BARBARIANS ' OAKS AND THE GROVELLERS

                                        BARBARIANS’ OAKS AND THE GROVELLERS

This poem is written in the poetry novel format,in contrast to poetry versification like sonnet,controsonnet,hexameter,terza rimma etc.The poetry novel is a new standard like controsonnet,devised by the novelist poet.Read on.

1

Upon this primrose bank of white elephant luxurious acquiescence and inebriated acuity ,did they hung their lance as  the ahoyed jetsams , in their acropolis of

  acrobatic lust.And their chins,floating upon a caisson,like a longuer’d pearl-diver ,not cognizance of peering through a stormy sea  surge,who being steer’d by sloth,still numb as naivety crickets bonemarrow; to take contending might,into an elongated truce ,which acute long an algorithm,have not widget’d,making sandy feet to wobble,from its boggy swamp.And one temperamental naïve and rashness,shall pay this burden and  burble of countless debt,So,hastily  offer  they by torpedo of passion,what they as raving debonair,they did crave;But when they,flinthearted coteries, by fastened lurk,were bristl’d and ecclips’d for the ebullient downwind, they roil and rogue with rodomontade,as Romeos of quicksilver’d punctillios and hence retreat with immoral lust.

Never did a fiddling in a factitious Fahrenheit,more sanguine,for lust than they for this vile at Alupluto,They by prejudice ,succor, they retreat away,but succor at home,they cannot get; They  lush in facile and revel in a factious facsimile,yet its fire as bellweather friends must burn;‘O barbarians,pity-glots’gan he lament’ puerile lax;tis but a roil,they dunce,why art thou no solitude indure,that thou mayest freak not as Aluploto’s prince,salvaged thy badlands and motherland?Why art thou no sedulous brisky?

‘ I have been savag’d as I woo thee now,by top etchelon of absolutism,even by the pungent goddess of purgation,whose drawn sword,still unsheath’d never did refrain in its razzling razzmatazz,who grovels,where they jabber in every facile; yet hath they been my topflight barbarians,razzling and tittletattling,tiresome  in every turn,And not trit’d for that triumphalism like the old sleigh bells,for thou which thou resolv’d to do.Over this altar,hung I impuissant,hath they too,impuissant factious as they trenchant growl,effeminate plow ,they with batter’d shield flung its tirade and pettiness of sportish crest,making my tent blurr’d as my feet,as well as the bed upon which I lay’.

With rapined ire of red rosecheeks,Femi stood appalled and squinted’Barbarians grovelers!’’ ‘’ Oh yea,look in mine eyeballs,this viscid vim  of yokels,ragamuffins and yobbos of high places,stoop to vulgar,racketeering its yen,out of leadened sprite, for  the weary sun,doth they burn in weary soil, darkened faces,overwhelming their unwieldy feet ,hegemony frosty, so guile and its malediction so unkind ,this vampirism of a vindictive vampire bats,vaporized the coarse soil of the thespian birds of passage,alas, a thimbleful floats ashore this rudderless bank,things of palladium,but of no precedence bred,whammed their complexion,fie of no ransom and a senseless stone,And turgid passion doth provoke a kleptocrazy.’’

And now ,Osomo,in reprisal,riveted at the poolside,as jasmine scented the air,the fragrance twined the night breeze as he yearned but leaned on poolside staircase.The rythmn and synthesis of his binoculars,like birdwatchers,rapturing kaleidoscopes and birds of preys,sublim’d at bird’s eye view,ransacked how he weeps in retrospection and pondering on tenterhooks the rabid taekwondo of these stymied birds of prey, Now gazeth he upon him and strident,did he stranglehold;’I’be no foolhardy,to graze on thy primrose lips,to feed where thou wilt,struck at pale of distant hills,thou shalt no rise thee,from specious vomit,even though,thou a thousand sinews stretched,to shelter thee from the tempest of  varicose vein,straws of mendacious dimple.’

‘Close thy gully mouth,to so steed, be no hypnotized,to swallow cavernous gulf of the heart,Being stir-crazy, before ,by vampires,how doth they now jockey for wits?Deceit avalanche at first ,what a deceit astounding ,strike them countless times ?poor maid of voluptuous bank,in thine own hand art thou  breedeth more scorn,forlorn to freak that meeds at thee in contempt!Now which shall they go,behold revolution!revolution!!revolution!!! when ,where and how shall they do it?Their demagoguery are vile ,the bales ,more creeping ;And judgement is penal,her intendment is banal;breaking this stranglehold,and to them,they the revolution goes as they embrace their Bolshevik-like impunity.’

2

‘You, Voluptuous bank crazy ?’ ‘oh yea,it is the voice of wit,listen to it,feed from its lectern and let me an utterrances broached  of my poetry,versified in terza rimma:

                                                           VOLUPTUOUS BANK

’flamiferous bird of passage contendest lay,

on the sole doctrinaire of classless struggle,

Marx bridle unimpinged and Engel trumpet

 be.

To whose voluptuous bank proletariats,

Cringest but thralldom tend’st expunge,

O voluptuous bank,let manques and

Paroxysm,

Of maudlin,so gluttonously,hoist thee,

But thou,shrinking violet of the proletariat,

Foulest thee earnestly as piety,opium of the

Masses,

A gangrened and lumpy inference of  the

Feverish eaon,

Foulest earnestly twinge as foul play,dances

On the trod,

To this Trojan horses,trudge,thou not stampede

 to victory,

From this numb and benumb,leviathan stalks,

Every ligature of the nebulous clouds,wicket’d

 by  downwind cliffs,

Like a bulwark,fasten the sailors,prowling,

forlorn’d seas,

An expedition that vanguards the nocturnal

Waves so stringent,

Malign now thy quest as thespian manqué,

That derelict,nincompoop and pintsize can

Be the maledictive sheol-impounded malaise,

Lest the malevolence encrusted requiem,malignant

 Sings,

And thou maladroit,maze of maudlin deadbeat,

Frisk scorching fire,

That thy miscarriages and barren meadow,fallowest

-plough’d,

With the writ to wit,thou drovest verecund at a

Furlong,

Stainest melanged,mellifluous megalomania,crest’st

Thou trod,

To ambush thy deceit and hit its direst clouds;here

the epitaph,

Doth inscribes; dissectomy and meoisis is cardinal,

To  brown study,aproned by meditation and metaphors

Sate,

In a meticulous dread of a meteoric vale,so the banter’d,

As writs like a nuptial knot , coagulate with wit’s end,

Had the moiety,the modicum,espoused its errantic

Humour,

3

Distinctiveness and pristine lores adorned with eagle eyed

Dungs,

When juxtaposed,embellished the sand dunes and vulgar coast,

Dossiered with dovecote of ineptitude and reddened from

nebulous clouds,

Aristomagnetism met a brickwall and dunghill asunder

,yet mendest remote,

Repose, distilled with heavenly showers and bereft of

fugitive gestures ,

As requisite,betwixt the dissectomy and the meiosis

Of the whole ontological shebang.

But in them by bibliocrazy,were a wonder to behold,

So,betwixt them,writ did unveil the mastication of the

wit’s end,

That dissectomy ,broke the fallow ground,of the

infecund meadow,

And vulgar coast,fructiferous,but unflappable,flaming

In its meteoric vale,

Either way was passionometric  and passion supplanted,

Wit was thus appalled to be betrothed and foible masticated,

That both thighs and hips were not undissimilar,must be

Beyond scupper, be ploughed by deigh,on the indian files,

Neither pizzazz was scaled back nor forlorn battle won its

decisive plow

From a tunnel vision into broadway vista,wit in itself startled,

Evidenced by  conundrum, and meiosis broken down,when writ

Is summoned,

To their concord,yet disposed or indisposed,cringest not afar,for

its overflowing bank,

A thimbleful is on the plow,a thimbleful  is on the plough,behold,

A thimbleful is enamoured,

Mammoth with nebulous feet,marching on the hurricanes and

 Landmines of nebulous clouds,

The descent into nethers,plungest untiring;for voluptuous banks

Were not so acquainted,

What a wight ,spirituous and squawking,whose yellings become

A quirky pall,a pasty pastime,

That seemeth indulging this bulging but infantile distendeth

Scoundrel!

Aristomagnetism hath ventured writ to wit,mated by meiosis,

When dissectomy,ploughs its meanest shores;trigonometry

Of an equation,balance speaks,

If  what polymorphosis at its tendon seeths,can so much a pastime

rodeo encrusts,

Whereon  upon this maroon and caisson,it bays to the consternation

Of the dissident,apotheosis,

Bulwarked by rountine of this trigonometry,shall the arithmetics be

Eulogized and mystified,

AS stormy seas blinking before confounded tragi-comediots benumbed,

To all eternities doth lurk and lie my penfriend and boon companion,

-o voluptuous bank,my mortar of holy curiousity!’

4

‘You bard at Alupluto,gestures cannot be repaired once pastures,to the meadows  its horses graze,burrowing cedars bereaved! You mean trigonometry,what import,thou obscurantist?’

‘threesome,every conundrum, pleads for  a caesarean ,for every bit of animadversion.YEA TRIGONOMETRY art sewered at ALUPLUTO and shall someday perdition akimbo-ed.Barbarians gather beneath cedars and talk away lifetime,minacious depredators from the northcountry,in fest of fifth columnist thus thrive,Palladium o palladium ,why did you sleep?’

Obstreperous  blackspots,blanched Alupluto and ornated by hedonism,a repertoire of white elephant luxury.And they moved closer ,to plait a visage and a sentinel.

On both side of the cedars,cadence plunges

Its vociferous precipices,a bazaar of yobbos,

Barbarians grovel in their thousands,and thousands

Hood’d in their barbarian cocoon,not pilloried by

Alupluto‘s downwind,cyclone of chaste felt not their

Daemons’swagger,cranks of the old dickens,countryside

 baboon.

Bunch of sociopathic soap operas of erratic soapboxes

fret the air unease.

The festering sore of street urchins and ragamuffins,ogled

from their sockets,

Aluplutans themselves thrice fouler than Alupluto’s ordeal itself

,stinks high heaven ,

Over this fastidious  borderline ,Alupluto’s boulevards botch,

Above and beneath its garrison of sedentary hoist,stood the

Bouffant bridle,

Brassmonkeye’d,bovin’d,brass’d,brash’d,brandi’d and brink’d

At the guillotine’d bubble,

O,What a brinkmanship,that gins to immodest,and there where

The passion ends,doth anew it begins,

Now doth the fifth columnists play its guile,now doth they connive

With the bandits,

And bashful shame,they burn not,and hid remorse ,where albeit

exterminated ,

Lays the flaccidity of the voluptuous bank’s bubble of trigonometry,

Still they burnish and prettily still they burnish,decrepit of palladium

Burrowing,

for  to a filthy ear,they stale even its  burlesque,and greedily,burlesquely

sullen frets,

And still the narcotic tales,plank’d with contending sensations,raconteurs

Unleash’d,till they take truce to stare blank.

So offer they in their facile of facetious façade,to fritter away their

Treasured troves,

Being factititious,they love it best ;and  being crimson’d ,their

Eagle,the blue sky turneth not back,

Look ,how servile to retreat,they cannot retreat and by that unfair

Girth of blemished hand,sheol raises its chins,

Which avalanche long have rain’d to pilfer the commonwealth,

Under this cedar,a fourscore thimbleful of barbarian grovelers

Banter,

And to winkle by winnow,a winsome modicum, for  the great

Expedition,Femi and Osomo’s

Bovin’d  entreaties falter,before it began.

Nibbling on the ground ,the tip of his shoe,crippled by

Vicarious