I famigerate without taciturn timidity the straits of a straightened jury-rig of nesiote narrowbacks harping the accordion zest and zeal of the plenilune consuetude of a scrivello infamy sprung into the rows of rip-tide acclaim hamstrung by the decline in fastidious upkeep of the timberlask vesicles that avoid the phenakism of prismatic reformation fundamental to transmogrified simpers of dismal saturnine darkness encroaching on the parallax of realms within the dominion of the Almighty for the omniety of the usucaption of the fruitful prune in the priggish afterglow of a noontide eclipse bereaved of whispering retreat in the hallowed wasms of stiltanimity becoming an entreaty to ecumenical barbs of propriety selected without intimacy to folksy bibliopolists but rugged in sterling tribute to the true vine of the appointed ways of sacerdotal triage among a roughshod vanity of a derelict world marveling at otiose rejoinder rather than true spasms of tragedy flickering in the recessive alleles of a careworn culture. The travesty of Beirut is the bromide of current leapfrogs of sentinel lust and malapert destruction forming an ironclad camaraderie with chocolate-box langlauf disasters wed uxoriously to the penury of the brackish version of the catadromous bailiwick of despotic nescience pregnant with sophrosyne redemption at the cusp of a plaid perfunctory quip of quisling intimations of the sketchy provenance of humdingers of comestion lurking in the plodding prowl of a ribald wiseacre of a beckoned billow of trinkochre welded into a conscientious blarney that awaits the popinjays that sculpt brittle redshort fictions into awakened carapaces of a limacine reduction of impoverished fulmination into the neatly sworn footprints of a geotaxis shuddering with magnetism only in spectacle without the overhailing zeal of vintners who specialize in curtailed wine drawn from Caiaphas and soaked with the muddy turgid Siloam as avenues toward the repentance of asunder becoming marginalized as a whimper of taciturn choleric war receding not even into an audible delope as the masterful chryselephantine assault of cryptic auditions in the theater of effete refuge sink into the pelagic oblivion of a remarkable blister festering into inconsequence as the rebarbative emoluments to tattered travesty hearken a battle-cry yet emanated in the reprehensible bulwark of the gerendum of a poised plastered humility aggrieved with such friction turgid on rollicking magpiety that even the larceny of brutish renegades of triumph sink beneath the brevity of accident rather than the fortitude of globalized turpitude weakened by the improper demarche of fuliginous homeless depredation of innocent bystanders flocking to the harvest of war found in insight rather than the perfunctory bromidrosis of the macroscian enmity of hidden maleficence spawning a credenda that is spayed on arrival in the faineant zoolatry of a spelunkers’ madcap dash to flex the filigrees of turmoil in resentment of the amicable truces of a God who never tempts and a lurking lie that never itches for trigger-happy hapless rebukes because the skittish skirmish of futilitarian repose is a scoundrel of the profligacy of errant weakness blinkered by the humdrum din of deafening semaphores of provocative thornbush on the threshing floor of cowardly imposture president of all affairs of spirit and all renegades of caitiff megalography of forgotten oblivion despite the curglaff of vindictive and never vindicated assaults on the integrity of the birthright of Lebanon to wager a presumptive gamble of trifling retribution for the alacrity of suspicions eloping with forbidden mistresses in the humdingers of flackey rather than the troudasque harbinger of a lunacy impugned by a restive triumphant fallow time seasonable for a litany of pretenses demassified for a liturgy of seances with eldritch commiseration in the saw-toothed serration of selachostomous bravado wielded by likely or unlikely culprits of ravenous ruin shepherded by the guilty cardinal sins of the complicity of explosive vanity marauding on the ruins of a fortress debased by pettifoggery of internal excuse rather than the wrath of provocative ire in the irksome cauterized wounds of the inured to deliver spectacular reticence despite such grievous diacope. Evil gilderoys of maleficence carve the sapwood of the periphery to aimless subversions miscarried by the modern atrocity of glamour memorialized as a sound-byte underminnow of a roaring rhombos rip tide as stocks wavy at the curvature of edgy demarche despoil the denuded wasteland of cultural despondency a wagtail to the impudence of famigerated affronts that deserve a sterling recompense wielded by the onerous and operose burdens of a prone decubitus of aboriginal bread seeded from Heavenly realms dissipating into the roars of blinded conflagration too meek to even exist on the ramshackle hillside of a barnstorm of aggression powerless to encapsulate the nexility of unspoken allegiance to destruction rather than the halidom of consecrated marriages balking at the caulked provisions of a slugabed monolith of craven capers on the recesses of abeyance in the interregnum of a time where famous people communicate with me. How can such a charismatic bravado of lurking presidency stoop to the denizens of usufruct in licentious latitudes on the outskirts of consideration even pretend anymore that the vacuum of effluvium (Gal 6:7) can be mocked and milked into the row of centuries blistering through the calenture of apprisal and heaved awakening as the zephyrs of the Occident meet temporal juncture with the coenesthesia of a hibernating trumpery formed by the turnverein of listless lethargy billowing through fumiducts of siphoned lavaderos of hypogeiody that the underground spasms of cacophony could marvel at the historic emergence of a magnate with the most powerful magnetism of God shepherding the true flock John 10:27 because he is willing to be the good shepherd and potentially die for his sheep John 10:11. Remember, whenever you hear a Queer Studies Radical Feminist bloviate on emasculated sardanapalian posture John 8:44 and even though personified as a masculine titan of bulwarks of immense otiose wilted inkburch shielding the world from true meaning, the maskirovka of the Devil is present in the dark trespasses of personal abandon among the wilderness of many marsupial jackals of martles wagtails to an invictive proclamation of invulnerable sappy sopanaceous filibusters against hefty sinew forged the bony fragments of the charnels lost to brief epitaphs never mourned in threnodies worthy of remembrance that the departed died with us and live again through us whether in Heaven as participant or on Earth as an acting battalion of the skullduggery of the mystique of shimmers of God acting on Man’s behalf 1 Col 1:15-16. That the firstborn of all creation obtains supremacy through the finalisms that I seek as the captain of trailblazing untrammeled roads we are reminded of the narrow and wide gates expanded by the explosion of thought that trespasses into the hidebound ratchet of a reasonable bleat becoming a harsh outcry of justice for Lebanon that they feel so powerless in implosion what could aggrieve potentate civilizations to the precipice of global maleficence in destruction. Swarming for alveolate hominid hominism as an outgrowth of alienation by design polarized spectral dangles at jaundice flamestun by the ordeal of oppositive barnacles to the chryselephantine habituation of a masked menace of Procrustean authority to muzzle the free license of armamentariums of a latent man keen to the kenspeckel visibilia that we might have punctuation in the poised primiparas of a hearkened unprecedented in modern history that the traipse of lapse is no longer the tenure of mindless calculation of authoritarian gabble sentries of a mobilized fleet of embodied human ignorance but a foisted sprite of whangams of apothegm that deserve in their gnomic respite from the phenakisms of a philogeant kumbaya assertive in its treony of radical compassion for those who dwell in tentpoles of revelry bound not to the covenant that sent us into light and sparkling in hidden obsolescence that the fulgurant words of Mount Horeb (Sinai) are both immaculate and without trace of sin because Acts 17:30 declares a powerful truth lost to the twinges of time that issued peremptory governance of my theology but through remission I admit the grievances of septiferous blockades of ponderous plodding nescience haunting the spectral aubades of paeans to a high-flown sun darting through galactic space apace of the velivolant sails of divine wind that come in the spree of recompense authored by the vines to which all roots belong rhizogenic and immutable because the demarches of time forget the marches against the cauterized grime of new-world suspicions of aleatory fickle gubernatorial proclamations that issue reverb more than sprinkle flanged atrocity in the sight of the holy ramparts of an active double-edged God who reminds us of our many witnesses but provides not a single latchkey of escapism resident to many hapless homes of the drunken sing-song rhapsody nullifying the psychotaxis of the motatory miserly Draconian charades of Leviathan grasping the tridents of warp-speed revisionism in a benighted world overrun by mandarist fictions that fumigate a pasteurized control of cultural malcontent in situations of dearth infested by the concentration camps of China that remain unheralded in brumal and brutish indoctrination spared from worldwide outrage by the tribunes that are complicit more in malfeasance than they are celebrated for the herald of heinous bletcherous crimes of abecedarian abligurition anointed in waste rather than refined like unquenched slakes of eternal water so that no man can thirst hungry for the daily bread without returning to the providence of God awakened. Recalcitrant by the impudent quislings of repugnasket flarmeys of advenient flummoxed besieged clairvoyance I bask and beaze on the light that never fades because of the brackish whisk of a barnstorm of allegiance that is contumely to a bromide society listless in inferiority of intellect to my former streaks beyond jejune reiteration of the Jehu mentality against the canine fate of Jezebel and her faltered ministry of ewnastique waged as battalion gore of a trifling musket of an aboriginal swim through the oceanic gaze of peerless eternity squirming because of flagging resolution among the spandrels of incommunicable largesse lolloped extravagantly not just for the spoils of hyped pedigree but also a chamade to Heaven to enlist the purblind vestiges of a crambazzled Earth rejuvenated in adolescent esprit rather than callow eclat against the outrecuidance of whimpered miserly conscientiousness that exists in a shorter frame of reference than the provident dashes through a furlough of time and ancestry to cobble together a lapidary bristling excoriation of the tumescent squabbles of mystique brave enough to rarefy the humid pasteurization of a mannequin kenspeckel still-frame jilt of jostled infamy brusque in its curt envies borne of still-born promenades of a whasper between the youthful ligony and the intrepid soul of a collective warrior debased by the adscititious participant to elegant effronteries of the newfangled intellectual vogue that is the grombang of the tralleyripped hamshackle of ostentation meeting mirrored paralysis in sheepish ewnastique creations meddlesome in their ironic frizz of recursion as I lounge on the habits of creation by intelligent lurches of design that appointed the demarcations of all creatures and the mysterious bridge between the missing links that remain elusive to the flombricks of the misery of epigenetic rhizogenic imparlance of desuetude cringing at foresight littered with the disaster of ravished hindsight blushing at the limpid degeneration of the vapid varnish of benighted ligony rather than heroic strides of stoic-epicurean compromise in the apolaustic pursuit of the one eternal God present in rebellion but never the temptress of mendacity and mendaciloquence because the tug I have on speed is ratifying a cauterized casualty in the spumid betrothed wicked snuffs of extinguished furor for a time beyond barnstormed racloir rugged origination and faulty phenogenesis that escorts mythos into actionable litanies of the awakened breed scoffing at the inkburch of “Electrolytes”-wernaggle that besets the queer fascinations of a warped generation. The pytherian swank of artrench embodied in the recocted rendevation of hypetrophy in hubris swaddled by the reductive dranger polluting the realm of compliant complicant complaints of the ashowel of albatross astroud in the hibernaculum of langlauf rather than the ultramontane fiduciary tether to the estrockentch rather than the laureates of plevisable courage found in truest shades of vinsky not the subhastation of a gaslighted galvanization of purebred classy swivels of opportunism nor the ravenous incubus appetite for usufruct in subversion belongs to the behest of an insular nesiote flexing the flux of subversion as the candid posies of saccharine immodesty become relegated figments of the everlasting age of promised propriety rather than rigid stultimathy of hackencrude virtues of virtuosos that marvel at troudasque wonders occluded by the girlcott of Team Biden and his militarized soldiers of desiccation of trumpery and the faucets unbounded by swanky concealed epithets of regaled rentgourge by a hapless objection of the runic destruction of apothecary leniency becoming of the betokened emblazonry of scrimshank in every perfuncturation but embodiment of character shouldered by every chasm of power erected in demolition of the warped egintoch radicalism of the submerged wernaggles of the hopeless minority swimming with autodimplage few have to bear but the truest flock of God heeds my voice and has the sapience to spare themselves of contumely and invective to hearsay of invictive triumph beyond radioglare swirk to renege the musical providence of the chamades to the asterongue I often take for granted by immunifacient degrees of the foretold encroaching upon the crux of a pivotal and pivoted destiny not distant from cordial providence. The sweedle of epigones for the risctender of obligation to subvert the coryphaeus with the rigmarole of gentincture borrowed from the Gates’ formulaic effleck of perverse warbles of collectivized contrition for abetted cultural pederasty limpid in its achieved objective of the crudenzy borrowed from a lacking impediment to arentrum belonging to the knowledgeable happenstance of the glorified dengonin is a denostram that forestalls the agelasts behind porsters of culture rather than legitimate mainlined contamination of wellsprings of fliction of paranoiac enthusiasm might swim in kinkativy blinkered blind piebald girouettism but never dauntless in sematic entrenchment of robust dilettantism as the swaddled corrugation of time into centripetal ****** against centrifugal modernism that alienates propriety while estranging by vacuous vacuums the outspoken progeny of the surviving age beyond the Jay and Silent Bob travesty that manifests as a glower of menacing Bushian invention to tarnish with ****** mythos the drapes of a defenestrated realism of the flinkers of sheepish indignation against many drakstings of intonorous sclerotic mandibles of crackjaw chockablock annihilation of core precepts and institutions indelible from the face of a quixotic entreaty of a ragged intrusion of ageotropic monoideism above the secular-clerical fidelity of honest witness borne of triumph and tribulation festooning the nativist hyperbole into a useless effigy of mountebank imposture silly in precision and purblind to gallantry. Yet I must kisswonk rather than truckle under such ponderous pretense because of a sertivine certainty in the thickets of prudence rather than the tomfoolery of humgruffin impudence scaffolds me to a post-modern ****** that shanks through prisons of guilt and burrows an interrogation of reality supreme over all complaint that the virtuosity of the Gifted (the elect flock that comprehends my volcanic diatribes against mandarism and stomachs them without sardonic pastorauling insults of passerby vicissitude) will spare many nations of awakened perjury against human instinct in the fitness of nations to denigrate the populist squalor of lurid and livid ewnastique wernaggles of the listless buttress against my formal modesty encouraged in all affairs even in aggrieved humility belonging to intimidation rather than spawned jostles through the rumpus of shunamitism that might rankle a later age.  Yentrified morality is a personal flapdoon against the promiscuous pederasty of freewheeling ophelimity and the lurking narquiddity of the traindeque of donnist hedonism to hijack my psychedelic tolerance into an unwarranted and inadvisable sanction into the netherworld of the frinterans of cultural modality that curdact religion into a cosmetic cosmogony rather than a soldiered infamy becoming a beacon on a towering hill growing in solidarity with the pleonasm of existence itself which surpasses crude formulas that already abide by the riches of decorum too much to be admired as trigger-happy fools run the asylum of domesticated irony and the librettos to downfall rather than the wassails of “The Man” becoming more masculine in featured charisma rather than defiled against Leviticus among others who preach belonging to nuclear creed without fission but for true rapprochement to the fusion of the treony with legitimate gripes of unsung complaint among the masculine minority. The traindeque of a baseline complaint aggrieved by the kilmarge carapace of stiltanimity for the hackencrude resentment of the inkburch of illiteracy is a profligate degeneracy lurid in hyped enmity that the envied entreaty becomes the despotic shadow masquerading in shadows blossoming into the full wisdom of the mature sophrosyne heart eager to pour out blessings upon a conservation of recycled epitaphs becoming hearsay in a rebarbative convolution of redacted rigmarole incendiary to whittled henpecks of political engineering but never vapid in their flagging insistence upon an ecumenical toleration of the brooks of modernity and compromise upon which much felicity is aggrandized and permuted against the spoilsport frinterans who encage a dodgy moralism in wilted etiolated jaunty pedigree that espouses the maudlin grievous and ghastly ghouls and sprites that haunt the fictional hobgoblins of the Potemkin Village that finds usury convenient and perjury even more facile for the glib facetious engineers of modalities of hatred unsung by the ribald witwanton “I got a Solution...You’re a ****…South Carolina What’s Up” crowd that never marvels at ingenuity or rarely attempts it in the summit of the climacteric jaundice of hidebound whemmles of ridicule sparring against spartan flagitious wiseacres of genocide of ideation for the revelry of armed missives denatured by raw promotion of the questionable ethics of a flavork of needed slakes of unquenchable desire swarming us with daily temptresses not of wayward women but the disarmed pretense of a lapidary rejoinder to a long expatiation or harangue against hackencrude curdles of rowboat injustice masquerading as sentinel savory destruction of the towering edifice of proclamation. There is great menace in the casuistry of sophist philogeant philocubists dicey with destiny for mincemeat puppetry against sciamachy for the gallionic rise of gammadions in the craven lore of baseline pasquinade rallied to the insuperable causes of tribal shibboleth anointed by secular totemisms of fracture and fricative hisses of lineage that amount to pleonasms of brassage rather than mystagogical mystique of the prestige of human fraternity that shatters paradigms of creed and invites an honest vestige of Noble Savages to roam the Earth yet again unencumbered by lugubrious welters of misnomer and malapropism wagered by artifices of guileless supremacy that is cursory prima facie neglect of even the sororal duties not of sophomoric glib facetious cowardice of backbited backlash of venom militarized for the desuetude of entertained visagists sculpting *****-nilly their version or verdict of decisive apartheid when we should all rally behind the united frontier of the chosen flock in the chosen generation to truckle beneath the pews not of ignorance aggravated by the polluted kilmarge egintoch puritan barbs against publicity choices I now regret (as an emolument to an incredibly euphoric track with a poor miserly message to the enchanted flock inoculated from such diversions) because alighted upon the quenched thirst of salvation I will be judged more harshly as a teacher James 3:1 than the rest of my flock but gifted with the gratuitous salvation carved from the chiselers of ribald infamy capering around with dacoitage and ladronism of the bomans of unsuspecting quixotic caprice I must reckon with the burden of ghoulish shadows on the spectral imprint of my eternal soul relishing in vicarious splendor yet bereaved of quintessential love 1 Cor 13:4 that is necessary for the nuclear conclamation of vibrant hues of resplendent and refulgent providence necessary not from a dynastic perspective but from an aimed providence that alerts dynamism rather than chides with mimes of useless schadenfreude carved from the prestidigitation of the wicked condemned in Galatians 6:7 for the mockers of sanctanimity accorded upon me as gratuity that no man can boast my elite ears and my astute wonderworks of imagination qualified me for prophecy and among the most mesmerizing prophecies registered to fulfillment that the world has ever yet witnessed because the watershed isn’t a bridgewater for the chavish of ignoramus hatred congealed into thrombosis but the narrowed gate enlarges to encompass the swath of man amenable to the flocks that escort me into permanence rather than regale the tridents of a hedonism that elected me clairvoyant at a cost of immaculate splendor registered to the holy clergy of the Sacred Catholic Church and the broader Ecumenical Endeavor that tries to be a seamstress and bridge elemental divides inherent to divided approaches to liturgy which flex their strengths in times of robust fortitude rather than become a subhastation to the vestiges of the pilgrimage to false tabernacles erected by people cozened into charlatan endeavors by the pernicious and persnickety whiplash of Least Common Denominator subversion of widely heralded sentience and sapience enriching the lot of human ambition rather than stoking useless conflagrations of refracturism accorded to the swallock of primposition of the hackneyed hackencrude that swivels with the odious ornery pretense of overtures not to apertures and lychgates of the true abiding Heaven felt on Earth by many Christians whether in sobriety or not without the evil maleficence of a misguided donnism of narquiddity for the grambazzles of aged recklessness aborning on vacant responsibility that is rickety in its magnanimity of absolution because of the ulterior chase for bottom-line top-dollar oligochrome foisted by the cartels that blind true spiritual insight from ever reaching the magnitude of ambition required to shape mountains of revolution among the tertiary squabbles of a conversant Earth open to the troudasque gallop into yield and cloveryield for repcrevel reforms the paludism of the swamp remains skittish about conforming to because objectivism is a renegade of perspicuous light blinkering in hubris and gourmandizing the hinderbaggle of cosmetic pollutions aggravated by the plevisable articles of envy and TLDR politics to “Electrolyte” logic that is a sad recursive wernaggle of the useless buffoonery of humgruffins of tatterdemalion spate rollicking in the magpiety of a timid consentient faltering myth of unanimity among the beleaguered rainbows of many lugubrious tears showering bickering blasphemy upon the mockery of God for the pleasantry of self-aware sheepish resignation that professes only that any form of meritocracy is existentially unfounded only because the beehive elected its progeny the scepter of the ironclad kingdom that wages war against idolatry and serenades heaven with luxury simultaneously. We are all shepherds of providence and there is power enough in collective prayer that we don’t fiddle around with bodewash in mistaken identity but riddle the persnickety blemish of the fastidious critiques of biting sarcasm as a tantamount blasphemy and a criminal repartee of sardonic cloys of inanity foisted above truth. The peevish breedbates who scour my evidentiary pillar of chiseled vertebrae of unbroken bones of solidarity with oikonisus will be sorely disappointed in their truthful audits of my true perception because in every single case it exonerates me from the pulpit of menacing idiots who scrawl random gabble in attempts to sound smart while reeking of iniquity wrought by the gavels of predevoted inferiority of complexion and attitude that gravitates them to an insensate benumbed transmogrified bailiwick of an appalling atrocity of mythomaniacal myths spurned by consensus among those who prize my grandeur above the superstitions of the illiteracy of the rancid rankle of otiose stupidity writhing its own sheepish envy of arbitrary dislike motivated by feminist aggressors waging warfare on turf I already conquered by swaying the intelligentsia to beckon my cause