"sojourning" poems
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Dear New Poet:
Then I'm your man,
your very own
Northern star,
one leg up of a
3 legged stool,
upon which all,
we, enthroned poets,
the world-over,
do rule
the honor you
bequeath me
to be,
a first follower,
your very own
first responder,
it, cannot be
disdained
nor
diminished
this instance,
this birth,
a novice revival,
heart transplant,
makes it
the sweetest blessing
to be the first—
let us be
the quencher
of a desert thirst so long
in the parching,
the throat burning,
by a desert sojourning,
of a now ending
forty times
four hundred years
so come to me!
message me a message,
find me a find,
your poem fine,
so now we vow,
our embrace will
ne’er be broken
give me this
honorific!
let us together
be terrific,
raise our glasses,
with arms entwined
toasting you and
all that mind and
breasted chest of yours,
full bursting from
its future~contains,
of which,
its full release,
brings a fuller life
for us both
I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
and a First Responder,
for all who needs a leg up,
so step upon my heart,
it be but a first step upon a
ladder with no top, no end ensighted
my legs are as old as time, but,
measure me not by the rings and
the metered scales of gray hair aging,
shock of white, a cain mark, wizard-wizened
but
by the muscles
of my deep affection,
the solemnity of this,
my irrevocable promise
this,
the blessing
we both make and earn,
when you write,
and while we wait,
in quiet attendance -
for all of your good works,
your kept promises
Blessed
are You Lord our God,
Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life,
sustained us until now,
***allowing, allying, and
alloying***
the treader of treacherous waters,
reader, writer, swimmer,
to reach, meet, embrace
and greet this day,
this new born poem,
with hallelujahs
whispering and shoutings
together,
as one
in one, of one,
one
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
In 1963
Mahalia prodded
the good reverend...
“tell them
about the dream
Martin”
transfixed on
a yonder time
he recounted
prophecies of
a near future
from a mountaintop
he foretold a
history of a people
returned again to
gardens of paradise
thriving in friendly
democratic soils
overflowing with a
colorful biodiversity
governed and
nurtured with a
vibrant sunshine
of divine justice
welcoming all
weary sojourners...
from the
pinnacle of
a Birmingham
jail cell
Martin burst
the bars with
the clarion peel
of a golden trumpet
proclaiming the gospel
of liberation to
the wardens of
unholy gulags
“free yourselves”
the horn emblazoned
in streaking lightning
across the sky
cowed by
prophetic truths
of righteousness,
shamed by
lies the pride
of arrogance
bespeaks to
placate the
intransigence
of dominion,
we prayed the
the walls of racism,
bigotry, prejudice
would tumble down as
Martin lit the Battle
of Jericho
today our country’s
profit driven gulags
overflow with people
of color as justice
lingers on death row
begging for a plea bargain
of a life sentence in
solitary confinement...
from the
****** Sunday Bridge
in Selma, Martin
offered a prayer for
peace, rebuking
the dogs of war
admonishing
the tenders of
blood thirsty
machines to
beat the gears
of war into
pruning hooks
and plowshares
advocates of peace
hope to steer
the plow across
the battlefields of
acrimony to sow
rich seeds of
reconciliation, planting
new gardens where
the rich yields of peace
will be consumed
by all God's children
yet these gardens
remain unplanted,
untended and defiled
by the machinery
of war that churns
churns, churns...
