OF ARGALI FORTUNES WAITING TO BE DISCLOSED AND DISCOVERED IN THE HAUNTS OF PEDIGREES OF DAY AND NIGHT WITHOUT A HINT OF MALEFACTION WHILE EMPHASIZING THE KERYGMA TO SUSTAIN THE MAINLINE CARDIMELECH CARDIOGNOST SOLUTIONS OF THE PROPER PARENTING IN PERVIOUS TIMES TO CHANNEL THE CLEPSYDRA TOWARDS THE GROWTH OF ABSOLUTION BY TEACHING THE MORAL KERYGMA OF CHRIST NEVER NEGLIGENT OF MUHAMMAD AMONG THE OTHER PROPHETS THAT FUELED A MANIFEST DESTINY AND A MANIFOLD JANIFORM WORLD BEYOND DUPLICITY AND SPITE SUCH THAT HANDSPIKES OF PICKELHAUBE BECOME DIMINISHED BY PORBEAGLES OF ALACRITY THAT SOAR WITH ELEGANCE NOT BECAUSE OF CONTRITION OF RIGOR BUT DESPITE THE OVERHANG OF TEMPESTS AND GULLYWASHERS THAT TREAD LIGHTLY IN ENCIRCLED WATERS BEYOND WATERGATE SHORES OF THE DISTANT PERSPECTIVE SHEPHERDED BEYOND SHEEPISHNESS. THE SQUALOR OF MANY SQUALLS OF CABOOSES VAPULATED FOR THEIR BETHEL INIQUITIES OF APIKOROS OLIM REMIGATED BY THE RELICTS THEY FORGOT IN THE AMNESIA OF THEIR HEIGHTS OF YOUTH AND THE DEPTHS OF THEIR PLANGENT INSOUCIANCE MIGHT THE ADOLESCENT FABLE SUBSIDE INTO THE SWIFT SHIFTING  SANDS OF EVOLUTIONARY TIME MORE TACHYTELIC THAN EVER BECAUSE OF SYNAPHEAS AGAINST STULMS AND THE BULGUR OF QUALMS ENLISTING THE STOPES DEMISE FROM THE PUBLIC SQUARES OF INTREPID INDEMNITY FOR THE AUTHORS OF MORALISM AND SALVATION FOUND THROUGH THE HIGHEST OF CREEDS AND THE MOST ORNATE OF COMPLEXITIES BECAUSE WE CANNOT BE BELEAGUERED BY AN ASYLUM OF SERRATED CENTURIES TRYING TO AROUSE RANCOR IN BACKBITE IN RETROSPECTION AND INSTEAD REVALORIZE AN ECONOMY NEVER AS MUCH PARALYZED BY REGELATION BUT ALWAYS THE STUNSAIL OF COAST GUARD YOUTH AUXILLIARY TO UNDERSTAND PROPINQUITY FROM DISTANCE AND GENIUS FROM INSANITY SUCH THAT THE PROPER PIVOT OF WORLD LEADERS IS AIMED TOWARDS NOT A SOPORIFIC TIRED TEDIUM BUT ALWAYS AN OPTIMISTIC BONANZA THAT KEEPS ECONOMIES AFLOAT IN THE LUXURIANCE OF THEIR OWN PEDIGREE AND VIRTUOSITY SCALED UP TO A VARSAL SCALE OF GESTALT EVOLUTION THAT UNDERSTANDS THE PLIGHT OF TAFFRAIL FENESTRAL FENNEC AND IMMARCESIBLE ASPECTS OF THE INERADICABLE ELEMENTS OF CORRUPTION FOCUSED AROUND MODALITIES OF MODALISM SUCH THAT A MUTUAL COLLECTIVISM INDIVIDUATED FOR A BRIGHT NEW CENTURY BECOMES THE SALIENT BEACON OF TRIUMPH RATHER THAN TRAGEDY AND THE GAUNT GLORY OF THE BEST OF OUR ASPIRATIONS. A STAYIN’ALIVE MODESTY EVEN WITH THE SENNET OF REGULA UPON THE TARRY OF TESTUDOS MIGHT THEY SWARM GNATS UNMATCHED BY THE PHAROAH’S MAGIC AND ALWAYS ABIDING BY THE NEPOTISM OF AGES PROLONGED BY DURESS AND DURATIVE IN THE FORMATION OF DURAMEN FOR DENEHOLES SO WELL FORTIFIED THAT THE AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM NEVER BECOMES A FAFFLE OF SIDESHOW CLOWNS AND BALATRONS WARPING SATRAPS WITH GAULEITERS OF PROTENSIVE PROTRACTORS OF CADASTER OVER INTEGRITY AND OPPORTUNISM OVER AMBITIOUS REVIVALISM. WE FIGHT AND QUIBBLE OVER THE COSTERMONGERS AMONG US AND THE TREGETOURS OF PRESTIGITATION IN CLEAVED TALKING POINTS BUT RARELY DO WE SYNERGIZE FOR THE BEST INTERESTS OF WORLD REPUBLICS TO BECOME SHINING BEACONS IN THE LIMELIGHT OF ALPENGLOW BEWILDERMENT FINDING ASCERTAINMENT RATHER THAN POLLINATION BY THE ESCAPADE ROUTE RATHER THAN MORAL KERYGMA REITERATED RATHER THAN INDOCTRINATED THAT MORE ARE PROSELYTIZED UNDER THE BANNER OF CHRIST BECAUSE OF  THE GRATUITY OF ALL SUFFERING BECOMING TANTAMOUNT TO ALL MOBILE SUFFRAGE FOR A NEOVITALIST IDEATION RATHER THAN AN ESTRANGED BLACKMAIL OF MARTINGALE EARWIGS AND IMPASSABLE THALWEGS PREVENTING THE NEGOTIOSITY OF CHURCH AND STATE TO FOUND ECCLESIOLATRY IN AGGIORNAMENTO SUCH THAT ACCOLENT FRATERNITY AND SHARED AMBITIONS CATALYZES A BROAD INTELLECTUAL AND ARTISTIC REVOLUTION THAT IS COGNIZANT OF ITS FOOTPRINT. AMEN!

