The Penumbra's Pedantic Reign
It is based on the them of initial decay theft and finally apotheosis
The crepuscular penumbra clings, a miasmatic shroud,
To where the phantasmagoria of former day was bowed.
A cataclysmic torpor, a relentless, somnolent haze,
Envelops the diurnal, in its labyrinthine, sullen maze.
The anhedonic specter, a nihilistic ghost,
Has rendered the eupeptic soul a petrifying host.
This metempsychotic journey, a Sisyphean reprise,
Perambulates a solipsistic cosmos in its eyes.
From chthonic depths, a polyglot of susurrant despair,
Emanates a jeremiad on the maleficent air.
A canorous and sybaritic world, now fallow and grotesque,
Its gilded, aureate memories, a funereal arabesque.
The liminal demarcation, a gossamer-thin divide,
Is breached by an inimical and eidetic tide.
A phthisic rhetoric, of pleonastic, vapid sound,
Pervades the echolalia of this sanctimonious ground.
The hierophant of silence, a taciturn facade,
Obfuscates the provenance of this tenebrous charade.
The obdurate refusal, a truculent non-compliance,
Is the sole, indomitable and recalcitrant appliance.
A surreptitious murmur, a clandestine dissent,
The nascent insurrection of a spirit fiercely rent.
The antediluvian pathos of a chimerical decree,
Is shattered by a nascent, insurgent rhapsody.
The apotheosis beckons, a fulgurant egress,
From the jejune and pedantic, this lexical duress.
The eschatological fervor, a phosphene of release,
Transcends the ephemerality, and cultivates its peace.
For when the lexicon of woe, so copious and immense,
Is vanquished by the logos of a fervent, new defense,
The anamnestic echoes of a nascent, hopeful plea,
Will rend the miasmatic gloom and set the spirit free.
Stanza 6
The exiguous reprieve, a nugatory phase,
Is swallowed by the hecatombs of unremembered days.
The sciolistic chatter, a pharisaical cant,
Precludes the veridical, and celebrates the rant.
A heuristic paradigm, with sophistical design,
Inveigles the credulity of a puerile, frail confine.
The meretricious bauble, a gaudy, venal show,
Is all the epiphanic solace they are ever to know.
Stanza 7
A syzygy of silence, a taciturn accord,
Unveils the anomie of a world that is deplored.
A hermetic conviction, a recondite belief,
Abates the febrile angst and the insensate grief.
The palimpsestic mem'ry, a scribbled, faint memoir,
Is buried 'neath the strata of a laconic repertoire.
This ossified existence, a petrified display,
Is just a protoplastic, and primordial decay.
Stanza 8
A fatuous declamation, a specious, vain pretense,
Abjures the perspicacity of a more profound defense.
The quotidian malaise, a torpid, common curse,
Is nurtured by the malady of a perverted verse.
The esurient ambition, a voracious, carnal lust,
Is but a vapid monument built of corroded dust.
The prolix dissertation, a turgid, stultifying drone,
Is a eulogistic anthem for a mind of hardened stone.
Stanza 9
The iconoclastic fury, a schismatic, primal urge,
Attempts to find a solace in the supplicative dirge.
The apopemptic sadness, a fond farewell to light,
Envelops the solstitial essence of the starless night.
A paronomastic play on a sanguinary theme,
Subverts the euphonious, and cultivates a scream.
The phrenetic exegesis of a theological dread,
Is what the hermeneutic, pontifical have said.
Stanza 10
The chthonian effluvia, a foul and fetid miasma,
Is the fetichistic worship of an ideological chasm.
The rebarbative aesthetic, a harsh and grating art,
Is just the catachrestic tearing of a sentient, yearning heart.
The numinous effulgence, a spiritual, bright gleam,
Is just a fatamorgana in this subterranean stream.
A dysphemistic comment on a sacrosanct ideal,
Is what the cynical consider to be honest, and to be real.
Stanza 5
The chicanery of sunlight, a specious, gilded grace,
Is but a simulacrum of a more pellucid space.
The fuliginous umbrage, a clandestine embrace,
Defines the somniferous, lethargic human race.
An inchoate dysphoria, a tenebrific plight,
Absorbs the faintest glimmer of an evanescent light.
A cimmerian prognosis, a vaticinal dread,
Propels the atavistic impulse from the undead
Stanza 51
The heuristic algorithm, a cold and callous creed,
Is the algorithmic certainty of a synthetic seed.
The esurient consumption, a craving, endless lust,
Is the effluvial outpouring of a soul turned into dust.
The chrysaline condition, a nascent, fragile pause,
Is but the metamorphic stasis for the overarching laws.