Martin last
dream occurred
on a balcony
in Memphis
witnessing
to the divinity
of those considered
untouchable after
a hard days work
collecting a city’s
refuse
he insisted all labor
was worthy of dignity
and the economic
justice of a fair wage
Martin looked squarely
into the eye of the gun sights
of those who thought differently
he never blinked, he dreamed
Martin formed his last
testament to an angry nation
yearning for the reconciliation
of stability and peace,
unmoved that it’s violence,
exploitation and bigotry only
stoke bonfires of acrimony
and division, condemning
the reprobate principality
to the bleakness of a
smoldering discontent and
continued generations
of recurring nightmares…
Martin's dream continues
in awakened hearts
sojourning on
Music Selection:
Mahalia Jackson
Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho
MLK Day
2014
Oakland
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Oh how I am perfectly formed my edges caressed, shaped, and placed in a pattern by a steady hand. Set on a shelf for those who came across the sea, to see and purchase me. I am propped between two, one a dragon and the other a swan. I sit quietly to be picked and loved. I long to sink some root down but at last I realize how I am not truly able to do that. Growing is not in my character; I am more a caricature, only there to express spring. My petals sing with bright colors to distract the eye. That way I can trick a sojourning soldier trying to stay alive into buying this fake glory. I am holding onto the idea of being real and seal the thought of not feeling this hole deep within my papers seams. Seen as a work of art only represents time spent, more like wasted. The taste of lies fills your heart and I am glad only because you see me sitting crowded between many things. Things not creatures; created by an earthy man humbly bowing over plain sheets. I was once in that place waiting to be created. Thinking of what I might be: A plane to soar across great plains and over seas, a frog with bent knees hoping from a sense of jubilee, or even a crane bending great distances from the tops of trees. Yet I meekly was pressed into the meadows stars. Shinning on a summers day, listening to the children play. How we sway to a cool breeze, to tease the rocks and grass only seen through a magnifying glass. Sounds great but that’s only what I see from my ledge of a home. Out the windowsill I see me as I wish to be. Yet still I sit quietly thinking that will never be, for I am just a fake flower charming known as origami.
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 4:49 PM UTC
The intimations of our golden youth
Are whispering the dreams of manhood-
Subtle ways of ageless yearning
Which in kind with ambient stars
Quarterly describes, in subtle play
The chiming of a universal soul
Whose consort is a universal heart
In man or woman, ever yielding scales
From pole to pole, the hermeneutic art.
Sweet songs of knowing, harmonies in time
Resolved, upwelling, urging on the climb
Of sacred being, born to unify…
Conceived of ash, from ash to mount the skies
On wings supernal, loft on fiery reins
To ring the victors’ anthem and the aims
Of truth and love for life’s enduring worth!
O fair noblesse and sweet repose
Of sacred care, always we hold you dear
In trials of election and sojourning.
Your constant grace, deep from within, unfolds
To free the tortured thought and lonely fears
Of desperate nights and homesick yearning.
At last in you we find the kindliness
Of heart, whose honored worth is bright as gold
To phantom souls and this, too darkened, world.
Your equipage and host of tenderness
Wrought pure intent, more sure than has been told
Of truth by men, the best of mind unfurled!
Let none forget, in U we find our rest
From whom we’re born, to whom we must return
Our hope of innocence, in us the best
Of love, whose lamp has ever inward burned.
Mystery of love that sends
In timeless whispers, on the mend
Of heart and mind, eternal tides
Of being; faith unto sacred faith
Raising up the ancient gates
Where mercy ever abides.
Patiently, your mourning dove
Has preened the pinions of our love
Recouping every bit of life’s content.
At last, what awful beauty drapes the sea
And broods the dark on holy wings of peace
A train of captives, born to pure intent!
Still working yet upon the day
Though battered in the idols’ fray
To overcome the world and show forth
The proven heart, all worthlessness disposed;
Not trusting in those shadowy ways
But piercing what, upon the naked eye
Has taunted love, too dimly beheld.
While alone the thought matured
One social pact allied the tortured doubts
And rose upon the gate Beautiful
Acceptance and cooperation
Our universal worth, more brightly lit!