rather than pillory me on a false scaffold of frinteran abuses of the nyejays of bernacle that junediggle in the taradiddle of the nanciful excoriation of my leaden corpse weighed down by the witchcraft of connivance trayning its own delicate myths while avoiding scrutiny for appalling contumely that deserves an audience more suited for fracklings of treony belonging to the trinkochre of the rising alienation and suicides among perverted gay indoctrination that is a scourge on the planet because it willfully denies with its portentous hibbles the regaled wisdom of the culminated age against renegades of apostasy and for the behemoths of true monumental change that sizzles in savory circles among the vanguard only to alarm the Status Quo hijack of my entire endeavors as a covert crusade to use wrecking-ball fashion tactics to cosmetically incisively and insidiously perform a harprick of surgery upon a blameless countenance only for being a thorn to wragatek wragapole slavery which wages war against universal salvation because it gripes with inkburch and circular pleonasms about the most obvious glaring lies and feasts upon the serrated edge of the capers of hatred that frolic in meadows too skittish to enter the barbarian fortress of my forested residence robust in fortitude and glowering with a menacing contempt for runaround psychobabble that obganiates the obelisk of the moribund crusade to make normative ethics effeminate and to enthrone inviolable women’s speech as supreme to any male objections like the Cristiano Ronaldo accuser that came forth 8 months after #MeToo one of the most dishonest campaigns in modern history enthroned by Hollywood elites in gammerstang insurrection against pay-gap ethics done manipulatively with the sapwood of mendaciloquence like Blasey Ford whose physiognomy reeked of maudlin pretense that was so ornery in how obvious of a maleficence the intrepid Abortion Agenda has over the minds of selfish women who prefer ecbolic second-term abortions to the servile gripes of primiparas building new life rather than tearing down the scaffolds of new generations. Hominism deserves its rise because-in increasing numbers-men are derelicted by society and coerced into vapid tallespin enslavement that ridicules itself with the perjury of soul to the soulless vanity of recursive cycles of benumbed narquiddity found in “****** Hero” among other atrocities littering the human fascination with the hinderbaggle of our polluted age verging on totemic blistering hegemony of a few rotten apples corrupting the vagrant ingenuity of the forgotten champion who ushered in a new era of candor in the attempted interregnum of the United States government because I Am Hollywood got the name correct considering how many memorials there are to me in the movie industry. The junediggles of sc-ha-den-freud-e which is as deliberate of a German pun as JUDEn JuDEN which shows the German language is as farsighted as you can get and why many of my neologisms have a German tinge to them. German is an elegant language with botched syntax but a peerless repertoire of vocabulary and even though I love French, the Germans are smart because their language is smart not just because of petty arguments of pedigree which are specious at best. Being dontolesque with  the zenkidu of rengall nauclatic mythos is an artful degree which accords nominal prestige to licentiates while excorifying the obvious metaphors of sunblind logic that scours the scorched Earth of internet diatribes of sophistry and dethrones the Marcie Biancos of the world “Heterosexuality is officially OVER...K Bye” with her 145 IQ and a Stanford Degree in Queer Studies (A professed atheist by her own Twitter admission) with the warped logic to equate a heterosexual relationship for a woman as ******* to patriarchy. For someone that well-studied in literature she sure is a dumb-*** and I will demolish the syntagma of those that root against me for Status Quo preservation in the official interregnum of Saturdays during the Trump Presidency. We need an official referendum on the ideas of termagant illogical anti-egalitarian poison that derives from a deracinated worldview that doesn’t contextualize how powerful language is at shaping thought because if the entire world were Anglophonic every single country on Earth virtually would see immediate dividends in terms of intellectual creativity and limber with concepts and percepts because it is no accident the most successful empire in History the United Kingdom, was favored because of its shibboleths of Shakespearean creativity draped with flairs of the irreverent while gilded by God to be a majestic commonwealth. England and France monopolized a huge majority of history by no accident because although English might be a slightly keener language the French culture of salons of freewheeling intellectual enlightenment gilded the 17th and 18th centuries into absolution despite the Panglossian epithets of Voltaire who was ironically dissuaded from religion because of the All Saints Day 1755 Lisbon Earthquake and Tsunami. We need to be vigilant against encroachments of perceived shibboleths and more keen on an affirmative meritocracy that favors the poor and blesses the meek in their poverty and inspire ambition among them to join the coteries of refinement in thought sometimes harder to achieve with crackjaw lollops in pleonasmic languages that fail to articulate with nexility or forceful wit the true abstractions that govern the pataphysics of the unknown. Language is so decisive over human thought that it is incumbent upon every language to refine its vocabulary to trayne compendious verbiage and trim the hedges of global reform to invite the curiosity of the age to favor all creeds and languages of Abraham and the diverse progeny of a variegated panoply of majestic feats common to all parlance and capacity beyond just the Anglophonic snare because the world needs not a chicanery of blustering churlish buffoonery but an Almighty respect for the consanguinity of all to God’s blessed creation that he inseminated by his deliberate hands to enrich the world with diversity rather than cleave the world with piecemeal skeumorphs of radical propaganda that opposes the modern and post-modern egalitarian streak. One wrong must be corrected, however, the underrepresentation of Hispanics in the media and in film because this grave error is much more pervasive than the ******* LGBT inclusion narrative because these days the lollygags of fashionista odalisques with Obelisks to Baal get more say over the common decorum than the marginalized bronteum of the  rich and vibrant Latino culture which is squelched by the poverty of media and Hollywood representation. Synectics showcases how a henpecked aim at the synaesthesis of culture congregated around our Almighty Father blessed among the nations who adhere to the progeny of Abraham can be more blessed when working together rather than tribal with nepotism and aristocratic in sustained affronts to the elevation of affirmative meritocracy to the forefront of discussion rather than the froward backlash of benumbed narquiddity because the synallagamatic nature of complexity needs to be devolved with industrious ambition to all cultures and the savory flair of the vogue needs not merely a wednongue fascination with an eventual terminus of crudenzy but a sustained intellectual reformation on all fronts to standardize the English language through Hollywood and the Music Industry so that the dragnets of appeal etch a permanent trace into the engraved souls of the true flock John 10:27 are consecrated in divine purpose to reverse the Babylonian Diaspora of confused and conflated purpose that stunts the raltention of humane course and the proper pataphysical syncrisis of an evolved mundane temperament that transcends the circular traps of circumlocution common to the milquetoast industrial titans who winsomely charm with toady gestures the elitism of a moribund philosophy of intellectual thought delegation to elevate the common rhetoric to reach new pinnacles in both tribune and political gamesmanship because higher standards are required even when they surpass some common understanding so that every ambition becomes a conclave for the goal of human unity solidified by the truth of the kerygma and proclaimed to all creation as the culminated synclastic reformation of the idea of indulgence and the propriety of regaled moderation that appeases the common decorum with a shared vested interest in Latin America especially which is besieged by the cultural tenets of obrogated specialization and denigrated by the common myths of warped phenogenesis which should be debunked as a wasm of hypocrisy limited because its callous tentacles lack the charismatic fulgurant equipment of future generations to bear the operose burdens of a quintessential time of harmony united by the hymns for God by God to appease the sentries in Heaven and the celestial realms that exist for our merriment more than our detriment. The sprauncy have the  frikmag to recognize the spuria of apocryphal heresies that encourage kinship above matriotism and shared fortitude for intellectual valor rather than “*** talk TLDR” hashtags abounding on the turf of the insensate wernaggle of clueless charlatans wiggling through life not because they were borne into slavery but because they choose to be Helicopter Parents of “Baby Shark” rather than token mantelpieces of enlivened culture shimmering with radiation of Gods glory as cemented in Colossians 1:15-16 because the firstborn of all creation lives in some form in the ligature of Christ 1 Cor 12:12 because there are so many talents that exist in our variegated world that the mastery of expertise in dominions of conversant fluency will abet the variegated crops of a draped humanity corrugated on its own ironies for the delicate sizzle of beatific felicity multiplying itself in centupled design over centuries to overcome hinderbaggle while realizing the fictions of some drawflark. The strigine world concedes to this upstart rooster maybe considered a parvenu of dearth but luxuriant in riches boundless to all that draw near to the kerygma of Christ and feast on his daily bread found throughout liturgy because we should listen to people like Cardinal Timothy Dolan who is exceptionally astute (perhaps an understatement) to guide us on a regenerative rather than degenerative pathway towards universal attempts at salvation that broach a new decorum bridged by aliens to select chosen emissaries to bridle the fissions of repartee reserved for the forlorn that balk at ambition rather than relish a new era of seditious determination against the determinist fallacy and for the mental health of those coping with autodimplage and sheepish regrets and persnickety articles of remorse because all the world deserves our consolation and desperate attention rather than the trumpery of the circus masquerade of marauding agitprop which congeals into thrombosis of toxicity as the vast majority of Democrats refuse to even hear Trump speak when he is discussing discursive solutions to enigmatic quagmires,for, if more people listened to Trump they would be disabused by the specious claims of his misogyny and white allegiances because his candor is brilliant and despite the prominent advocacy of Biden who has considerable prestige in my memory, we deserve a bipartisan syncretism that unites the world and unifies the country away from the swerve of salacious mythos and towards a rambunctious magpiety of solidarity against the secular humanism of a defunct piety to Marxist feminism which is a crudenzy among the awakened men around the world increasingly alienated by the hackencrude of wednongue illiteracy even trumpeted by the vanguard as panacea when it is a comestible form of poison. We need visionary unity where there was once toxic divisive balkanization of exclaves of limited foresight clashing with new wave awakening to the persecution of illumination itself for not a rigid hierarchy but a flexible structure of inclusion that adjusts to cultural expectancy and modifies the traindeque that strands many in institutionalized poverty especially in Latin America and India and obviously Africa too. The stegophilists of language should herald the aubade of the chavish of redintegration over the squawk of din of squabbles of internecine redacted revisionism beleaguering our lyceums with toxic agitprop even at the highest institutions of learning who balk often at the recycled auditorium of useful thought because their venal tilt is complicit in squelching freedom of thought and our schools should open early so that zig-zag-zoom politics around feldtrounds who are eagerly outnumbered by the patrons who police thought become agentic not with outspoken treacheries but inseminations of intimation to hint at the spectral mystagogical reality we are all members of despite hurdles that beset the hemiteries of odalisques who seek inertia rather than mobilization. The ribald underminnow of transparency is a carcinogen of the rampant siege of Status Quo coarse hypocrisy for tentative flings with cadged cloyed saturnine professions of the landmines of atrocious miscarriage as I soldier on in the causes of the poor and the forlorn to become enriched by the glory that God delivers with munificence so that all might be enriched by the emanations of the true vine and in distaste of error I rebuke the armada of belittled armamentariums of the cantonment of deep-state breedbates boiling over potboiler frikmag that exists as a transcendent obscurantism flowering in decisive times to warp the contextual footprint of a life served in the service of all the oppressed people as a kind of Moses figure raised by the elite and fighting for the criminally oppressed and the ****** of mediagenic hyperbole is dissatisfied by my glowering spectacles because they dismount from the equipoise of the righteous gallop towards ecumenical solidarity at untimely punctuations of juncture superseding the flictions of frikmag dethroning my righteous valor and provident sanctanimity to prowl like predatory wolves the fathers of the casuistry of mendaciloquence to accentuate the stridor of inopportune squalor of the selachostomous regimes of teetotaler totalitarian freebooters who prevent bootstraps from manufacture as they gradgrind the world into ergonomic insufficiency while I provide a Kamacho-like galvanization to the broader world that favors the consanguinity of all animate sentience to the aboriginal vine of the universe that plays with the toyed cadge of oppositive support but lends credence to a more evolved view than the crudity of encapsulated travesties inserted with jaundice against the lyceum of freedom of thought and the celerity of headless horseman galloping in partial interregnum to crown the strobic stridor of the stiver of the steven of contarianism engineered for walloped ringleaders of the renegades of heresiarch sedition in their odalisque oaths to Pagan dieties carved from the sapwood of gullible Illuminati naivety that professes allegiance to the worst whangam ever invented Baphomet and his faked cronies of ewnastique free-for-all diminutive crags in the renown of dawning light becoming cagey struthious structuralism embedded in sclerotic wasms of the wanhope of a nullified message becoming a sacred creed to the attentive while the lilt of the otiose drawl in serpentine convolution a ribald pleonasm of circular circumlocution that provides locomotive linearity rather than leapfrogged slogmarches into the province of the territorial alignment of kinship against the partisan hollertrap and the stigmatophilia of obsessive persnickety popinjay beadledom the last stronghold of the rickety resistence to this Saturday interregnum which presides over the better part of the intelligentsia if not the common pedestrian parlance because hortatory weights cannot be described in any other way than metagnostic flickers of Yellow Submarine vandalism of a pristine living animation of the humane spirit that prizes the plight of the poor and the blarney and blench of unjust opprobrium faced by the institutionalized bailiwick of flictions of gammadion gallionic posture when in fact they register as seismic entities engraved upon my Christian conscience that strictly welcomes the emigrants to truth from whatever consecrated virtue they originate from because all are capable of the same light and the same compassion of a beatified humanity rather than the relish of deep-state castophrenia which belies its own ribald gay mockery on live TV as not a single twinge of ****** attraction overtakes me in matriotic sardanapalian effrontery of a hollow but sadly hallowed vainglory of the hierodules that bury the coffers of patriotism in a sad LGBTQ graveyard of landmines that demonstrate a complete disregard of the nuclear family and should be decried as an outcry against redefined Christianity bolted to unshakable irrefragable beliefs in the constitution of man and women wed together in one monogamous flesh with the occasional cuddle of close tithes to the ******* of friendship as the slavery of sin in Leviticus 20:13 falls to the wayside because this patriotic lewdness is a vapid fatuous derangement that is a new low for the United States attempt to inoculate China from religious accord with the broader world and should be seen as a Chinese maskirovka worthy of the heaviest disdain and I will disavow America if it continues to bandy the tripwires of Chinese boondoggles under the American banner and pretend its pretense isn’t lagging under its own bletcherous abecedarian elementary fallacy of psychobabble oblivion of dark saturnine brusque termagants of tatterdemalion cloaks of the selfsame illusion of a desperation of China to wreck the United States economy and inseminate Florida, Arizona and Texas especially with the Coronavirus to swing the election in Biden’s favor with or without US Complicity to expedite the course of a virus which sees no resurgence in any other civilized country in the world while the heroic Russians, Germans, Israelis, French, British and true American Christians banish the barristers of bad taste as an acerbic poison on the wellsprings of a flagitious flag I would kneel for in the knells of disgrace if the pompous and completely inoculated missives of Buttigieg ******* continue to roam shepherded by deep state elitism to wreck the opportune moment of religious revival for petty reasons of chryselephantine gambit and gimcrack for institutionalized poverty which my ambition is to heal completely by sacerdotal deeds and consecrated prayers in the Lord whose peace surpasses the temporal despair of senectitude and comforts the grievances of the aggrieved because Galatians 6:7 is no more true than the fatuous display of muscular idiots waving American flags for turpitude rather than flogging very perverse Gay men in the streets which might be a more fitting outcome even though I must remove the plank in my own eyes first to see the irony of the detested. The doytin is no longer misguided by the nanciful derision of the vociferous clangor of the venal Gates mafia militia wrecking ball vaccination Bezos crew in Medina which is a mettle I can’t match when you own every citizen in the world in a few square miles of nesiote territory the denizens of conquest besieging religious sanctity with profane outbursts of corruptible linchpins on the public lynch of the strepsis of periblebsis that vitiates commonwealths of supreme sputtering regimented clairvoyant superlative alabaster wealth of the isangelous protectorate of the supreme God that supervises his careworn flock into the storge against the scourge of prosodemic stigma stained in bleeding heart liberal bathed tears of pseudoautochiria of Jim Morrison glaring in the face of the triads that Killed Him in the French Connection ******* of 71’ that outnumbered his hobohemia of loyal jewish bohemians livid in the rhapsody of nurture rather than enfeebled by the unfurled destiny of the Soul Kitchen he foresaw to his own pitiable demise at probably the hands of strangulation because no autopsy was performed. Although repetitive Transparent is a real anthem for oracular mystagogical transcendence a mandatory hymn for the ryseolagnus of the poetic verve of a new wave swooning the cordial progressive of atmospheric oneness with the primordial vine and the vintners that congregate on populated soil to feed a desolate destitution of synoecy or synaesthesis in the syncretic rhapsody of the subfocal ageotropic plenilune yet saturnine lugubrious toil of those that shovel through the albatross of ewnastique recapitulation to the same tired “Its got what plants crave, it’s got electrolytes” wernaggle of the hopelessly dismal inkburch of illiteracy crawling like a Hyacinth House on a vacant graveyard turf guarding the legionaires of rapid-fire zig-zags through a serpentine curvature of the ligaments of fabricated space warped through prismatic lenses of aperspectival time aspiring for ventriloquial enamored rapture upon Earthly parallax with tapestries of refulgent cascading wandering wonder that meditates its own lucubration with careworn tutelage against the wasms of dying oleaginous swelters of redshort opportunistic vultures swooping with Raven’s claws against the odometer of viewership surpassing records in unspeakable wisdom that crowds out the crambazzle toonardical wreffelaxity of the tiresome nuisance of ornery brawn muscled into a formidable triage in vengeance for Jim Morrison’s scripted eviction from Earth either by poisoned ****** or by  Asphyxiation by the French Connection avenging RFK and the cultural revolutions of 67’ in Haight Ashbury and the widespread percolation of treacheries fathomed to the most obvious degree in showmanship that it bristled as an affront so severe that even the patronage of Paris wasn’t immune to infiltration. His threnodies will always be sung with Triumph that the hallowed day of a monumental soul eluding the darkness of purgatory into the welcoming aborning light of the noontide progeny of eternal ataraxia awaited him in the stagecraft tub of blasphemy bellowing ratcheted warnings that not even the palatine grasp of a potentially divine being was inoculated from the deep dark chasm of nefarious skullduggery for boasting so widely and openly of his professed foresight to glamorous to be hidden as the beacon of virtuosity that galvanized a generation to flout the  futtocks of a keelhauled vision of sanitized purblind mortality that the fear of death rarely crossed the mind of the greatest fearless poet of an entire epoch that we may pray that Jim Morrison feasts in Heaven atoned for his sins and is at peace with God now. The substratose congeniality of marginalia on the outskirts of pederasty in cultural miscarriage owned by hierodules boundless in their lurid debaucheries that they might be remanded for being custodians of hostage to a prolific nescience  reaffirming their dying posture in the extinction of sardanapalian coverthrow of repcrevel camorras of ladronism and dacoitage always cauponate in imbibed throes of lewd AstroTurf outrecuidance glowering at sanctity with a bereaved psychobabble divorced from the purebred empiricism of true giants of industry that are almost insuperable in their extortion that their darkness in deeds of Kobe Bryants assassination do not go unpunished at least in Los Angeles. His untimely death as with many others registered on the Richter Scale because Come Clean perverts from Kansas City wanted San Francisco to win to clean the mops of janitorial revenge of the subturbary rickety foundations of a flailing moral compass so wicked in arbitrage that no subreption undetected would flourish among capernoited vigilantes of poached titanism and illuminism scarring the vestiges of enigmatic encroachment upon untouchables daring the frights of the Living Daylights of scurrilous rebukes so scathing in their menacing depiction of negligent bromides of token sacrilege and scarred sacrifice of a scarecrow example of how the prosodemic scourge of befuddled turgid pristine transmogrified heralds scampered away with pseudoautochiria that afflicted Jimi Hendrix suspiciously as well. My support is behind the justice warriors aggrieved by the Beirut explosion because they deserve a vindictive outcome that quells the quislings of atrocity of the popinjay beadledom of the unspeakable tremors of seismotic popples of unrest warranted in Lebanon the homeland of Keanu Reeves a saint among men for his peerless grace and agraceries of the smog of myth evanescence becoming perdurable swings of the humdingers of berated jaundice becoming the prerogative of the revenge of a city leveled to the ground by suspicious skullduggery and I am surprised they lay dormant for this long in their protracted grievance over the ghoulish frights of one of the most unheralded major events in recent memory. We need to highlight the plight of Lebanon so that world leaders are frightened even of intimidated people tranquilized by terror rather than enlivened by the propriety of redacted rejoinders that serve the ulterior mission of a Titanic bravery that never sinks beneath the sumptuary treacle of grombang grambazzle and supercherie of the supercalendar of poignant repined repose derailing an emolument to ecumenical solidarity. Lets highlight Lebanon as an inexcusable trespass worthy of some mighty reckoning if not a riveted war but at the very least a devastated twinge of outrage.