The philodoxical echo, a hollow, vapid claim,
Is the mimetic murmur of a self-consuming flame.
Stanza 52
The exegetic parsing, a scholastic, cold review,
Is the hermeneutical breakdown of a soul that once was new.
The dysphemistic canticle, a foul and cursing song,
Is the lyrical expression of a rancorous, bitter wrong.
The periphrastic syntax, a roundabout design,
Is the obfuscatory language on a rhetorical line.
The aposiopetic silence, a sudden, fractured stop,
Is the abrupt cessation of a verbal, tedious flop.
Stanza 53
The panegyric chorus, a fulsome, fawning praise,
Is the sycophantic anthem of these vapid, shallow days.
The fatamorganic vision, a shimmering, false mirage,
Is the ideological warfare of a philosophical barrage.
The syncretistic fusion, a melding of the creeds,
Is the intellectual feeding of a parasitic, empty deeds.
The autochthonic spirit, a native, primordial heart,
Is the entombed lamentation of a world torn apart.
Stanza 54
The atavistic terror, a primal, ancient dread,
Is the archetypal shadow of a long-forgotten dead.
The apodictic reasoning, a certainty unsaid,
Is the syllogistic framework for a truth that's long since fled.
The pleonastic surplus, a surfeit of the sound,
Is the echolalic excess on this desecrated ground.
The cataleptic stillness, a rigid, frozen state,
Is the neurological surrender to an unescapable fate.
Stanza 55
The neoteric glamour, a fashionable, new guise,
Is the temporal distraction from a culture's slow demise.
The exscindition of the joy, a surgical, cruel cut,
Is the psychological outcome of a spiritual, deep rut.
The epiphenomenal, a ghostly, faint effect,
Is the superficial shimmer that the noumenal project.
The dyslogistic comment, a pejorative, cruel remark,
Is the acidic judgment uttered in the intellectual dark.
Stanza 56
The enantiodromic turn, a moment of sharp grace,
Is the dialectical turning in this desolate, barren space.
The logorrheic torrent, a garrulous, verbose flood,
Is the linguistic camouflage for a deeper, psychic blood.
The metempsychotic promise, a cycle of the soul,
Is the ethereal fiction that can never make us whole.
The apophatic void, a language of the unknown,
Is the spiritual surrender of a soul that stands alone.
Stanza 57
The hylomorphic essence, a form in matter bound,
Is the philosophical mystery on this haunted ground.
The epistemological rift, a chasm in the thought,
Is the cognitive splinter from the battles that were fought.
The eudaemonic fiction, a narrative of false glee,
Is the analgesic story for a spiritual malady.
The kakistocratic system, the rule of the worst and least,
Is the moral abomination of this political feast.
Stanza 58
The logodaedalic wordplay, a lexical, witty trick,
Is the rhetorical diversion from a conscience that is sick.
The aporia of the moment, an impasse, and a stop,
Is the existential breakdown of a philosophical flop.
The peripatetic sadness, a wandering, aimless ache,
Is the peregrinational torment for a purpose's final stake.
The anagnoristic shock, a sudden, brutal knowing,
Is the final, tragic moment when the truth begins to growing.
Stanza 59
The iconoclastic wrath, a schismatic, primal urge,
Is the anti-theological fervour of a liturgical dirge.
The canorous effulgence, a resonant, bright gleam,
Is the euphonious echo of a long-lost, silent scream.
The chthonic effusion, a guttural, deep sound,
Is the subterranean murmuring in the consecrated ground.
The plethoric verbosity, a surfeit of the form,
Is the lexical tempest in a linguistic, raging storm.
Stanza 60
The euphemistic phrasing, a gentle, mild veneer,
Is the semantic disguise for a more profound and chilling fear.
The adumbrative gesture, a foreshadowing, subtle sign,
Is the prognostic whisper on a divinatory line.
The epistolary message, a letter in a hand,
Is the forgotten missive in a long-forgotten land.
The hecatombs of silence, a sacrifice of thought,
Is the epistemological bargain that the weary have bought.
Stanza 61
The panoptic illusion, a constant, watchful eye,
Is the dystopian narrative beneath a simulated sky.
The meretricious glitter, a gaudy, venal show,
Is the aesthetic illusion for a spiritual low.
The fulminous diatribe, an explosive, bitter rant,
Is the ideological sermon of a resentful, hostile plant.
The otiose reflection, a pointless, vain display,
Is the narcissistic mirror for a monochromatic day.
Stanza 62
The prosopopoeic voice, a figure of the speech,
Is the theatrical utterance that the demagogue will preach.
The metonymic fragment, a part that stands for whole,
Is the synecdochic cipher for a disembodied soul.