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
Her supple and shapely silhouette rests submissively
as the luster upon the soft satin sheets arouses
sensual images of salaciousness beneath the sheen surface
My empty yet enduring eyes slowly engage the darkness
eager to embark upon the elusive lines energizing the elation
as a sojourning moon entices her to endear
Her excelling exuberance... exploited on exhalation
exposing her explicitly; exemplifying the excerpt
of an exonerated experience as the moonlight expires
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 2:33 AM UTC
Sauntering by the edge of a calm sea,
I thus squinted through the mirror of time,
And there, I beheld memories of us,
Ebbing like a wave to a distant clime;
Wistfully I saw our golden moments,
Ineffable moments we once relished,
Away vanishing by ragging torrents,
Yonder sea where they'll never be reached;
But, betwixt my despair I beheld clear
Shadows of my heart despite cold as frost,
In a jiffy erupted with sheer pleasure
On sojourning to our sweet golden past;
Truly true love dawns once in a life time,
And in a lover's heart ever doth chime.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
7th June 2017
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
The smoke dissolves in my lungs. A constellation of bright stars forms in the depths of your eyes, weaving a language of orchestral, luminous memories—one that cannot fathom the endless possibilities of your devotion.
Maybe if I write these words and keep them inside my dismantled heart, love will come to find me. Maybe in a thousand abysses that grieve love, the heavens and the earth will entwine their fresh waters and frozen tears; faint sheets of light will envelop my already soul-weary skin and thus will seep in like a sun gently fleeting its warm light into the night sky, sojourning in the consoling darkness until dawn.
And if I tell you, that I have so much love to give, would you grow thorns and leave me in the cold, barren night like a stray dog, or would you come running across the ends of the earth—tiptoeing in bedazzling stars and soft sands, rushing into me?
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 1:53 PM UTC
I chanced to meet a ghostwriter at my door,
her transportation failed just down the road
A sojourning doppelgänger of sorts
…an elusive reflection in need of a tow
Transmuting words to wine,
We both sip time to time,
‘Til they foment catharsis
And melt to sublime.
Breathless in afterglow,
From insouciance and hubris,
Words weather to sediment
That we’ll climb to the precipice
And once at the summit
We’ll cast words adrift,
Toast our glasses to flying
And then leap from the cliff.
I read your words by day,
to skirt the wiles of your will
but I know your heart by night.
Leave me, charlatan, to my waking hours,
I know whose ghost you are
why haunt my spirit in its sanctum by the light.
I contravene with tears
in the corners of your eyes,
Guide them back, and kiss their lids
And send them off to hide.
In dark whispers,
calling you and calling you
To join them by their side.
Why must you take me with you,
is this protest not enough?
My importune to tender ears,
“I’ve things to do, I must!”
Still you wrap yourself around my world,
My overflowing chalice
And turn the wine to liquid gold,
oh, ever clever alchemist.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
Boy howdy, zipity dipity bipity do, crashawnk, codunkles,blimdicals, felu.
Words that mean nothing with clues white and black....black? Well that is you staring back, you think you have your foot in the door but it's only a crack, the lights are off , but you don't look back?
Two chairs sitting on a hill , people laughing , people playing, climb crystal stairs to the sill. See through the windows out or in? Perception of deception for those sills face in. It's your eyes that stare back that bare back and dare back. I digress , regress, deflect and subject. Myself is just playin with this yarn to no regret. So I'll stare back, I'll enter the void. I'll dare back and care back and not be annoyed.
Reaching down to pull others up, I was offered a drink and I spilled the cup. Souls are sojourning how can they be ill? Don't worry draw closer it's only a chill. Take your fill, there is more in the till.....If only we were here when the time stood still.
White light reflects and dazzles the eye? Tear drop shaped prisms make colors alive. You and I know that this is no lie, how can it be if we are to survive?
Sit in your chair and I'll sit in mine we will do time together and pass it with......looking back at each other or back and forth? They face each other, reflect each other, see into each other. Are not each other. Are looking for one another. Are combined into one another. Just went past one another.
Did your eyes get their fill or would you see more, did you see the end of life or just another shore? Were the waves beating and tearing for more? Clawing at what belongs on the floor? Little pebbles or be they keys , white and black strung with.....seaweed? How did this instrument get to this shelf? Coral and ships and notes float about? Bubbles like notes lilting about? Who makes music in these dark depths? How stricken be the keys and the pedals with....ease?
