SONGS OF FREEDOM

canny addiction,clouts its irresistible tolls,still from its remotest plunge of cloudy distant hills,when thou doststay ,retribution although far distant,upon the distant fields,unsubmerged,shall be cherished and revisited for consequences and karma knoweth no barrier,as their identity growls in fiasco,of where the culprit shall be,at a given time,but guilt kills faster its offender,since,it cannot be broken,from the heart,to recall comedies and plenitude of errors,assigned to recompense,when thou art fail to notice,but so much of sombre earth and saturnalia boat,wrought upturned,i must not ridicule,in every context,ridicule retribution and the fury of its oracle,that penalises blissful ignorance,But heaves tears with its breastplate,can It saves? Contro. Sonnet-45-The combat betwixt lust and love,tore down,the ages,should the trojan war,unabashed by wiles of maddening dogs,ranting around Hellen Of Troy,kidnapped by paris of Troy,Gone are the glorious times,and permit me to observe,consequences and retribution,tiptoe and pathfind art of offence and defence,the first offence,not minding its consequences,thereafter,cognisancf of sword of damocle swears and quieker to defend,but behold,retribution is the reward and price of.... offence.desideratum for freedom,is scuttled,given its imperious psychological influence,for when the brutish storms are percolated,in graver guilt of squandered esteem to thee,thy life as slaves to lust,can barely be retrieved,plummets beneath this lifelong punch of blistering struggle,somewhat eternal guilt ,until engraving is done and the boozers,pimps,sluts and philanderers,come to remorse,sweet roses,dainty to smell are much far away,by those rancour,meted to thee,in the headlong rash of struggle,who without resolve but impervious,now cannot be healed by tender care of solicitude,of thy unfair sojourn,masquerading freewill,blight of convalescence,but then no longer,assuage,And return to remorse,to garnish thy faith a restitution and regurgitates thy self.Contro.Sonnet-46-Conquest of desideratum,not in itself an anathema of mortal aplomb,How to eschew offence with dire consequences,blurs a misty eyes,thy indulgence,blots thy eye,the freedom of veracity,thyself endorse that thou in fable,doth lie,a deeper 06/24/2017 12:08am sore,that can be only be cured in due time,but maddening rants,doth negligence pay a sloth,And says that consequences,do not matter,to justify salacity,as the norm and public domains,a hint of dire consequences of meretriciety,all miscreant come to obeisance,And by the consequences,their wanderlusts submerged misty eyes nebula,due its bibliomaniasis and sangfroid mettle in part,And to stress, the throng of obnoxious goof,is to fret tuturship, and remorseful wraith,to the rescue. Contro.Sonnet-47-The struggling ferocity, betwixt lust and love,is like that of the feet,tongue and the eyes,And pair by pair, fires their entities from bad turns to good turns, what thine eyes have observed,let not thy tongue utter and if thou art famished to utter it,thou by thy feet,shalt be bound by thy tongue, or heart in deception,swims in deceit,doth grope in the dark,its misty eyes. What thy eyes have seen thy tongue art bound, And then arts is slaughtered,when thy heart is deceived, and every move by nebulous salve and.. nebulous feet and hazy eyes,an helical of pandemonium,ye mince by heart,not cut thy folly,that thou mayest,not factitiously observe,in thy recurrent skirmishes betwixt lust and love?And each straying foot,doth burn,acatalectic guitless part,So either,by foul play or by holistic treat,thyself thy art,still translucent with thyself,delivereth over the long haul,selfesteem,for thou not scribble nor craven thee,in thy identity,cast forth,And i still with legacies of youth and they with me,scrummy and scrumptious,not for once,with a scruppy,and scrupulous scrutineered,they with me in mine righteousness and probity,prompt i to interrogate thee,in mine sight,treachery of youthful guiles,Awake in thine heart and let thy hazy looks see.Contro.Sonnet-48-How mean was i,when i grew up in a penury and contentment,Each conceited strife, with mine haggard bones contend'st,that to mine temptation,licentiousness,of salacious wights abound the countrified,from opprobrium rocketing