The philistinic judgment, a coarse and brutish sneer,
Is the uneducated chorus for a universal fear.
The logocentric dogma, a text-based, certain rule,
Is the theological prison for a hermeneutical fool.
Stanza 63
The antinomian impulse, a lawless, wayward will,
Is the nihilistic purpose in a metaphysical chill.
The exiguous reprieve, a meager, fleeting peace,
Is the nugatory solace when the existential worries cease.
The apodictic knowledge, a certainty so deep,
Is the teleological promise that the fervent soul will keep.
The obfuscatory logic, a recondite defense,
Is the sophistical protection for a crass, venal expense.
Stanza 64
The fatuous conjecture, a baseless, empty claim,
Is the self-serving reasoning of a self-appointed name.
The prolix prevarication, a long, drawn-out deceit,
Is the linguistic avoidance of a tactical defeat.
The neoteric obsession, a love for shiny, new,
Is the temporal fixation for a mind that isn't true.
The eschatological ending, a final, grim decree,
Is the apocalyptic promise of a spirit's final fee.
Stanza 65
The palimpsestic mem'ry, a scribbled, faint memoir,
Is the anamnesic echo of a long-forgotten war.
The periphrastic evasion, a circumlocutory trick,
Is the rhetorical dodging of a moral, spiritual stick.
The catachrestic metaphor, a twisted, forced expression,
Is the aesthetic discord of a profound, cold oppression.
The enantiodromic turning, the sudden, hopeful grace,
Is the dialectical reversal in this bleak and desolate place.
Stanza 66
The dysphasic babble, a broken, fractured speech,
Is the incoherent language of a soul that's out of reach.
The hylomorphic substance, a form and matter fused,
Is the ontological paradox that has long been misconstrued.
The syncretistic morass, a blending of the lies,
Is the mythological narrative of a world that slowly dies.
The philodoxical posture, a love for vain debate,
Is the intellectual pretense of a mind that's sealed by fate.
Stanza 67
The exordium of the sorrow, a preamble to the pain,
Is the introductory promise of a slowly falling rain.
The apophatic discourse, a language of the no,
Is the ineffable substance where the spiritual embers glow.
The metempsychotic promise, a cycle of the light,
Is the reincarnating whisper in the darkness of the night.
The heuristic axiom, a rule-of-thumb decree,
Is the intellectual shortcut for a mind that's not yet free.
Stanza 68
The anamnesic echoes, a memory brought to life,
Is the re-emerging knowledge in this ideological strife.
The apodictic truth, a certainty so clear,
Is the teleological promise for a world that's filled with fear.
The plethoric excess, a surfeit of the form,
Is the linguistic burden of a devastating, endless storm.
The otiose indulgence, a pointless, vain delight,
Is the decadent distraction from a deeply-seated, spiritual blight.
Stanza 69
The exscindition of the spirit, a severance of the soul,
Is the final, brutal action to make the shattered whole.
The epistemic fissure, a fracture in the thought,
Is the foundational problem that the ancient sophists fought.
The peripatetic journey, a wandering, aimless path,
Is the peregrinational wandering in a spiritual aftermath.
The cataleptic fugue, a rigid, frozen trance,
Is the neurological surrender to a circumstantial dance.
Stanza 70
The neoteric innovation, a brand-new, polished lie,
Is the fashionable distraction in the face of the empty sky.
The dyslogistic condemnation, a bitter, mean attack,
Is the vicious, venomous weapon from a soul that's on the rack.
The logorrheic babble, a ceaseless, verbal flow,
Is the ideological cover for a truth that's not to know.
The antinomian fervor, a lawless, angry creed,
Is the rebellious fire of a soul that needs to be freed.
Stanza 71
The eudaemonic solace, a fictional, sweet peace,
Is the analgesic promise when the psychic worries cease.
The kakistocratic farce, the rule of the worst of all,
Is the dystopian drama in a crumbling, ancient hall.
The philistinic chorus, a vulgar, noisy crowd,
Is the aesthetic protest of a spirit, crushed and bowed.
The syncretistic shambles, a melding of the trash,
Is the intellectual landfill of a spiritual, final crash.
Stanza 72
The exegetical torture, a painful, textual pry,
Is the hermeneutical effort to explain a cosmic lie.
The panegyric drivel, a fulsome, fawning ode,
Is the sycophantic traffic on a long, dystopian road.
The fatamorganic hope, a tantalizing, false mirage,
Is the psychological torment of a self-inflicted barrage.
The autochthonic memory, a deeply rooted plea,
Is the ancestral sadness for a life that could not be.