Lift it up, lift up, lift it up....no yarn no yet....lift it up! It's flying on nothing but the thickest of thin....air compressed and blown up again? Should notes not matter when your up this high? Your making music and........ I just need to sigh...
But back to the sills and the people and hills and to the eyes of yours and mine. This chair and that, this stare and that. Up crystal stairs and to the door. It slowly revolves till we are dizzy once more.
Ok now yarn, what spin you for?
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
Clinging hard metallic walls
with veins ******* sweetness from little
leftovers trickling down
the gorse stayed dancing between
open spaces of hell and heaven.
Death like tussle with elements
yellow blooms suckled pollen
from air vents travelling in the streams
passing within reach
shedding its seeds into the waiting
arms of rare tourist birds
sojourning in the skyways
of distribution and danger. The gorse
started small, spread quickly
and took over the countryside
with no one watching.
The caliphate was born
under the black hood of death
and the guns aimed at all
with scimitars of control
too late to stem
or seep the spreading venom.
Whole armies now sacrificed
on the altar of ideals.
The crusades will begin again.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
In one dreadful winter night
I awoke and found the Truth
The self in me died
And the duality melt
To synchronize
To become
The I.
Now I am the Absolute
The really Real
Earlier...
I was a 'being'
A myopic over-bent
A creature of false crisis
Of Hamletian dilemmas
Of Ramusian dualism
Caught up in the concentric circles
I was one....
Spirited into myriad forms
Of love and lust,
Of desire and appetite.
A pilgrim sojourning into the endless night
Purblind by the dazing mirages.
I lost my way
In the eternity of illusion
Materiality held me
Time bound me
At the dead-end of my experience
In the flash-back of my awareness
I delved into the I
And found myself in the Edenic Garden
Rejoicing in the celestial music.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
Tell me again why you are running away,
...forgotten yearning.
It seems to me like you've gone astray,
...very discerning.
I know you won't listen to what I've got to say,
...so concerning.
But it seems so selfish of you not to stay
...ever the casern king.
You always 've seen the world in a shade of gray
...endless murmuring.
I wanted, just once, to hear you pray
...useless stammering.
Just to know where your soul would lay
...'aven't started burning.
I tried to shape you, create form from clay
...too inurning
But it seems that I created a mess, a splay
...you're learning
Blinded, I just watched as you began to sway
...court's adjourning
And now your body ash as we prepare to bray
...just sojourning
My constant pushing led to this needless slay
...very secerning
Regrets of times past will be reminisced today
...un-upturning
And so, we say goodby one last time along the brae
...stop mourning
As we spread your ash to the wind on this spring day
...I'll be...ret..u..r...n.....i.......
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 1:23 PM UTC
After the blast of lightning from the east
A dismal fog hoarse siren howled at dawn
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks
Whispering in my hearth
Sojourning through a southern realm
Halted against the shade of a lost hill
Charged with beauty as a cloud
With bright darkling glows.
(A Poem made up of lines from various Wilfred Own
poems, mostly just first lines and published just
a day or two before Britain declared war on Germany
on 4 August 1914 in tribute to Wilfred Owen,
one of the greatest First World War Poets)
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
~
your apothecaried words,
your healing blended herbs,
soothe this wearied soul,
reduce the aging in these bones;
like streams of cooling water
flowing down from winter's snow,
light my path and show the way,
dispel the night, usher in the day;
these like soothing raindropped kiss
brings my thirsty soul some bliss;
to the corners chases bitterness,
and nudge aside its lonliness;
you lift the scales of fury's blindness,
furl the sails of life's unkindness;
tis the secret garden where i come,
where in comfort i am home;
free from harshness of sojourning,
thee my haggard soul afirming,
by your apothecaried words,
from this bruising world
my troubled soul is carried
my hearth and heart ignited
with your overflowing warming!
