An Ode to oratorical Despicables.part two

Rantings an Ode to despotic delivery fathomed by educated illiterates in their risible cotteries.

Waow mere edificial chaos of language seemingly tore apart 

The critical ensemble of the state and per capital psychopaths 

O ranting,not to eschew the cartons of euphemistic euphony and cacophonious euphoria 

Of both the eurythmics, oratorical and folkloric euphuism 

Of rather hardly evasive punchline curlicued with barely evanescent disconsents

Etched immortally in the estranged ethereal consciousness of mortals

Of which metalanguages gone ersatz

aboding the curs of gallivanting hood

Permit me not go berserk to nail the poser dancing to the epithets of this assumed alteregos not much disinclined to the portrait and klieglights of this eponymous hero,

When you decipher the equestrian immanence of this hero bouncing 

As the equipage of this unequivocal free verse or blank verse equipoises .

The patternity of the golden enunciation, envelope the intense verses environed by the embroidery 

Of the auxiliary deuterogonist,as the umbilical enzyme and the entourage 

Amidst the entropies and entrepots of the golden valleys 

They stir the fries, sauces and  recipes of the gorgeous hornets nests

Entombed and yarned in their variegated entitlements

That enthronement of epithets seemingly enthralled the enterprises of freedom 

Not sure the endemic flavor of the chicoried and enfeebled en famille,

To be rift apart the enfilades of engulf 

Triggered and enervated by derelict enfanterribles .

Those who bake enclosure worth the fiddle of the fiddlers and the fiddleds

When encircled and enclosed by the broken etiquette of the enchantment.

Rantings from the empyrean enclaves 

Not to lament when eloquence eloped elsewhere in faded runaways 

A calumny of such magic potion indecipherable 

Where elves were poked to play bouncing tricks at the eleventh hour 

Does the wreaths wrestling garlands ever sound or seen garishly 

To gambol and garnish at the fray of the fowling pieces and gambol den

Foundry of fountain pens acclimatised and not to fossilize the relics of his golden navel 

Broken by the clanking grasp of the garrison.

Who hid himself atop with attic where the bard stormed the Bastille of brt conversation dressing,with betrayed elves,

The ramblings of the eagle-eyed elbow greases in their pandemics 

Courting lucres and earnest money of the vain earthenwares earmarked for avarice .