opprobrium,they swing ov'r intense scruff..... And swim with scandal,in surest frequency to tempt i,but thou,to whom shekels and jewels of contentment kept,art bedecked,restraineth thy hands from lascivious thriffles of youth,most worthy villains,still now they prowl,being mine vilest grief,thou best of dearest remorse,of best,i care,in the jungle of covetous cannibals,remorse maketh the best sinew out of a resilient art,thee have i pluck,in thy remorse,to exemplify mine course at the summon of the interval for convalescence,feed where thou art learnt,thou out of feeblest pawn,i learnest well,with gentle embrace,of tutorship healest bone,healest faster,from whence consequences evanesce and normalcy entrench,that thou mayest insulate from harsh bite of the furious sun and its smokescreened verdict,even than thou wilt be impervious and fetid with no counsel,thus dread for ken ,with no counsel,by reverting to the same vomit,pays the gutter price of retribution.Verdicts are born,to reproofand refrain mortal foibles,from the indignities of artistic time, Contro.Sonnet-49-Time against time,countless wars we wage,when shall we become,its jolly fellows,rather than mere fiendish covetous,wherein hast become man's greatest mountain,when thy lust,hath cast ridicule,on its person, And utmost revile by mortals,causes it to disdain mortar art,altogether assembled to scrutiny,by mere inquisition of esteem of sapien arts,to castrate this nebula,time maketh its final judgement,when thou stealthily slumbers on thy bed,And barely tinker with it,how to amortise mortal pawnbrokee's burden in a civilisation,that burden that artisans and technocrats,froth steep to repay,thine misty eyes cannot,when lust stole from thee,the sinew of thy youth,from payment of its cummulative outstandings,it was,shall bankrupts find solace,in lustful league,Against that infest,do i my legacy,laid for posterity,yet unknown,restrain'd within insidious ingrowing of disvantaged childhood,And this importunity and youthful resistance,pricked my legatees,to mimic golden feet of a stormy petrel,to guard thy judgement and seek entreaties in that concerns thee,to leave distress and regurgitates,from livid prime?Why Battle,since I Can for a cause. Contro.Sonnet-50-How arduous it is,to sojourn in an alien land,without its breadth,unravell'd and decipher'd,when what we seek is nigh,why that logics,that wit to infer,to deplete frugal mile 06/24/2017 5:22am we seek is nigh,why farthest plunge and weary travel?A frosty profligate means and why that logics,wit to infer."thus,to deplete fest of frugal miles,shall be to fritter away posterity yet unknown"Why impugn time's sagacity so much?how heavy burden,do i bear,in my heart ,when what i wills,my weary passion desecrates doth infer that volition and ambition events differently,to conform.Thus likewise,indicates events that shaped sapien lives,are determined by exterior,posterior and interior influences,the infection that bears thee addiction,exasperated with undissimilar affliction,props up directly,from such influence,to bear its fruit,and dire consequences,in man, As if by some fustigation,the infected, did know,his vector,immuned,not the predator, being repressed from its guillotine,the bloodfeud cannot excite nor provoke its defeat,that sometimes immolates,thrusts thy volition into blistering competition and struggle,Which densely,it imprecates with a protracted grouch and resistance more poignant to thee... than mere incursion into the struggle,for that same steely resistance doth pompous incontestable,goads its triumph,victory lurks upon thhs trajectory and my remorse,not incriminated nor surmounted by whatever.Contro.Sonnet-51-Thus pithily,can thy freedom be bargained,to neuter as a nymph protrusive offence.Of parlous defence to castrate the hangman,the public executioner of corporeal moorings,when from thee art found wanton,from which vile,thou art turned sadomasochism,into a craft,like thy ilks,why shouldest not pity remorse,tis thy stress of harrowing writhe,ignite beyond its mean? O,what fortune will tardy resistance ordnance brings,when distress spiral,cannot by its afflict and inflict,be abated?then,shall i not spurred a rugged stance,thou supplanted,though hobbled,on a quirky counterpoise?remorseful candour no