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Amitav Radiance Oct 2014
Walking through the perfumed garden
All the flowers were vociferous
Spreading their happiness
With the intense aroma that pours out
Potent cocktail carried by the wind
Tugging at my heart
To come back every day for a stroll
Perfumed garden allures me
Their fragrance has so much enthusiasm
Julian Mar 2019
Flippant polymaths exude the frippery of travail for lapsed inordinate surgical gains in temporal but temporary acclaim that owes its provenance to the gullarge accentuated by the guttural tempests of silent windfalls that wrestle with sharks and snarky cagamosis with pilfered fame without rulers for rules that own the profligacy of a cineaste game

We cannot surpass our talents with ease when the treecheese of inevitable distance between equipoise and insanity is a tantamount inanity of prolixity for the sake of freedom rather than servitude to the slow meandered steps of trudged verbigeration that needs to be exorcised from the seat of authority for the plodding inconvenience of time earned that shakes the listless yearning people who lie and spurn

Demagogues are trifles because they are anoegenetic and care not for the abligurition that consumes the energy of a dismal life lived on fringes rather than reaped with grimaces for binges that continue to absorb the painful pangs of twinges that hedonists are of interest

We cannot exorcise the demons that give stygian weight to exchequers beyond the gamut of money but rather the currency of velocity of thought that owes its weight to weightlessness of spaces between the spacious and the limited tract of isolative territory that many mendicants looking for sustenance travail in insolence and in perjury of their solemn duties for self-serious honesty they lack a vista to see their crimes as more than just a pettifoggery of disputatious wranglers that wrench and then contemn the objects of their moral scruples to contend with nothing but the vacant expanse of a limitless injury for a momentary slip of cultivation and countenance

Frippery is hard to cobble with lapidary wit because succinct grievances are fallow ground for the permanence of atrocity and the temperance of felicity to conform to the desiccated pathways of limpid but livid excoriations of willful ingenuity met with aleatory rambles that sprawl incalescence with words as a dying occupation that is resurrected from the abeyance of its pragmatic utility to distinguish class from crust.

The triadic fatuousness of snarky sharks recruiting the gullarge of paranoiacs to deputized alacrity lead many strident vocations astray as they pilfer the nullibiety of spectral ignorance and defy the gravitas of the primiparas of a swollen technocracy, an outrage that scarecrows with prevenance have adumbrated against with strident accelerations of sublime velocity

So we swim in perilous straits against the demiurge of inclemency in fated rittles for the turpitude of wraiths and engineer every aborning day a new foofaraw of unalloyed atrocity
Now more than never should be deployed to ensure that the castigation of scoundrels and guttersnipes that exert a rip tide to those stranded on the shores of littoral desiccation might find the pristine beachgoing public an amenable treat proffered by exorcised sheepishness in reiterative bleats that quarkswarm only the antinomy of sentient masteries by shoveled civilizations proctor to horological insistence in design

So we designated an abeyance of heydays to create a rippled nostalgia that creeps in the winter storms that singe even glabrous ignorance with the twinges in absentia of the regal crows that circle the sun as the sustenance of the alighted moon as we reach for the heaved Richter teeming with ablution for venial commination of prolix croons that exert a Palo Alto rhyme

Phenomenological fields distal to the cephalocaudal origination of limber and the ironic counterpoint to that strife in excess rather than dearth of the henchmen behind the exchequer showcase that fluid thoughts surpass the limits of the dentistry of cosmetic cosmology simultaneously a scientific boon but a coarse albatross

We are criminals in a world stranded by ****** apostasy because of the sincerity of minstrels meets plodding human ignorance as exemplars rather than the apotheosis of divine excoriation of wastrels and flattybouches who webdoodle their way into the extinction line in some computer file swiped from eccedentesiasts who often in uncouth barbarity forgetfully abide without the temperance of floss

So what are we to make of magisterial wits of wiseacres who pilot tenable objectives like Indiana Jones flexing his comical whip when the gunfire of cacophony inundates our ears with a lisp of cockalorum imposture rich in chewing tobacco and its ungainly gripes and tenacious grip

Should we seek salvation from the treecheese of arboreous terrain amenable to the newfangled windfall of agricultural whims that dare now with caprice but not quixotic disdain to reconfigure the parsimonious levered engagement of melliferous fungible transaction between sabbaticals and chief financiers dubbing the vociferous limn of the primeval fulgurant incandescent ethereal quips?

We strive for palaces issued with dimes, dozens and scores of retinues that retain the patina of sophistry as the gullarge makes the vangermytes cozy in their defensively mechanized citadel buffered against the unheralded malversations of mammon intersecting with primordial chemistry that give the philanderer a guise of philanthropy despite professed gainsay that perjures because hucksters are winsome with fiduciary risk

So we calumniate with lapsed puns and Potter’s Spells as we dredge the indemnity of bustling heydays that extend beyond the bailiwick stated because of the prolonged trace of nostalgia that frazzles our voluntary expeditions with misanthropy as each libertine instinct becomes subject to stop and frisk

How to balk at such a garrulous repartee as proffered by swanky intransigence that shakes it off in a quaky town that hates the Swift refrain that endangers the fatalism of recuperated foresight borrowed from the armamentarium of corrupted killjoys who swim in a dalliance with the itchy myths that drift from powerlessness to voguish debauchery of insouciant internecine fringes frayed by the tomes that decry Stygian drift

Shiftless and rooted in rintinole absolved by plackiques that enchant the voyeurism of repined squalor of industrious frippery deracinated from the aureate complicity of largesse calibrated to mobilize the skittish mercurial yuppies to a dance with divestiture, taxes and an earthen death, we sprint the evergreen mile toward the scrupulous invention of enthusiastic euphemisms arbitrated by the procrustean silt of the leaky faucet of enigmatic timelessness etched by chiselers to beat “Us and Them” and warn the vanguard of the front rank about the thespian rift

Exhaustive rescue squads prepared for the dearth of monetary heft in times of perilous drought denigrate the authors of famine to the indulgent parents of inordinate sabotage of narrative for riskless arbitrage that is the outrage of sciamachies between platonic indifference and the tantrums of the feckless in the dangerous hearth of the cavernous wilderness of limitless imaginations that stagger so far beyond orbit they become satellites to vagrancy and whittled paragons too distant to dissolve in the ethereal chemistry of incalescent uproar sadly flanged by the Dopplers of ephemeral fate

Squandered by the desuetude of a snarky intervention I issue invective at the proctors of deafferented limbs for barbarous swine meeting expediency in demise, bemoaning the placid distaste of rectified cries that issue candles for each acrimony beyond the permutation of the staid inflexible limit of 88’

Bashfully we careen through argosies of curiosity to fossick the stalactites of timeworn intuition and reckon with their converse ironies that drip faucets of mildew that remain hidden unless poked by plucky flashlights to inspect the paragon of erosive filigrees of a bewildering paradox of polarized design that one meets the ceiling at inception and the cousin strives to clamber empty space to know with faint certainty the bulldozed irony of superordinate coexistence

Now we return to the majesty of a spurned wiseacre that evades the snappy parlance of a wrenched friction between the physical and the metaphysical elements that constitute a commensurate reality so supernal that its ostentation creates lifetimes of reiterative growth that spawns crimson red and bloviated blues to find a fulcrum of balance between the malversation on one hand of criminal sinister machinations and on the other hand the execrable self-righteous ignorance of a hidden vehicles of dexterity that are subsumed by a subtlety of legislative graft that owes its forbearance to the sanctimony of perseveration without the laurels of persistence

Now we wed the concepts between the ambidexterity of a monolithic titan who wanes rather than waxes himself because his glabrous head already exposed requires nothing new because the empire that struck back is denuded by the thorny imbroglio of a sunken Rose

Timmynoggies are perfect for haberdasheries of saccharine and glib excellence as measured by the ****** cacophony of unmerited applause that strains the resourcefulness of the silent mastery of magistrates in mellifluous alcoves surrounded by the soundproofed rigors of an execrable dereliction wilt into the imaginations of the few that watch movies with errantry rather than pleasantries of gaudy nonsense enchanted by a striptease of the wanton zeitgeist that some balk at but everyone knows

Time earns the spangled banners of sloganeering because of the fastidious creations of pole folders that maneuver between quips borrowed from antique movies and swindled affectations of yearning of many of all fears inevitable with the malevolent passage of the technocracy from cheers to vehement inveighed jeers

We should fear the watershed because it necessitates the evaporation of winsome ambition and implores the subservience of a guiltless fascination with abominable regress concomitant to the acceleration of money preceding a whipsawed downfall ensured by the funereal spates of requiems to oneironauts who plunged to their deaths on headlong flickering whims past the craggy landscape of lunar concordance and through the abeyance of qualms to flabbergasted self-importance in the eradication of provident fears

Memorials exist encoded in the temporal twinges of agony that straddle the cardiovascular throbs of impermanence that sweat with each simple beat to blather about the repetitious nature of a livid nature scrambled in exodus of the emigration of senseless blather to the subroutines of regimented sleepless paragons of travail in every pedestrian feat accelerated with each passing foot traversed by vigilant and eager feet

Tempests crowd the cluttered hamartithia of dredged incompetence leading to the foreclosure that precedes the simple derelictions that amount to grievous uncertainties that squawk in the plumage of the frippery decay of an autumnal fall from gracile riches landlocked without room to sprawl rigged against every track that is a surefire gleeful keepsake to meet, greet and serenade the claques adorned with the monikers of the Greeks

Trembling beneath the weight of mellifluous sauntering dingy designs that exude the anguish of our provident but incidental remonstration against the plodding indifference of the artistic clerisy we sputter against intransigent annulments of the emotive human engine calibrated with creaky pistons that rumble with furor of abrasive protest in timely haphazard elemental designs for vanguard ears

Tridents shed the fossicked leaves that are divisible by two but not inevitably glue that solders the identities of people congregated around a situation of gleeful sprees rather than wistful regress into a temerity without regret that gets dangled in the purview of the spiteful wings of armies that drawl when they sing vapid songs for vaped bongs but not the soberly cheers because of the deafening din of conformity oblivious of the honorific crescendos that still peak after so many restless years

Confederates line the avenues of bustling caverns of cumulative human disdain so willfully flouted by the wrenched corrosive frictions of vibrant deformation of the cultural narrative that encapsulates the collective bubbles chewed and jettisoned like bandied candy and then defamed without justice because  hurricanes churn up the reclusive emergence of protective vanity chased down as a sunken cost for a siphoned glory of tribal pride despite the strictures of logic

Creeping with insistence is a subaudition of governing gravel that entombs many steadfast lies that embodied people living delusory lives under a paradigm that has been subverted by the feats of science into a morass of irrelevance and the chances are many of those so deluded still breathe the air now more polluted but balk at the memories of the fallen passengers on the convalescent train that accelerates sunblind but respectfully toward a systematic engrossment of swollen intellects whimpering about the tautologic

We finance our prescient rodomontade with rodeos equipped with zany clowns who spurn the tridents of Poseidon because of the iridescent gloss of sheepish and flippant zealots who churn against the wrestling match of televised irony with accentuated eccedentesiastic disdain amended by a tolerable diversion of ennobled gallantry zip-zagging among the many valid quodlibets and missing the mark entirely on purpose to vacate the possible raillery of those who balk at time’s chosen serpentine tracks because of limited pedagogical tracts

So lets solder a forceful brunt against the senseless regalia of modern omphalos and return to the plenipotentiary fields of resourceful human inquiry into the chagrins outmoded by convenience but amplified in vociferation by the prosthetic extension of a grangull humanity outfoxing itself into a zugzwang inevitable in the future with collateral losses because of senseless invidiousness orchestrated by the immiscible dermatology of divisive facts often about race and ineluctable tax

We conclude with the optimism that refineries become gentrified by the superlunary squadrons who bask in beatific beams of anonymity and that the pollution preceding our evolution is just adventitious rather than central to the amelioration of wavy screens ennobling so many upstarts to teach themselves the majesty of lucid dreams and to capitalize on ludic ideals divorced from the urchins of radical idealisms that ironically poach rarefied air with smug pollution of narrative scares

Without trepidation we can muster the largesse of civility to create a progeny that has a recursive progeny of heirs that defiantly imagine a world bereft of specters of the soporific imagination enforced by the lapidation of insight from termagants who stride with ursine acrimony naked bare and envision a global meliorism that is careful, picaresque, pragmatic and filled with meritocratic care