Because I was content with these poor fields,
Low open meads, slender and sluggish streams,
And found a home in haunts which others scorned,
The partial wood-gods overpaid my love,
And granted me the freedom of their state,
And in their secret senate have prevailed
With the dear dangerous lords that rule our life,
Made moon and planets parties to their bond,
And pitying through my solitary wont
Shot million rays of thought and tenderness.

For me in showers, in sweeping showers, the spring
Visits the valley:—break away the clouds,
I bathe in the morn's soft and silvered air,
And loiter willing by yon loitering stream.
Sparrows far off, and, nearer, yonder bird
Blue-coated, flying before, from tree to tree,
Courageous sing a delicate overture,
To lead the tardy concert of the year.
Onward, and nearer draws the sun of May,
And wide around the marriage of the plants
Is sweetly solemnized; then flows amain
The surge of summer's beauty; dell and crag,
Hollow and lake, hill-side, and pine arcade,
Are touched with genius. Yonder ragged cliff
Has thousand faces in a thousand hours.

Here friendly landlords, men ineloquent,
Inhabit, and subdue the spacious farms.
Traveller! to thee, perchance, a tedious road,
Or soon forgotten picture,— to these men
The landscape is an armory of powers,
Which, one by one, they know to draw and use.
They harness, beast, bird, insect, to their work;
They prove the virtues of each bed of rock,
And, like a chemist 'mid his loaded jars,
Draw from each stratum its adapted use,
To drug their crops, or weapon their arts withal.
They turn the frost upon their chemic heap;
They set the wind to winnow vetch and grain;
They thank the spring-flood for its fertile slime;
And, on cheap summit-levels of the snow,
Slide with the sledge to inaccessible woods,
O'er meadows bottomless. So, year by year,
They fight the elements with elements,
(That one would say, meadow and forest walked
Upright in human shape to rule their like.)
And by the order in the field disclose,
The order regnant in the yeoman's brain.

What these strong masters wrote at large in miles,
I followed in small copy in my acre:
For there's no rood has not a star above it;
The cordial quality of pear or plum
Ascends as gladly in a single tree,
As in broad orchards resonant with bees;
And every atom poises for itself,
And for the whole. The gentle Mother of all
Showed me the lore of colors and of sounds;
The innumerable tenements of beauty;
The miracle of generative force;
Far-reaching concords of astronomy
Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds;
Mainly, the linked purpose of the whole;
And, chiefest prize, found I true liberty,
The home of homes plain-dealing Nature gave.

The polite found me impolite; the great
Would mortify me, but in vain:
I am a willow of the wilderness,
Loving the wind that bent me. All my hurts
My garden-***** can heal. A woodland walk,
A wild rose, or rock-loving columbine,
Salve my worst wounds, and leave no cicatrice.
For thus the wood-gods murmured in my ear,
Dost love our manners? Canst thou silent lie?
Canst thou, thy pride forgot, like nature pass
Into the winter night's extinguished mood?
Canst thou shine now, then darkle,
And being latent, feel thyself no less?
As when the all-worshipped moon attracts the eye,
The river, hill, stems, foliage, are obscure,
Yet envies none, none are unenviable.

At the Berkeley protests,
the streets smiled with
sledge-hammer teeth
chomping away for peace.
Windows were smashed,
trash became the air
     in flags of ash,
police in riot costumes
picketed the peace
     like a fence
teaching the pretty
     protesters a thing or two about place
but the tear gas said it all first:
the system is broken.

Blank
They stare at me
Oblivious
To the rage below

Congregating in corners
They plot against me
Sadistically
Blocking out the world

Chained
Voice eludes my tongue
Hoarse from silence
Deafened by its echo

Determined
My will hammers away
Rhythmic
I will not succumb

Heart beats or sledge strokes?
I will break free

Little boy Cain finds daddy’s old straightedge
Cracked leather band, wipes the blade on his thigh
Little boy stalks ‘round, slingshot in the sedge
Soft stinging cheeks, striped where bloodlines dry

Little boy breaks ice, cold winter this year
Big brother chops ash with numb hands out back
Little cat hunts mice while the dogs chase deer
One last hammer lash, then leave duties slack

Little boys grow up too soon, mother knows
Brother lain face down by the cutting wedge
Little white-furred pup, matted crimson nose
On the icy ground left in need of sledge

Little too late now for the morning chores
Cries upon his knee, curled by reddened bed
Little boy, head bowed, listens from the floor
Brother, bury me where the raven treads

Brother, forgive me, curse the wanton gods
Now, I walk alone through this land of Nod