METEORIC VALE 2

Continuation of the poem - meteoric vale,with its first part,was first published on the same blog. O lupinous hesperian,save me the theft of freedom ,from alien tongue.And forays,into space and nirvana wherein all men are freed and serfdom,a nullity. O My forlorn childhood . Do i as lowbred,lovefeasted,upon mine childhood lunge to lush lustrous lupine from its lutarious plateau?

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Meteoric Vale was damn cool as a logician and a cassanova,with erudite pen mastery of the ways and wiles of a lorette whose lorgnette sharpshoots greed on every vista.To sift through logomachy of its nebulous clouds,hewn with the grim death grit and modest pride of a semantics.Skulk,luminously the lumpish lanking of its timber and lumberlike lumbago.Their Clownish ludicrously,lucerned and locust-grisly infest mortar garniture,had not yet still a garbage refrain to stook a radiating radiance as a fur of a gallinaceous obsessed souls.Doused and dampered from a vulgar clump of its meanest shores and hazy thrust aplomb.The miserlies of its meanness and its firmament,rose my chin emboldened,emulsified by its geniculated buds.And crystal as the ocean waters and impecable as the alabaster;flagellants,they flagellate amidst the rocky mounds.Golden feet,supplanted on the fallowed fields of meteoric vale beneath and then crept into olympus mount.A little geodesy of sullen bank's geogony timbering amidst the fodders

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of hazy clouds.Born Of locust eaten tempest steel,that crestfalls crescendos and stooks of starry morn,For not the villainous gangrene and gesticulation of mortifying pestilence,could be crimsoned to cringe stalks of starry night bound frenetic volubles,Of all the nuances that galvanised the downpour of the evergreen,there was a wanderlust whose contiguous drift crotcheted like an artesian wells of deadbeaten sickos,janglings of the owlish misty looks.To peer good breeding upon its pestle of mortar's petrified morsels,mottled mosses gone grey and petals rottened on st.blues queer street,far driven from its hobson choice 's glabrous scythe to grisly gripe,And grims the descendo-ed locust steam,the hackneyed starry night executioners.To winnow the gallimufry of the gnawed broken reeds and loafers'inglorious bedlam ,of a contemptuous valleys and shruken aridland,with cavil wodging magnitude,or by bowling grooves and insulated glacis.Gesticulation by castellation,were the pedagogue gnaws,upon this sordid bank

breed granulated remorse. Grabbled i in the dark,hence,halo-ed as the halloo drew mine engross and still mired in dungeon.As though incorrible of the infamous pests,had defied upon their heels and encroached intestines and remedies horrified by illusion,withdrew into my hibernate,

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And Variegated atteliery treacled with ephemeral hedonism,to mine starry morn's incorporeal plainsailing startled;so harmstrung by duffer,impinged beyond bearings unmasked a bent and a gusto,tinted with luxuriating passion,sparkling as the morning stars,A bunch of fair roses meshed with the hallo of avantgarde and juggernauts of intellecticities,presaged to append resolve; thus gravity,a downhill swing and apogee's grappling hook is bereft of hays,when they deadbeat at a deadloss.,deigh as you deigh;steed as you steed ,they steed.And let a fissure fisticuffs,oversway them,With tackier propinquity,grow fillips to stall their haemorhage,dampened torch,of a fibre wobbling and fettered; and incense fervidity,that they may bind themselves with ferocity,adorned in fictile metaphors,A florescence fondles with weird thematic lineament,endorsed,And Clumps of disarrays,taking the softlanding,upon their floodgate of throes,downpour of censure,slammest be,the locust gale of a loafer's time,that with a score of sloth's

frittered aways,lodestone skyward shoots from a contemptuous square of loathsome loathe ,of longfaced,barring lonely hearts,and within periphery hanging like a walrus moustache,at loggerheads,so sternly of its innate arts and adept virtuoso,the dissuading lethargic gongs,melifluous bells,how such unfair flowers flung into dunghill to be internecined by pestilence,from their leadened wits and locust grails,by asinine mettlesomeness,left to rot on primrose bank,overwhelms brutes and pundits alike,stitch the wound of thine starry night fodders,Ye marrooned apollos of shallowed cosmos!Retreat bliss of heavenly moisture,from the voluptuous bank of fair roses,for howling renaissance,blissful contends that in these ignoble times,frosty plaudits's sings rebuked,supplanted on panoply of frontiers,a stanchion,wherein foul plays plow; And when again,your luminous light and exemplification leavens he,take the crusade aboard,shall i mine enclave,deadens a bliss?So,laudably,when fisted i in distressing times,Gentle lambs..

,so meagre ambush in transit,robed as hermint,a recluse to heed the clarion call for lathes of the augean stable,whereon,we are placated beneath with the lathes on a jumbled flight;with the pinions of the eagles in flight,flushed amidst delicate lances,And laddle substance effulgence,a cynosure of blinking roses,to bind my lamentable lament,in eulogy of the apogee's victor,in rings of grief and despair,labourious and loitering a while,at the cliff,a hotspot of the sapiens,with kittens,at its baptism of fire,winces of that kittenish heel to nymph a streamlined kindred spirit of the forlorn child,hammered anvils of the fatuous beams, And these resillient strands of the kindred spirit,sparsely suffused kindled its kiln:A fleece so golden,a curio that can be found in lagos,held in solitary confinement,softer than thepassing wind,How killjoy maketh a killing out of windy kismet,beats me my top hollow with ill bred fangs beneath.Not the funkiest of inklings wary did it entomb.To sibblings of teeny boppers,hanging

in this guillotine of dreams;drawn sword unsheathed of dying souls.In the transit of antecedence,as they evolve,karate of starry night foibles,foment ebonoid isle of man, Why you might be forlorn too,plow here with wit and tread my forlorn childhood for a pedagogue.To wither holy curiousity,not tease thy art to feed on the garniture of heavenly bliss,A glabrous exhortation to sweeten tendon,where pebbles of the seashore under brown study,startled to wonder and adhere,where swarm of locust and summit of minnows,flex for a golden fleece,staying beyond fray of thy holistic grit,to worn out stale itself,sometimes intimate with the rising sun,when time and patience permits,blowing storms with ridicule how they for clamourfreedom,With their golden feet,sweet above compare,ever partake their gormandised bellies,barring smokey teeth on frivolous sand,If you scold but scantily scold in open cast,that obvious instant chaste,expose thee for a ridicule and scorn;but turn dead eye,vommit pleases them to dwell.a lifelong