regret,shall be ...with thy pedagogue,launch retreat therefore craves of benigned transmutation,intervened shall hail no bogus decrepit,in this fiery paroxysm of contest,and volition for ambition 06/24/2017 7:17am than a bewitched sands,gawked by covetous lewd,when locust eaeon,confront thy arm and retribution revisits the woes of a lothario nor mesh his crave,nor in the struggle's burningfire,shall not be quenched,the infected epoch of the contagion,against obloquy and immanent ignominy,shalt your venture be and the mensrea for freedom,be not fouled as gauchy as the unborn timesbeyond shall thou soar,that judgement to root out the headstrongapostasy,thyself arise,to butcher the intents of sadomasochists. Contro.Sonnet-56-Golden guilt by its quilt,bespoke thy force;be it not price resisted,thy resolve should poignant be than its treacle,which by passage of time is retarded,today's resolution sharpeneth yonder heights,So,passionate be thou,penitence envelops thy misty eyes,now even untill full blast,spirit of struggle,sordid plow,didnot quarrantine the ballads,do not massacre lethargy,besidesits rattle,this sullen state doth anew begin,they contendwhere two,ocean struggle never parts and flowing streams,gash not flux, than a bewitched sands,gawked by covetous lewd,when locust eaeon,confront thy arm and retribution revisits the woes of a lothario nor mesh his crave,nor in the struggle's burningfire,shall not be quenched,the infected epoch of the contagion,against obloquy and immanent ignominy,shalt your venture be and the mensrea for freedom,be not fouled as gauchy as the unborn timesbeyond shall thou soar,that judgement to root out the headstrongapostasy,thyself arise,to butcher the intents of sadomasochists. Contro.Sonnet-56-Golden guilt by its quilt,bespoke thy force;be it not price resisted,thy resolve should poignant be than its treacle,which by passage of time is retarded,today's resolution sharpeneth yonder heights,So,passionate be thou,penitence envelops thy misty eyes,now even untill full blast,spirit of struggle,sordid plow,didnot quarrantine the ballads,do not massacre lethargy,bestridesits rattle,this sullen statedoth anew begin,they contendwhere two,ocean struggle neverparts and flowing streams,gash not flux, wanning at the banks and flexing at the mean shores,when they meet,in the boat,more blessed,when torn by strife,never call it a day and thrive,where piscatories,running foul of fishing hooks and fishing nets,stik waddled tis the vague shores'contending might relaxes. Contro.Sonnet-57-Be thyself,a karma,what shouldest thou not do to others,the awesome golden rule,but tend upon the times of recuperation,burlesque of profligated morn and the burglary of time,art prevalent with nigges,nor preferences,are tedious,to carress till thy interference increase,its bulwarky ebulliency at its prime,nor dare thee chide thyself,not to binge,with clamour whilst i my surveillance,hoots and chants plaudits,for thy recuperation, nor thy show lethargy,at its bewitched sands,frothy brisky not to transmogrify it,when thou hast chosen to extinguish thy ambiguous willpower and bade farewell to extinct saturnalia boat,nor dare to revert back to the same vomit,with a cajole that wheedles and recalls misty eyes,wherein thou might be... 06/24/2017 9:04am imprisoned with thy petard hoisted,in reverse again by psychosomatism and neurosis.Or thyself as captivity captive,but like a sequel and penultimate vomit,brood of its dire consequences,Ectasy,where thou climb,how contented to make the resourcefulness of thy state,so prolific,a steam is resolution and ambition,that in thy willpower,though with addendum of perception,being everything,maketh hay,with substance. Contro.Sonnet-58-That interference,entangle that made thee thy golden resolve,should in grand style,retreat from hedonism,as it were in the locust years or at thy willpower,the disgusting anals and checkered chronicles of a remnant of inglorious escapades be learnt from,By thy companion,bound to spike thy wiser verdict,eschew suffocation,disengage thy feet at the deadlock of bandwagon jumpers,the mammoth in gaol of their liberty,brainwashed by casuistry,chartered with no guilt,frosty tamest sufferance at will,without further tangled ado,be discreet to recoup locust years,thatthy