With those ornaments of an aureate measure in mind


We leap beyond the enumerated infinity in time's proper design
will social time nature physical god acuity dream find preternatural rendition light ephemeral impetus futurity matrix force surreal heuristic endless sea innate evocative bartizan rational endemic wanton essence psychic myriad natural metaphysical intrepid ontological fatidic cogent man extrapolation state opulence human lurid form fecund tactile intrigue love live mystical mendacity apex quantum grace mind fact impunity relative life ontogeny unity salacious stand verve corporeally conjecture juxtaposition loquacity exigency terrestrial forms good existential incarnate ethereal brusque crux tellurian positive extemporaneous extremity crystal extraneous vast agnate coercion anathema axis telepathy pandemic tractive sail orchestration sky lecherous infinite nimiety aorist plenary licentious spontaneous corporeal enigma meticulous equilibrist forever avarice conjunction diversity existence macabre repression inductive intrinsic catalyst suborn nimbus objectified obvious tableau parameter interpolations articulation plenipotentiary estranged omnipotent night gesticulation homogeny longevous dementia adjunct transcendental ***** maniacal propensity eclectic fecundity acoustics  mirador proximity effusion primal clairaudience huckster true aloof ecstatic spectral ambience propinquity biological edifice piquant phrenic portentous adamant practical ensemble gumption abstruse kinetic yreba space chaos feel manumission heights prosthesis decadent mystique peripherals spatiotemporal phantasmagoria exude traverse individual dimensional trajectory proclivity alluvium volition anachronism quagmire subliminal overt interstitial zoomorphic integration sycophant long actuator exserted finite ubiquity quasi sun personification erudite glitch aimed analogous shore entity house yore cosmic presumptive platonic yoni ancient pervasive Xanadu kinesiology grotto ray guidon phantasm bring black seal phatic impromptu hornswoggle sultry walk better citadel puissant convection grandiose things thought quixotic lost rectitude pervasion horizon functional lonely autonomous sensorium ship intuitive lingam umbrage tenacious race understanding rive projection cacophony metaphor vivid door hour learn ****** flamboyance cephalic ghastly continued blatant harbinger leave universally belligerent paltry erectile matter tyrannical serene accession sojourn miles prospectus tantamount flow repartee torrential numinous reflective repertoire effluent queasy mystic accedence blasphemous perimeter scenario recital morsel tirade agile real hypercritically translucent zeal manifest vicarious critique nuance   extraversion bodacious kitsch gambit warranty obscene lewd imperative credibility telemetry preterite wrangle moribund song embark obtusely phonics intimate meld gamut sing enmity excursion proxy iconoclasm clout ominous call acceptable odious glass exigence demagoguery supremacy ascension minutia  court equivocal nihilism ubiquitous ornery ultimate hierarchy subtlety harmony evolution indigenous prophylaxis treacherous recalcitrance dawn enrapturing astral apomixis machismo emulation created transition gruesome anonymity cabin attempt semantics ultimatum irrefragable silhouette equestrian subjective iniquitous phenomenon grotesque flighty lucidity continuum allusion diminutive emote mantra amalgamated incite meatus presage effulgence farcical terrene apostrophe predication endeavor charisma beastly extant chicanery wile orientation empathy ramifications subjunctive tempestuous android analysis quintessential monad jaunt affinity dreams desire bizarre lead wayward dastardly mnemonics innuendo prolific hypotaxis fertile embargo paradox monstrance auspicious frolic demonstrative quandary pique children vociferous rhyme adumbrate level deplorable pragmatic ardent barratry learned ostensive kangaroo residual water elaborate inane fly autonomy thing vital optimal beauty protuberance logistical wrong pas extortion pantheism course noumenal visceral panacea conjugation machinations cauldron survives truths yantra obdurate tactician eidetic inert possibility organic vision panorama aggregate clarity somatology omnipresent diabolically tool treatise clairvoyance uncanny aesthetic intuitional faux speaking evolutional consortium depths class allegorical clear notch apriori wood transcendent conjugational nostrum capacity insidiously dialectics ire
I suggest that everyone on HP should spend some time with their words extrapolation and see what the HP computer thinks of their efforts  It's enlightening!!

https://hellopoetry.com/toreinss-pinwinkel-iii/words/
Still Crazy Jan 2015
sliced the thumb quite nicely,
a straight line, it,
the thumb,
applauded my skill,
turning bright infected red from
embarrassment
for me...and my minority complaints,
losing HD sight of the
big screen
of what matters

small woes and big-toes,
got ten times aplenty,
got lawyers and creeps
back in my life,
made promises that can't keep

so for sure
biblically cursed,
Job, and me,
losing parched perspective
under the tree
that gives no shade

dancing on that line called
"why bother,"
the other side of depression

forgetting again,
roof over head,
pizza in the belly,

can still stand up straight,
after a few vociferous
aches n' growls,
though the docs prescribe
what i proscribe,
i.e exercise, diet and blah, blah, blah, hah, hah

got her and got you,
goddess of poetry,
the mental health should be ok,
someday,
maybe even
the physicality

but not nut all of you,
not so lucky,
love the brave,
the courage true
those who ask,
when the time comes,
brave ones revealations,
shame me back to perspective

so do the thing,
some say,
call it the-right,

says I,
it's the no-choice
no thought needed,no praise worthy,
just
*extend the
balance,
bring back the
relativity,
share the
luck,
be as brave as those who
dare to ask
Proudly call me,
Still Crazy After All These Years
M Solav Jun 2023
There will certainly be
A great many of them
Far readier than I’ll ever be
O blessed unborn one
Yet endowed with inexistence
To whom mercy shall slip from
And re-emerge in its awakening
Beings past or below my shrinking age
A great many among them
Whom I once did or shan’t collide
Beyond the captured scope of mutual days
To relate to you what high events
Unrolled before our common eyes
Folks granted with the privilege
Promoted to the status of witnesses
Historians, athletes and prophets
By themselves and their narratives
I let them unroll their good accounts
Forfeit their tales of what must be bound
To mould your unsuspecting
Circumspect mind and
Save you from sensing
Delicately sensing
Voices that once knew more
Than in haste speak
Than with haste carry
Daringly could the silence hear
Untangle the mumbling tango
Of the vociferous crystal parade
My darling unborn one
The tortuous path out of the forgings
Of reason almighty, the ventricular beast
Played and echoed in loops and on repeat
No, you shan’t feast on their hymns
Yours is meant for the engineering of belief
In something further, of glory,
Far more, furthermore,
Something extraordinary
Than the days of days
And the knowns of knowns
And to lodge firmly out of the stillness
That’s woven in the heart of your chanting storm
And in the precipice of the forecast
May you never come to designate
But the space between the notes
So that when it comes not to ever pass
We shall rejoice in the untold absence
That binds us as if pierced by an arrow
While we ask about the bow
Written on June 24th, 2023.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact info@msolav.com for usage requests. Thank you.
Pluck Feb 2016
Three, three blind mice God once sent to me.

Wonderful angels that couldn't see all that I could see.

The third one I want her to see, to see that she's more special than she gives her self credit for, that she brings out the best in me.

& if she didn't believe it before this then I'll  just have to show her she's special going from A to Z.

She's completely Adorable like a baby the first time they taste a lemon thinking its a sweet fruit.

Excessively Beautiful, Sight dominating beauty that makes you wish there was never another sight you had to look to.

Her personality radiates a  gathering passion capable of making the coldest hearts turn Cupidity.

So daring in many ways, completely overly Dramatic at times but who isn't? One of the most dependable people I have there for me.  

Completely Essential, it wildly puzzles my mind how I managed to survive 20 years without her essence in life.

A mouth smarter than Sheridan at times, a attitude hotter than 99 degrees and 100% humidity, she's sure to make a Feisty wife.

She has a smile so attractive that's always Gleaming brighter than when you check your phone in the middle of the night and the brightness is on full blast.

Excessively Honest, almost to much sometimes, like when referring to my looks but nonetheless the type of honorable that makes relationships last.

I've never told her this but there's times when I glance at her & she looks nearly Identical Katrina Kaif, just more real & original, not some crafted photo.

She possesses a spirit that is perfectly Jovial. It's contagious & nurturing, my spirits seem to sink in a little every time she or I have to go.  

Foolishly Kindhearted, over willingly to give to the people she cares for and willing to forgive those she shouldn't.

Rarely a dull moment with her, she's so Ludic anytime I've tried to refrain from laughing at her I simply couldn't.

She's firmly Memorable, unforgettable like a first kiss, first car, or the first time you were asked to prom.

She's needed in our everyday nourishment, soulfully Nutritious, as much needed as a nap or a mom.

Contagiously Optimistic, her faith and positivity always rejuvenates me to make sure I keep that same faith she has in her life.

It is a gift to anyone to be able to look into her Prepossessing gaze, it's alluring like diamonds in her eyes.

Such a Quixotic woman, at least in my eyes. She herself might not agree but I think it would bring this out of the best of men.

Undeniably Royal, we must all bow to her, serve her hot chocolate & warm her blankets. I see no difference between her & the Monarchs they had back then.

Her hugs are Salubrious to the sick, healing & gifting strength and hope, a gift that has no price.

In life we can't trust many but she's undoubtedly well deserving of the label Trustworthy never will any relationship with her be rolling the dice.

Unique, but unique is an understatement. There are other Courtney's but there isn't another Courtney & if you knew her you catch my drift.

Any bleakness she experiences is like a Vociferousscreech to me and it becomes a priority to stop it, doing anything I can to help her mood shift.

An enjoyable kind of Weird, just different. I've had an off the wall friend in the past but she's gotta be 3x more enjoyable and outrageous as he was.

Personally, I hate her X, or anyone that has hurt her for that matter and I'll never forgive them even if she does.

Majestically Youthful, Courtney will mature through life but never age, in 60 years she'll still be running up and down WaWa aisles and I watch still disgusted from the comforts of my wheelchair.

The day she comes into anybody's life she makes that day their life's Zenith & I pray she's around for the rest of my years.
Eyes wide open starring outside.
A web of Soft and comfy sheets tangled,
Clean walls and ceiling of bright white paint,
I woke up lost in a bed not of my own.

The thrilling scenes of the past few days,
Became the brewing storm in the ocean of us,
Lightning cuts through the darken stormy skies,
Thunders of the vociferous truth are never far away.

And so often the reality of the illuminating morning,
Brings unsettled thoughts that shadows the soul,
I dare not look on the other side to tackle my concern,
What I denied stubbornly and wouldn’t succumb.

A half closed door leading to a house of another me.
Shards of bittersweet nothings on the floor unclean,
Glitters like fool’s gold in the morning light at play,
I shut the entrance vowing not to violate a peek.
berniiie Jul 2015
For every emotion songs have already been written:
poetries and sonnets,
angry beats and ****** ballads.
My more positive, happier self is an extra-terrestrial being
from galaxies far away:
No cutting off fins from sharks. Unlike lizards’ tails
fins don’t grow back.
Love. Respect.
No ceramic idols lining the windows
their empty gazes crawling up your spine.
No empty promises. No magic cures for baldness.
Phones on mute during class. Eat sensibly.
Take a breather – life is not a race
to the finish line. Have cleaner washrooms.
Less unwanted criticisms. Less trance.
Love thy country.
Pin-striped shorts
from M&S; Stronger will.
No slitting wrists or overdoses. Suspend disbelief.
No secret candy stashes. Do your laundry without being told.
Omit racism, misanthropy. Wilted flowers by the windowsill.
No secret phone calls in the middle of the night.
Who are you afraid of? Almost and nearly don’t count.
Come home.
Forgive favorite band for disappointing album.
Be kinder to puppies.
Brood, not rant. Skulk, not stalk.
Get my name right.
Don’t drink and drive.
There are no gays, no lesbians, only
people with feelings.
Fight, not flight.
Have more 24-hour pizza places.
Avoid politicians, traitors, lawyers.
No throwing around words like vociferance,
vociferate, vociferous.
Accept fate – don’t be a martyr;
One day everything fades
so hold on to
all your post-it memory
until every star

turns to dust.
Jamie King Sep 2016
Is it the complete pieces of a broken heart or the broken pieces of a complete heart that shapes  life?

Vociferous wails,
do you see it?
Pathos in pearls.
the sea seems to stream from them.
Mingling with muzzling rays reposed in the rain.

She'll shed one in joy
as old friends tear tears.
Used to sleep in graves now she leaves lilies and rails.