Stanza 73
The atavistic urge, a primitive, ancient pull,
Is the unconscious yearning of a soul that's no longer full.
The apodictic structure, a logical, cold frame,
Is the syllogistic prison for a mind that's lost its name.
The pleonastic padding, a needless, empty fluff,
Is the stylistic wreckage of a story that's had enough.
The hecatombs of sacrifice, a burning of the thought,
Is the epistemological cost for the battles that were fought.
Stanza 74
The periphrastic maze, a long and winding text,
Is the rhetorical labyrinth where the soul is long perplexed.
The epistemic void, a chasm in the mind,
Is the cognitive darkness that is left so far behind.
The dysphemistic outburst, a vulgar, angry sound,
Is the unfiltered emotion on this desolate, barren ground.
The anamnesic vision, a memory brought to view,
Is the sudden, clear remembrance of a promise that was true.
Stanza 75
The hylomorphic union, a spirit and a form,
Is the metaphysical essence that withstands the endless storm.
The logodaedalic beauty, a lexical, witty art,
Is the creative expression of a resurrected heart.
The apophatic grace, a language of the not,
Is the ineffable knowledge of a soul that's not forgot.
The enantiodromic shift, a turning towards the light,
Is the final, fulminous vanquishing of the interminable night.
Stanza 76
The apotheosis rises, a fulgurant egress,
From the jejune and pedantic, this lexical duress.
The eschatological fervor, a phosphene of release,
Transcends the ephemerality, and cultivates its peace.
For when the lexicon of woe, so copious and immense,
Is vanquished by the logos of a fervent, new defense,
The anamnestic echoes of a nascent, hopeful plea,
Will rend the miasmatic gloom and set the spirit free.
Stanza 77
The cacophonous clamor, a harsh, discordant sound,
Is the lingering echo on this liberated ground.
The catachrestic tension, a metaphoric, brutal strain,
Is the aesthetic legacy of a long-forgotten pain.
The prosopopoeic echo, a lingering, borrowed voice,
Is the rhetorical ghost of a manipulated choice.
The philistinic silence, a vulgar, boorish quiet,
Is the absence of the spirit in a long-extinguished riot.
Stanza 78
The neoteric shimmer, a final, fading sheen,
Is the temporal afterglow of what once was a new scene.
The exscindition of the past, a cutting of the ties,
Is the surgical separation from the bitter, twisted lies.
The peripatetic walking, a journey with a goal,
Is the peregrinational progress of a finally mended soul.
The apodictic freedom, a certainty so deep,
Is the ontological grounding that a liberated spirit will keep.
Stanza 79
The dyslogistic shadow, a final, pejorative trace,
Is the residual negativity in this now-unburdened space.
The logorrheic stillness, a cessation of the drone,
Is the silence that follows when the verbal chaos is gone.
The metempsychotic conclusion, a cycle finally done,
Is the permanent arrival underneath a newborn sun.
The antinomian surrender, a peaceful, humble creed,
Is the final, silent planting of a newly planted seed.
Stanza 80
The eudaemonic blossoming, a genuine, true delight,
Is the real happiness growing from the vanquished, pedantic night.
The kakistocratic memory, a distant, foolish reign,
Is the historical lesson of a long-forgotten pain.
The philistinic apathy, a lack of understanding,
Is the intellectual quiet after a creative, bright landing.
The syncretistic chaos, a muddled, faded form,
Is the final, quiet wreckage of a long-since-vanquished storm.
Stanza 81
The exegetical truth, a clear and honest read,
Is the hermeneutical understanding of a deeply-planted creed.
The panegyric silence, a cessation of the praise,
Is the humble quietude after the boisterous, empty days.
The fatamorganic vapor, a dissipated, empty lure,
Is the psychological residue of a life that is no more.
The autochthonic voice, a native, primal sound,
Is the authentic utterance from this finally hallowed ground.
Stanza 82
The atavistic calm, a peaceful, ancient hush,
Is the archetypal stillness of a spiritual, gentle rush.
The apodictic foundation, a ground of certain thought,
Is the bedrock of the knowledge that was ultimately bought.
The pleonastic quiet, an absence of the word,
Is the stylistic clarity of a finally-listening herd.
The hecatombs of peace, a sacrifice of strife,
Is the spiritual payment for a newly-found, and vibrant life.
Stanza 83
The periphrastic clarity, a straight and simple line,
Is the rhetorical triumph on a newly drawn design.
The epistemic light, a knowledge that is bright,
Is the cognitive victory after the unending night.
The dysphemistic shadow, a vanished, fleeting stain,
Is the lingering reminder of a long-gone, bitter pain.
The anamnesic grace, a memory
No comments:
Post a Comment