gladiator might be potent to avert impending doom hence,clings to thy heart,thy bolthole,refrain from being bilked by thyself;for man's self is his greatest enemy,thus shall thou transfigure,into thy own freedom,since from vile to art direst plunge,i thou wast willful lured,towards thy transfigure,i"ll force thee,to run and give expressionism to catalyse ambition for freedom. Contro.Sonnet-52-So,as thou art penitent as thou claimest,whose benediction can bring thee back to the years locust had eaten,recoup selfesteem,a calibration with which every mortal will not indure,a pizzazz for keeping fine struggle of oecumenical justice,chastity and all righteousness,therefore are the banquets to celebrate saints of public justice andpublic temple,since barely in the long strugglelike wars and ailments ,infected art is bashed in the middle of nowhere and sometimes no return,so isthe time of convalescence that keeps,burning in the heart,or as the saturnalia boat,in whichthe binging stigma doth greedily stigmatise,to plaid mitigating antidote for its banish,by unfolding strategems,to lax thy imprisoned pride,blessed are those whose intergrity and selfesteem are protected,being stressed to triumph,sweetend self,enraged to be freed. Contro.Sonnet- What is thy substance,when thou art slave,within bond,that vilest shadow tended on a direst clouds,witherest go,each with its vybe,struck on the indian files,hath verve,And thou,by one salve,every shadow flees,unveil thy spouse no further,and thy sloven state thou changest not,on sullen plow,all great actions by muster grew, And thee by ridiculous art ,a moulder as a sadomasochistic tyro,knoweth dire consequences of plow,the paddle and its saturnalia boat,speaks of thyself,thy novel substance,the brass doth vile in thy benighted dusk,and thy remorse,not yet blithering and hilted,to foist the lascivious stigma,by alien influence,still not diminished in some cases, but thou like none, and resolved for the mutative plough. Contro.Sonnet-53- is posted above and contro.sonnet 54 ,posted below, as indicated Contro.Sonnet-54-O how much more of penitence doth thy psyche beams,by one holly candour,swallow thy guilt and regret, which passionate doth give,the injunction delivers consequences,but fairer and harsher,when it deems verdict obeyed,for that golden consent,which doth in it abide,And the effect have influence,cast aboard,as alterable implication of its order obeyed,abode in that throng and livery lively as the cricket,when mortal fate masquirade,compete direst clouds ,but for its golden fleece,only then is the villain known,may live in limbo of art,wooded to stray,do not die indigo dye,to invent.Misty eyes like gumptionless roses of a shallow fields,welded with shallow buds,as blunderbuss and lurid shores invade,And so,of mutation,fastidious and pertinacious distills ,when the dust shall unfolds,fondling with consequences direst contend. Contro.Sonnet-55-Not bullion nor the giltedged palaces,of kingdoms yet unknown,of princes yet unborn,of zurich 's gnomes not yet seen,shall satisfy thee,with treasure trove 06/24/2017 10:49pm of the golden yonders,but thou shall contend to glow in thy reprieve. 06/25/2017 7:46am Contro.Sonnet-59-If there be norms,but that which is built by hays,unseen of the posterity and uninformed by how then are the succession of change sees so brightly to moot the right change,which given by consequences of events and outcome of history and scorecard,do glaringly and grudgingly,invariably bear trends amiss,the second hurdle,of an interference.O that yoked art,arts under duress of condition could with stressed verve misfire,Even of a mere entanglement and encumbrances of a domestic ado, unfolds its longuer sinew in those infinitesimal accidents,since neurosis at psychos as sickos,first notified, by countenance,rather than by characters' scorecard,that thou might see above what ordinary folks,could not see,intergrity composed of selfesteem,fits like a fiddle,a man's frame,we are villains or saints,or whether evolution of norms mutates or not, o am so sure,change is a permanent mountain and a permanent valley that mortals ,must climb up and down,to subject every mortal and matter to judgement,a.... Contro.Sonnet-59-If there be norms,but that which is built by hays,unseen of the