She stands above storms but is below the clouds, her friends still question how?
As she nurtures the ground.
in the mist of raging storms and dancing rainbows you'll find life
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphoria of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix is pandemic.  Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness.  But what of stint-ness snities?  Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums.   Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied ****.  Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums.  We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture.  And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums?  Do we only dream about dexterous articulation?  Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary?  What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton?  We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache.  Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology?  Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward.  Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective.  Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable.  Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue.  Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh.  Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered.  Infusing all with the capability of  aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others.  I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection.  Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony.  Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual.  Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist.  We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
A dream I had about explicating eventuation evocative's expletives.  The amalgamated anathema android.  The cure for pseudopodia interruptus.  At those plastygoop nosed gumby ******* ***** mongers.  Teleportation's telepathic tout will augur the demise of the shallow water scrod ******* dogs.  Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma.  Enigma entity's identity crisis on the futurity fatidic.  Grimacing gremlin greaves and gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2017
The Daily Prayer                               The Daily Prayer
AUG 2010                                            OCT  2017

Be forever young 'n humble;   seven yearlings of plenty famine;
Feel ancient and royal;              youthful graybeard commoner now,
Ride tall in the saddle;              old hoary, crooked headed ancien
Do something nifty;                   content to just, just walk crookedly

Take someone's hand                if they permit, for hands gnarled,
Unexpectedly:                             roughened and time toughened,
Drive home in the slow lane;   only the city bus, now bows, kneels,
Do the de minims;                      how has the minimalist become
Do the de maximis;                     the max, the best old-dog-in-show?
Leave a book on a park bench;  forgetfulness, unintended bonuses,
Use pen n paper, write a letter; the fingers shaky press cell button,
Take a chance, make people laugh; your appearance quite the joke,
Barrel into contention;                 a barrel casket, half your wardrobe
Show mercy to the confused, no arrogance, have mercy upon poets,
Show anger to the abusers. for they fear voices calling out, account!
Bless a child with both hands; now take their blessings returned
Grasp your soul; throw it down, others sidle, it's our time, now,
Then raise a child to the sky.       to raise you up father of fathers
Straight up,                                    straighten your time bents, curves,
Build a continuum,                       honor thy work ever continuing
You and they,                                 we, and you, we are all your steps,
              on a ladder of each poem, to guide us heavenward


*each poem a prayer, each prayer a poem, passing back, coming forth in the crests upon the beach and bay you so loved, the moon and sun both shine simultaneously while it rains straight,
                                    all come, each to recite,
even the One with whom you vociferous argued, unrepentantly,
all here, together placing that weighty last period at the end of
                                        your daily prayer.
https://hellopoetry.com/search/poems/?q=a+daily+prayer

a suggestion- read each side as a separate poem, then across as one

8:37am 10 years later, 10 years lateral, 10 years lovely. 10 years in the writing
Born you are to sing,
Turbid future beckoning
And your past, it seems, is urging,
This new melody emerging

Circumscribed by your death,
Consecrated from first breath,
This perpetual contortion,
Your vociferous misfortune,
Is the sonorous reprisal,
To the silence and the night,

In seraphic orchestration,
Past is settled, future sanctioned,
Though a voice belongs to you,
It is through harmony construed,

But these manifold vibrations,
Every violent incantation,
Every note new sung must blossom, languish,
Meet oblivion

Now your open wound is bleeding,
Life's full bloom, with haste, receding,
Each maenadic spasm leads you,
Supersedes you,
Life begins again,

So if a myriad of mellifluous moments multiplies,
Anticipate its inhumation 'neath the sediment of time,
For as the song, to flourish, wills each note meet its demise,
The singer is unravelled in a death he lives, but can't surmise
David Keagan Jul 2012
Darkness ensues,
is it the clouds?
or has the restless sun gone to sleep?
No stars to be found,
the city lights are to blame.
Nothing below but fast walkers and loud talkers.
Angry horns blare in a vociferous tune,
I hate traffic.
Ah, last cigarette,
I’ll buy more in the morning.
For now, I sleep.
I set my phone to silent,
I set the world to silent.
“I've read some of your modern free verse and wonder who set it free”
- John Barrymore
vircapio gale Aug 2012
words signifying nothing
                             call questioning into question,
                                                       ­         make vociferous doubt a ruse
                                                            ­                                               played upon itself;
the diversion of division appears,
                                         an emptiness clothed with fullness,
                                                       ­                               the semantic womb called void.
there lies a trans-truth
                             between truths our grammar cannot harness,
                                                        ­                                    and a 'meta-truth' we imagine.          
trusting in the world that spoke to us,
                                                           we speak,
navigating riddles with nascent symbol-shifting
                                                 ­                   beyond speech,
                                                         ­                         revealing the artifice of words
                                                           ­                                                               an­d the mutability of true thought.                                                
to encompass only by dividing the always-already encompassing~
in gathering this,
                      there hints a ceaseless gathering
do you feel me?
Travis Green Sep 2021
You pulled me
Under your ocean
Of vociferous seduction
Pressing your body
Savagely against mine
Kissing me
With your hot Ciroc-filled lips
Your electric flaming hands
On my large, adoring breast
My skin shuddering
In your flooding electrification
With no hesitation
I succumb to the totality
Of your masculinity
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
it fondles
                   the marble rubber
of tissue sublime
                   a marked indifference
to tempts of sighing inclement
                    vociferous ******
comes a bastion of mortal tempest
                     anon thou only quickest
steam
Skendong Sep 2014
Aint goin’ anymore

would like to claim the same

but rely upon you and others

to do same

heavy boots

sturdy *****

choosing the ground

was minded to travel

unorthodox / paradox

did sneak to the place -

entering by the flaky monolithic gate

Tool in hand,       above dark, calm at Southern Cemetery,                       the outskirts of town

though a bunch of vociferous crows

buzz amongst the stones.

II

Stabbing the bearer repeatedly turning over

the green

After lengthy work in the moments foray it was then I left and

floated away

from the scene

III

Time sensed = Time up

I place my part quietly in

Obscure

Time Future

is this absent body sure?

Though I hope you will come

return the soil and sing

songs for me….       *****, eat dance and parteeeee

Some of you will have *** at the end of the  fête -

this TOIL, SWEAT, RELEASE,                                                              CelEbraTe

Going to a few as well,

we know how it

drops

in

the

pit      and maybe ***

(ill or well smelling with the other congregates)

will drift through the pub or communal hall

and who will dare to say:             “Put out the roll of Bogey -

don’t you have any respect for the dead right now?”
Amitav Radiance Apr 2015
Words pull your mind
In different directions
Brilliantly adorned
Yet lacking soul
Words are distractions
To true feelings
Vociferous and audible
Sounds too hollow
Gives in under anxiety
Weighs on minds
Graceful distortions
Veneer of meanings
Expresses everything
Except the truth
JR Rhine Jul 2017
our president is
waging Thumb Wars

pressing the button
another pinball appears

he pulls back the spring
and hits send

watching the vociferous orb
encapsulated with incorrigibility
ricochet across the continents

the hemispheres
the stratospheres

across every neighborhood
and nation

bing bing boing

the barricades throb
and eyes light up
as the points
begin to rack up

1
2
3
4

he    got-ta    new-high    score

wow

such big thumbs
for such tiny hands
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics

Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high

Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis

Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics  
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation

Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation

Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity

Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Re-post
P Venugopal Jan 2016
Din
Frogs vociferous
as night rain leaves—the loudest
must be tortoise-big!
What a ruckus!
Mimosa elders obscure the pink Azalea hillsides , timid Catbirds performing at behest of daybreak , vociferous followers of humid June traipse glistening Canola fields , swirling secrets of country brooks revealed in man-made clearings , Robin mothers boast of endearing Summer
privilege , of  Jasmine , Sugar Pine , Cattail tranquil late morning backdrops with whispering Hill Country breezes* ......
Copyright May 30 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
PK Wakefield Dec 2011
if i know a strength then i know a weakness
(and i know it)
                            come
                     right  over
                      here and i'll
                                           tell
                                    you
                    ­       what
                                    it
                     ­                   i  s
                                         ­     (i'll whisper it to you)
                                                    and it is you!
                                           it is in your slightest body's
                                           cavities that is where it is
                                           the 2 immeasurable heaps
                                           of your *******(who between
                                           them hold that flittering stutter
                                           of your love muscle)over your
                                           tummy they distend perfectly
                                           roundest and nubile
                                           and over what a belly
                                           that patient field of softest dermis
                                           (but it's not perfect(and that's why i love it)
                                           )it's besmirched by some little coarse darlings
                                           who meander down its sloping palisade
                                           into the impolite swarm of your hips
                                           those dears creep down into a sturdy
                                           copse of sharply culled(by little pretty pink
                                           razors when you took a shower last night)
                                           filaments(and those prickle babes poke and
                                           tickle my nostrils as i build into your strongest
                                           smallness a leaping vociferous erosion,
                                                        ­                                                         '
                                                               ­                                               '
                ­                                                                 ­                                ,
                                                               ­                                            .
My head is a warzone in itself.
Sometimes there's no victors.
Sometimes there is.
I hate to convince myself that i must confide
A amoeba that's restricting me so i can abide
There's no true purpose in where i hide
And taking unnecessary sides
I just want something tasty on my side
Nothing too dazzling
But that's exactly how i describe myself
And i want to run it away
Not so it can come back another day
I tend to be vociferous
And it irritates me
Why can i have a mind that entices the thought and not berate it?
I feel disjointed, jaded
Far from elated
Somehow my reinforcements become instant vaporization
Nothing adds up to a stimulation
What was i put here for?
To quarrel, to entrench myself with misery?
I need something to distract
Keep me in humble tact
Busy
As a bee
But i don't want to sting
Or the frivolous bling
Why can't i figure it out?
Nobody can for me
As easy as that pleases the ear
I must adhere
To my own belligerent madness
And find some sanity in it
It's a unembellishing feeling.
Ottar Mar 2013
The curled up grey bristle could be called a beard,
His loud vociferous dialogue with a light pole. Weird.
His clothes had holes and ***** coat was smeared.

I think he twitched more than he talked,
I could not help myself as I gawked,
then just as suddenly, away he walked.

I walked around to the road side windows,
there he stamped his feet, doing the flamenco?
Never mind you weren't there, this is innuendo!

Once again he weaved his way away. There he was gone.
West of a mutilated day, wormwood salts are scattered for some wild-chinned Controllers on a high pinnacle with viva vox in the Mandrake, Vernarth's house of Orion:

Saint John the Apostle says the proverbial Psalm: “In the lofty Cage, Gregorian sylphs, with skillful gestures and mania for cheering, are graced for coming to the Way of the cheap and venerable souls that are made up of the bodies of the evil-born on their railing. , in quagmire of swallowing spittle where the cold winter is banished, to jump from the cold oriental, having to walk with the elbows, and with the daring screams of the Sylphs that shake themselves among the foggy and fleshy tangle with rags and fur cloths flying smoothly through the tops of the oak trees in smoke to purge for Vernarth! Gospel, gospel in the barn of the delicate humus was felt, and that it was refracted in the refined forest with philosophical sacred love. Lord, all of us who are because we are, are you Lord ..., all in my exercises of loving gaze, are channeled by the indexes of my thumb to the little finger at the bottom of the sea, and float again from the little finger to the bottom of the surface. Waving in the transience of the world and holding back, Father God thunder, this with laryngitis when he outlines himself with the vast earthly sight, he covers with his right hand, the phlegm of ***** that made him drive an empty tremor, in my lack of security he testified by singing thousands and millions of choirs at this auction. The first ring of the profile will be carried by Jesus light, rubbing his back with some eyelashes of a drunk beetle, while the beetle will collect water between its extensions that will wail real needs of every morning albi - rosaceous that will travel in a circle towards the auditory of the Last auctioned saying: "As I have not to be where I was and was ..., if at night my beloved morning row impulsively and goes against it so as not to stumble into the night ...". Each cut piece of the dermis will have to be auctioned, I had Faith and the screenplay, encapsulated and embedded in each hope of the ramshackle flock, the impiety-weary ogre needed to stow his empty viscera with the cloth of the celestial kingdom, which at auction was beginning to squeeze and vanish when regurgitating smoothies and disintegrated spaces of belonging of the devotees of Vernarth. The writing is signed with lupus, this Lucia emanated from the morning resentment of skin envy, and from the massif drenched in anarchy and city archeology, lying hesitantly ..., as if the forest gave it some indication of rebirth, under the shadow of twinkling doubt, from the high front where they were nuanced over the engendered banners of truth, elucidating the forbidden and true matrix.

Adelimpia, Vernarth's grandmother, was squatting cutting the drool from the dwarf tree that lost a forage, at around 6:30 p.m. on the 39.9th day of a supposed 14th month of another dimension, almost winding up in a tangled series of productive hesitations and rituals, taking her victorious chariot in Lent where the teacher without felt traction, weave sprinkles of forgiveness on her distributor, starting her shaft and not her running engine, she already knew herself as a commoner with the wake of a ship without knowing where to go. Those who did not see themselves more backward intrigued to be part of the central bar of the rocker of the nymphs in their stadium, with a yawning lip where no one was invited. Mega-watt snitches go to the sacristan, breaking speeds of intangible entities that abide by her law, as a sage vilified in her secular realm, even in nowhere, the atmospheric larynx hissed widening through the flakes of the auctioned field, Joshua leaping with her. Cranky black horse Equus, with his anthropomorphic hooves, accelerated with action that put him among the lost belongings of the plateau, whose east limited him to two half-quarters of each other, and two-thirds slowing the sunset from ruby to ruby, brightening in the shades of green and green. Vernarth  Bernardolipo's father swallowed crops, from whose movements were born out of place gestures of residence, parturient fairies appeared emerging at once, or perhaps not emerging, the afternoon crushes the unplayable sun, Hugh and Anne covered their supra orbital eye areas, more towards a hillside where thousands of repertoires were being knocked down, and copious tableware with caked sugar, which seemed to reduce the acoustics from the beginning in what seemed solidly to fade to postulate in new shades of the weary rubbed rainbow, like thousands of shades doing the times of zascandil  in a curled comb, re-sprouting certain storm deities in the natural bow of the wind entangled in each stratus, sprinkling on the hectares of Possessions, standard deeds, sales orders, mutual funds, bonds ... the coffers and the earthly decomposed. Before each onslaught, a highly dense fog arose, highly ignored, anti-critical, and more disparaging of amassing a high scarcity with a local, in his quintals of his last bread for the flock. Lashes that exceed the grammage, foliage from leaf to leaf, from today until tomorrow, in a traveling satyr of dry leaves, "The Sphincter of the World will need Purgative ...".

Marathon of poisonings,… Lord, you have looked me in the eye; with your boat I will follow you, to your privileged perspiring cinnamon dock with various vociferous songs. What fared more than seven zeros, now they will be eaten by rodents, Lord attend my prayers, the pink mast has been sailing at several knots from the north, and it is rapidly losing its polar location, between verbs never traveled or driven, I dared to show off that the path of the gospel in small distant fragments will abound in infinite space, only the one that predominates will glide over my forehead with an accumulation of everything seen and that today in this sale; where everyone you own and care for, like a baby in front of a dissimilar kinship of good adventure and progeny that will leave your hands. "  

Etréstles says: "Soft and mellifluous presumptions ..., where do I have to look if nothing is heard? What is proposed and permeates the law of possessing and not, perhaps the strap reaches an infinite house, where the sun breaks down ..., the spout of my minimal rebirth slowly turned it into my reoriented defined cell. My grandfather Joshua fertilizes the new sales every day with his hooves bandaged with hemp, the sebum stones since they were so are already spirited circles, the hand of the maker is being compared with his tactile sense, Kaitelka's lungs, full of phosphate residues and sulphated, for the first time they milk in medium drops on their udders, although saying and what they prefer to assert of a worthy Down! If it were not, for his regal model of cetacean ostentation, he would not be in the Horcondising taking from today, towards the end of the curtain in the regular blushes, to create the great detachment, so necessary for the pulsating plain and purge his master Vernarth . The night covers it with sulfur oceanic satin, with the spauto of its jet and a magical moving game. Everyone was distracted when she circled over the routines of well-magnetized charms. More than two subjects were deprived of their well-placed jaw, when the overtime ran not crossing in the entire field in which she lived. It was time to unmask the interveners, the boatswain of the alfalfa field had been eating almonds with oil from the sole of a Joshua bototo shoe, she folded her wings at halftime to take a modest breath, to resume weak paths, deprived of confidence and not. To know who they would obey and to whom they would yield the fruit of their old and stock market work in the garden. Chaos for them, light of Lights, for those affiliated with the ruler who is Joshua, who will live behind a makeshift Patagua tree, erecting  aquisus tents and the dogmas of tomorrow. The magnificent concessions in the Horcondising massif continued to fall precipitously; some rummaged through their accounting almanacs, distanced and squandered their exquisite profits. The stagecoach is moving away, and the barrels of water were scarce, the aroma and tastes of roasted beef comes out over the bushes, the stores sway in a naive wind of blooming daisies, the sales were coming against the owners themselves, the taste of the laughter degraded their own present absence, the paraphernalia of the little birds on the carpet of the mountain plateau were, they began to do mercy of the tip in the exposed beams, the hundred feet with calluses came down from the semi-incinerated poles. Nothing smelled of pride anymore, just the last shadow of Joshua's Chief Sheriff; Vinicius, who thinned out the spotlights of the semi-strongmen still trying to collect his heavy wealth, now that among clouds of heavy cargo they went to give him only one habit to try to fit his body, just to wear his outfit. They looked, looked and kept looking at his octogenarian tearful sapro- genito dream, where the first dream ends, and his exile begins. Vinicius, locks the door, and starts drinking mate tea; while screams of those bad jackals were heard fighting for their inherited evils, in manners of not conquering those who lose a dream of their patriarchal courting-love, under the shadow of the most powerful bush for the rest of their lives in groves. Crumbs come off the beards of Joshua, his galvanized knife cuts multiform slices, to feed everyone equally and continue the purge of Vernarth "

The most desolate deity came; he walked in full sun, shelled and unattached, full of elongated bridles and with haste in his eyes. But not in its strides, thousands of years passed, and it brushed with my lost zeal in the quarrels of the Argolica, in the salinized and rotten feces of Eurymedousa, with its snowy and tricolor feet, hooded with its goods! , therefore, unable to sustain its own air from its nasal socket, dropping it likes brave foam that fell in the fired distance. Bad cooked fruit, with the flavor of a sleeping cinnamon stick, mitigating in its kind balsam, frayed wind yielding 360 and so many more suns, before the last one that I carry on my limbs ends. The end of the End began, in the seven ends adorning my steps. The obscene deities came, with their rebuilding geo music, breaking endometriums of goddess’s mobs and their almost massacred Pillan Mapu, among thousands that were, thousands of nowhere they are ..., in a today already anesthetized. He lies in the stench of the corrugated floor, in the wooden handles and rods stacked on the floor gesturing; the god Pillan Mapuche, under a generic vault of sleep falls into lethargy on the faces, leaving his unintelligible hollow free; and its unbalanced environment, crossing the basaltic moraine that circulated one day from the placenta of the fatigued cemetery. Dreams in kilos everywhere of pressed ducks, with dense covering and grasses on the hooves of bucephalos, crucible, living trident and extraordinary flowers ***** in floating skirmish, with dosing globules, thirst that is born from the whiteness of the first day in confessional liberation, cell of white with a looted look, shields of osculation, like icy air that transpires his ninth life and that is born from his ninth death, splinted in the face of death that mutilates his fingers when crossing his genes of perfidious and monkish plot of a life bypass. I sing or I do not sing, I lack my throne from where I observe the glances with time and impudence, possessing everything behind the back of the macabre time in counter-steps of tender golden plague, in foreign skin growing on my right blanket, from so much passing lights with cracked night outings, walking towards me, between roads and between Monday nights with faces of long and sinuous unctuous branches, with great step and size. Now I have to draw the curtain, on light lying in the shadow of an opening scattered in warm beets. With sincerity ..., and mistake there is no will to germinate in them, I will be born without being with them, to be meaningless without them ..., and that it is above other absences, with great eloquent and numerical weight on absent.

They are still plastered, washed out and with the frizzy pigments of a parnassus Paradise, where it has been intervening over its bloodless headers. Joshua walks thousands of steps on with his Equus skull, like a meridian slipping off certain rods of decay. Thus they all floated in the cephalous porous airs, with great airs of Cain collapsing on Abel recomposed in reserves of a millennium that fell twisted and stunned, captivated by an ominous word. Sendal covered themselves in bandurrias that covered the melodious icebergs of exulting individuals and swollen with passion, with their rummaging and thunderous noises going along with their flowers to the sea dissipated. My paternal grandmother was delimited; she paraded from the openings with cough-covered mounds of the frozen volcano, growing reflective slits of dense gradation in the nervousness of the overhang and angry sighing heat, in all the vertiginous and venerable spirits numbed by the darkness of so many sorrows on their bluish heads. Eurymedousa, already ill-fated to continue in Rhodes, appeared on stilts and with agonizing lights and yielding to the crossbows of the centaurs gagged by the Beauties; they consisted of their seesaws before the agreement with the Master, who gave us her Hellenic manifestos, and no less to others. My uncle King Arthur carried news of the locked consonants of his string and with a riding crop for his steed, tangled in rows that tore his face into small abscesses on his face, which were superimposed on those capillaries of the sweat of Heaven. Blessed Lord, the knee had grafts of golden steel, the horns of the radio sol brego that were broken in its metaphysical pregnancy, and its food collector that had solid gold baths towards a tabernacle fussing through its mucous orifices of alfalfa with the a flavours of irradiated cattle . He paraded with his loving mount flying down his track and kept clueless, at times he ran so swiftly that he crossed evil omens with Joshua, he was seen as weak and white in insulting slanders, Tamayo; his friend, who was a Talamite native, followed him on horseback, his son rode the sheep every summer, passing wool of pure holy insignia of a healthy man.
Along the banks of the reeds, he came riding on a donkey, Edward my paternal uncle, the third of Adelimpia, came three steps before his donkey, and he counted three times before riding him with provisions for good waters, wrapped in an energetic fire of Saturday tobacco in his mouth in mourning, who lovingly watching over himself, looking at today towards a peak for his sheep, looking at them for a manger of borders and tiny hunching phrases of black song about legends of the offender, which tempted to show off invading their fields. He is to the right of his mother Adelimpia, and under the rib of his father Bernardolipo overflowing, giving sugar to the colt Dolly in the sunsets, bequeathing affection with syrup, and a thousand compliments in December of 9,900 AD, Joshua, I remained in shreds of pageantry and endless lives, I always said, my lady, here I bring you a peasant's soup in flower of primed twisted canvas, in this three-year period I must call them to dinner in past lands with sweet potatoes to eat and candlesticks of flying seeds, with eager candies of a crack and their thirsty mouths. Gentlemen, I am Edward, their son, I want to sleep in your arms, after escaping from my worst perfidious toothless bite that still hurts inside. After eating great cholesterols from all over the world, amidst the tools of my children I am, always putting a tobacco leaf caught in the scrawled pieces and in great coinciding strokes, in circles dancing to throw away the bad and broken places badly thought and done. When I get to the end I will cling to the Joshua habit and shout not to leave me alone in the middle of this world, without toasted flour, cheese and tobacco. I am not a malignant man, I am only like those of us who are far below, feeling footprints on my spine, and I do not tell my wife Molly, so that she does not lack chickpea flour for our children wrapped in regrets and ***** with hunger and light blue in goodness, like saints and media, but in the end with clear blue water in my glasses. I invite everyone to my table to dine on oceans and worlds of clear celestial light, because with this hand I break this piece; I am the Son of Adelimpia and the supplier. They brought me in anemone branches when the Lord's headache invaded him, when he felt nails in his hands, to the east of Eden, without steps or turgid edges and a rough runaway palfrey”

The Horcondising massif turned into a great mountain, Edward was in the limestone of some potters and followers of Joshua molding him, they began to bait the rope that merges the mountain range, with the valley at the foot of all the mapus, mud flowing from the monastic floods , here they polisonated in the stony atonement of each lamentable trunk. They say;… faramalla  demonion, would be with a Silfife facing the mass of the vital obstacle, with faded coffee fiber, smeared in wine and bread, with eternal vintage vine. Luccica, Vernarth's mother, tackles familiar corners, with anointed frames of fiction in irrational ergonomics…; in numerous steps that will reach your distinguished heart. An ocean of doubts has fallen due to the inheritance that has precarious injuries, of battered egos and scrubbed by undue ignorance. Mountain delusions and manias, which run through the fibrillated vigils of some soft ropes and their abundant bristles like the choppy of an echidna escaping as it tingles by my twisted temples ”. The Horcondising  tam tam modulates through its crater and its pale face of a perpetual cell. Towards the forgiveness of the primordial ones and the commiseration of the orb burying itself in creation, this sacred and over the pale Sudpichian region will rest, in the roots growling in capillaries of the carbonated earths and in its badly wounded footprints. Horcondising is in quarantine, the elevation of the constellations are hyperillusionible, they migrate Along with Albalalhue and Carnivorous, the succeeded nymph that extracts exudation from a flushed match in the palm of some ideas on rollers, higher up and on angular from other right angles. Toiling with her hands, and rubbing possessions with her mazote and her patronage full of rakes.

Etréstles says: “Beyond all metal of hatred of every god not heard, beyond all evil of timid hatred I have not heard. I hold the playful phrasing of Edenic song, which calls us in voices full of long journeys, especially on this day fading. Through the hollow, belts and picket rings breaking the timid lights of the last sunset.  Cardinals in envelopes of fragile strengths, mountains with borders and deposits in the last voluminous plagues on the mason's eye.  Binding themselves in a pile, with saffron nails in their ears, with moths that run through the unforgivable morphologies. Do not lose life, abandon all noisy fight in coalition with the uninhabited *** of coins, there are forty days left to say goodbye to the god Faramalla, who lies with closed tec, limps to his lost pupils, and the sky swirls over his day when nothing not fit for any drinkable air with light bulb. Horcodising loses millimeters within minutes and rising, towards harvests to harvests, they lose merged schedule of a time without a past, reviling themselves from a present of consanguineous evil with an abstinent future. Luccica; Vernarth's mother, she is a sylph dragged by the tempest moraines, being detached to a contemplation and intake of life. The membranes of the accordion burst, and between brittle passageways crying without union, succumb to the teachings of foolish fate, Luccica as a portion owes its origin to the sea, taking its physiognomic bark from a seal specimen of aqueous flattery, to frize it on a similar surface umlauts on the "u", with phosphorescent and indeclinable forges, making it a beautiful maternal nymph, like the beautiful female picking up a moon in her arms, clinging to a new hallucinatory satellite to engender. "Live and talk with your peer, her dazzling sneaks in and laughs at this prominent queen, to exhale on those who observe her."

End Ellipsis Chapter XXXI
Horcondising  Castle Reign - Sudpichian
Transversal Valley  the Ferments - Parapsychological Regression
Mandrake, the Wild Auction
Paige Mar 2013
There was a liquid secreting from the cracks in your lips,
Something like justice, something like idealism
The two combined within your vociferous skins and
Coated me clean
And I was who you wanted me to be
Our eyes shut and our fingertips grasping,
We held each other inside of our roles
Without giving any thought to the figure we were
Sculpting
Into us
Julian Sep 2020
2 Kings 23:3-5 Version? (I found this by looking up the word Mazzaroth in Wikipedia it was the first reference and it is displayed in 23:5 (the hosts of the heavens and constellations)

3 And the king stood on the platform, and made a covenant before the LORD, to walk after the LORD, and to keep His commandments, and His testimonies, and His statutes, with all his heart, and all his soul, to confirm the words of this covenant that were written in this book; and all the people stood to the covenant.

ד  וַיְצַו הַמֶּלֶךְ אֶת-חִלְקִיָּהוּ הַכֹּהֵן הַגָּדוֹל וְאֶת-כֹּהֲנֵי הַמִּשְׁנֶה, וְאֶת-שֹׁמְרֵי הַסַּף, לְהוֹצִיא מֵהֵיכַל יְהוָה, אֵת כָּל-הַכֵּלִים הָעֲשׂוּיִם לַבַּעַל וְלָאֲשֵׁרָה וּלְכֹל צְבָא הַשָּׁמָיִם; וַיִּשְׂרְפֵם מִחוּץ לִירוּשָׁלִַם, בְּשַׁדְמוֹת קִדְרוֹן, וְנָשָׂא אֶת-עֲפָרָם, בֵּית-אֵל.
4 And the king commanded Hilkiah the high priest, and the priests of the second order, and the keepers of the door, to bring forth out of the temple of the LORD all the vessels that were made for Baal, and for the Asherah, and for all the host of heaven; and he burned them without Jerusalem in the fields of Kidron, and carried the ashes of them unto Beth-el.
ה  וְהִשְׁבִּית אֶת-הַכְּמָרִים, אֲשֶׁר נָתְנוּ מַלְכֵי יְהוּדָה, וַיְקַטֵּר בַּבָּמוֹת בְּעָרֵי יְהוּדָה, וּמְסִבֵּי יְרוּשָׁלִָם; וְאֶת-הַמְקַטְּרִים לַבַּעַל, לַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְלַיָּרֵחַ וְלַמַּזָּלוֹת, וּלְכֹל, צְבָא הַשָּׁמָיִם.
5 And he put down the idolatrous priests, whom the kings of Judah had ordained to offer in the high places in the cities of Judah, and in the places round about Jerusalem; them also that offered unto Baal, to the sun, and to the moon, and to the constellations, and to all the host of heaven. (Mazzaroth)

First I will refer to Job 38 which is clearly indicative of some guarded celestial truths that might be miscegenated of origins of the life forms that believe in synoecy among the dominions of the covert verdure of Earth reigning over us with silence and silentium with solatium for the soilure of the interregnum of times reigning with pollution and in stern rebuke by God I was reminded subconsciously that Climate Change is a truly evocative Lachrymose experience when encouraged by prayer that was a poignant moment of tears when I meditated on the Carbon Tax I immediately started crying even though I was not saddened by the affair in any other way that was palpable. The staddle of Job talks about specifically the tucked vestiges of the thorny imbroglios of intemperance countermanded by the master stroke of the divine interpretation of lightning which is essentially electricity and the clouds it is referring to are the internet where instantaneous communion can be achieved without exertion the line that struck me the most is the “Clods that cling together” because it is a resonant stroke of Islamic virtues that the ***** clot is the seed of all creation by which all have been created in the fungible image of our variegated creator who is not necessarily janiform of a leviathan of many faces but an experimental disposition of a disembodied figment that can assume any form on heaven or earth to dissemble his true cloaked identity of the original protoplasm of the first anointed civilizations in the long history of the Universe. Knowing the true visage of the first sentient civilization to bow beneath the creator with obsequious devotion in a presumably monolithic world where God’s presence was so obvious it might have actually been the first heaven before there was death and this pays homage to Adam and Eve the firstborn of all creation. The creation story might refer to the first sentient animated civilization in the Universe which sinned and then became a diaspora of a mirrored reality of the realty of heaven and  earth where many variegated snakes and beasts roamed about clamoring for God when they turned the synsematic toasts of revivalism to the newfound creation of sentience with rivalry potentially precluding the salvation of Abel who was murdered by Cain. These stories might be extraterrestrial vestiges of the true lineage of the Almighty God we serve and although controversial as it has been Biblical knowledge that Adam and Eve were humans before being tempted by the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, it is possible this process was recapitulations of former times and the former protoplasm that precedes all things because the strokes of glory of sentient life was nurtured especially attentively at the beginning of the first civilization of the Universe where God was probably everpresent and ubiquitous and accessible to all creation and it is even possible that this world was the first heaven for the first death before many subsequent deaths of the lineaments of tribes that supplicated beneath divine mercy for adjudication. My theology is that God is attentive to a broad universe of quagmires and in perfection or refinement at the beginning or the crux of history we are a perfectabilism of God’s attentive scrutiny and we master ourselves rapidly enough so that God doesn’t intervene as often as some might hope but many people don’t understand the time frame of God’s everlasting perspective. So it is potential that the first habitable world in the universe became the utopia of extensive cosseted scrutiny that became the prototype for Heaven that eventually alighted into a cosmic if segregated fraternity of the chosen for the cubic metropolis or the gardens beneath which rivers flow. God can assume any form and he chose the pulchritude of humans to issue a strong statement about the verdure of our plenipotentiary potential perhaps replicated often with minor mirrors of dimpled design throughout the cosmos as it is likely that another civilization which resembles humans in DNA with almost exact precision currently exists and is civilized by advanced life at this current time and that we exist in a multiverse unbounded by the enumeration of infinity. God pays scrutiny to those civilizations that repent and many are saved by the salvation of their orbific longings but it is also possible there exists an operative design of cacotopias that don’t know God but relish prosperity or have derelicted the possibility of God for too long because of either extreme asperity or abundant warmth of luxury. Remember the universe is infinitely vast so the likelihood that God is fungible is possible but not yet confirmed because if other alien civilizations exist that yet know God because of Jesus of Nazareth they are reproved by the divinity of interposition of reality in its mercurial ways conforming to the grand design of perfectabilism and God has operated throughout humanity for thousands of years why now have we reached the pinnacle for repentant absolution? We bend towards the synclastic light of the culminated alien fascination with our pulchritude despite their dearth and they are attentive to God because of Jesus of Nazareth and subsidiary to that Muhammad or potentially the deities of the Egyptians which might be defalcated concepts of the alien version of a pancosmism that is mysticated on the rarefied commentary of the strictures of polytheism that might populate some regions of the universe. The absolute truth in the One God we serve is that human understanding cannot enumerate his truths without understanding its distance and segregation from other worlds as we fight the suffrage of old age to propitiate the longing for tranquility. This is all tethered speculation but I believe that God is regnant in all affairs and in this vast universe is attentive to all our pleas and the questions of heaven and Earth remain unheeded or distorted by our humane totemic versions of truth that all memorialized the pyramid a sequential convex formulation of a stratified system that reaches its apex in the singularity of the hypethral skies above and is the tenure of the majesty of the esoteric secrets that coshered and ushered societies into great divergence but ultimate found consecration on Mount Moriah with Abram’s sacrifice before he was known as Abraham of his son Isaac that was prevented by Yahweh’s messengers of isangelous repute. The mystery of Adam and Eve might be a recapitulation just as the story of Noah reminds us of the travail of other centuries and other worlds that provide the pathways to divergent creations that are ultimately saved by providence and the rich thickets of allegory throughout the Bible all point to the emergence of transcendental truth which is shepherded by the mysticism of this age and the surrealism of knowing we belong to the elect hive-mind cosmic fraternity built on psychism and titanism. The firmament is testament both to our distance from our cosmic neighbors and also our propinquity to their suffrage and suffering in their beatific but arid realities that are draped with the pangs of loneliness in their excursion to broader realms of conquest and in their wallop of time itself they have opened up the lychgates of Heaven and Earth to provide the provisions for a new understanding of history that is rich with the percurrent themes of a monotheism of a fungible God which took the form of Man as he can take any form he chooses in his aseity of being and his judicious providence to select the Earth as an exuberant exsibilation against glaikery but also a profound victoria for the awakening of humanity to its cosmic identity as a favored species young in years but enriched by celestial guardians that are among isangelous repute because of their decisive roles in human history throughout the Creations of their divergent designs that illuminate the illuminism of the pyramid the elemental form of the ultimate capstone of knowledge with the all-seeing eye of providence encapsulated above all ethereal reckoning. So it was the downfall of the utopias of ignorance by learning knowledge that bequeathed the lineage of mortality itself in the beginning in the form of men and angels both that inhabit our broad universe because in several occasions in my life I felt like I encountered human beings with such clairvoyance that they seemed like agents of God. Noah’s flood might refer to a distant or near civilization that was swamped by a catastrophic event or tsunami much like Atlantis and this predicates Noah and explains the longevity of his estimated lifespan and that of Methuselah who lived 969 years which ironically points to the  Apollo Moon landing in 1969. The fumatoriums of human ignorance can now be micromanaged by a swarm of up to seven alien civilizations but most likely 3-4 of them and they are all attentive to these theories and probably inseminated the Bible to begin with potentially with their own theological understanding of the universe transplanted on a human perspective to shepherd humanity into the answers it so desperately sought but found themselves famished by. So in Job 38 we crouch in our dens looking for the prey of the lioness of civilization that is embattled against itself for entirely internecine reasons. There is some temerity but I believe the theopneustic power of this revelation because I am keen to the attuned universe of the largesse of omnified civilization trouncing over the matter and fettle of instinct but Genesis is integral to understanding every cosmic mystery on Earth and in celestial Realms and is probably the seedy repute of Baal and Molech among other idolatries which severed themselves by heterodoxy of eunuchs and saturnalias too profane to expound because their epicureanism outweighed their pragmatic need for the virtues of the conclamation of heavenly authority manifest clearly on Earth at various times by various prophecies that all point to the Sacrifice at Mount Moriah and notice how God always works through mountains like Mount Horeb/ Sinai to provide his flock with everything they need to know to maintain vital sustenance. Surah 3.86 “How shall Allah guide a people who disbelieved after their belief and had witnessed that the Messenger is true and clear signs had come to them? And Allah does not guide the wrongdoing people.” Surah 3.84 “Say, "We have believed in Allah and in what was revealed to us and what was revealed to Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, Jacob, and the Descendants, and in what was given to Moses and Jesus and to the prophets from their Lord. We make no distinction between any of them, and we are Muslims [submitting] to Him.". Surah 38.1-9 is mandatory reading even for the scepsis of Christians because it proves how farsighted the aliens that shepherded Muhammad really were and how insightful Muhammad really is and still is as an emissary of heavenly recompense in his guarded palace beneath which rivers flow. Surah 85:3 (853 AM) “And [by] the witness and what is witnessed” Lets return to the central thesis of all kerygma that is synallagamatic with mutual respect to the pillars of all civilization that the meeting ground of the jovial joust of gladiatorial conquest of the yobbery of rookery and the apikoros yordim that emigrated too far into esotericism might marvel that God is ultimately vindicated as an author of a true unfiltered version of a slightly redacted history suited for the auditorium of a universal audience that displays with majesty and power his foresight to tend to the distant constellations that are created by the tentpoles of the sky reaching their apex into the aperture of the allegorical veracity of all culminated creation exultant in its self-affirmations of pride that it might balk at the embellishments of pettifoggery by the kirkbuzzers of superstition and behold the true throne of grace and authority bestowed upon the bailiwick of the living and the dead in what might be a segregated heaven to prevent the pullulation of tribal discord even in omniety with eternity. I hope to witness heaven firsthand in my upcoming seances with the extramundane but first we must expound this troponder. Jews first, Christians second and Muslims third were all alerted to this watershed moment in history with exact knowledge probably encased in the Arc of the Covenant or some other divine artifact that embodies it but sometimes we pale in our pallor of substandard evils that lurk within the recesses and alcoves of our destiny that we forget to prophesy with earnest sincerity about an abiding hope for the forward rather than the froward future. A book that changed my life forever and shattered my worldview and made me obsessed with Earthquake science was 1906: A Crack at the Edge of the World because that quake inspired the Azusa Church Revival movement that lead to the resurgence of proselytism of protestantism of evangelical churches. I highly recommend buying that book on Amazon.com right now it gives you such a harrowing perspective on that Earthquake 114 years to the day that beset Northern California. Revelations 5:11-14 NKJV “11 Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. 12 In a loud voice they were saying:
“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,
    to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength
    and honor and glory and praise!”
13 Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying:
“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
    be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!”
14 The four living creatures said, “Amen,” and the elders fell down and worshiped.
Genesis 2:1a (reaffirms my theory) NKJV
 Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array
I am going to pause to marvel at the significance of that San Francisco Earthquake because that seismotic jolt shaped the destiny of our aborning nation and was the first time-to my knowledge-martial law was declared and they tried to extinguish the fire with dynamite which further spread the conflagration and San Francisco is obviously named after Saint Francis of Assisi who ironically died listening to Psalm 142 which is about the liberation of prisoners on October 3rd 1226 A.D. His name is also ironic in purely terms of cognomen that should not be expounded. Although depaysed from my original brunt I would like to extend the bronteum of theological reckoning to the absolved polity of the renown of gigantopariahs clamoring for vitality in a time of treachery and perfidy because the valiant insurrection of our adventures in decent music is the chavish of many birds to the itinerant hordes of adoration as in some parallax of reality in the realty of a potentially merged heaven compartmentalized into factions there might be an ulterior reckoning of overabundance but instead I propose a segregation of the heavenly realms postulated on the idea that in omniety we will know of many things that will fascinate entire generations of time as the knowledge of the esoteric percolates through the heavens by riometers beyond calculus and calculation that will one day heed these proclamations with a hortatory weight as the assized Epic of Gilgamesh echoes the same percurrent themes as Noah’s Arc including the forty day ultradian rhythm which signifies temptation and also the contrition of God signified by the flocks of the sigillum of the aspergillum of dignity afforded to all who migrate into tethered territory beyond the yokes of ******* to the dengonins which own all the ulterior praises but serenade lesser patrons in this almighty day of wondrous awakening to the cosmogony of the infinite justification of the allegorical heft of herculean prophecy entwined in the rhetoric of the primordial authors of human sociogenesis bound to the covenant of Abraham and his blessed sons Isaac and Ishmael who both deserve glory and honor. The elegance of the mystagogical parlance of the intrepid bravery of partial rogues but never full-fledged knaves impregnates God’s vibrant experiment with flourish that delights him with the zaktengur of individual raconteurship so an adventurism in life might be warranted as long as it is done gingerly and with love as the ultimate cloak of absolution rather than the self-insulated boredom of an impavid disposition of the self-settled sedentary languor of whilded depositions of thanatousia brought into parturition by the midwives to sorrow and tragedy that besets the human family from time to time but the sorrow of mankind is not beyond the bailiwick of God because perfectabilism is in his very nature in the adolescence of creation which can greatly be prolonged by the conservation of our robust intellectual bastions of energy and the sustainable development of a green planet beyond depredation that heeds some minkumpfs with some peremptory guerdon to save the spate of suffering among our animal brethren. I grieve that my profound plumb into the depths of psychism was abbreviated by the pomp of porlocking purpresture but I renege my former glaikery in sustained suspense over selfsame tridents of musical happenstance and with poignant evocation I convoke a solemn remembrance of all those lost to the spates of disaster and the paroxysms of the unpredictable that is now foreseen in time to forestall turgid tragedy and impregnate the world with a ****** of a thirsty new vogue eager to adapt and learn with laureate belletrist of the aubades of the dawning light of absolution granted the the sacred cross and the lives we relish in history that are dedicated in sincere earnest alacrity to become revenants of the new age beating the whiplash of the second death because the former things have passed away in a figurative manner even though there still is death one day the inventive verve of the quizzical nihilism will try to outfox death itself for a hollow memorial to preserved sentience which is a mockery of transhumanism that is a professed modesty of the ultimate vouchsafe of the transmundane but unnecessary because of the real palpable joy of the resurrection inherent to all segues between life and death that we all might embrace our creator with almsgiving and gratitude with patient forbearance for the virtuosos that memorialize a prosperity worth relishing even in the soilure of privation because no soul should grieve in bereavement when there is so much joy inhabiting this gleeful planet that is hardly glad in any way about the dereliction of spite and anteric schadenfreude of sacrilege on a massive scale that should be a blotch of a bodged chantage of evil. As I digest the memorials of the festive but never churlish traditions I marvel at the synclastic bent of amasthenic enlightenment concave towards certainty in a demarche for the diminished efficacy of viruses to scare us into trepidation but with dutiful caution of proactive measures taken in times of exigency and crisis. There is nothing facetious about God’s exigent deliverance in these times of leniency and fasting as the wineskins preserved from the lineage of old will perdure until they have their fill and the Earth is saturated with the blood of the prescience of a Cattaneo prophecy guarded in his 6-24-2006 set which hints at a catastrophic scenario potentially impending right now or of a future variety where “blood will be pouring like oil gushing out of a well” “respirators will have their fill” “hospitals be closing” etc. and in these steep harbingers we find poise and pause to reflect that the majesty of God is unfurled unpredictably by showcasing the redemptive power of the autarky of the imagination to see the unforeseeable and lurk in the dungeons of the unknown dengonins just to spy with privy knowledge about the circular circus of privation encircling me like the rapture of murders of ravens that are a crow shy of an X-Files repute...Of that situation that the afflictions of the many matter to the anointed few that delegate because of Jethro and through the power of the Levitical orders to abolish some Kosher restrictions among some apikoros Jews that lean on my wisdom because the suffering of animals should be a suffrage for sentient rights of animals not to bleed excessively into a slow painful death. I urge all Jews not to let those cows or other animals suffer so grievously at the hands of malefaction just for a petty consecration which proves a hollow point about sacrifice and thereby seek to abolish some Kosher demarcations on the grounds that they are inhumane sacrilege because the ransom of Jesus of Nazareth’s suffering and agony on the cross-rather than his blood as many people beguiled more on physical manifestations of trauma rather than the emotional toil of suffering that bears more incumbent on the human sympathy-consecrates all virtues of circumcision and makes meat ceremonially clean because we serve a miracle-worker God who hasn’t finished his last work yet because more thaumaturgy is in store. The antagonist of history is congealed human superstition filtered through the siphon of protective scurrilous fears and petty vendettas borne of willborne hatred of tribe and division that was the fettle of preliterate societies of hyperdulia because they knew the iconography of Christ and marveled at his miracles but believed too strongly in retributive justice to scare away the herds of the contrite to a monasticism of plight and blight that consecrated  many great human achievements in scholastic virtue and scientific importance but ultimately found relegation before Gutenberg saved history with his seminal watershed invention third only to the second place wheel and the first place advent of human language itself as the most prominent plucky invention of human revitalization and through the salons of France and the dramaturgy of Shakespeare we found an apex of enlightenment that provoked revolutionary ideas not so guarded by gingerly blackguarded varnish of a superstition for the metal tablets that illustrated magically the future for an abiding audience of the past which must have seemed an abominable miracle to the astounded puritans of the times because songs like Love Story (at least the music video) suggests that the song circulated in the past eras of the English Renaissance before electric lighting was invented. We have all to thank for the invention of rock and roll which is an esoteric title for a sizable momentum of catalyzed verve that enchants the planet still with the majesty of the harp and the lyre to glorify God for all eternity and Allah for all the worlds he possesses in his infinite bounty one in the same for the culminated vision of all hallowed prophets with an emphasis on Surah 2 accentuated to the Christian audience even if neglected by the Muslim audience. I am primarily a Christian but I believe Islam is a divine path worth pursuing on a tentative basis but I have yet to outstretch my hands to try and reach the barnacles of a distant world beyond my womb and bereft of my lineage even though I stand united with the Abrahamic faiths that solidify truth and memorialize the superorganism messiah of humanity in collaboration with our celestial hosts to foist the ribbons of the figurative far-flung Pleiades and the harps of the harpricks of the just as distant but transfixing Orion to envelope the earth in sincere repentance before the holy flock of the justifiable truths found in the candor of devotionals and hymns to the immemorial God of all Creation that is the impetus behind every ambition-if only subconsciously in his universal psyche and consciously the catalyst behind every cohesive machination or orchestration of complex human and alien activity but subsumed in the psychism of God-is the idea that we are living indelible elements that constitute his superorganism in the theoplasm that is circumjacent and adjoined to his intentions that he surveys with such nimongue ease that his wednongues go out of style very slowly because his vogue is the ultimate champion against the misprision of militant psychiatric injustice that needs to be rectified by top-down government action to debrief and inform the necessary travail to surmount my challenges and assume a subsidiary role in the government and the ecclesiarchy to shepherd the shepherds and write for a living with a fair governmental stipend and a partially uncensored internet so my fanfare can envelope a broader portion of the world. I issue a humbled but ultimately otiose entreaty that Donald J. Trump, a personal hero of mine, can be a participant to my plevisable situation by appointing a team of people to work with me on the social engineering of the future and most importantly the ligature of the ecumenical cause for aggiornamento of the ecumenical cause of Abraham and all of his descendants because we all abide by that sacred covenant in the broader world that inhabits our sacred rites and rituals. We should also embrace the boundaries of mysticism to fathom the depths of the theoplasm more fully to understand how the firstborn of all creation is the perpetuity of sentience for the revival of respiration for new species yet to come even more beautiful and prosperous than us and those that already exist frolicking in approximated heavens that we might meet upon transmigration as reincarnated wisps of superior worlds of heavens inhabited by the segues of death but knowing no despair. But I stridently believe in the ultimate promise of an ineffable splendor of a real final resting place or a cradle for the supervisors of the isangelous that orbits above our heads and flutters in our considerations as the vast multitude of worlds.with heroic saviors that spellbind the universe together with a stitchwork of mastery of the fraternal bonds that divide some species from others by insuperable bounds of space and time but through the gift of transcended time ushered by alienesque invention and we have thus been bequeathed a new unexpected emergence phenomenon that is aperspectival in temporal terms but always recumbent upon the prolific dance with a jousting destiny toying with us through swarpollock and other machines of sentinels but never tiring their terrier race as subservient to the human imagination ambitious beyond former bounds.
    Thank God we have a president that presides over the defeat of the strictures of warped and intorted hypocrisies of orthopraxy for the candid endeavor of the plain plaid truth of the vibrancy of germane beating the pulp pallor of the nebbich calculations of uxorious plumage plucky in its resolve to serenade our youthful cadets in their continued resolve to chaperoned campaigns of the barnstorm of the obvious for the conclamation of the ultimate victory of history over its worst proclivities that suspend themselves in the tentpoles of time and space as glaring menaces of affliction. The gated entryway to prosperity should be unfurled with majesty and a welcoming grace to sustain cordial deeds and promote fundamental encounters with vagary not with a vagrant fission but an emergent fusion not of hyperbolic atrocity but rather the subsidence of the chisel of directive ambition that serves the greatest causes of the ****** of dignity to transcend the fettle of disarray. The quibbles of the questermongers and the querulous wernaggles of relative impotence matter greatly to the large bulk of a hibernating humanity but when we all awaken to a universal truth that serves a flickerstorm of revolutionary usucaption of the halidom of tomorrow experienced by the foresight of today. We levy the largesse of a collective bronteum that warns and admonishes gently the people behind the curtains that might find objectionable some of the barnstorms inherent to this missive of doctrinaire but soluble missions to save humanity from its worse caverns of idolatry and to anoint the brightest light to beat the most deafening din of darkness that can be imagined by the sterile vapid retreats of privilege into insularity-we fight not for a mercenary cause but for the valorous insurrection sanctioned by the chartered expedition of new frontiers for a newfound freedom found in fundamental vouchsafes of a freer speech in the lyceum of the knowable reality of noogenesis. We should never suborn the dacoitage of the hybridized compromises of the halvork of mandarism but always tolerate the entreaties of amicable jousts of demarche even when combative with a peaceful irenic resolve that is contempered with virility rather than pomp and not even a hint of virulence because the collective world depends on a quorum of well-spoken and considered thinkers adjudicating a bonhomie rather than provoking a collieshangie. The world should not spurn error but castigate it calmly because the worst errors of temerity are remediated by the ploys of the treacle of the imaginary plane of the supersolid convergence of the ulterior with the pragmatic that serves the working class as well as the shepherds of elite institutions because all deserve a fair hearing in the court of commonwealth justice. There is no treachery in universal irenology that special barleychild of serendipity that shields us from harm while providing bulwarks to stabilize economies and sustain the recognition of our wholesome usucaption of newly acquired deeds and merchandise that spawns an ingemination of technological revolution incumbent upon declassification that leads to a resurgent robustness of economic conditions that calibrates properly on the proper alkendur of the hikkle of hype mixed with disdain. We suppose that the remixed panmixia of virtual insanity doesn’t become an affliction because in many ways it might meet abomination but some people lean on the leniency of felicity to swell the coffers rather than populate the coffins of the agreeable pivot between the sustenance of choice and amicable adjustments in economic security meets a run-on sentence of the levies of strain as the imponderables outnumber the certainties of the covert. We populate the future by going back to the past and this is why the movie is so entitled Back to the Future because if you think about it, it requires a recumbent logic of a recursive incursion of the origination of the future visible to the past to create the impetus to sustain the vitality of a resurgence of travel to the future itself one of the most obvious giveaways in movie titles ever devised by the clever. We encounter the timing of the lightning and thus hear the thunder not of the radioglare but the laskerade and serenade of the pulpit of good deeds rectified by the rectiserial visionaries that balk at orthodromics when the artful bypass of nonlinearity is favored for curiosity rather than missives of emissary diplomacy.
The reparations of tomorrow are the guerdon of yesteryear, the heyday of seminal prophecies that consummated a theological brunt that revolutionized the perspective of eagles nest lookouts all around the world to sempiternal decryption of history showcased by the sheen of prophecies now culminated in the effervescent now is a plangent epiphany in the life of a storybook romance with an artful dalliance with a romanticist ideal of an enlisted destiny recruited to cement its own purpose with concrete action without flagging resolve. The ultimatum of history was a faltered filibuster of the listless historian marveling at the prescient telaesthesia of the unknown visibilia that protrude in remontant certainty that the memorials of yesteryear catapult this cause into the fruition of a dated missive of coded bywords encrypted by the chronological clepsammia of allotted time for special occasions when the entirety of space-time folded upon itself to anoint itself champion of the supersolid reality of the surrealism draped over the tentpoles of abundant absolution that excuses the kisswonks of the glaring threats of Wilkes Booth to entomb a heroic titan of imposture as the real effigy of a slain delay of strenuous calculation to appease the Confederate heart wounded by the diacopes of struggle. In this rollicking turmoil of a roiled time of rookery we can celebrate that the amasthenic weight of the historical certitudes of the docimasy of memorialized junctures in time when all was denuded barefaced in the sight of the world to marvel at the rigged artisans of the artistry of furtive skullduggery that imposes no astringent rebukes other than those reserved for departed gyrovagues of hallswallop before their due time and season, we marvel at the irony that an insular vociferous vehemence of clairvoyance predicated on the absolved shrive of history for aborning and alighted apostasies now stands regnant in triumph of the space-time continuum. This might be an overstatement of the herald of a day signified by a transcendent conversion to a theology reified by the rengall discoveries of the intuitive theopneustic truths of the subsultus of vagary and vicissitude that the day when the code was cracked about the fractures of history converging upon the latticework of ephemeral and ethereal cords of cordial embrace of the cryptadia belonging to the “commonwealth of the aliens of Israel” (Eph 2:12) became evident to the masses was the chosen day of encroachment upon the suspicions of the alerted masons of the American Revolution-to ward off with apotropaic beacons of light glinting in lighthouse caverns of repositories of unknown treasuries-the salvation of the human race from the dudgeons of apostasy by the consecrated creed of the newfangled credenda that borrows heavily from lore to make this fabled date stammer as a freckle in a dimpled time that is cute but eccentric in its flapdoons of memorial that shower history with innumerable examples of the numerological importance of consecrating or desecrating a given day based on the furtive skulks of hidden troves of luxuries the elite have always bestowed upon the elect. So maybe this day wasn’t as transcendent as it could have been and maybe there is a resigned awgrudge that such a pilfer of time would make such a resonant dent on the pride of Britain to provoke their invasion and scuttle the American bastions of prideful reconnaissance of the future bestowed by the patronage of elective privilege, but this day will always be canonical in its ability to reprove the critics that the orchestra of history is not a heterochrony with destiny but a very validation of its truth in serpentine convolutions of the bywords of the guarded synquests of aristocracy. May the doubters gleefully jibe at the overstatement of a heroic task on a filibuster against the cretins that foresaw the trudge of ignominy and still willingly stooped to the levels of evil cadges into prurience that they foisted upon the reminiscence of evil protrusions that they might be forever banished to the barathrum for their pitiable deeds to desecrate and blaspheme that historic wallop of synquest to trounce the trinces of an uncertain future gravitated and mesmerized by certain facts known widely enough to provoke wars and enter the pasilaly of universal knowledge enough to warrant further inspection. The wravel of time is elegant and exquisite and all the glory goes to the coryphaeus dengonin that braved infamy and rebuke to soldier on in demarches to dignify the otherwise seedy drab and daft drolleries of pretense that any uncouth man could ever emerge from the throes of absolute defeat into the vindication that history either by intention or by accident is convex and aimed to entrench the vital truth that accidents are convenient but deliberation is calculus that deserves fanfare. It was because of a seminal theory of theology that this day earned its repute in history because it coincided with such rattled seismic events that are turgid with blessed tragedy that is never gloated over but always solemnly commemorated in hymn and deed of charity and eleemosynary duty. The irony is that the Revolutionary War ended on May 12th 1784 which marked the exact time of the Earthquake in California at 5:12AM PST and that fact makes many subscribers to the scepsis of sebastomaniacal delusion postulates more keen on the acumen of the day that history unraveled at the seams and revealed its circular reference to an ennobled prophecy that was the momentum and excuse for many clarigations of force and many other heralded deeds of posture and gentility or savagery and desecration. All that matters now is that we know that history is not a myth but rather a stagecraft of timing that is predevoted by preordained memorials to the tithes of time to cement its own legacy as foresight transcends hindsight in its own largesse but also its brutal slaughter. If the encroachment of tyranny poaches its greatest champion to excoriate an overstated case of mania they will meet the Army of Me and believe me their exhaustion will no know swift end in the halls of a deep dark purgatorial gridlock cell of eternal torment at the castration of their virility or their spayed femininity because I will not be reduced to rubble because of some hapless Facebook posts misinterpreted by the garbled miscegenated heap of albatrosses of invidious lies trying desperately to dethrone my virtues and seek the ulterior misprision of a  forever vanquished hope that resides in the torment of a plagued future negligent of the sacerdotal duty of the guardians to protect history rather than brutally savage it with dismal reprisals that are pangs of the deepest ire that will provoke a choleric rage enough for them to have to barge into my apartment and break down my doors. They will not trespass into my sanctuary city because I inoculate myself hereby from any incursions foreign or domestic on my livelihood for posts that do not hint at instability but only memorialize cute facts of the gawsy rather than the gawky imposture of the morality police trying to entomb me in the glaikery of a forever sunken refuge of homelessness and ill-gotten subterfuge.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
I. from living under a rock to exploring the internet

well... isn't it nice...
me? i've greatly benefited from the existence
of the internet...
how else would i have found out about the origins
of Taoism if not thanks for the internet...

i just kept one maxim in my head from
a book i picked up in some bookshop near
Russell Sq., it was a book on Taoism...
but it was sort of like the Best of
   of a band...
                not good enough... but my modus operandi
became the Kantian categorical imperative:
in order to help the world -
forget the world and let the world forget you:
the crux of "not-doing": i.e. purely being...
hell not- is not the antonym of pure...
                 not could be coupled with just... simply...
pro?
                   one of those...

me? i greatly benefited from the internet...
as most "bears" / "loners" / solitary creatures have
found out to be true...
i have an entire world history and a body
of knowledge at my fingertips:
it's only a question of what you're wanting to find...

without the internet i would have never
bothered to spend £20 on a physical copy of a book...
the complete writings of the primo Taoist: Zhuangzi...
nor would i have spent £30 x 2 on Heidegger's
black notebooks...

but i understand that the people who make videos
and do not write are all "savvy" when it comes
to view-counts... they ignore them...
they are more into "interaction": the comment sections...
i don't remember the last time i commented
on something:
i mean, ****'s sake... it's not like you buy
a book and expect to leave a comment... where?
on the sleeve? who's going to read that?
the author? hardly...

                             i like my view counts...
obviously the comments come minimally...
why? i believe in the anonymity of the readership...
the anonymity of the reader...
i like the fact that ideas are equivalent
to gold-mining and lightning strikes...
and that thinking itself is subject to shadows acting...
that it can be the best: most worthwhile "thing"
that implores of a being: hide me! hide me!

but i'm never going to make a video...
videos attract all the wrong viral attention...
i like the filter process involved in writing:
people have to make an effort and?
therefore? i'm left to my devices and whims
and sarcasms...
i can entertain Ovid and Marquis de Sade...

tu mihi, tu certe, memini, Graecine, negabas
    uno posse aliquem tempore amare duas.
per te ego decipior, per te deprensus inermis -
    ecce, duas uno tempore turpis amo!


i remember that it was you, certainly you Graecinus,
who told me to deny the idea
that one could love two girls at once!
through you i'm deceived - unarmed -
reason (this be the reason): i'm in love with two
girls at the same time!

i did one over old Ovid... loved two girls when both
of them were loving me...
which is so much better that loving one when loving
one and loving another when loving
another...
might as well:

                ledo duas aves uno lapide

two birds one stone... hardly serving two masters:
being served up twice...
and we're not talking about masters and servants
either...

me? i greatly gained from the internet...
                 am i the only person to agree to the fact that
it's just a jolly decent tool to use...
in and out... in and out... the internet to me
is like a brothel... i'm there / "here" for an hour...
then i disappear... leave footprints in the sand
on the beach... the tide of humanity washes in...
i'm left diluted: but i don't mind...
i too wouldn't want to have written the Harry Potter
books and then be mistreated for some
trans-****** phobic insinuations...
but i give her the grammar...
and how about the grammar on
the lyrics from WHAT IS SOUL... the B-sides
of By The Way...
                                 Big-Pie (Bag-Pie from Trainspotting:
freaking about... did i just touch
a magic nugget... a leprechaun's nose?!
is there! is there! a rainbow on this "other" side?!
pretty please... hey! if i go to Thailand
i'm sort of expecting to get confused...
it's a Thai thing... it was originally a Thai thing...
those Thai ******* are crazy)...

'it's roaming the streets at 4 in the morning
finding your best friend making out with a trans-******
in an all-night diner in Cleveland in 1986!'

plenty of women... ingenious boys
will be outright butch or add some extra BLUSH...
i can't say that i never kissed a man
sensually like i might kiss a woman sensually...
to later brush up on my Mr. Slurp'y skills
in the garden of fleshy flowers...
located where i entered the world: hopefully head-first:
oh sure... plenty of dolphins too...
how's it hanging? how's it hanging in Dubai?
plenty of hanging in Dubai...

freakishly lean: a plentiful decent diet of literature...
me? i benefited from the internet...
hey presto! i can bypass the gatekeepers of literature!
i can forget about publishing houses...
sure... i don't earn any money from it...
but that also increases me drive to pursue
the spiral out of control...
for me the advent of the internet is akin to:
the invention of the Gutenberg Press...
                                                  
yes, i was a fan of buying cans of Pepsi
instead of those 2litre bottles...
hmm... how to keep the gas once opened!
aha! shake the bottle after having a refill!
shake shake!
keeps the pressure tight-knit... beautifully
bountiful!

- two songs get me these days....
ALLAROUND THE WORLD
and GO ROBOT...
i trun to the canvas with regret: great! more typing!
i just want to keep keeping the rhyhtm:
perched on the windowsill
tapping my leg and grooving with my neck
like an imitation-party-pooper-pigeon
who invented head-banging
as the Hebrews imitate before the Wailing Wall...
i should have never picked up the guitar...
what a lonely enterprise:
it's already haunting me...
i was born as a natural drummer...

huh?!
of course i gained all the things there
are gained from the internet...
minus the light-bulb...
i managed to bypass all the gatekeepers
of literature: the editors...
hello! you forgot the paper! there's no paper!
there's no spoon either!
forgot the pills! just focus on the spoon
that isn't there!
and it's the perfect filter...
no one is going to bother me when i'm writig
and slacking on making video confession...

videos can be ingested passively:
reading? oh wow! who would have thought
that it might take some effort!
mix into the whole affair some Katakana...
hell... mix in some Mandarin hieroglyphs...
perfect defences against "simpletons"...
who? you have rotten cabbage
agreed with to throw with your comrade
against against being disgruntled about some
poor acting actor? what?!
stealing shadows became mundane?!

i also managed to breed a higher purpose
while everyone else was slumping
in the "pandemic"... i couldn't tell the difference...
what a funny: he-he-ha-ha tickling breeze!
ooh... let's have another go!
come on! let's go, let's go!
           he-he-ha-ha!
or rather: hí-hí-h'ah-ah-haha!

                             the internet wa been great for me...
but recently i came across this trend...
hmm (emoji of the biggest SMILE)...
VABBING...
                     dabbing... people dab perfumes on themselves...
what's VABBING... ah... ah... ha ha...
this is the point where i feel like putting
on my clown make-up and going out to
party come Halloween...

i'm pretty sure i'lll grow old and irrelevant
at some point... pop culture will no longer
interest me...
             but until that time comes...
piglets! teases!
                   it's like that one time where
i thought it was a good idea to date a single mom....
brought her homemade wine...
brought her homemade banana loaf cake...
NO GOOD...
i'm good-crazy as one prostitutes remarked...
still NO GOOD...
                                   goo.. plenty of goo...
oh man... the arsenal of music i have to sieve through:
it makes sense to not have children...
sure.... i'd love a little kritter "here and there"...
but? come on... with so much music
made available: would you?

and how did that parody of my grandfather
and grandmother play out?
she kept his death a secret....
to the point where he was in AGONIA:
out of reach... **** that then!

****'s sake VABBING... i.e. inserting your fingers
into your genital regions...
and then... Orestes! save me!
pretending that these juices are sort of:
akin to: perfumes!

o.k.: i'll level with these women...
here goes:
i like... ******* on my leg...
when i'm having a shower?
i like the idea of being a child again:
unable: UNONSCIOUSLY to control his bladder...
once in a while: i like ******* on my leg...
but that's only when i'm having a shower...
i like the idea of being without control...
i wish i could **** my pants ever so often...
alas... i can't!
but then i relieve my tamed unconscious
inhibitions... i tend to **** on my leg...
while taking a shower....
          
what is left for man beside finding new avenues
to compete: for the crown and the jewel in
in it of losing reason?
hell... let's all become **** AUTOMATON!
i can wait...
i'm orientating myself around the internet
like i might orientate myself around
a phonebook, an encyclopoedia...
and the... sacred loss of the music store on
the high streets...

there's me imitating drummers on a windowsill...
robot-esque...
*****! i'm keeping rhythm...
with a squint of my eye watching NORMIES
sitting static with their static televisions...
entertained?!
i like brick walls: i think of chess...
i like the sea bashing the land come high night...
i think of playing cards with the boys...
and backgammon...
i also like the idea of interpreting the flute
by splitting a reed of grass and blowing through it...
i like the childhood memory
of catching cockchafers and throwing them
down girls' t-shirts...
         hmm! i liked a lot of things...
whiskey won... i like swimming in it: thoughtless...
it's like like: give me a drink of whiskey =
Cleopatra having a ******* bath of milk!

i love the minutes "concerning" an unlit cigarette
dangling in my mouth...
before the opening crescendo
of Led Zeppelin's IN THE EVENING...
kicks in... only because: SHARP OBJECTS
waas such a captivating t.v. show...

hate t.v. love t.v. most certainly loved the movies...
i hate the movies these days...
i sometimes think: i could replace
the t.v. with three "things":
the sky... a fireplace... or a... ooh!
a ******* aquarium!
                     yeah... that could  work!
then again.... candles or the sky...
either wait.... play shadow charades...
                  
             there are actually two ways to give stress
to a F-U... using the hand...
there's:
A. the clenched fist with the etended middle
finger... poison...
but there's also
B. ******* extended....
thumb also extended: NO FIST...
all the other fingers are "bowing":
but they're not clenched... there's no imitation
of a fist...

seriously, though? no wonder i ventured into the realm
of prostitution, no wonder so many people thought this
"pandemic" was a "fake"...
sure sure... let me just apply my *****
Jean-Paul Gautier sniff-sniffs
while you, girl, test out, your next best
found ******.... what the ****?!

how about we start off with... oiling ourselves
with molten pig fat and then, then asking:
kosher enough for you?
oh... but this craziness is not supposed to stop!
it's supposed to escalate!
didn't you know?!
                           no no!
                                 there are either the crazies
or the uber-crazies!
      there's no in-between!
                 as much as Ovid prescribes ****** love...
i find the most erotica in prescriving myself
a decent amount of sleep...
               perhaps in his days...
but... he wasn't a solider...
so he wouldn't have known about being stationed in
Britannia,., jumping ****-naked into
the feral bushes of... no! not mint!
              you ******* Forrest Gimp or something?
blushes of *******... ****'s sake... FENNELS!
POKRZYWY! FENNELS! not ******* BASIL...
not ROSEMARY... not TYHME
*******: Hamza: brain-drain-lord
of an otherwise working Latin BREEN!
call your ******* cousin Hah-med and Muha!
the lord of the flies! Muhammad!
Muha! FLY! Jesus is the lord of mosquitos...
Muhammad is the lord of the flies...

please tell me someone tried to tell them
that they were
the auxillaries of Hell?
the past 2000 years has been an advent
of Hell...
Hell... even more: the Hellenic original
thought project...
comme ci, comme ça... c'est la vie!
i.e. it's good when it's good...
and bad when it's bad...

the tired mountain: the eagerly waiting stone...
the tired sea... the ambitious droplet of water...
that eternal flame... but all the more eager
sparkle of an ignite!

time flies when you're not having any fun...
pretending to not having a stab at...
those Kenyan ivory slush-puppies
come the crocodiles and Muhammad types
moon-served plump almost juiced up...
hey ** hey... you're just my Macaque sort
of type...

II. a schematic of rugby

H15()15H
\ (pass back)
/ (kick forward)
and...
just run around
shuffling your
magic feet:
toying with the octopus
dance of
a dislocated shoulder.


III. leftovers from an afternoon

give me until tomorrow, i'm still figuring "things" out...
video: oh video V video... Deo. and Doo and Deus...
mighty Churchill's index and middle...
of the fork in the road...
          or akin to the crossroads of
Robert Johnson...
            i picked up playing the guitar but i'm
a natural drummer...
easily soothed but also easily irritated by a rhythm
and beat...
for all the protest of (search engine, hello...
back of the bus protest, i just need a name)
sitting at the back of the bus:
Rosa Parks and the Montgomery bus protest...
i just remember mornings on the no. 86
bus... reading Stendhal while all the black
boys "unconsciously" stashed themselves
to the back of the double-decker...
white-flight in reverse, i.e. all the white girls
could join them:
thank god for my Turkish and Japanese fetish...
a fact not frequently recited:
i don't own any woman under the sun,
it's just my turn, turn after turn...
perhaps happily a *****-donor...
what's ******* and what's surrogate
motherhood for a homosexual couple,
like for like: i can't tell the difference...
besides... i earn about £10 an hour...
she earns £120 an hour and all for what?
being given an ******
and soothing my ego...
amazing though... it's crystal clear...
i never liked the back of the bus...
double-deckers have their engines in their ***...
very much like VW beetles...
the black boys naturally migrated to
the back of the bus every trip to school i took...
loud, vociferous: like most post-African people...
still strapped to the gridlock of
VICTIM... but sure: thanks for the jazz...
thanks for the blues...
if certain Africans were not exposed
to the English tongue...
i fear we'd still be stuck in a Mozart epoch...
Ellie Belanger Aug 2014
The rain fell with the night,
all groaning thunder and vociferous lavender lightning
the water staining all it touched like old black ink
streetlamps dissolving under and into darkness dripping wet
and I watched from the cold side of a second-floor bedroom window
breathing onto the panes and drawing smiley faces with my thumbs

When the rain had finally stopped,
I was still sat there,
still thinking about how wonderful it would be
if you were on the cold side of this second-floor bedroom window
with me.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
"five minutes,"
Edda answers,
"five minutes is
all you need to know
if someone is kind"
(dialogue excerpt from
Tales of Red Vienna^)

and I'm thinking
snap!
let us rephrase the question

how many
poems
does it take to know
if someone is kind?

One, ten, a hundred or this.
my six hundred and thirty fourth?

the play continues without me,
the debate grows vociferous bitter,
the voices of My Disunited Nations Mind
all ignore the Rules of Order,
each crying out

"just one, just me"

then a little one,
from way in the back
soft and small,
therefore commanding,
to the podium comes:

"Two
Any two
Pick any two
In any order
The first to know,
The second to confirm"

All voices stilled
as the proposition
passes unanimously
(by silent voice vote, of course!)


take two
pick any two
then call me in the morning
tell me how you're feeling
and if the answer to the question
is satisfactory

back to the play,
the 30 second intermission is over
http://www.manhattantheatreclub.com/2013-2014-season/tales-from-red-vienna/

4:40am transcribed, but composed hours earlier

a play poem
I think l'll find a bluejay -
a loud vociferous jay -
standing her ground , sure-
and proud ..
Alert , unabashedly pious -
and lyrically meticulous ..
Voracious for truth , golden throated with frank religiosity and unbridled animosity in silencing the powers that be ..
Bound for eternity ...
In her honor I have named her-
Miss O'Connor ...
Copyright July 28 , 2023 by Randolph L Wilson  *All Rights Reserved
Cee Valenso Jul 2015
You basked in the roars of vociferous thunder
I found serenity at the hour of sunrise
I ensured that my paragraphs are justified
It was your habit to plagiarize
The ambition to soar the sky was mine
But you dwell on the offered comfort by the land
I saw you dive into the depth of the sea
While I chose to build castles with sand
I admired the sun and you courted the moon
The stars were witnesses of the amorous affair
You clad yourself in the most expensive garments
But before you, you commanded me to be bare
And I have been called foolish uncountable times
I have gone insane and have lost my mind
But heed, I did not - and I continued to love
Until I saw the bed empty and wished I was blind
TV Feb 2013
Atop ancient mounds, the thrones of kings
The sounds abound, resound and ring-
A jungle stirs to life.
From amidst the mist, two monkeys call
Their vociferous cries, a defensive wall-
Signs of future strife.
As fogs roll back, and time rolls on
The moon away, at last it's gone-
The sun chases after his wife.
Wrote this and another while watching the sunrise from the top of the tallest pyramid in the Maya world in Tikal
kip Jun 2020
crying in my bed at night
thinking of you at every sight
dying in front of the tv screen
now my floors are never clean

he walks away
I can't live another day
sitting on my own
always waiting at the phone

crying with no one knowing
your image constantly glowing
I've caused all my pain
I was always under your reign

— The End —