GROTESQUE WINDS.Grotesque!
grotesque!!grotesque'says she in a quandary of ambivalence'where is your
tethering hooks' Grotesque wind mopes aloud a dirge too benighted to be
sung,distant waves,hitting hard with inclemency,like the tempestuous lunge of
the lion's when the predated snaps,stolen forest,when the inferno is burning
, flooded with no gazebo,kindled with kickshaw,windy sighs,obstrusion of the
obstreperous heaves,not a sigh to respite tis broken heels becomes a fertile,
And rudderless banks,fluxes with milk and honey,gold and silver.grotesque
winds distant gales,barely sewers tethering ropes of the knotty clouds.
Wail,grotesque,gregarious chants
occlude a mammoth,Officious they obscene the city square,wail knight marshals
of the jungle,kinky feets drown aboard,repressed to jump the bandwagon
oggled,pearls are burried beneath seashore like golden fleace beneath rays of
sunshine,distant waves traveling at its scorching heights uncharted,yet a
foresight,were you to plunge headlong ahead of the storms,could freeyou,the gilt-edged
gnomesofesoteric cult and ample fortitude to strikethe anvil with your
frollicsome and loathsome hammer.Being reticent midstream and tranquil
headlong,distant gallows and distantwaves succumb.Then turningthe spigot
andtheramrodtowardsserenity that kowtows as servility,beneath obvelation
andobviates,kinetic hillsidekudos,glides its hazy but servileeyes asobligato
of the obsecrable panting,Condescend knighterrants of the
kineticmountaintop's conquest,obtest the labyrinth of the grotesque winds,they
come in gales,billows and they go in stales,the farthest plunge barely sings
herald of farthesthills.
Grotesque
barricaded mortal conscience,twisted,stertorous,strictured and knuckled with
the kunkfus of kinky sentry,plowing gauchy cloud,And desecrate percipiency
insomuch to implore offertory,neither that omen speaks not omega,nor the
medes detest the persia.And given the gregarious chants'obssesion
perseverance,obloquy desecrates. He grows not obsolete,but still nature
grouchs to grow him obsolete,in suspense behind obfuscated chins,And backward
path,they trod,he smouldered in the obsessive,obsignated and then jettisoned
his trump of mt.olympus inquisitorial roil. Deadbeaten Curators of
arts,dispirited at the dickesian plow of the gregarious chants,evanesced the
mainstrean rottened by hesperian knights,scamps of ochlocracies,olio of
scrappy hills,infitrated public squares.By lust and derision,they ambush the
spangled stars and stare at a furlong trough of mangled dreams, kinetic romp
of blissful morns,occludes finest arts of solitary confinement,homespun as
jewels of junketing hills,
highlanders decked with the
unctuous gales of holy curiousity,rising obstinately from the vale of
adjourning hills,navigate they,with the circumference and transference of
despond slough,like an erotic sailor,headed uphills.end of part two of
grotesque winds.
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