~
*post script.
these walls are my home,
sacred to a few of you,
making sacred paths
for me and thee,
a port of refuge
on life's tempestous days.
if e're i swerve from being comfort,
please...
send me messages to show my error,
for of my life and of my wit and writ,
i would not be one who seeks
to show his teeth or seek revenge
within these halls.
you and these shall ever be
sacred walls to me.
these and the words above
are inspired by Pamela Rae,
a gentle soul and
favorite herb blender here!
though there are many others too
who hold the line,
the very best here are
in my humble opinion
those who resist the urge and
refuse to participate
in wordy blood feuds,
or other forms of bringing
the harshness of life,
into these sacred halls.
these know the power
of their pen and
choose the better path,
wisely using their words
to bring healing, life, and light
and of course some
much needed laughter!
to each and all,
you who chose this path,
you i salute!
(: Steve*
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
A Delphic phosphorescence nests
Kindled was the yellow flame
Exclusive ulterior vibes rest
A Delphic phosphorescence nests
Sensibility shan’t ever subside
Upon sojourning the grain
A Delphic phosphorescence nests
Exclusive ulterior vibes rest
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:58 PM UTC
you are being.
pointillation
along this
broken
pale
blue dot
lit
with focus
and swarming intent,
strange, and
sometimes dark, yet
true enough:
your words do not simply word
but world
things
into existence;
your mere gaze,
ten thousand and ten gods clod in daisy chains,
whose glance together moves matter into wave,
history into potential origin
re-eden'd, new again;
your light,
never flawed or sinful,
always already
there and
so ******* perfect.
everything feels wrong,
but feels so right.
all the devils
are here
in drag.
worry not poet,
you are only light that matters.
so, play the role.
be somebody.
and make me swim
inside your pointillist earthing spoken,
cursor sojourning
across the blank page that awaits
the next line.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC
It is the first day of Spring
Such a wonderful thing
A time for rejoicing
Definitely!
A new year in the making
now that winter is breaking
The whole world is awaking,
Thankfully.
The long winter is ending
Daylight hours are extending
Good weather is pending,
Hopefully.
Longer days so empowering
Plants that spent the winter cowering
Begin budding and flowering,
Abundantly.
After months hibernating
It’s time for procreating
Many creatures start mating,
Joyfully.
The whole world is reviving
Mother Nature is thriving
Offspring start arriving,
Happily.
Birds that spent winter sojourning
In the sun start returning
As the weather begins turning,
Eventually.
And such a wonderful thing
to hear the birds begin to sing
in the bright early morning,
Cheerfully.
Everything begins growing
New life begins showing
Bright new colours glowing,
Eagerly.
People get to wondering
what the new year will bring
Hoping, wishing, praying,
Earnestly.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
gOd
must have
been somewhere else
for he had forgotten there
is a planet called Earth
squall of the morning harboring at bay
the howl of the wind rampaging
through the tired streets,
i take no sorry hints from the bends
and turns, nor did i hear the gutter weep.
only the baritone snarl of the swathe
of brute air through the entire vein
of the city.
here now is the voluble thwart,
crumbling in the heart of it
are mere species, the slavered hounds
of being chained to verily existing here, even the infinitesimal
were not spared in the glib downpour.
windows shut deep into stillness,
the automaton shadow submerged
in delirious light, as winds once again
with unannounced perditions
uplifting the nails, tossing the
alloys like birds swift in the catapult
of breezy flights, lives sojourning,
some left only a scarring story,
or just prodigal and nothing else.
