TRIUMPHANT HILLS.3

TRIUMPHANT HILLS, A POEM FROM THE ANTHOLOGIES OF ST.BLUES QUEER STREET. PART 3.over the forest peninsula.O triumphant hills, thou shalt float thyself but with a stratagem, a credence and steadfast levers flown above the floodgates of erstwhile flotsams.Never a flinch,not flippancy, not fragile fret on flimsy trudge. Now set thyself thy face as a flint, triumphant hills faraway at thy ensconce infatuates greedily the bumpy road into triumphant hills, is but a revel, a hewn of the credence, flung at picturesquely plough.Take me to the hills, take me to the top and glorify my boodle.Not a panchromatic, to this gale of pandora box, to avert the pander,the abyss where banditry has plunged them into. O how sweet is sweet victory and its haven charm to the palatable psyches, painstaking and steadfast, in this agonising pageantry, will not oscillate thee, thy Rubicon passage.In this guillotine of forloath souls, that defied ossification.When this benign osmosis, opinionated and salubrious , shall in the nick of time,be obsessed, to envelope this plateau, amidst obloquys and numskulled cheeks, vanquished for its muniment as nutriments, be cast over the sea blues. It might be that thou thyself art been whisked to cart the glorious guerdon of the triumphant hill.Oh that nothing succeeds like success and nothing fails like failure.Nought gladiator, nevermore but victor as wilful as a fox, and as wilful as a mule, shalt thou thy crucifix bears, to spite at sea blues this obloquy.