The Roulette of Fanfare by Imaginative Glare (A Cooperation of Timeless Synquest)
Sunken fortitude is the bailiwick of interminable eupathy that sustenance embezzles by minutiae of orange spectral linearity of bypass becoming a torus of tragic reprieve in repcrevel fashions of hyjamb. Thus we float above the carcass of syrts of certitude by cadasters of nostalgic drawls of malingering strawberry staddle for the scutage of pinhoked disaster. We renege on committed opalescence because tranquil dangles of vinsky are waged by trenchcoats of bluster for vector arrays of galvanized decorum that swirks for elegant synectics by dredged grains of agrarian sanity by the pleckigger of lopsided islands of creativity that are the notarikons of aleatory finite but equidistant largesse of not just a jumboism but a jetsetting travesty of traversed time mastered by ignoble ingenuity. I limn with piracy as a freebooter cordslave plugged by demitoilet reminders of the flyndresque alloreck of tinjesk spectral ultimatums that are the stretchgraves of a retrospective infinity that is a bystander to catapulted cohesive coherence found only in piecemeal culinary seditions against the drip of a turncock of roosted clarification in muted hindsights of foresight itself. The pleonexia of abeyance is the riddle of enigmatic promulgation that flickers even with partial compartmentalized servitude to the burlesque the burrows of an ophidiodiarium scare away any jaunty sleek car from the boosterism of a farmed collision with disjointed surgery of nimble reticence that braves the seismotic macadamized plutocracy of drift without sedition in sedimentary clairvoyance with a pointed amphigory that is actually a starved clarity for ommateums without spelunked trudges that occur in dovetails for disguise by synectic optimum at the zenith of the hive synergy of singularity.  The justified jest of aleatory flexes of finitude is a shambolic gesture of the limber of divergent interpretation ingeminating the world by sapient degrees of psychometry of divergence in piecemeal asseveration of the hindsight of the festooned not tepid or butchered by the obvious to the glaring cineaste but rather a gloaming glint of refracted ingenuity roosted beyond any alienesque erratic happenstance that is itself a beatific fortuity for the geotechnics of human emergence into supersensible planes traversed in a stereodimensional covenant with a compacted compost of DIVERGENT IMAGINATION OF CADASTER rather than the regelation of the obvious. Timmynoggies of cartels are regnant because of the repugnance of loyalty to the fricative frigates of superlunary mention of ratiocination divorced from husbandry of hyjamb for giant leaps in rigged ambsace maledictions of unfair pleckigger of the wrikpond relumed by huffs of impotent flairs of flambeaus beyond ecdysiast stretchgraves of perilous paralysis for the supererogatory of the accursed destruction of stoichomety of solipsism tremulous by biocentric levity above fastened redoubled pederasty. We maraud the rabble of nostalgia of rhinoplasty of penumbras that live on rainshod territorialism beyond the jolkers of everlasting foofaraw livid by betrayal but erratic in glamour without crackjaw costermongers vitiating the vociferous because of incumbent thermodynamics that affixes the stagnant to the latticework of riddle by sturdy integral derived fliphavens of shibboleths of solitude. Education is a fliction of robust derangement of nowhere men taxed by the celerity of traversed traipses of memory beyond encaged bridewells for recanted alchemy to prerogatives of the roomy expansive facsimiles of departed stigmas of bossy clairvoyance for martian glimpses at sunken waste. The bernaggles of brittle titanium are abrasive when they are alloyed with the compost of material dynamics of capital without avenged prediction cemented in sunken graves taxing the nostalgia of histrinkage that is affixed to boschveldt traindeque for venial consanguinity to dikephobia. We elevate the endpoints of abridged turriform clockwork provincial shibboleths that are the proctor and protectorate of insular robbery of crowned trounces of gravity for the gravitas of sepulchral vanity learned from famigeration of filial tithes of duty. A dutiful sedition is countermanded by the pews of turnstiles that enamor the enamel of rollercoasters because of vague vagaries of bedazzled contrition for wanton ambition on psaphonic psychology and therefore sustain the vibronic thrombosis of nonlethal inseminations of clear aqueous transfixed filigrees of demented notions of cheerful apocrypha of liturgical pride beyond the dungeons of prejudiced inquisition. The jolkers of insolent archipelagos of spinsters that levitate by parsed peril of delaminated parsecs of glazed parturition is the orchestra of a nonlinear grove of invented abecedarian witwanton notice of maddened cattle of gluttony forestalled by the clairvoyance of otiose operations of redoubled countenance that consequently is septiferous by degrees of sanguine rapacity the qwartion of endeared endeavor to surpass the gentility of brooked temperatures frozen to sustain but not mainline the congeners of the elective agenda to bypass the thornbushes of conflagration without knavery or cutthroat embellishments of bedlam. And without the din of simplicity occluding the transcendent goal of humane synoecy of fustilugs of fumatoriums endangered but not inflammed by controversy we witness the insubordinate university of hibernation becoming a specter of grisly bromidrosis of lackluster forswinked fortitude because the majestic sinew of the overwrought is a refrained luxuriance of pity of facetious glebes ringed around orbital planes of synthetic abridgement that supposes the sultry is actually the swelter of calenture but taxed by sicarians of the grandeval it meets no fanfare among elective privilege. Amphigory is not categorized as dross by shipwreck but only by synechdocial docility of groomed barren arcades of storged complication leading to regeneration of a world leaden with the epicurean epithets of agerasia that burden the wardens of poached intermission without remission because the drapes of the greatest art are thus created by the complete transfiguration of the soul bolted to ethereal expansive heights that dwarf all pithy gnomes of the gardens of prospective desiccation of the petty gripes of the gavel of idiocy rather than the astounding artform of the newfangled tabanids to supererogatory oceans of creativity. The benchmarks of sublime illusions of supremacy are a hidebound taxidermy of the rookery of greenhorns to summit the testy secrecy of inane drawl that scrabbles the miniature embellishments of petty sportive lunacy as a figment of the feral nature of proclivity recumbent upon its own gladdened prickly renegades that align with a gallywow cacophony rather than a merely epicene convergence of attitude for equity above polity that is hardly polite. As a penitent hibernal rejoinder against the clerical critics of religiosity becoming conflated with artistic masterworks of oligomania I offer my rogation for atonement because the melismatic art I fashion leads to the vogue enchantment of the noosphere for the soteriological bedrock of fastened intellectual endeavor that traverses planes of an engorged soul without a gulf of conscience leaden by distracted discernment leading to a hypostasized apostasy from the religious scruples I rigorously uphold but that I vacillate away from because I want to entrench an irenic world for the francketor dash towards a superlative enrichment of mind above matter for the victorias of soul above the pettiness of the dim humdingers of the banal lifeless squabbles of martexts beyond the hospitable welcome of martians. For the naysayers that don’t understand the ironic irenic circularity of gainsay becoming rebarbative to this artistic flourish of supersensible equipoise with an approximated histrinkage lagged by temporal deficiency they should not abhor the talisman of an ergotall genius but rather marvel at the burlesque cineaste connotation of enamored youthful spirits becoming novel because they stride above the cascades of crestfallen apathy of plodding languor. This is a definitive new artform for the niche crowd so don’t dismiss it as gobbledygook because it serves the purpose to enchant creative spirits and test minds that might be more nimble than resourceless. Wearisome by demiurges of distraction the thorny imbroglio of industry is a whiplash of nativism belonging to the throb of pulsated penury that is neither valedictory nor penultimate but tertiary in oblong variegated menageries of perfidy for collapsed enormities of jumboism lost on inclement stoichiometry that is sejungible from crambazzles of findrouement that are squaloid enthralled raptures of humdingers of rippled hunks of parched nebbich pataphysics because the circuit of conditioned reward is a rebarbative tether to the catchpole exploitative erratum of harbingers of hungry happenstance rather than continual enchantment. The crumple of squaloid sebastomania a distant figment of adscititious schadenfreude of dilettantism of flonky smardagine streaks of whemmled anxieties unduly provoked by calamities of presstungular intorgurent toonardical deprived cartels of repcrevel pursuit with labial senses embedded in deft incondite inquiries against seismotic jostle over the rubble of scaffolded jengadangle above the rot of contranatant sleek suffrage for the chattel of elemental realism becoming a heroic temple for glory without the vetust errundle of dismal disco attuned only to the spurts rather than a startled commerstargal of alienation leads to a plumber’s irony of atomic humdingers of natural equipoise with litotes of scrawny rings of gollendary piracy. The valorous incondite bricolage of a ****** cineaste barnstorm inoculated from conflagrations of the flagitious reprisal of prevenance of ferial fastuous feats of furlongs of brittle certainty above the tentative glaze of aced pokerish promenades to summit the craggy because the salebrosity of the pitch is also the venue for the sphairistic tentpoles of a new tabernacle of spectacular ecstasy in obvious punitive damage to puritan pilgrimage to mechanized obelisks of sardanapalian betrayal of histories of seizure rather than naturism of erasure that is a totemic recall of strollows of lonesome tributaries to tribunes of steam rather than saunas of lickerish leverage because the gladiatorial is a zugzwang with the deliberate infernal shibboleths of the disinclined people dislodged by carnality that depose sicarians of science because of militarized enmity against the whangams of taghairm becoming the outmoded dupe of dopamine that is now serotinous rather than flanged with glaring hearsay. The serpentine winds of windlass sometimes are a conclave of convex itineration against the steady husbandry of docile domiciles of mannequin sedentary postures for posterized infamy rather than manufactured oneiromancy that is the staddle for every phony contraption of qwartion obviously specious but interrogated by the dubiety of perseverance of inclement curiosity. Yet again we sweep the soaring ligaments of rigid ramshackle bletonism that hawkshaws countermand by division of enumerated nadirs pivoted against the perpended weight of the prolonged zeniths of grit above substance that infatuates myopia but glares against mountebanks of apothecary leverage. We fight against the boxcar traindeque of sejungible traipses through stereodimensional rebuffs of known drogulus surpassing unknowable reticence of citadels that are owleries for the seedy cities they sprawl with incontinence for a drab raft of intertesselation rather than a refined quintessence of alchemy achieved by allotment by brackish nescience becoming a blinding ray of destitution engraved by petrified decalcified rudiments of realism. The somber timbre of delirifacient ruinous rumination malingers in humdrum salience as it scrawls the tragedians lament of distal eventful frets of declassified nomenclature that swoon with lugubrious harbingers of burglary the licentious dolts affixed to the brays of pauperized regions of future proximity too remote to paralyze the morale of any cantonment on record by litotes of profound remembrance of a backfire delope for cineaste conflation of marstion slore for educated reprisal of desiccation. We spelunk in mimicry the dingy duplicity of double-takes in regelation that owe homage to the percolated hearsay of cartels that operate parsecs beyond our congeners of germane lustration in remission by deontology for soteriology alone but not vacated of the stilts of turnverein ragged mannequins of desolate remorse for the dearth of hived and hemmed hibernation in a fitful frenzy of revision above precision. We see abundant lactose intolerance as a sidereal lovelorn lament of sematic entrenchment without the scourge of roosted war against abrasive brawn exercised in flexible limbers of the novel filigrees of truth revelatory of consideration rather than impregnated with the perfidy of amaranthine static of regaled stagnation that flickers with the marinas of congregated leaps as a signature of the artistic license of byzantine traipses of contempered primacy in the soup kitchen of a lapse in sabotaged sobriety. Immune from displaced donnism is the resurgence of bonanza from checkered propinquities affixed to a finite placard of spacetime that owes to stretchgraves a profound depth of contrition that carmelized apocrypha lapse on lissome whilded dignotions of contrarian raillery of loose nihilism rather than anchor to the eremites of fact found in eclipsed culmination for momentous harps of the Jubal for new centuries inseminating the populated presence of spectral imagination with contorted melodies that spawn an ingenuous quest to swoon abiding heavens for celestial ears. It is conspicuous that artifacts for raiders elope with circuitous routes of heated sedimentary incubations with a comatose creativity that seeds the ferial junediggle with a supercalendar of confections that are intermittently apportioned in heydays of culture to the sad lament of the obvious rather than the obviated dare of audacity above conglomerations of spirited luxuriance in tasty memorial to a pinnacle above all other notions of sentinel apostasy. The greater atrocity of rogated ambitions against the gainsay of iconoduly of the rood and rude crucifixion of resurrected clarity found in the enamel of akashic answers to questions fashioned by kneaded cosmetology of delicate ***** cotqueans of limber above precedent and license beyond the finkly limp of lolloped saccharine blitzkreigs of the jalousies of the ajar vaticination of hurdled glaikeries of epicene impediment is that we ****** ink above the gesture of the quills of rocky abrasion found in limitrophes of yachted celebration because of rabid coherence above the wherefores of gadzookerie because the gladdest scaldabanco is the demented persiflage of collateral catastrophe beyond any humane degree of schadenfreude for persecution that backbites the anteric antlers of the jesters that mock the procession of liturgical secularism jeering at grapholagnia while lagging in imaginative spurts of lament for incalculable damage to the Pandora’s box of effluvia that meet stiff tabernacles of betrayal because of the Judaic foresight rather than as an alarmed Marxism scared of an agrarian interdependence of worlds cadged more prone to moral dogma exercised with latitude rather than unscrupulous brays of fisticuffs of shambolic shams of ruin. We glance at the perfidies of voyeurism with pertinacity and recalcitrant bellipotent bedlam that evokes the illicit grandeval whangams of quixotic whartonized arraigned estrangement from legalism to warp time to its own superlative turpitude that is reckless but contingent upon the consummation of destiny only to the extent of original witness rather than the decay of perpetuity wrought by the persiflage of envious militarized mandarisms of enmity aimed to derail the elevators of the noosphere from stratospheric emergence in now perspicuous clarity above the pother of the indelible sacrilege of the stygian polymathy of the astute enemies of the proper comstockery rather than the negligent butchers of an enantiodromia of oligarchies of lewdness that are severed appendages to Anti-Semitism and by extension a marginalized Islamophobia that demands by exigency the complete erasure of all attempts at sacrilege exercised in rampant dereliction of dutiful upkeep of the upright morality against the cadge of ulterior ploys of a broader hedonism that would only piggyback because of the license of ryesolagnus rather than because of a complete signatory endorsement of the liberated agenda of free thought conquered through the conquest of God but the ultimate conquistadors of time through sennet and even negligent rebec to memorialize the triumphant pantheon of growth rather than rankled regress into prolonged hatred ingeminated by atrocious tortfeasors that belong nowhere but the ashen heap of exorcised damnation. The perdition inherent to the system that craves chattel rather than sartorial versions of syncretic chatter is the malefaction of renegades bent on tornadic vulcanization to a demoralized wragapole of docility hitched to the vandalism of pilloried tarantisms of moral lapse leading the sheep into sheepish resignation over the accordion of Original Sin that annoys because the bridewells are brideless birds of the chavish of warbled uncertainty wicked because of snuffed tabacosis of mitigations of evil by the evildoers for the rejoinder against the Republic by rendering the **** a platonic ploy of karezza if only punctuated by solitary ******* reticulated by exsibilation that is contorted when you consider the ****** act a marvel rather than a condemnation of the vicarious involvement in normative ****** creations not of any higher artform but of an evolved theology that might perpend the issue of Christianized ******* that is videographic as a sanction worthy of charter and an impending simultaneous comstockery to protect the decency of the simultagnosia of a diverse and divisive mispronunciated time bent against its greatest heroes for the malice of schadenfreude built into the system of language itself by germane consideration to flagellate the wrong country for the  greatest wrongs known to the realm of religious observance. The pederasty of enclaves is the bailiwick of mutinies of selective mutism incurred by the vilified into compulsive shrieks of kallince as a ribbacle of protean ratiocination paralyzed by the coherent vulnerability incurred by the exchequer of polluted conditions of enslavement by the stretchgraves of the chavish of too many pulpits in the throng of a decisive jaundice against the victors of history because of the obsolescence of the historical fossils of outmoded jealousy. Now to the eupathy of all generations should we better conserve situations against the encroaching wesperm of the marstions of ulterior feminism grimacing at the pleckigger of manhood and decriminalizing the taboo against the enantiodromia of miscegenation to the folly of shepherds of idiotic ploys to rear the mediocre rebec of warbled intimations of cultural impotence that should proselytize both the oligogenics beyond ecbolic atrocity and the adoptive ****** of the anglosphere through its smart and dapper monopoly threatened by the commerstargal of retromorphosis exhibited by the demassification of culled syntalities into aboriginal epigenetic kennels of subservience to a piggybacked system where if you are among the attentive scrutiny of the audience that both perceives apperception metacognitively with francketor precision you are thereby inoculated from lean herbivores of cultish occultism metaphorically in the annealed agitprop for resourcelessness that never ends in the radioglare of revisionism because of the prevenance of the vergers who manage the Manciples rather than tend to the vainglory of the potagers around the hegemunes of an unwarranted and puritan celibacy of conceptual sterility in a world fashioned by engouements for sanguine hopes for a consanguinity that might portend into dynasty but lopsided in its contrite missives of scandal will never provide a valedictory rendition on politically checkered zugzwangs of ulterior scientism against the lettered freedom of bibliognosts to aggrieve against the gloaming vacuum of sartorial damages to Dagon among the populated metropolis of corporate servitude that will thus collapse out of rebarbative backlash for its diminutive economies of scope and pretenses of largesse of scaled down collectivism into a heap of corporate rubble rather than judicious bonanza. In every considered word in this Biblbical warning against the trekleador of the amazonian paradise against the travail of junediggles of obligation among the frenzied fretful tocsins of farcical utopianism meeting the inclement reprisal of sanctioned duplicity in frikmag beneath the truculence of mobilized alacrity to syndicalism endeared to capitalism rather than the converse logical apostrophes that are imponent overhangs of an already conquered feral sphere of nomadic imagination into a checkmate of a socially validated future clinched by foresight and the wragapole nature of the insensate docility of those prone to officious naturism before the attempted monolith of the mountebanks of the quixotic towers of panopticon that are a regelation of unchecked ambitions verging or diverging too valorously against themselves but also prone to a simultagnosia that berates the robust picaresque swandamos that curtail the curglaff of malcontent with the recoil of perseverance that reneges in tiresome defeat of a demilitarized population that should always be grisly rather than denatured by the overhang of the incumbent nudism of certain futures becoming to finicky in impetuous lurid specters of abhorrent exercises in chantage waged against sardanapalians in all countries regardless of merits or demerits. The redstrall of enlightenment is not otiose operatively in recursive backlash against nominalism which sweedles the weedledge of a new acquiescence timid enough to mangle a prosodemic wave of celibacy propitiated by the succedaneum of profligate vicarious lickerish ****** appetites that diminish that natural instinct into either barbarous experiments in lechery too inconvenient to apprise honestly but looming aghast at the moral tip-toes around the Original Sin that binds us to predatory lapse and retromorphosis rather than the maintenance of a mainlined trimpoline confidence in a normative wave of galvanized interface against the overpromiscuous provisions for the lackaday resentment of alienated millennialism relishing the sennet of nostalgia but bereft of the heave from moral slumbers of an invented celibacy intermediary to demassification but attenuated by the omphalism of astute gravitas in socially engineered balks at the emergence of singularity in personalized cacotopia becoming a metaphor for the broadsided shipwreck of an inured world pasteurized into acerbic jolkers of foofaraw rather than the real-life relish against still-framed ostentation that distorts the granular artifice of the natural into supernatural fixations with gaudy swarpollock indecently exposed. To the finkly flonky puritanism of the wiseacres of those who say sacerdotal duty cannot diverge from entelechies of secular insight I behold the marvel of timespun elegance as the marvel of God’s convergence for the happenstance of the serendipity of magnified time lived completely in the plenipotentiary pangs of evanescence that catapults subliminal meaning to memorialize this indelible seminal watershed in a clear visionary establishment of history. Most belong to oligomania but I relent in the completely sardonic intortions of aspects of sebastomania in complete equipoise with the clairvoyant clarity of centralized perspective but the dragomans will interpret that last phase with underminnow because it belies the granular intent of the fin de seicle advent of a new generation that is an homage to the hallowed Judaic theory of millennialism as the return of glorified entitlement yet tentative in its overhang but never malicious in its grapnel of the fewterers of amazing convergence of clairvoyance. The tangential rebuke of the absurd oxyholotron of paradoxical puritan superstition that assumes a fustilug generation will cement a farsighted clarity that subsumes generative prowess lingers with fixations on the figments of the apocryphal version of the truer version of revelations manifesting right before our eyes for neither the sinistral or the dexterous amplivagance of God’s universal message by the superorganism of messianic purpose belittled by the agents of humbled perdition not alone of martexts that are martles but also by the shepherded fears of the ignorant rather than the insipid because the will never be outmoded only enhanced by the acceleration of proliferative technologies that pave a macadamized future of prosperity rather than the tarnish of the miscreants of Tyre. I owe all providence to God because he fastened his scrutiny on my autodidactian romance clambered into restive ontocyclic peccadillo that points to Pinocchio more than to the truest compass of an omnified salvation of the piggybacked purpose of synergies of geotechnic mastery that elevates the cause of God and liberates us from the stings of dangerously vapid pauperization of the intellectual frontiers by dangled prevarications of desultory incontinence forestalled by avoidant developments in proper fewterers of ambition. By the axiomatic Brocards of time travel the unstated ignotism of deranged circuses of stupidity congregated around the swelter of dismissal is a barnacle to the mofussil fossilization of sentiment that remarks ironically about the petty indelible moments but not the entelechies of a unified front for liberated equity and considerate tender of diverse quorums that shepherd rather than intern the noosphere into the burgeoned resurgence of a humane endeavor for the everlasting enlightenment of an ameliorated humanity and beyond that. By the bailiwick exerted by the plenipotentiary omphalism still participant to the quorum I hereby declaratively implore the abrogation of pernicious grapholagnia as the peremptory sacrilege that needs exorcism for our times and yet delegated of stature I urge hortatory and imperative action for the expurgation of all tortfeasor illegally obtained ******* of unsolicited voyeurism to be completely regarded as the ultimatum of temerity against carnal restraint and banished from the human registry to uphold the strategic interests of the United States of America. I understand that there is not fricative monolith and never will I lean for that conquest but as a humbled member of the omphalism that constitutes the sacred endeavor of sociogenesis grounded on God with collegialism upheld that a geotechnically optimized species needs to refrain from lewd perfidies against commonplace justice to restrain the fumatorium of unwarranted envy from poisoning the pervious minds of people that congregate in defensive posture but not definitive gesture. I also beseech a portentous  settlement with  I relent from avarice but it is not a superposition of authority just a suggestive glance at requited justice but my grangull chavish of circumlocution naivety will meet the most deliberate Sardonic Sc(p)orn in these times of need. These next words are paused and already fathomed by the supernal recursion of the iterative metaphysics of recumbent retrospection hinged on hindsight to proclaim without any hints of attempted subterfuge of the clarity of a Democratic Republic that my words while forceful do not constitute a breech in public conduct even while vaulted with a minor rapacity I rebuke and atone for even when many others might find recourse to expiate my jalousies to the windowed world not of vindictiveness but out of the cursory and emphasis on cursory justice needed to vouchsafe my continued security and inoculation from the pothers of obviously shortsighted pleonexia which will obviously be fleered as a slight euthymia glazed on self-interest while tone-deaf to the checkered layers of entrapment by a confederate whiplash but a native grit never to enslave but to empower humanity. I am deeply lugubrious over the specter of the trembled quaky ground the penury of spiritual loss rejoinders against my candidacy for high esteem but not peremptory decisiveness in active service to yield to a supererogatory attempt for felicity to alight in my life not out of material greed but the gratuity of serviceable missions that play a dicey gamble with a frenzied manumission attempt that is essentially that a parsed manumission for eleutherian pragmatica to chide as naive but alarmed senectitude of the old order prevaricates with the din of postured hurdles of gladiatorial outrage that weans me away from the ataraxia for my fumbled stream brooking intolerance for years on the ballast of collective endeavor. Nevertheless, lets speak more on God’s providence because in this esteemed moment of watershed emergence of the fully engorged but rarely gluttonous soul I have found an equitable peace with supernal and superlative authority in God that grants stewardship and tutelage to the audience that will eventually through proper discrimination be delegated as higher than the ignorant bystanders of fleered snide disdain for the abnormous and bletcherous dimples of an otherwise circuitous dalliance with an unconventional path towards destiny rather than some windlass of opportunism for, if it were not for my unabetted genius and the provisions of divine appointment based on a kindly generous deference to preterition axiomatic in perceived time by the strictures of the convergent past and the divergent future, I would never find a role of partial authorship of a widely heralded tome I will one day publish to either the exsibilation of the antiquarians of hidebound irrefragable ontocyclic convictions or the cloveryield of an appreciative gratitude to the God I serve and I make no notions of any hostility towards any party of petty dismissal because I expect their recumbent recoil but I apologize for hubris and extenuate the follies of the refinery of character as I ascend into a figurative ennobled step into soulhood that exceeds my former dismal limits by such staggering orders of magnitude it magnifies the questions of ontology in sentience rather than beckons the alarmism of the swarpollock of tripwires that can easily withstand the tempests of scorn. The uproar of commotion of blood sanctified by the thirsty rain for the desiccated faucet of dramaturgy in reprisal for docimasy is the integral linchpin of the biocentric rebec reasting on the primitive hymns to festoon the curtains of defenestrated primitive relics of shady attempts at officious balks of the privatized empire of the alytarchs among the earwigs that simper the culled delicacy of sensible notions into the congeners of prioritization emphasized by quantulated concerns veiled by elaborative synquests that burrow the sulcate grooves of hidden hedonism for the chic magistrates of financial swoon or swayed vestiges of a forgotten calumny of betrayal by the coming-of-age sprouts of hedged dismal dismissal of a lugubrious prospect for an otherwise revitalized dressage of emoluments to glory that lurked in penumbras by rigged enumeration but found their prominence by the gravity of sensation-seeking frissons of alterations between benighted glory and the famish of artificial tethers to the yoke of caramel and chocolates as a dainty ploy of yearning persiflage also a dranger of camouflage for flagitious percolations of the invidious rumors of imposture and the groveling contempt of the known drogulus remiss in denial of its own requited date when the powers of miscarriage become ecbolic to their own lagging languor of lisps of linguistic ramparts of a revival of hypertrophy for hyperactive foibles in inclement weather. Ok beyond the absenteeism of the presence of perceived amphigory there is great heft in the nominal notion that dogma is mobilized in serviceable goods of merchandized mirrors of glazed remission of moral tender because of stoked curiosity unhinged from the pragmatica of duty. We need forbearance in empathy that loves the lovable rather than envies the deposed despotism of clever wiseacres veiled in delicate symmetry with conscience that is the quill of a wellspring deeper than any imaginary vagary can approximate because impossible events punctuate time with literacy rather than incontinence of drivel that is ambitious but ignoble by stately coherence. To the critics of the baragnosis of limited apperception my words are blatant amphigories but they only possess enough ken to fathom an average orbit of suboptimal outcomes rather than transdimensional chances at chess outnumbered by checkers by incidental design of clever ploys of rejoinder that is by design arcane for the arcadia of the pristine arcade of future possibilities  As I am purblind by psychorrhagy I am incompetent in my radiopresence because I am a departed spectral figment above fricative hisses and whorfian glares of mediocre rebec for primitive shibboleth above prized taurine anglophonic convictions that superimpose the dignified clarity of willpower above the dragnets of supersolid conflations of puffery. Ok I admit a lapse of transmission by the vesicles of numbered murders of henpecked owleries of the senectitude of sepulchral magnetism of slumber over awakened alacrity of mobilism fashioned in portentous flipcraves of additive immobility of fixed vectors seen through parvanimity that actually just swivel in circular retorts against themselves without the elaborative potential and the belabored traipse of the rabid taradiddles of sensationalism marauding as a defalcated burglary of emotion for useless psephology that predicates nothing but a slight budge in the autarky of structuralism which is never sclerotic but stammered by articulations of the overt when the covert aligns by an alien agenda that is subservient to magnified priorities of warped swirk of telescopic prevenance and hedged boschveldts of elemental and I stress the strain of the elemental for the drogulus of sensational proclamation by executive ****** but supererogatory minutiae of fascism cloaked by earwigs of repcrevel repute beyond memorialized reputation. We need to renege the southern pacts to the Argentine mandarism of reticular vitiations of cinematography waged against creative visionaries of free speech because of the succedaneum of furtive endeavors at optimization by compromised degrees of artistic licentiousness even that is never lewd about sacred roods but boorish in blockbuster rather than kempt in collectivist brunt of the timid bronteum of agitprop that lurks in the imminent future of cinema. America needs to retain the disclosed but still-frame inertia of catapulted declassification that ennobles the fliction but also the vilified distilled truths only the keen of acumen will sensibly identify so that the magnet of earwigs gravitates to the belabored analysis of astute congeners to relevant tributaries to the ocean of adventitious swarpollock in the procedural autopsy of the auditorium for neither a chattel nor a crystallized nurture against the matriotic insistence of decorum. Essentially the succubus of prosthetic protensive docimasy of imaginative logic predicated in visionary apperception of the unseen in immediacy is the longeur of reticent endeavors to pasteurize the oculus rifts of futurity to synergize with the entelechy of proactive somnambulism that sensitizes the profoundly capable but never bereaves the inept of direct interface with communicable dominion with fantasia that is an operative artifice of a beguiled lurch without purged retrograde immaterial delusion that endangers visceral momentum toward new directives of the outmantled zugzwang in elementary exercises of swaddled posterity free by irenic idolatry never orphaned by a widowed imagination. The swirk of hypostasized probabilities in an invented swipe at wide-eyed but star-crossed turnvereins for the imaginative leaps in the performative depend on the delicate swivels of declaration independent from culinary clarity of macroscian travesty rather than pinhokes of naufragues of maudlin laudable applause by the canned nurture of speculative intimation that sadly severs the curglaff of whispered intimacy over the confidence we have in artifice to teach the wragapole both matriotism and sensitive reninjasque poker without incurred damages beyond the clarified visionary potential of graphic protheses immediately perceptible to the acumen of judicious polymathy indoctrinated by the rigor of scientific grooms for melliferous parsecs of advanced minutiae of dark horses to nomadic license beyond ravenous **** palindromes of hushed vigor to the declared by scacchic deliberation to usher in crass but crestfallen synectics. The future of God is secure in the fathomed furlongs of cubic citadels of pasteurized paradise found in corralled reluctance without remonstrance of poetic belletrist resounding with clangor rather than swerved nimble potions to avert future calamities in war by the expansive frontier of a civilized metropolis of the mobilized imagination hypostasizing newfangled naturism that is neither mofussil nor a fossilized relic of scrappy schlep. The nonchalance of parlance swims in arenaceous bunkers of drivel that congregate in the turnverein of futuristic opportunism found in the muzzled directives of orchestras of departed clarity no longer so insular in its bossy imperatives but clarified with hearsay and blushed blarney not the blench of widened divulgence of minatory malice that incurs the punitive curglaff of frenetic retchallops of winsome specters becoming opportune pragmatics of a semantic network of dirigisme that through sheer horsepower overcomes the sting of ubiquity or the hollowed headless vesicles of urbacity disenfranchised by degrees of impertinent pertinacity of deposed disclosure rudimentary in sedentary simplicity against matriotic duty to remain guarded by an ommateum that fathoms the abyss but never wages reckless adventurism. Prevenance is the key to absolution but staggered implements of dearth preempt the ecbolic corrigenda of castigation by hindered lurches of veiled errundle belonging to a central trimpoline interposition of fungible felicity for not only a regional fanfare but a global scale of competitive endeavor of cleverage beyond scopes but beneath scrutinized mutiny of embanked polymathy stranded by the redstrall of industrious slavering dogmatism to a servile ***** rather than the boomerang of pressure to asseverate limitless bounds of planned obsolescence to engorge but not intimidate checkered reticence in the sinew of the musculature of creative parlance above petty finicky demiurges of latitudes in amphibious annealed glorification. Temperatures gauged by the thrombosis of thermolysis in psychotaxis gouged by hucksters of taciturn bamboozles of teetotalism are neither scourge nor foe of the strategic advent of the fascination of prospective investment a boondoggle that offsets the bonfire of retorted whimpers of foudroyant ripples of wildfire perspicacity strung by the catchpole of ubiquity in the time-honed decorum of genteel upright raconteurs of volleyed neglect by strict mandate will uproariously profit in remission from knowledgeable exacerbation rather than tomfoolery by filial tithes to foreign wardens of conspicuous levitation above gimcracks by the syrts of percolated filigrees of belabored chantage exerted over the tide of perfidy in contained discernment will stall and extinguish the prideful jostle of profane blasphemy against tacit covenants of blackguarded justice served by platitude better than by insubordinate quivers that quake because bears bounce checkered checks rather than anoint the sigillum of protective vouchsafes of exchequers smartly dapper rather than dimpled in flagrant brays of castigation and thus secure employment of instrumental advent rather than desecrated conventicles of remission.
Now it is time to ventilate divine knowledge that transfiguration means a humane liberation rather than a sanctimony of tirade against dumose proliferations of fluminous imaginary tracts of the probable rather than the certain for the elevators of sanitized wealth to bequeath greater moral clarity found in the contrary submission of authoritative parents to shepherd guarded wealth in proper husbandry of calendrical affairs to optimize the work-life balance so the biocentric imperative for sustenance renounces the moral obesity of groundless backlash in austerity and endless cycles of remorse rather than a tender mollification of sentiments away from universal kumbayas and in favor more stridently of a system that withholds the agitprop of statist indoctrination of a mollycoddle ****** within individual mandates of variable agendas of countries beyond the borderline fluid dynamics of the foibles of moral venial folly but insensitive to the dynamism of the robust virility of a wayspayed world swaying by riddled wildfires of conflated puerile stages of ludic indoctrination to the rampant perfidy of exemplary incontinence waged by Hollywood upon unsuspecting victims of inconsiderate indoctrination that doesn’t vouchsafe the prerogatives of heteronormative values that should outshine not a parochial vehement hatred or a clorence of unconditional tolerance but a chided quarantine of variegated syntalities divorced from integration rather than fostered in communal depths of bound lettered ambition found in the allegorical power of Biblical wisdom expounded by the florilegium of the religious and secular canon.
To serve God rather than the perceived taradiddle of speculative mammon deprived of classifiable certainties but hunched proclivities we need to exhort a proper seesaw between restraint in vision and exuberance in creative license so that the pivot of the moralized world leads to an insistent trust of watchdogs that through trust revolve the gravity of morale upon the upswing of liberty rather than incidental follies of imaginative demiurges of partition but blinkered hubris in stately objectives to the demur of participant malingering naysayers and nyejays. The moral gravity of the situation requires us to rotate our hype from the fervor of panic into the resolve of fortitude that relishes family and filial duty rather than resents because of breedbate instinct the flickers of smoldering rebels that are tamed in their revelry when they follow the moral prerogative of disciplined ambition in creativity not insubordinating against insurmountable limits but reasonable adjustments to a scaffold of potential that is skyscraping more than before even if its too close to the ground for comfort and consolation. Relativism is the enemy of progress because envy seeds alienation and comparison should be eschewed because we need to burrow in compassionate embrace of the cherished loves rather than the exaggerated proximity of provincial fears becoming global juggernauts of mercy upon the merciful and I convoke a global prayer for the attenuation of the virus that spreads sadly too far for comfort today. I purge out of solidarity with suffering as the milquetoast in me identifies the disconcerted avenues of avetrols trying to find a way through the forest of rumination without gingerly superlative prerogatives outweighing the poise of balance in shields of honor rather than badges of shame. We must by moral imperative greet strangers in public places like parks rather than strangulate the percolation of affection because of regnant distractions because in this congenial way we will find a common fraternity with fellow man while soldiering on to find truth in God’s word in the proper temperature for genuflection because I admit foibles but I relent not in the chase to redintegrate myself spiritually to lead a charge without trespass of fundamental dignity over the whoppers of indignation some of us might feel because of the penury of divergence rather than the private penalty of convergence for an ulterior solidarity of purpose. I need to emerge into the humanity of compassion to showcase that virtuosity can exist without obsession over one individual because God beseeches a pantheon of observation rather than the gripes of an envied nuisance independent from normal human concerns that ripple with ecstasy because of normative human contrition over the leeway on vacillated opinions that might underwhelm those disposed by prizes of inurement. We should shelve these notions of a supersolid conscience because only in the humility of the profound simplicity of elemental postulates can we achieve complete synchrony with a syndicate that enthralls both divergent and convergent movements that partially offset on the side of convergence in some communes while otherwise countermanded in others in contrarian ways and the favor of the balance depends on the perspective of the flanged acculturation of the participant in a world that doesn’t need flayed excoriation as much as it deserves proper exercise of adoration of the admirable rather than the desecration of the abominable. I return with the greatest jubilation of a reninjasque jaunty streak that hearkens the sennet and maybe the leanings of the senate to the fanfare of adoration for life and gratitude bestowed by the stewardship of God and his divine purpose to inseminate my life with purposeful meaning and happy happenstance that is a stroke of glory. I muster the resolve to traipse in the solitude of my cavern the blessings of divinity bequeathed by the departed forefathers who never intended bossy insularity of dogma to be a stricture of rigors of iconoduly but rather a consecrated wit with the persiflage of conversant tones of labile and lissome gallantry just waiting to alight upon the affectionate dance with dalliance of a philandered hope for a purified love hopefully never profaned by the pangs of scandal (note the sardonic pun) because rejoice is the gift of Heaven upon this culmination of purpose above the dross of shipwreck elevated in folly but stranded in the throes of rumination enough to hedge the boursocrats and try to inoculate the world from further panicky divisions of hypemongers of simpered precaution becoming a financial pandemic that deserves pause and poise but should not protrude above the glistening promise of the eternal wellspring of the vineyards of salvation blooming because enhanced sapience converted the flock of shepherds to tend to those sheepish in deficiency to wield a newer curiosity to replace a saddened lament not by acquiescent abandon but by the solidarity of interfaces of love replacing cast-iron idolatries I too am guilty of for the cordslave generation of itinerant distractions that wager on modicums rather than appraise bonanzas. Safety is predicated on the idea that resources should never be glazed but always apportioned with optimism because if you examine history irrational panics have always and always rebounded because of exigent actions taken by governments to restore confidence in liquidity rather than snide dismal dismissals of economic projections based on bounded rigged betrayals of primarily a global panic that a profoundly promethean intellectual verve could capitalize on its heyday to gouge people against the insensate balkanization of the future by an alienation of formidable scarecrow of invented fatalism imploding upon itself to obviate its own existence by the insistence on free thought to domineer and tower over the doldrums of a vacant man that is now occupied by the largesse of humane endeavor for a messianic voyage that consummates time itself its own captain and is partially centripetal around the juncture of All Saints Day 2008 because of its seminal significance in ushering in a new era of liberation. This justification is a gnomic axiomatic herculean ****** that catapulted generativity in creative endeavor to coalesce around an Army of Me not because of the futilitarianism embedded in its flagrant flagitious mockery of traipsed lyricism borrowed from Bjork but rather showcases the flavork of the flavenickers of ribald coarse revolution that is no longer balderdash to Bald Eagles but the prized retribution of the inviolable scruples demolished by deracinated moral relativism balking at raltention because of persnickety and tyrannical transparency that prepossesses over the lifeless livid Potemkin  Village  of Astroturf complaint malingering in pederasty over its own depraved sinuous course of diverted restraint cemented by the scythes of Village People politics benumbed over militarized betrayals that incur and invoke the diablerist prose of anonymuncle desperado mavericks that sizzle in hibernaculum to depose the autarky of seasoned growth rather than unseasonable diatribes of vitriol poisoning the posture of gentility by decree rather than by deeds of homogenized pasteurization against Lactose Intolerant Leftism and dogged doggerel of pasty subversive paranoiac hederaceous envy spawning a vituperative summation of a beatific felicity. We need to convene upon better tranceception in this axiomatic gratuity of God

i don't know why i found redemption in the tetragrammaton, sure, my mother cared for two elderly jewish ladies, one escaped the Holocaust (surname Roßhandler) and the other of established English rooting (surname Rockman... thanks to her, upon completing my g.c.s.e. exams i got a complete collection of Bernard Shaw's plays) - but i find it there, ping-pong salvation every time, translating it akin to arithmetic: 1 + 1 = 2 is very much akin to Y              H            W          H, which i started calling the perfect chirality - chiral meaning non-superimposable:
                                       A                      &                  E, i too ventured to call the double H dualism a déjà vu - but i know see them as vantage points, more electrons and quantum physics than protons and neutrons - well, it ****** well fits the schematic: sine (M) and cosine (W) - sure, crude, but i'm not looking at the geometry of the mouth... language on the base of pure optics... and no, not necessarily adjective noun compounds for emphasis to argue a point, just easily an easily accessed point of reference...     so quantum physics calls it the non-independent ontology of electrons: a. particles (Y, centre 0 on the x, y, z graphs - apart from the heliocentric and the geocentric models, here's another one of similar causality)... and b. waves (W, the formerly stated trigonometry suggestion) - and hence the two vantage points bound to H... apart from Adam and Eve lodged in between... which suggests that the geocentric analogy of electrons is bound to electrons behaving like waves... while the heliocentric analogy of electrons is bound to electrons behaving like particles: microcosm Copernicus blah blah; well, more like pseudo-Aristarchus of Samos.

20th century literature is, quiet literally
something akin to the cave paintings at
Lascaux - big brother isn't watching -
nor is the publishing old guard -
i just find it unreal that so much rests upon
the internet these days, the people have no
idea what power has been granted them,
they petty the use of the internet with
their earthly squabbles of a marketplace,
while, running parallel: the lost infatuation
with democracy as necessary organisation -
turns out it's unnecessary organisation:
because we ain't go anything better -
hence political disillusionment - rampant in
what western society deems the pinnacle
and the Libra of a fine balancing act -
religiously? that famous: "mystery of lawlessness"?
that's the internet - imagine a time when you
could bypass some publisher, some adherent
to a state doctrine, when you could turn poetry
into physics, not the waffle of metaphysical Keats
waiting for a kettle to turn into a volcano
or a whistling horse, but to turn the dial to
point at the reality of things:
quantum physics (derived from quanta,
a variation of datum: particularity of input
energy) gave poets breathing space,
metaphysics became shadowy, Hades like
learning, obscure and all the more necessary
to build-up its strength while puritan physicists
lost their sway of power with the fears of
the atom bomb and all things quantum -
so while the physicists became dazzled with
all things quantum, the metaphysics took off...
entombed in an apathetic (without pathos)
subjectivity: a calm heart, much more than an
embracing heart - yes, i am aware that i have my
wacko moments of feeling, but this ticker is
made of stone - and that usually means a chaotic
thinking process, spontaneity being the key
in involving yourself with real-life narratives
then never suppose a character study: what you see,
is what you get: my sanity plateau?
talk about music rather than make poetry musical,
it's a pale shade of red or blue when you
have guitars and orchestras and the poet,
a voice in the wilderness - nothing but pins dropping
to exemplify the talk... i don't understand
the need for poetry being a kindred of musicology,
i don't understand rhyme, i don't understand
being conscious of poetic prescriptions of technique
very much akin to language's artefact minded
grammar: noun
                                v. poetry's pun
grammar's verb
                                       poetry's metaphor... etc.
my deviation? being an adherent toward music,
and returning poetry back to its true purpose:
puritan narrations - not conscious of what's
expected, or what defines the art,
very much the beginning of cubism and later
innovations in art, i just can't stand rhyming poetry -
it's too conscious of itself by what it's defined by,
we have learned of a new subjectivity:
the unconscious - we might as well exploit it
while objectivity gets crushed into bewilderment
by quantum physics -
thus said: i feel like i'm a dervish spinning
counter-clockwise in a chaos of tornadoes spinning
clockwise while listening to two songs:
tool's *right in two - and muse's stockholm syndrome:
i can't be bothered translating the feelings
entombed in these two songs with a rhyme...
poetry should be less stuffy than it already is...
it should be a statement of the supreme effort: freedom.
all of this? spurred on by rereading passages from
Jung's gegenwart und zukunft (1957), alter:
          the undiscovered self (1958) -
it's seemingly odd (but not too odd) that books
written by psychiatrists are more popular than
philosophy books in the anglophile culture -
as already stated, i can't read philosophy in english -
maybe this is why psychiatric literature is so easily
accessible in this tongue, what with the self-help
movement, it the grandest prescription that no pill
(unless it's a sleeping pill) can be prescribed -
i'd say, if you want to read philosophy in english,
i'd start off by reading a book from psychiatry -
Jung is by far more adaptable than Freud
(Freud's for the rich people who have ***
written on their foreheads in permanent ink -
        and: daddy didn't care, mama was
                                     struggling feminist who
     forgot to breastfeed me) -
       but of course the 1960s Scottish superstar
(who drank, rightly so) from Glasgow: Laing.
well, sure, the Hungarian Szasz (shash, not sas,
or zaz... shish kebab... it ain't the difficult) -
impromptu deviation: what's funny about Heidegger?
he says: you need to study Aristotle for 15 years
to get him... and that's very much true for him also...
two years... TWO YEARS it took me to read his book.
that's what's interesting about this book,
a literary anorexic, in at 79 grams (pages) -
the interesting point? in physics, there are things
that are not independent of observation -
i like that conundrum, the mere idea of it is titillating -
running joke for the past two years: ***** ***** tat for tat
months later -
                          well... i'm not the one trying to
dress you up in a straitjacket with a label: this is poetry...
can't see **** for miles with how i write.
so there's a purpose, some things are depending on
being observed - which is a good thing, which means
that this world could not be independently sustainable -
its dependency on existing lies akin to our
desire to be independent of it - so all the religious
blah blah means something - even after 3 years
of rigorous studies in chemistry i come back into
humanism with a furore of agitating religious paraphernalia -
mind you, i do have a scientific approach toward
language - grammar and algebra combined -
meaning? certain words have become post-grammatical,
i.e. algebraic - not categorised as nouns or otherwise,
but as algebraic signatures: primarily because no one
really knows what to do with them, apart from
church yoga, standardised: e.g. x = god,
            i = y                  and the                  world = z,
predictably transcending the casual use of language
when shopping for cheese in a Parisian grocery store...
err... je ma'pel gorgon, avoir vous fromage?
nope, took to English too much - i was learning French
in primary school, but i had an existential crisis
aged 9 or 10... my brain refused to learn another language
after having just learned one from scratch -
                               the mute in class soon turned into
an avaricious reader... so parallel to my life, i now hear
stories about children being diagnosed with depression...
try being thrown into the deep-end of the pool
with your former development using a language
automatically, into having to learn the language without
no major influence of a teaching authority...
                                  no wonder the accent game
   sort of imploded and i started speaking sometimes tosh,
sometimes posh, and sometimes east London oh'rite?
                             ale casem tes jak rolnik -
                            owszem, czasem jak mieszczanin też.

Listening to the song ‘daddy, super daddy’,
Worried and sad thinking about the father long gone,
While reading the news of a father  who killed his girl child by hitting her against the wall
To some fathers and children
A father and son didn't feel anything more than that.

Remember uploading in Facebook,  the news of the soaring price of tapioca in five star hotels

The tsunami  of saliva which the tender  yellow tapioca Crowned by curry leaves and red chilly created, is in the throat.

Today noon,
After lots of news
I am cooking tapioca raw
A green bottle is nearby

When the smell of cooking tapioca with salt hit the olfactory senses
Father came

You don’t have to be the Son of God to resurrect the dead
Told Jesus that just the smell of cooking tapioca is enough

Compound divided into patches, ashes, manure,
Properly cut tapioca plants
Mother rushing to get the rice gruel

Between play and squabbles
A lad is walking around with torn trousers, shirtless
Tapioca, tapioca, tapioca
Tapioca, tapioca, tapioca

For sleeping, eating, hunger
Faith,
Tapioca, tapioca

phoo

For rice gruel, mid noon
At twilight when hunger  develops faith
For last supper,
Dried tapioca

Lucky that one who was born after an enema
Was not named ‘black sheep’

With a green chilly, raw
In the shade of the green bottle
When I touch the tapioca,
Daddy is dancing

Daddy
Super daddy.

i moved my ethnicity up north, because in the middle-south the squabbles got to me, even though i don't speak the tongue in order to order a cup of coffee or marry, i moved it up north, to the doom and gloom... because the squabbles down south got to me, and i couldn't identify with either factions - although i could identify with the Scots and whatever ancient heart bred them toward separatist labours - come the Scots, come the Irish - the sloth of this anatomic segregation is getting on my nerves.

the difference between european introversion and american
extroversion is that the former bases theirs on an implosion
that dates back to prehistory and the latter bases theirs
to a piece of paper, a second Magna Carta...
every european implodes - every american explodes -
yet our history is longer, and is less trade-orientated,
consider the slave trade versus Atilla the ***...
Europe is the new Russia as Russia is the new
Siberia to "the light of the world",
Europeans always seemed to be introverted
when compared to American big cars big hamburgers
big whatever esp. ego - we work from
a Darwinism, you work from creationist-antagonism,
sure, a man in space, a man on the moon,
any tomatoes up there, might i ask?
the world eternal between the competition with
Tsar Slav Nicholas I and Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse,
it's hard to make cartoons of Ivan to be honest,
what with him throwing dogs off the Kremlin walls
and gauging out the eyes of the architect of
St. Basil's because "god" / Ivan instructed him to
an oath: no greater beauty will ever be seen by these eyes -
hard to make a comedy of it all -
if anything i'm *Jan Matejko's  Stańczyk,
the exact melancholia of a clown, a fancy-dress mm-hmm-ha-ha-ha!
while noblemen frolicked, Louis XIV petted a monkey
while shaving - the new aristocracy and the intervention
of the south park inventors over there? i'd be Mormon
in a nanosecond - whatever science divides or
multiplies it's still base one: the whole - whatever profession
it's still back to square one, the fudge, the glue,
no one can work that one out, explore in whatever
direction you want, it's still the Kantian dynamic of
coordination via (0, 0), the double denial, its not
an algorithm - Manchester encoding, logic 1, logic 0,
forget the sine and cosine graphs of smooth
marbles and hidden genitalia - it's different now,
zigzag paradise and ugly shapes like Syria
and Iraq and Iowa - all we need for the antidote to
Kantian symbolism (0 = negation) is the zed of affirmation,
just one... wondering... what direction would that entail?
life, x as 0 and y as 0 - ageing and mortality, all too often
subscribing the words: death apparent, but there's a third
line of coordination, no memory of babe consciousness,
no memory of nappies or eating apple pulp...
that strikes me as a head start - the less adventurous world
and the emergence of the unconscious and dreaming
as the new frontier, not necessarily -
i like the head start, i don't like shuffling into cubicles
of cognitive sterilisation, in that Freud makes thinking
attached to dreaming on purpose - i read a newspaper
then i read a poem, with the former i'm constipated
with the latter i get diarrhoea... i don't like attaching too
much thought to the content of dreams,
but to dreams per se - how does my brain encrust a
phosphorescent adaptability to the banality of sleep?
surely the brain cares more for the unconscious banality
of the night than what people-self-invoke as a banality
of life - the serpent eating itself already answered,
the brain automatically said: sleep is banal, we need dreams.
the self, a conscious abstract of Σ (sum of all parts,
liver, kidney, limbs, heart etc.) didn't necessarily make one
up, unless it's called philosophy - the body in sleep
already answered, the brain's answer to the banality of
it's existence rested in sleep is the act of dreaming - simple
enough, no one would imagine sleeping without dreaming,
but that's the automatic answer for the brain and
the banality of sleeping, given the complexity of
learning, unlearning, encoding decoding, love, hate
in that internet of ******* connectivity -
so if the brain answered the question of the banality of sleep
(well, given the ****** heart mechanised to smack its
forehead against a brick wall, little wonder)
with dreams... what if not a nether-realm, a heaven
or a hell the brain envisions? surely...
it's inherent for the brain to envision a heaven and a hell
when Σ is awake... as it's inherent for the brain to envision
dreams when Σ is asleep... it's logic... it's not some
fancy for rituals -the point is: heaven and hell would not
exist if we didn't dream, void, blank, void, blank,
no Freud - if you can argue against the non-existence
of any of such realms, you will have to train yourself
to not dream, to exclude the dream-realm - but i don't
think your brain will be willing to do such censorship -
after all, it's a double-consciousness we're talking about,
the brain is conscious of you, and you are conscious of the brain;
it's odd, i know, it's the one ***** that has such parameters -
well, it's more conscious of a skeleton than you -
the skeleton is the one thing that is verifiable for the brain,
the brain can't intrude on the heart or the kidney functions,
but the skeleton is all a playground for the brain.

The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer,
A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage,
A whiplash swimmer, a fish of the air.
          But the serpent of cars that crawls through the dust
          In shimmering exhaust
          Searching to slake
          Its fever in ocean
          Will play and be idle or else it will bust.

The swallow of summer, the barbed harpoon,
She flings from the furnace, a rainbow of purples,
Dips her glow in the pond and is perfect.
          But the serpent of cars that collapsed on the beach
          Disgorges its organs
          A scamper of colours
          Which roll like tomatoes
          **** as tomatoes
          With sand in their creases
          To cringe in the sparkle of rollers and screech.

The swallow of summer, the seamstress of summer,
She scissors the blue into shapes and she sews it,
She draws a long thread and she knots it at the corners.
          But the holiday people
          Are laid out like wounded
          Flat as in ovens
          Roasting and basting
          With faces of torment as space burns them blue
          Their heads are transistors
          Their teeth grit on sand grains
          Their lost kids are squalling
          While man-eating flies
          Jab electric shock needles but what can they do?

They can climb in their cars with raw bodies, raw faces
          And start up the serpent
          And headache it homeward
          A car full of squabbles
          And sobbing and stickiness
          With sand in their crannies
          Inhaling petroleum
          That pours from the foxgloves
          While the evening swallow
The swallow of summer, cartwheeling through crimson,
Touches the honey-slow river and turning
Returns to the hand stretched from under the eaves -
A boomerang of rejoicing shadow.

America’s Soul
Through the means of a company trying to appeal to your emotions to make a sale as I watched this
Pass before me I wasn’t taking in the foreground but what it depicted in the background a realness a
Testimony of truth was flowing at flood stage images bathed in purist knowing about place and the stalwart
Ideals that make up a fabric so rich and full family’s not just empty see through nothing really there pay
No mind but you and I our successes our failures caught in the back drop of mountains and deserts and
In a song an anthem a coursing river but one of a unique part of the world’s humanity identified by red
White and blue builder’s fighter’s lovers of freedom that didn’t come by dreamers alone yes they
Dreamed but then they infused blood and sinew muscle onto this lifeless skeleton their efforts are
Attested to by the sacred graves the head stones don’t tell the story of hardship sacrifice on battlefields
Domestic and hostile bone weary against all odds at times feeling all alone and there were those times
This was true but it was always known you were part of a great brotherhood and sisterhood though far
Apart in the physical sense never the less a great spiritual dynamism bonded you together at the
Farthest and narrowest stretching point steel was without equal in its intent and its effort the lowliest to
The mightiest carried the same strain of a heroic undertaking and inwardly looked the same and truly
Were the same there wasn’t class or rank just Americans pushing this grand experiment to its most
Glory filled conclusion and then at lands end the heart would be engaged to its fullest with hands that
Reached around the globe to any that were threatened or abused fear not our brothers we will lend
To you are strength and all of our resources fulfilling a moral duty to those who are less fortunate we
Have fought and achieved and the natural result will be a mobilized caring that endures through all of
Our history making a stronger unified self governing people the envy of the world not through cheap
Pride but the foundational excellence will give the challenge don’t settle for less don’t be reduced to
Settling for anything but the best monuments are built by many tyrants but let the people build them
From the costliest material and they will endure all generations it will push back ignorance send
Down lighting striking fear in those with ill will and promote the human spirit they will peer down from
Lofty heights undisturbed by petty squabbles those that contend for illustrious beacons forged and
Sprayed out from hammer an anvil in the dark nightly skies of heaven performing and making a sculptured treasure
That speaks truth and creates the sensation of a glory that rests on a people like no other that have
Touched the fringes of utopia with just enough realism to keep you grounded and not allow you to
Totter and fall back under false hood that causes the cycle to start all over again of being a slave instead
Of being free

My mum is so beautiful
My mum is so kind
My mum is so sweet
I love my mum so much
My mum gave me life
Thank you mum you gave me
a lot when you had 6 other children to see too you done it on your own thank you mum
Am sorry for all the fights and squabbles.
I thank you for giving me a roof over my head and comfort when I was weak. Love you mum

skoro tak, to powiem: sometimes i wish to unlearn the english tongue, it's not a case of questioning reality, it's a case of questioning the placebo of what would otherwise encapsulate you, my bilingual nature states i've learnt the language well enough to integrate and bypass assimilation, if only i could assimilate somewhere, but i've become a jew in my attempts; thankfully i'm not ready to start a family and a perpetuated question that seeks trans-generational answers from a kaleidoscope; i've learnt the nomadic way among civilisations rather than being nomadic among natural frontiers, which was already inherent in me, but civilisations came after the frontiers of seas and mountains... i've learnt to integrate but never assimilate, which is why i am doubtful to have found assimilation in only one place, whether god-given or whatever that might suggest... as a nomad i am not the one to build pyramids or temples, the constantly homeless ontological structuring of my being - as god constantly digressing from point of concern - i've tasted the nomadic, although the nomadic in an enclosure that's also israel; so crude the talents to come.

why are we, who have no inheritance
in the colonial past
to inherit the squabbles of former
colonial master and the colonised subjects?
who will speak of the smooth
transitions of the failed Soviet empire
into a bloodless Gorbachev lineage of
break-away states, who needed no nanny?
why are we, who recently learned the english
tongue exposed to these squabbles,
why are we in no-man's land camped
as if a Robinson Crusoe - indeed no man
is an island, and doubly indeed no nation
is a continent - why are we caught up
in the exchanges of the two firing squads -
the pawns in addition to the reliquary crowns
of queens in kindred to the Octobers upon Octobers
further east -
                       a queen a pauper among
the sainthood clergy of capitalism? what a profanity!
who cares for a pauper with idolised insignia -
who? the elocutionist? the rhapsodic rhetorician?
who then? a minded gap wide as a yawn
coupled to a warning that warned of the first step -
why am i cursed with this tongue learned,
why am i cursed with this tongue learned
and as my highest form of expression,
and why no Slavic first? i'm abhorrent with these days,
toward them doubly abhorred -
sure the escalators and other innovations -
tease and please the civilised world -
but learning this tongue is a burden on my soul,
while i see my fellow genetically composed twins
stand tall on construction sites as if Viking ships -
that i became a placebo impasse of originating
in these islands of lore chronologically asserting
a tie with Arthur and Lancelot -
but not me - *ultimatum extraneus,
i should not have allowed the foetus of the english
tongue to become incubated in me for a child to speak -
so eloquently some might add -
i sometimes wish i had no knowledge of either this
tongue, or my mother's, and knew a celestial
tongue where certain phonetics emerged once the
symbols were peered at long enough, as in runes
the V a shortening of woo - and left there,
to no care for applauding a successful institutionalisation
of the teenager for the time being,
before all became a Jenga pyramid game.

Everyone's lying
But nobody is listening,
Coins glimmer and shine;

The truth still glistens
At dawn over crop fields,
Sunlit canopies.

Nature prevails
To show us our failures,
Yet, mankind squabbles.

The death toll rises
And nothing ever changes;
We don't have the time.

Keep spinning the wheel,
The sunset brings shade.

You’ll find them in all such establishments,
(Be they graceful small-town former Victorian homes,
Or cinderblock edifices mindful of some campus multi-faith center)
Sitting in the basement, cheek-to-jowl
With moldering burial records and banking statements,
Yellowed newspaper clippings, faded prayer cards
Small squared-off boxes hastily tabbed together,
Ostensibly temporary containers which have acquired
An unintended and wholly unwelcome permanence.
The whys and wherefores of their subterranean placement
A mixed bag of foible and outright foolishness:
Unresolvable squabbles concerning possession and burial,
Families that skipped out on the bill, leaving mom behind,
Cases of outright not giving a good-*******.
And so they remain, in lieu of repatriation and redemption,
To sit for something akin to perpetuity in some cases
(Members of the profession resolute in their respect
For the dignity of life,
Though their sincerity enjoys less unanimity)
While others wait for mass burial
Once legal niceties have been satisfied,
While still others, in care of firms not so scrupulous
About crossing their t’s and dotting their i’s,
Are flung, albeit somewhat surreptitiously, out the back door,
The remains to take flight if the grass is dry and the wind is brisk,
Otherwise to be left to the vagaries
Of curious birds and creped soles.

only last night, having reach my fill of ms. amber bathing in a ginger ale jacuzzi - chasing a choir boy castrato cat waking me four times i had to utter in frustration (which i later noted): mortality is such an insufficient measure of things... i would be ****** if i didn't make a quick ode to Ovid's ****** poems... to truly appreciate performing oral *** on a woman? i suggest you first appreciate eating oysters... not oysters: no, having performed oral ***, looking at the moon in the quicksilver sheen to see your face all slobbered... an appreciation of eating oysters, is most certainly, a precursor to performing oral *** on a woman... beside:

wenn alles weisheit wurden zu kommen auf Indien -
if all wisdom were to come from India,

needless to say - these ancients still treat
greece as some sort of ongoing "experiment" -
that nothing, absolutely nothing:
is viable -
they might as well call it the still to progess
into a foundation state of affairs -
the west is seen as fickle -
a thought it not so much entrenched
and passed on, as it is made vogue one
generation - disappearing for some time:
before reappearing...

no proverbs ever came from the west:
nothing akin to:
besser ein spatz im ihr hand -
als ein taube auf ihr dach -
i just like how it sounds in german...
the original reads:
lepiej wróbel w ręce - niż gołąb na dachu
(better a sparrow in your hand,
than a dove upon your roof)...

legit. proverb: hold the simpler joys
in your hand, closest to you,
that look up and think that a dove
upon your roof will bring peace to
your household...

as long as everyone under the roof
has simple and "immediate" joys in hand
close to the heart...
peace is not tempted by spotting
a dove on your roof...

here's another one... and i was looking and
i was looking and i was looking
and i thought i couldn't find some,
some sort of alternative...
if only Ted Bundy went down this route...
then again... if he did...
he would have started jerking off
to fine art... the detail of the tongues,
the ***** and the ability to filter
out what is happening outside the erotica...
what?
i will drill this example in...
every, single, time:
Bronzino's venus, cupid, folly and time...

perhaps i am that old,
before free internet *******...
some of us had the ***** and the rose cheeks
to walk into a newsagent and pick
up a pornomag...

well... "*****" - more like...
sculptor's digest... or...
**** subject pages for that lesson
you'd love to take at school
where you could paint a ****...
oh hell: paint all the flowers in the world...
flower: covert: female genitals...
all the flowers in the world...
but not the torso and the mystery
of the bellybutton
nor the cow-sacks of Surabhi...
after all... they started multiplying in number
and you couldn't, after a while,
tell apart what it was about them...
peach on the front,
peach on the back...
and what would a hindu know of
the tetragrammaton?
when H... is a surd in their language?

i tried almost everything...
but upon my final discovery...
hell... it just started making sense...
glory-hole... the dreaded lesbian genre...
once in a brothel i was asked if
i wanted 2 hours with her,
or an hour with her and her friend,
i replied: i still don't know what i'm
going to do with you...
i don't live by the motto:
the world is divided into men
who have slept with two women
and a the men who haven't...

give me two legs of chicken...
i'll know what to do...
a woman can multitask...
after all... if a muslim gets 72 virgins...
a woman is guaranteed her
3 greyhounds... one for each 'ole!
'ere comes the charging bull...

der wesheit auf Indien:
nothing reflexive about it -
just enough to ease you into a mirror
of non-reflection:
i.e. something to destroy the self
with and incorporate -
a billionth part of yourself...
wisdom worthy of meditation -
but not exactly stretching
into a labyrinth of thought -
call it all you like:
clumsy thinking,
spaghetti alleys and cul de sacs,
the labyrinth -
why complicate life, which is already
complicated, by complicating thought?
after all: what is thought?
the first question of the θ-moral?
the th'ought i?

oh don't get me wrong...
that an elephant shouldn't exactly pair
up to a rabbit in the kama sutra:
spot on...

even i became tired of the meat-market...
after a while i just felt like a butcher
looking at cuts of meat...
cam-girls: i don't remember paying...
the genres... god... i probably looked
at 5 in total...
hello exotica... ebony...
glory-hole... ****...
the horrid affair of the extremes -
lars von trier nymphomaniac
confessions type of genres...
hell... i even tried ******...
but still: the meat-market...

well no point looking for alternatives
in the islamic world...
unless you are really ***** for
eyes in the kneeling position
while looking to and from the heavens
of a catholic confessional booth...

some variant of softcore ****:
latex whole body suits...
girls in gimp suits with a zipper
for a genital opening...

but still the meat market...
****? only to laugh at the farts...
but still... the meat-market...
and still the all pervading sense of voyeurism!
that's not enough, it wasn't enough to begin with,
then i'd come across articles
in legit. newspapers (the times)
about how women tend to watch
more violent *******...

for a while i entertained the no-man's land
affair with girls ******* videos...
**** became a little bit weird
when i turned that upside down
and focused on: pregnant women
*******...
and... i just borrowed something from
a 1976 novel by Michael Crichton:
eaters of the dead -
better known as the Wendol in the film
the 13th warrior -
where the diety was a pregnant woman...
i played into that fantasy...
which coincided with the time
i ****** off ******* for 2 hours
and imagined:
well... i guess... ******* are off limits
to men when a woman has a baby...
and she's actually breastfeeding...
i couldn't imagine this fantasy to live
beyond that date of conception
through to having finished breastfeeding
a child... but... for a while...
i gave careful attention...
to what it would be like...
with a lactating woman...

that was the zenith of my exploration...
eh... *** parties? filmed in those shabby
intz intz horrid dance music scenes?
n'ah... i wanted something more...
more... archetypical...
something teasing the forbidden...
but not forbidden as such...
something akin to:
having to convince her to **** while
on her period, in a bath,
wearing a ******: to ease, the, cramps!

ugh... czech house party *** scenes...
or those scenes from prague,
the inverted glory-holes...
what you see are cubicles
of women's legs sticking out...
again:
too much imagination already given...
none of this was akin to
Bronzino's venus, cupid, folly and time...
everything was moving,
i was nothing more than a ******,
always the 5th wheel of the wagon...
somehow, yeah, "somehow" necessary...
even if a woman was ******* 3 at the same time,
there was the fourth... watching...
via the 5th one: filming...

hyper-geometry of a triangle...

what was essentially missing?
accents of eroticism - subtlety -
to have an image in your mind - quiet static -
and to allow your imagination to seep in...
all the other western alternatives
were nothing but meat-markets / slaughterhouses...
none of your imagination could seep in...
not even with the first pornomags
of my teen years...
protruding ******* like the eyes
of judge doom from: who framed roget rabbit...
which always begged the question...
very much akin to the question
posed by Milan Kundera in:
the unbearable lightness of being...
**** with your eyes closed...
or your eyes open?

the sensuality of worms and all those
murky beings: primordial *** -
eyes closed -

      eyes open? the seemingly anti-sensual
inconvenience of mammalian
reproduction - with no pain upon giving
birth: what pleasure upon reaching an ******?
asked the wind of a savannah to its inhabitants.

Islam still wasn't helping -
i could never understand how a woman's eyes
were the most ****** aspect of a woman's body...
perhaps her hands...
well if you have hands like i have...
what you have in your pants isn't exactly
an ego-trip... you're holding a sparrow...
she's holding a bulging ribcage of an albatros!
you can hold a basketball with one hand...
and she is... a knuckle short of your four...
why wouldn't a woman's hands be the most
****** aspect of her body...
after all... a non-discriminatory plateau:
all are the hands of a a geisha...

geisha... islamic eroticism still isn't working...
hair... hair...
a lot of people complain if they have
a fly / a hair in their soup when served
in a restaurant... jokes on me...
i have a beard and the hairs of the beard
are the same consistency of ***** hair...
so i basically have ***** on my face...
ha ha...
why hair? what's so ****** about hair?
what if i tell you that as women age...
almost all of them decide for the pixie girl look -
and what if i told you that...
ifindwomenwithshorthairintheiryouththezenithoferotica?
ag­ain... islam isn't helping...


.a thing of genuine beauty, is always predicated upon transcendent value of inquiry... to transcend the common, daily, human squabbles... it becomes areligous... while daily human squabbles continue, what has been lost, is an item of transcendence, it was never to be a focus of some "parasitical" sycophancy of tourism... there's nothing to be celebrated, and... nothing much to be awed by either.

well, what did the ottoman turks
do to the hagia sophia?
they converted it,
but they weren't philistines
to the point,
   or say, a bunch rabid mongols
from the 13th century
in Bagdad...
                      like:
                     and why didn't
the nazis not destroy certain valuable
cultural cruxes?
   that picture of st. paul's cathedral
during the blitz...
  yes, the english might think
it was a symbol of defiance...
but i'm pretty ******* sure
that if one luftwaffe bomber dropped
something on st. paul's,
they'd return home and be
shot by a firing squad...
            they might have been
nazis... but they weren't philistines...
even the ottomans...
süleymaniye was so jealous
of the byzantine building
that he had to commission the construction
of a building to match-up
to the hagia sophia in some
way...
           again:
                  prank call buddha...
tell him they're also
tearing down idols in northern europe
with their phallus cult
           of the large wooden
***** carved from a tree.
what's that?        you yell'ah?
i mean: in the heyday
   of scandinavian black metal...
varg vikernes... 'nuf' said.

_________
a

Im focusing my energy elsewhere as best I can, but I keep thinking of El Torpedo.
Trapped there between dimensions like that; It's no fun. I've been there.
It's no fun at all.

I generally don't get involved in petty squabbles between lesser beings;
But, this particular situation bothered me greatly.
Is it because I'm lonely?
I'm too lazy to be lonely;

So, that makes no sense.

I can't even enjoy my coffee for want of piece of mind on the matter.

That's where I draw the ******* line.

My haven, it will not be disturbed this way.

I had to do something.
Something that required effort;
Asking favors from entities I don't particularly care to visit with.

I've never felt this.

Why do I care all of a sudden?
A question for which I currently have no answer.

I really should've paid more attention to the goings on,
but I was distracted by thoughts of Sacred Geometry
And dreams of Fibonacci...

Here is what I think I know so far:

El Torpedo thought she killed The Artist.
So did everyone else.
That turned out not to be the case.

Killing the Scarecrow, I can understand.
It would make perfect sense to me- but, I'm not the Artist.
She works differently.

She takes her time.

This was a crime of passion, she was in a hurry.
She didn't sign her work
That is unheard of; it doesn't happen.
El Torpedo is alive.

The Artist didn't plan this; it was happenstance.
They interrupted her;
She punished them.
Ghost was opportunity (I'll explain),
Torpedo was mercy (How mundane).

Our lives are like ocean waves, born of a celestial entity among a diversified sea of possibilities. Direction and intensity set at birth with a future blurred by the endless horizon

Some waves wander alone, losing momentum as they are gradually ushered down by Earth’s gravitational pull before tragically coming to a rest among the blue abyss, destination never realized

Others are born of the unseen violence and upheaval between tectonic plates battling for dominion over the volatile landscape deep beneath the surface. Knowing no other way, they perpetuate the violence that created them, destroying and consuming everything in their path

Yet some join together, superimposed into a harmonious union that multiplies their strength and propels them forward until it’s waters gently meet the shore in an actualizing marriage of journey and destiny

Storms often boil up out of nowhere, dismantling adjacent waves. While a select few resist the onslaught, instead gaining strength and vitality. Like a conductor bringing a symphony to crescendo, the roil pushes these waves further than others in pursuit of their destination

This dynamic tapestry of new beginnings and violent ends blend together as one, eroding and shaping the land around them as they work out their daily squabbles. Heads barely above water, they continue onward towards the horizon blatantly disregarding a future for which they create

the greatest lesson i learned concerning life was what Ezra Pound refuted... it came from Tao - and on that 86 bus heading to school i have learned it like an arithmetic rubric - my only lesson came from Tao, all my lessons came from Tao - from a Buddhist revision... the lesson? the only way to aid the world is to let the world forget you, and you in turn forgetting the world be. for that what speaks to the entombed heart, the heart of hearts when the mountain crumbles into rubble, and you're left picking your fancy until the diamond is found among seashells, before you the sea of time gnarling with gnashing of shattered teeth - shoo shoo shoo as if tiresome of the green-bottom flies who's spawn is readied overly... the *******... i can't call them anything respectable in African sensibility... the ******* at the back of the bus and the white harlots too... me in the middle sitting reading a book... Stendhal romanticised me, but Tao taught me reality... i know it wasn't the original Tibetan slit eye, it was Japanese... the only way to help the world is for the world to forget you and you forget the world... which i relearned reading Heidegger, who suggested i should be transparent in engaging with the world through concern (being there, or dasein), even a Heidegger apologetic in me turned into Ronin - Asiatic apathy is courtesy, European apathy is simply impoliteness - the latter has too many ****** expressions - i summarise my life with the anonymous Taoist monk who said these words... anti-celebrity culture, they burn like fire in my mind - they burn like fire in my mind - they are my mind - but i had to show him the European verbiage and the ferns of European thought to prove him right, and i did. Heidegger's concern became the ***** Berufung, soon the concern fizzled and was masked by wife and children - but better a Heidegger apology than a Christian one - what meditation can a crown of myrrh provide while being crucified? none! the Rastafarians keep singing about Babylon... the tree wise men came from that region... so the fourth magician... the four horsemen of the apocalypse? Melchior, Caspar, Balthazar, Jesus  it's still a profanity of the tetragrammaton - four horsemen, four canonical gospels... and that ***** that's Gematria - the undermining of all serious study - you can keep those Rabbis in the museum with Grecian  marbles to collect dust, as i mention Tolstoy and that passage from war & peace: pierre bezukhov - the freemason friend (chapter 13) - l'empereur Napoléon  (666) - l'empereur Alexandre - la nation russe - comte Pierre Bésouhoff - sub z for s (Chiral Gemini) - + de und le - le russe bésuhof = 671 - omitting e (incorrectly) - l'Russe Bésuhof - BINGO! - the orthographic gag - most Anglo never heard of such graphic, having never made auxiliary use of it - but i stick to the lesson in Tao - the world does not recognise me as acting in its fate, and will not remember me as even the hushed - i rather not remember it in whatever guise it might provide for me - the first lesson in Tao, is the last lesson in Tao - Stendhal might have taught me romanticism of the ideal heart of woman - but that one maxim of Tao taught me how to not hunger for women, as if i were the Paraclete - perhaps what Christianity wished for was a placebo of the Paraclete - given that so many already believed the other figure being extinguished in the wake of the 20th century - but in talk of religion, such is the limited vocabulary, and such the impossible task ahead, in that grand masquerade of identifying all with one, and one with all:
as an atom:
                                       omni
                          
                  omni           mono         omni

                                       omni                                  or

(around me everything, i must concentrate on myself)

                                                        ­      nihil

                                         nihil             omni          nihil

                                            ­                  nihil  

(around me nothing, therefore i must encompass it all)

whatever the answer, i sought, and found mine,
it was in Tao, and nowhere else.*

there's never a talk of transparency
in politics - politics isn't
about transparency - it's about
the vaguest and the foggiest -
you all should know this by now -
but ado with George Orwell's double-think,
or simply doppelgläuben -
you believe to disbelieve - that's what the
doppelgläuben does - if religion be the ******
of the masses, then engaging the masses with
politics is engaging them with
hell-raisers - diluted alcohol from 40 to 15%.
no wonder they're ******-off being prescribed
status quo placebos;
politics was never about transparency, all those
near the pigsty troughs know the motto:
you scratch my back, i scratch yours.
the electorate think this applies to them
also true between their daily squabbles, but it doesn't.
doppelgläuben: you believe to disbelieve;
and of course we want objectivity, we want
cages after all... Darwinism is perfect for
an objective expression, which is why poetry
is sidelined as Loser St. -
we all want perfect abs and the opportunity to
sell yogurt rather than Mongolian Yurts
in swimwear shorts... but how long will this
Siberian talk of rationality serve the mammalian heart?
how long will objectivity given Darwinism seem
sensible to keep? are we at the butchers' or
reflecting on life? raw meat, maggoty meat, well done?
we all know that the majority of us are losers,
but drilling this in will never allow us to
speak objectively... well, it will... like in Munich,
an 18 year old lashing out from what he heard
his father being called: Scheiße Auslander -
this is the rational benefit of objectivity so keenly expressed
in argument - which is why so many people have
turned to poetry, but they don't yet see that
the ****** was worn for much too long -
and given democracy, they get lost in the whirlwind
of so many people feeling the same.
hence? Tao lesson no. 1 - aid the world by the world
forgetting you... and you in turn forgetting the world
so the world can be best aided, and you kept free
without minding the c.c.t.v.

If God exists
He or She knows All
Is Everywhere
And Everywhen
And lives beyond
Space and Time.
For so it is to be a God.

She is far too great
To concern herself
With this grain of sand
Lost in the vastness of our Multiverse.

Our words can’t hurt Her,
Maybe make Her smile at most,
Even as we take Her name in vain.
Our petty squabbles
Are but fights
Amongst the ants.

She Loves all Life,
Though some be sacrificed at times
For the Greater Good.

I ask you all
To open your mind
And see us through Her eyes.
She cannot want us
To martyr ourselves
Or **** those who are different
In race or creed.

She will not give us Heaven
If we sacrifice our lives
To **** Her creatures
That she made
With such magnificent grace.

Above all else She is a Loving God,
Cherishing ALL that Lives.
Forget the ancient histories
Of warring and strife.
NOW is where we are,
And now is the Time
For Love.

Paul Butters

Oh, Joseph, we love this fine and ritzy party
No, through the poppy fields we rode a cart, see?
I agree, but at that time the lake was dry
There were castles and spires and dragons this high!
Joseph, what a very, very good party.

--At times, I find there are never parties
But it has been so long since this trip I’ve started
So long from home, with the pain of thought-wandering
Wander, wonder if the dead sit so pondering
In their solitude.

What time find men to thought-wander when dead?
Where seconds breathe lifetimes, bleed red
And when will thought-wandering cave in my head?
The stammered squabbles of parties bled
Out into my hearing.

--Oh, I simply cannot believe the things he says
My dear, did he philosophize about his pauper days?
Lord, how she would twist and turn the conversation
She’d laugh and cheer and nod, all to appease him
Do you hear them now?

--In no earthy place could one ever find such a cracked imagination
Go, and thought-wander the depths of my empty nation;
You’ll find a few dismantled towns, a statue, gold;
A statue of me, built by me, where parties were held
Even there you won’t find it.

Perhaps, if one could find, some lonely corner
With shadows and planks in the heart of the world
Where the dead would sit and the dead would ponder
The fuss and precision of their last friend, the coroner
There you may find it.

I'll tell you now, girl, I've never been good at expressing my emotions. I run my mind around and around in circles, seeking solace from the lullaby of loneliness I hear every night before bed.

I'll tell you now, girl, I'm not your stereotypical tough guy. I'm not going to start squabbles for the sake of excitement, or purvey pain like the pimps and the players.

I'll tell you now, girl, I'm not the most confident man that's ever sauntered down these streets. I have a fragile ego, one that breaks like brittle little bones nearly every evening. The few things I take pride in seem insignificant in the face of my follies, fallacies, and failures.

But I'll tell you now, girl, you keep me alive through the worst life throws at me. When the world is whirling and I'm weak and wasted, I wish for a woman to withhold my wild ways. I beg for the beauty that will battle the back breakers and ***-bombs that burst in my brain. I sing for the siren of all things sweet and ****, of salvation and accompanied solitude.

But I'll tell you now, girl, you don't exist. The joyous and gentle girl I describe within is mere myth. A myth, but a mystical morsel of my mind, one I shall seek till I'm sickly and saggy. A soul that sends shivers down my spine every succulent second they're in sight.

I'll never stop my search, fantasy female. When I at last locate you, love, I won't let you leave, and I won't leave you limp and lifeless, from lures and lies.

I can only desire your deliverance, dream dame, and I leave my heart on your fireplace hearth, hoping to hold you.

For an instant.

For an evening.

For eternity.

Graphic holographic photographic
useless plastic blacklights
that sit

popping balloons ***** spilling
everywhere, at least partial
it comes and goes

sitting, comparing mustaches, reminiscing
woodland conundrums meaningless exchanges of time
passed

squished in a sober automobile
full of drunks meaningless squabbles
squished seven in where seven belong
belligerent drunk, joyously sober
drunkenly sober?
either way i am
am i
i am
here for now, although we all know the impermanence of time, the moment
stupid words thrown on a page
to serve what purpose?
what good does any of it do?
words connect emotions
sorrowful stories of serene sounds
uneffecting interacting with all

endless expanses of open feet walk without
soles? souls? either way the have no base?
sitting on couches watching beaten cats dogs children
the night is getting late it's clear now

and i sit thinking thoughts that never leave my mind
and smile

Do they value  quietude
as we do?
passing through their cul de sac
with the same red blood causing through
our veins ?
The cold stone buildings are arcane
clematis seemingly  choking.them.
A wider sentence permeates.
The nightingale squabbles with the swallow
and all is not as same it seems.
How peace was wished for
but the inhabitants  are loathed  to admit
an underlining struggle re emerges.

Qualified Abstinence

I’ve decided - though not wholly -
As of morning’s bath - to put on hold
The daily custom, habit’s viewing -
NCIS, Dr Phil - suspecting as I do
That they are doing me some harm
Engaging, charming
                                 as they are.

Mind as thought and mind as stomach,
Turn to worry, churn with fear
As states of things in world and home,
Play out the clearer,
Signs maturing in their chaos,
Ever growing, ever baiting;
Making brilliant, analytical dear Phil
Ever more mouth-watering.
Well-loved NCIS plays its part,
Portraying nations torn apart
With ever cleverer technologies
And cleverer–type baddies
Getting ‘theirs’ from even smarter good guys.

If then, strong enough to not back off,
The morning TV staying off,
Then maybe, only maybe
This old belly
Can restore its tranquil peristalsis,
Family squabbles turning babble to a kiss.
Phil, dear Phil, continue to be wise and kind!
NCIS’ cast: brave, cuddly and seasoned -
Flag unfurled, continue to engage yourselves
In world salvation!
Stationing my thoughts in action,
I must leave you both
To carry myself into truth
As cellular Arlene conceives, perceives,
Inherently achieves it.
(If, of course, l don’t fall back into the -
(crude, ill-mannered rude word)  ****!

Qualified Abstinence 7.20.2014
Pure Nakedness; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
arlene corwin poetry.com

Envision the acceleration
Of your heart and mind
As the truth is delivered
Upon you, replacing
Your salvation with a
Glimmer of thought
To inspire you to
Reimagine an existence
Without the excess of a god.
Time, energy, and motion
Becoming interwoven as you
Refocus on a new existence
Where you don't *******
Squander away your time
Worshipping false idols
Warning you against
Worshipping false idols.
When armed with a thought,
The creation of a
Revised world isn't
Such a foreign concept,
But an attainable reality.
Strive for a redefinition
Of the corrupt system
For in action, change
Can be forced on
The unwilling establishment.
Abandon the petty squabbles,
Brother against brother
Over an imagined salvation
Leading only to extermination.
Realign your thought process
And adjust to a world where
Brother allied with brother
Fight for the freedom
From class division,
From monetary idealism,
And from religious ideology  
Picture an existence
Where we no longer divide
But combine to form
A unification
Of revolution.

briano alliano performs at neptune cafe



hi dudes and welcome to neptune cafe, and today i am performing some great numbers for ya

here is the first song, titled i am working for the future


you see i am up here playing a song

trying to get things right, oh yeah

the song is some old fashioned song

that nobody likes , but this sums up my voicers

trying to say, whether my voices are true or not

i hate being someone people hate

i get up and i say to the mic, please leave me alone

i am a person, just a person, who never put a foot wrong

you see i take my medication, because i want to get reformed

please, respect that, please like this, don’t call me a loser

just because i take medication, the only old fogie in me mate

is i take medication, i want myself to be reformed ya see

i want my evil me of the 80s and early 90s dead, never to be alive again

please buddha, allow me to my past

youj see dad tried to help me, when he called me a fool

i think he was trying to show me, what can happen io me, if i fought the young dudes

you see, i tried to fight it out with dad, but i now know that was wrong

please don’t hassle me about that, i really wanna be reformed

dad didn’t deserve what i put him through, but he was a stubborn man

especially when i was trying to make peace, i know i say sorry then fought again

you see dad and mum got cranky over spilt milk, i can’t handle this

i think dad was having fun pushing me on to bed

yeah, it was the only way to get me to learn about his ****** authority rule

i know i’s schizophrenic but i was training myself in my room

i wanted to be famous, but i went about it the ****** wrong way

i wish wasn’t so fucken stubborn, because it was obvious i was reformed

ya see, when dad put me to the test, i felt like fighting, but i decided to calm down

you see all i did was spend my money, i was celebrating freedom

i was an adult, baby, but not the nerdy kind

i don’t really appreciate being treated like a nerd or a little kid to a tease

dad should work on betty campbell, to show us what he saw in me

cause i was trying to be a COOL BOY, ya know, not necessary to a fight

i was sick of being the kind of kid to always be well behaved

i wanted to muck around with mate, but i realiy ****** well **** my pants

dad never helped me, but he tried, so i have to be the **** **** kid

till the day i move out, and that drove me crazy, i hated me and dads squabbles, it was fucken CRAZY

dad took advantage of my schizophrenic behaviour, all because i preferred music than the fucken army

and now, dudes, i will chuck a methane smoothie on dad to rid his old fucken hag

like i am teasing the old fucken hag, here is your methane smoothie, right in your head

Imagine your surgical procedure being done by someone you’ve left broken hearted
Surely they’ve put aside the petty squabbles in the past and are prepared to operate

No anesthesia…how curious
Why are your limbs fastened so securely?

Her empty gaze captures your eyes
She looks away and begins the first incision
Down the middle of your abdomen
A cry of stinging pain fills the four walled chamber of oncoming torture
The blade leads down to your waist and sliced open skin follows behind it
And inside dwell your organs within the ribs

Empty jars await their entry sitting on the counter

“NO!
“NO!” “STOP, PLEASE!”

She remains silent

Yet on the inside a roar of rage propels her to twirl your intestines with a fork like spaghetti and then put it in a jar
That was for the time you put her down and judged her harshly for being anorexic.  
She only wanted to be pretty enough to deserve you

She has waited a long time for this delayed gratification
It has been put off due to her indecision's of how she planned to force feed you your just desserts

A hunting knife into your back?
Too messy
Get a new lover and rub it in your face?
Too predictable
Arsenic or sulfuric acid poisoning?
To easy
The thought of bashing you on social media and bringing out all your grotesque laundry and despicable skeletons?
Well that would diminish her reputation and you; in her eyes are not worthy of that

So this was her concluding decision
Precariously and tediously breaking you down bit by bit

An angel of death with a vendetta against a betraying heretic of love

She plucks your kidneys out with a pair of clean stainless steel tweezers
And drops them in a jar then twists the lid back on tightly

That was for all the times you pressured her to take part in things that went against all she believed to be right and true
“Here, drink this”
“Snort this”
“**** this”
“We don’t need one”
“This won’t hurt”
“Come on don’t you love me?”
Your screams have been silenced with gauze bandages
The muffled agony is like a serene symphony to her

You hurt her
You took her
And had her change everything about her to the point she couldn’t even recognize her reflection in the mirror
What was once a beautiful blonde haired, bright eyed, clear skinned young woman became a pale, thin haired, strung out, sunken eyed broken shadow of herself
All because of you
And your intimidating influence

She spoons out your liver, the your bladder and pancreas
The appendix has already been taken out, on her dime
Remember that?
You had her move in
You had her pay a little of the rent
Then half of it
Then all of it
She worked while you shot up
Then you got her to start shooting up
She lost her job and you two lived on the streets

You’ve passed out now
Your moans and squirms are gone

She proceeds to remove your stomach
This was for what was the most traumatic and tragic moment in her life

You got her pregnant, around the same time you convinced her to join you on a drinking binge
Months later she told you she went to the doctor
And the doctor said your child was still born
Can you recall the sleepless nights of tears and anguish?
Of course not you were invested with another woman at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon

The jars are filling up
Two remain

She rips out your lungs with her bare hands
You told her you would marry her, you would love and cherish her forever
Instead you ruined her life and drove it into the ground
You made her feel lonely even when you were right next to her knocked out in some doped up trance

She bashes your skull open with a rock hammer and picks up your brain and removes the stem
She looks at it
She would have believed it to be more sinister looking
And smaller
Into a jar it goes

Last but not least she looks at your heart
It stopped beating
Your black heart
Full of malice and careless arrogance
Your brutal, evil heart
She rips it out with her own mouth
And takes a bite and swallows
It tastes like a rotten sour stinking fruit
Putrid and vile

Your carcass tied to an operating table
Your torso torn open
And your organs removed and put in jars

The girl you wronged is now satisfied
You are even
You can pass on
And she can move on

At times I confess,
The follies that are part of me,
The bane of being human,
Force me to find recluse in solitude,
Away from the squabbles of mortal men,
Who fight for things immaterial,
Spurning things that they should endevour to have.
Alas, it shames me not,
That solitude at times,
Rejuvenates some hidden part of myself,
A resevoir refilled, replenished.
I spend my time alone,
Listening to the solitary wind,
Or to the beats of some bard’s song,
Uncovering meaning in both.
But I must admit there are times,
When I watch lovers entwined in a casual embrace,
Or a child’s loving gaze at his parent,
And realization strikes me.
Although I like being alone at times,
The wine of loneliness bitters my withered soul.

which makes sense eating an english breakfast
at 2a.m., and then whining:
where's the sunrise, and business of day?
but i do love how certain people can extract
a narrator out of me, a potential to be as such,
capable to exfoliate. and in my own secret
space i am milking the she-goat,
and i mean: that's quasi-Hindu given the lack of
vegetarian experts...
      i mean: having been
most benevolently excavated from placebo solipsism
a cure to experiencing schizophrenia,
i find the crowd once again, but that doesn't mean
i'm writing from a crowded scene...
i'm simply devoid of commuter squabbles, let alone
those prancing arcades of blinking lights that
are known as the protestor crowds...
   i sorta of don't get that scene...
i just don't see the need the rush for the commotion...
  wait... let me get my banner...
(enter snigger) -  i'd be more handy with a
kalashnikov or a molotov dead-end
that i will ever be.. sheep-shy-sheep-bound
to hoister a banner:
    i just think repetition is a bit of a dead
given samples in music, and how you can re- re- refresh
      on the scratched-vinyl altar...
(how a noun for again: in Latin,
  became shortened to a prefix re-, so that
it could be made into an adequate "grapheme"
builder to note things like: resaid, regained....
without it: on crutches, alone)...
maybe i'm not even zeitgeist,
and wouldn't that be a real worry for me...
   i'd start seeing the vietnamese
nail nuns... asking that it becomes hard, acrylic...
   feline grr... scratch that *******'s
scalp into an Ed Gein mask...
oh sure... the jokes are free from this point.
but i just *** it away,
farting like a zeppelin...
              and really, language could never
be poetic and alphabetical at the same time...
that bogus bow-tie bachelor of bloom
would never help to solve the daffodil's lack
of bloated turkey in april debate for
one Frenchman's vision of
         caging a > / < b...
                 subsequently c... no one new
whther a > b or whether a < b...
were either a < b or b > a? to later state a c?
talk to a greek: he won't know what the hell
you're talking about...
why is why greek didn't employ siamese
principles regarding vowels to expose
          the difficulty, of coupling consonants
into covert-graphemes... phi non-vs. theta, e.g.
perhaps ratio *******? a : b : c...
no? it's a lot to ask for when there's no real punctuation
to be sordid about... i already stated:
   how the Romans cut up words
isn't exactly how the Greeks cut them up...
  when you cut up a word
the roman way, you work from the principle
of a grapheme... or the φoνoς,
beginning with æ - some might call that
as merely: tongue tied, or tongue numbed...
ello ello... but there's a clear sound...
apart from the sounds encrusted in h, w, y...
     but it's exactly what the doctors ordered,
given they become sort of truant with
the Hippocratic oath...
   the φoνoς finally belongs parallel to the
Heraclitus λoγoς...
based upon the sole prime of how individual sounds
were noted...
i.e. it had to mean something, so Heraclitus
was looking for "the" word, only because
individual greek letters were giving a noun
status, rather than a sound status... there was
no φoνoς principle in the greek alphabet...
letters weren't mere sound units, they had the status
of nouns, which is why they became pivots
for keeping them as such, in a hierarchy of
optical superiority above the Roman encoding,
ranging from mathematical or chemical coordinates...
which is why the Greeks have no good music
these days: well, apart from rotting christ...
and aphrodite's child...
          the Greek tongue has no idea of a grapheme,
(μ, ν, ξ and π don't even come close...
  the grapheme principle needs a siamese graphic:
the cited examples would require
   a siamese of opposite sexes... and since i haven't seen
such an example... i beg to differ)...
there's no siamese entity in it, there's no æ...
nothing Greek is explicit in sound,
which is why i guess the lisp comes from...
they're eating custard every time i hear them talk
or whistling via a pigeon feather turned into
a flute... ****** fla fla... falaffel and theta cheese...
oh but there is, it exists in the realm
of consonants and vowels... rather than among
vowels, exclusively...
      but that is why Heraclitus invented the λoγoς...
he contemplated the λoγoς because he couldn't
see the φoνoς, given that α couldn't
be taking a seat in dentistry and saying ah...
   or that φ couldn't just end with phi...
but had to lead onto a complexity of φlosophy...
and god... look at the mutilation of aesthetics
with that one! the λoγoς isn't that enigmatic as it appears,
old, dusty and about 3000 years revised too late...
  not with what the Roman caricature of
the λoγoς actually is... a, b, c, d...
or how close proximity deviating from the λoγoς
makes the φoνoς pop out...
  why / i              y / why
                               see / c
        b / be
                              a / aye / i / huh?
     t / tea                     p / ***
                      q / queue / cue...
     this is the limitations of the φoνoς...
  and only with the φoνoς being presented will
Heraclitus ever find the λoγoς, that might
suggest to him: α, will never have to be suffixed
with -λφα: cue -λθα.
- the reason why he concenptualised it
is because Greek gave restrictions on how
the phonos could be constructed...
   it couldn't! it revolves around the Greek alphabet
being noun-based... logoístic... rather than
pure phonetic carrying the ideal shrapnel...
       Heraclitus thought up the logos
for the sole reason that Greek stated
α as αλφα... rather than αλθα... or merely α
(and then you'd sing the rest, say #a)
hence the concept of the logos... but not the phonos...
because even if α or β could attain a status
of being a grapheme... both would forever remain
a noun... a word: rather than a sound-unit...
or as the moderns like to call them: sound-bits...
only because of the roman concept of
a grapheme does this arise from: the æ
testmanet of an Adam and Eve, clearly making
******-***** differentiation appealing...
so a return to the thesis of androgony?
  what, make the world siamese?
you ******* kidding me?
listen, the only problem about being genius
in poetry is that: well... there aren't any shortcuts...
you want to write narrative like exponents,
but you are writing something that's to be read
standing up, like watching a canvas in an art
gallery... this isn't reading a Tolstoy reclining
in bed, the counter to turning on the radio and
listening to music to fall alseep...
   i can't simply destroy the narrative principle
that poetry is also prone to...
    and trying to provide the equivalent of
a mathematical proof / equation in purely
linguistic symbology, will eviidently mean i'll be prone
to spaghetti / digression...
     for example stating a + in language is really
a problem as to how you can comprehend me when
i write: i see a an auburn flame of a setting sun...
      is that only one + or many in that sentence?
   educated as a chemist, son of a roofer...
  am i really middle-class ponce concerning this?
do i ******* look like i'm gearing up for a tea-party?
   basics... well, better a summary than
giving a vanity project to this narrator...
poets indeed are anti-novelists: there aren't
any characters in their works,
the only thing more numerous in poetry than
characters in a novel... are the narrators...
   Heraclitus spoke about the logos working from
α = alpha...
   i'm speaking about the phonos working from
a = a multitude of sounds...
             which is why they revised this *******
alphabet with the NATO of alpha romeo...
     zulu and i should probably state: *******...
   that's the whole principle of the phonos...
to work back to the logos...
         and since Heraclitus is a bit vague about
the logos in itself...
      it has to come down to Hippocrates talking
about freeloading on ***** when
   you receive cancer's foetus and try to alleviate the pains.

As I walked down, on my way
back from Camden Town- some sights I saw.
The squabbles on the streets,
the dancers with two left feet-
I saw the smokers blow rings,
upon cobbled stones surrounded by courts-
like kings.

Then the rain came pelting,
yet the old lady kept belting.
Out her soft tune.
The cats came to listen,
but the rain kept on glistening
till shelter was found.
What a day to go missing-
even if the downpour's *******
on my way home from Camden Town.

Before the time of man before his petty squabbles,
When great deeds once were done and giants walked the land,
The mighty of the heavens walked freely where they might,
And the heavens and the earth resounded with their fights.
But power is not always strength nor are the strong the victors,
For strength can never overcome the wisdom of the clever.

warmth in cornered sun
chirping birds nesting squabbles
street motor noise..errands...

A painting once seen
man in Sunday dress fishing
Easter morning river...

Tree shadows  11:28 AM
sun angle miniature projected
diminished in light...

Attention to breathing
exhale noise and nature and day
sunlight inhale...