carcass stench carves its reek
in the onlooker, the rat **** foams
altogether with the brine, a cesspool
of unheard screams dwarfed by
the circular roar of the grey behemoth
showing only its unblinking eye
running, searching for a place
to go less terrifying
than this, a bearable departure,
or a hopeless sling at rescue,
luckless imperative,
today's vibrant children,
ashen tomorrow,
gone.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
Serious verses often I write
but those I love most
are homely, gentle and light
of mothers feeding
their kids
of them each other kissing
of fathers toiling
in the family farm
bringing home the produce in the evening
of the blue sky shining
on every green field and garden
of flowers in blooming
of birds singing
on every bough
in the glorious morning
of the moon beaming
and the stars
glittering
of young lovers vowing
to be faithful and true
in their lives' sojourning
of the old reminiscing
their youth's most splendid moments
with hearts content in understanding
of laughter vibrating
when friends of old come together
good cheer sharing
As long as life around me is still encircling
my verses and songs shall still be resounding
life is to be embraced--that's the joy of living.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
Lately I step down
Catching my breath
Out of words
Out of my head
Out of her town
Now waiting for another
Doing my hair
Biting my lip
Keeping my eyes
From dripping but harder
It turns.
The dreams we had once
The resolutions
On the paper
All mine, none of hers. Burns.
Hole in the pocket.
Now its all in vain
I put on my glasses
Oblivious, I face the station
It comes again
Sojourning once more. The feels train
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
in the galleries
of his dreams
the most voluptuous women could be seen
these mirages of his mind
were so real
in his REM moments
curvacious pillowed thighs
******* of tantalizing appeal
sensual libations
his hands could touch
e'en the petals of the flower's
moistened entree
the night hours of sojourning
to the female forms frames
did bring him pleasure
with the colors and textures
they did supply
how he so wishes
they were at his command
in the waking hours
of day light
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
There I was, there was I, sojourning... so journeying to seek absoluteness with absolute certainty like a true voyager; a sojourner of Truth, when immediately upon my arrival, I realized, Aye, there was I, and my, oh my! I made ingress to a cloud floating upon a whisper in the eye of Nature, in Nature's eye; and she said to me with interest, in all her splendour, in that whisper that kills me so, "I was there." but where was I? Was I there when there I was, wandering in Wonderment by the by? For where e'er I go, it seems, there am I.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
True hacks and phonies all around, speaking through their ivory horns of pure disgust and wallowing in incompetence, ******* and kissing and mishandling their newborn children which they name in propriety and for the pearls of God that allow them to **** and **** well. I will blast them all to the deepest of hell for there they belong with me and they will be outrightly ****** by the sojourning sheiks that give their sufferers a razor-tipped ******** that they know they deserve. Where is your relatable, so enjoyable, three or four piece family TV meal that you so deeply craved after a long day at work? It is gone gone gone and now you are subject to your deepest incongruities with yourself, how dare you be such a bother and how dare you believe in your ability to inspire. If you are not feeling this frustration of never ceaselessly being able to grasp at the story that lies within the easel of the juices of your soul, then you are not- and never will be- worth anything more than some broken throbbing piece of genitalia that seethes and suckles at the broken fallacies of pure love and distraught youth. You do not know and you will never know, and if you dare you will never truly make progress for you are a vacuous, insufferable, erratic dame that is not a good piece of skin so much as you are the perfect tool for everyone: a loudspeaker stripped naked and bare for all the world to **** a true contributor, unlike your deepest and most esteemed of peers. Aww, how does that feel? How does it feel to finally implode from your own vicarious and hollow attempts at wisdom and knowledge? What’s left to be learned has been learned, don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? Don’t you think it’s time to stop digging your ***** ***** nails into that rusted cloud of old hope and forgiveness? Everyone has left, and that is what we must deal with. You must be some mongrel to sit down like an unrepentant dog. Cross-legged and all.
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 6:35 PM UTC
I dream about tongue travel,
sojourning over the contours
of your luscious landscape,
kissing & tasting,
nibbling & licking
all of your nooks and crannies,
finding all your secret hiding places,
the ones that make you feel real,
the ones that make you feel
totally feminine & ****
the ones I love,
the ones I appreciate,
the ones
I can't get enough of
you.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
studious skinny scruffy scribe
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sniggering,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning ********
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC