Thee Wise Men

How the world started, with view in the rear, who did know how the progression along that road ran amidst the confounding curriculum that was illuminated by that school of science, stuck out a tongue. Desiderata desires fell on top to shoes that could thrill thrice to fill. Some how, an atom started smoke. Those were the days, run one out the other in control as in single arm. Choicest chides of Adolph, handle bars of the crossing of Alex - for your Lot will be of the top, fit of an educating, an conquering. Taken by two extremes and mixed up, footsteps of detainees detached, excellence of poise and worthy of praise. Pray tell, obstacles spectacular and more... kick started, scolded and led to where... shoes that could hardly be shined. An rodent of root, and ruse and rule, annexation and anthem, for untouchables arbiter, by both parents royal and masticated gums of mirth. Deep within Mankon, survival touched glasses with the pass-times of God's own people.

AND THUS, THE COMPRESSION OF ANGLES

And so champagne to the campaign rouse the men loose. The losers of the dying exploited till the crying. Shop at the end of the bend, rally street corner Dons and the retreat of retire. But before the known of the kiss, mint and assimilate an arsenal of goners forever. Na so lectures of cats and math at evening announce a festivity beneath the stature of stores... Say who? What? How enthronement of the lifelessness of ore did rinse and rise where that formidable sheen of the bright caged within, could not write. And the ether, the blocks, buildings of the 3+5=8, sun-tan. Above the stance of rodents and implants into the ground weathering without... For within that circle of hands entombed, long ago interred, forgot the passengers paving passage.  Children of the the begotten for letting... The posture of glares slanting, amass energies in confluence and the beat, the heat, and bowl of wings even less in annexation of couloirs, of representation in the grim of grime and Ammon gather together a lost few soul. Say, where event, blood and litanies upon the tablets of stone.
 

The Last Gasp

The decline, the feeling of the falling through uppermost going, "Weeeeeee!" And the saints nod, liking compared to the navigation of the link... As in the the tongues of the heat licked the house down to its very foundations. The cell of an island spoke of the elimination of trans-mutation. Together, together? For the communication of species socialise towards a hierarchy of extermination. The body, the bones, and boost the bile of desire. "Bonny," cried a lass, "never in all the beratement of the brass has a conniving of coroners been known to last." Twelves going on thirteenth, an unknown coven of Osiris in emblem seats everlast.

Folk Lore of Cultural Cookies

For the crown of a cork, snip, snip, a cock and the clouds crow to the announcement of dawn, the priesthood of the aim age. Upon a field in some frozen place far-away from the hindrances of the hearth, generals seasoned by reason state: "people ought to be awared of over-comers." Golden haired gods arrived on breathers fiery and fierce... The garden of an native Potus almost carnal, pagers to pagans carved in various forms of every day bullion... for the periods change and what should have been on the eve can tend to administrate on the morrow. And the learning be continuous, strong hands and maidens in ironhead horns that the thing tends to tame. Personally, nothing international intends to disturb the dusters of the bed, for before the rememberance of November, nails thought on an talisman to the jew. Is your rulers really...? Speak and the knowing of the free. Nigga-knower - entranced by the monuments of the Nile, nodded and pierced palms shown up to the stare of that one eyed statute in the firmament. For what be of the most precious, hears of the gift, to the tossing of Kamikazes!

DANCE

They say the road is full of peril and the night is dark. They say the footsteps throughout the journey last but a moment when the longing does come. They say the shade tire and the reflection of the sheen matyr, they say the aftermath is full of the terror of temptation turn at every corner. They say the heart of the human will darken and harden till the squeeze of an projectile take them home. They say thou shall fail for the fugitives towards the top have been known to lack tops, and can drop, just like that... But they say a lot of things. Had there been a writ of alphabets to equate thus proportions, had they not been attired in the buck? But no such luck, temperature follows its own laws and pressure can be naughty when dashed against the call of humidity. So put on a bikini and avoid the baking blast of the stones... Squirm, for the whim is only diabetic to the absense of sugar, hum a sound, blow kisses to a mate, say you and you and you and you and you, etc, etc, know the rules of the let go, of the boiler let go of a top and the innner consciousnesses. Let them go to sleep and forget the pain of a psycho, or embrace it, or debate and let fall all the steam. Thing is, follow the stream, particular the road and note the rose, know that before the exercise of myriad, there was nothing. And no matter the thinking and trouble, the omniverse hardly will ever even take notice.

Dickens

So after one of the master crossed over with a beaker holding his hand, after some of them notables scrambled to the scribble even with the figurines of the physics attesting to attain, a sound in the afternoon by that maestro had resided and revised tantrums tropical, that son sung a snug, many an un-canny couple to the bedroom of Smaug. African say Queen. And raindrops roll down the skies, blessing insist, for this Terra Nostra all the way to the segments of the run, the sun, the alchemy of that powder and spark. Rasta wranglers, and for the sake of snow, disguises guys and foxes cheering down the path to a stand, a stall mottos - for this should be ours, this great island sprung from the back of the sea. Papa took a step and spelled the question: should death be the beholder? Should the shroud of pass overs enfold the envelope of the conquest? Should thinkers be given their way? Should monopoly play? Praise, pray, for there comes the sinister, there is the opposites just because, and the knowledge of a noun in the contemplation of a lamp, stare at the murk with a blasting the climes. Lava sprouts out the neck of a fan and unto the tusks of time, to the trust of triangles in the Triads. Many a moon has seen an oppressed dangle a key in more than different angles. Different seasons rise and call and many an outward appearance of nature fashion carvings and... The Breath!@

In exchange for flakes

a fly flew into the outer climate and tasted of the anti-climate of being in the lone, loons and goons and roller blades spoke of an emotional sort of concern that tresspassed even transgression and the mis-took of understanding... angels are falling and the stones speakto the skies, the seas ride bikes and being of the elect could call for astral alignment with parallel particles of light zooming in: the port creatures squirm out of the murk, cross eyed and looking for whom to devour, but the tingles of the truth last even when the footsteps
of dawn wear yellow cardigans. nothing could ever really lapse back to sometimes being vulnerable and partaking of mantra with the enthusiasts of creep syndrone. meta physique and a whisper into an ear, hear hear, the sounds have sounds within: she speaks, she says 'I know what you are thinking...." but rainbow banter, how could the ages be so forever?

A letter to God

Girl got a sweet tooth and the mixers of the mixture sob upon rooftop like the king morn a son. "What can be sacrifice?" cried the monster before the gates. The devil forked a foot and cooked up a soup saying: "The devil with being number two, one must bring up a ladder and improve upon the talents of the larder". An apostle of a prophet raised a hand, stood the fuck right up. "See here preacher man, your head banging is not going to save us, what happened to machine guns reeling?" A ROAR upon the plains, said creepy cross-eyed Brahmin staggering in a jeep, "That cat be tripping!" Consequence: about a fire at the turn of day sprinkling spice and cavorting with the ghosts of crooked. But entertain adventure up a spine, that however the body may wane, an absense of a soul takes task multiplied ten-fold and send a head spinning through shattered glass. Fine print and the halo about wool witness of guru pinnacles a booming, glistening with censers of gold and sat by the right hand of that oldest of thunderers. Worship, carefully inhale and then out breath, wonderer... That winding way trailing deep into the pockets of talk, tocking like that bunny, lead an inquisitor to the piping of absolutes, lazily smoke and decided upon the flip of a bird.

Dew

I met an old man by the water hole, his skin was leather and his rags were full of holes. His head was empty and only ash and dust could be seen on that crown of shiny palate. I waited in the shallows unsure on how to introduce my fame. His back was to me and not of a limb did that stationed stillness broke. The wind rustled the leaves and the sun walked a little farther. Shadows changed.

I met an old man upon my journey, when me cracked nostrils sniffed the air and led me to a bubbling spring. Where water burst, and sang reaching from the earth. He was worn and thin but something of him spoke of muscle magic. I watched from my place un-decided how to accost or call a name. The insects buzzed about me and a night bird called from a tree. The sky clouded and obscured the afternoon sun, the highway called, and drummed and drummed.

And after another man like me, another I had known to screech, I insisted upon the sit up sharp and make an effort at acquaintance, my throat itched from lack of passage and my voice had been hardly long been tested. I walked out from the reeds and made for that solitary figure. Who sat unmoved, even when my shadow fell upon him.

"The road yet awaits and stoop and do your honors, why wait thus of late and talk of childish horrors?"
I startled into the coolness of the drink and filled my chest and stomach barrel. I checked if the weapon was safe, then strode upon that highway calling.

91 verses

And they spoon fed it,
They potioned about cackling.
They teased it tense,
A massage of the muscle,
A message in a bottle.

Take a knee

Red, red, ink
Goes wink, wink, wink.
Willy pops Charlie in Wonka,
Wink, wink, wink.

Red drink, pleasant soup
What done have I wrong to thee?
Waste why me trends in the dirt?
Quick, quick, quick.

Rolling! Robbing! Dying!
A graveyard and an enemy,
Sound Surround and an eerie,
Top of the sky to fly.

Red, red, ink
The bleeding and the slick,
Make mine a few millions trick,
Take to Slytherin and sly,

Reek, reek, reek.

A few years past

Zen is the entertainment
Of children. A participation of partition.
The days of thunder un-guards an innocence.
Like Mike, authorage of Bush war two's.
Jewish.
The pen is the escalation of the illuminated.
For even as straight as the crow flies,
Purring, pour in gold and viscous,
Slim tea.

Morning Circus

So if man na mboko
Then nga go tok na say wat?
Nga go worry,
                      know see yi
Hart?
        If man di ndolo,
Just know say yi mop go lok.
But man na mboko,
                              Conjure
Ting weh khatikha for terre?

Shake it up,
                    stir it up.
Mirror mirror, of all the world,
Who stole a picture and a flaw?
Who requested fin finery
                                     Of the Greats?
And tossed a tower high in the sky.

Said boy,
              do me please, While
These eyes are bright!
                                 Harder,
Harder and baby, don't you even dare...

Geometry of Bulwyr

A banishment of the banal
The bane of that same sanitary of melange.
THE SPICE,
                    Rises to the brain
Sets that clarion of chimes computing.
Amputate,
                In exchange,

For at the spring in the wilderness,
Where a bubble gave life to
Journey-men and the adventurers of spine
And un-rolled a scroll of Hedjira.

Un-holy, the glory of the sands
At the bath, the blessings of the blood.
And stand and smite and rule and roar,
Like sacred skulls in the be-coming,
Like diamonds in the making.

The writ of the script,
                                 messengers of God.
Found kneeling in the gloom of that
                                 Silent Space.
The emptiness of the wild
                                       where spirits gloat
Contemplating the complexions of Rome.