posterity and uninformed by how then are the succession of change sees so brightly to moot the right change,which given by consequences of events and outcome of history and scorecard,do glaringly and grudgingly,invariably bear trends amiss,the second hurdle,of an interference.O that yoked art,arts under duress of condition could with stressed verve misfire,Even of a mere entanglement and encumbrances of a domestic ado, unfolds its longuer sinew in those infinitesimal accidents,since neurosis at psychos as sickos,first notified, by countenance,rather than by characters' scorecard,that thou might see above what ordinary folks,could not see,intergrity composed of selfesteem,fits like a fiddle,a man's frame,we are villains or saints,or whether evolution of norms mutates or not, o am so sure,change is a permanent mountain and a permanent valley that mortals ,must climb up and down,to subject every mortal and matter to judgement,a.... 06/25/2017 8:49am cannonade,that ages have,given plaudits like the gods. Contro.Sonnet-60-Like as the winds,maketh a vitriolic judgement,upon all mortals combined,cast beyond shoreless jungle,so do nature reservest change,the esteem to judge,ridden by time,to err,end and beginning,in every toil,uncensured,as the prime arbiter,over all shores,do contendest not its imprimature naively,in limbo of resistance,causes all mortals,to............to its notoriety,whether crowned as villains or saints,retribution either saintly or villainous surgical crooked elipsis,pays the price of freedom,the price of every ado.Time in its oval,doth imprint its sojourn on its entreaties,charters mysticism of the bulge,flung in its lap and nebulous brows,feet thou,the frequencies of truth,it dispenses,and Not the thing that exults,And yet to err,in vague optimism,thou purport,thy verve,shall withstand,that terror,that thyancestors of blessed memory,across millenia fled,beneath the earth,and eulogy of thy art,is like a ridicule,that soon be overwhelmed by the patient warrior of thy bewitched sands.Contro.Sonnet-61-Is In thy esteem,that the sullen earth should persist,mine salient past to thy misty eyes? Dost thou hanker as mine legatee,should break the ligament,while binges and sadomasochism,clings like to thee,doth mock the glorious anals and genteel mooring? is it in thy valour that thou hallowest not selfesteem,so fain,to abstain from this sulks of shamelessness and shameless being,the length and breadth of thy consequences? Oh no licentiousness,though notorious to thee,is not so lethal,it is thy misty eyes that keeps and infest lascivious guilles,brisky? mine own caring a hoot or a fig that doth thy contumacity a disdain,to play the guilles evermore,at the rapture of addiction,for thy brutish end;for thee relenteth not its tentacles,whilst thou dost binge and lust after a strange woman everywhere,far be it from thee,that thou shouldest persist,degenerate,in a whore of sloven mores. Contro.Sonnet-62-Malediction of self adulation,that protrodeth,salacity from its umbilical cord,sadomasochism,and all thine springboard and thy radicle,engulf this marrow,and for this incardine that murky gloom,thou art paid dearly,for which there nemesis instincts,and rid off, thy neurosis,from this soulful lay of entanglement,there is no spur,as brave as thy portentous sulk,No bend so false, and so fatal,no consequences so lethiferous,And for nemesis,thy own astray and straying heart,doth pays dearly,And every reward blossoms from every goodwill,and when fate shows thyself,incriminated by its dire consequences,mine own selfpity itself,contrary disdains thyself,of self adulation,And so,brutish shall the misty eyes feed and repay karma,tis thy remorse is holy as the crystal seas,self pity profiteth not,and pouring frosty plaudits on mean values,lengthens its darkest hours. Contro.Sonnet-63-To nymph thy affliction,shall sinew be,as i saintly be,with the sting lascivious guile,not yet outwitted,when binges... binges have draineth thy vigour, and darkeneth thy cheeks,with disrepute,when thy fortitude is overstressed and outmoded,hath suffused thee aboard,as a villain,And all those vista as ambushed scenery of voluptuary seabed,whereof consequences unseat,are threatening thee,with nemesis,for such happenstances,so much unpremeditated,must thou fortify,against the mountains nigh thee,that he shall not be smothered by its fatal consequences,my sweet remorse,though binging still delusive,And its stigma that stigmatises,shall in this remorse state,be curtailed,and nirvana shall thou return, o nirvana shall thou return,and tranquility thy eternal shallom. Contro.Sonnet-64-When have i by legacy,sullen barefaced,the ostentatious shekels and velvety treasured trove of the capsized saturnalia boat,overworn,when most times perished they,in their metaphorical avalanche,the mammoth of his ilks,And crass transit,as they ilk,infelicitous and infernal,fled to lowlands and indigo-ed complacent,When have i induced,the addicted folks,distangled to merit on the metamorphosis of the infirmity,And the sloven earth's triumph of the prisoner of war,racketeering verve from conscience,accelerating serfdom,bankrupt with avalanche of serfdom,Or price itself paid,escalated to crease.Addiction hath my pensive erudite,thus to quit so much early,that dire consequences will comeand like a thief in the night,whiskaway thy unbriddl'd freedom.Behold,this kismet knoweth notthe mammoth and strike impromptu,without infraction of nature. Contro.Sonnet-65-Since binges nor addiction,its sloven earth,nor its saturnalia boat's atrophy but direst consequences,outwits its molasis of voluptuary lewd How with this unfairness,shall infection hold a chaste,whose abrasion,is no fiercer nor ferocious than a hangover?O now shall the boat's vampired oddysey softland,against whirlwind,or hurricane siege at sea;When billows inundated,are not so clement to spare,the hulk,nor meanness of the shore,so fragile but days unknown?O repugnant remorse,where alack,shall time's borderless affliction,most grandiose item,from time's soidisant and selfwritten oddysey,adorned thee,with mortal hell?Or what esteemed psyche can defray his swashbuckling intent of sunny times and days?Or whose contaminates by infection can alter glorious ambition,O none unless,this providence have willing,that in distress,in my nuances,may still leap forward. Contro.Sonnet-66-Exasperated With this miasma,for direst clouds,flung overboard,i groan,And by will to berserk,desert woman born,a terrific pang,and ghastly discharge,moulded out of nihilism,and finest child,holistic girth foreordained, And gilded sojourn in sloven earth,beautifullyblasted... And maiden glory of newborn child,convincingly rooted,on the checkered sands of time,And the boat's capsized paradigm,an allegorical poetry, and a landmark of the greyhack press,and suffused its tingle by imprinted sands over its slattern soil,and folly no more,convalescent smitten defacto craft,and specious vain breath misconstrued as trademark zombies,And captive good release from theft of neurotic incarceration,how thou art captain of thy fate,not tired of this melange,would be gone too soon,before thy time,otherwise,direst clouds banging over thy boat,might soon capsize,with thee at mid stormy seas. 06/26/2017 1:06am Contro.Sonnet-67-Alas,wherefore with infection and addiction,should thou live,And with dire consequences,gone too soon,that binges and debauchery by zombie's groove,should tingle and glide itself upon thy wanning soul?why should misty eyes,be routed by specious cheeks,And filth of thy stain,a scarred regalia of a lifetime?why should addiction be adorned as a trademark,garnished with roses of contagion since specious cheeks masquierades as misty eyes?why should thou live as insolvent soul,ur chined by carcasis of thy filth to bland thy discreet self?that thou hast no blanket cover,against artlessness,stinks but a ridicule of thy discreet self,And insomnolence of arts,hath its exchequer court,in the parlour psyches.O thou art like a rudderless bank,wherein ships barely bay,to show what folly,thou art,rusted,in the frenetic pawn of artlessness,thou might be gone too soon. Contro.Sonnet-68-Thus,shall the sullen cheeks,viled by its sporadic tempest,outlive the flummoxed artist,when binges and licentiousness.. coagulate,cast over this gallowed whirlwind,barely powwow the dastardly omens of the immanent direst clouds, Or raise an incense,apposite to incest,salacity and sadomasochism,as potion ,as curatives,to inhabit transquility,with the leadened brows,prior to golden troves,which are carted away,in sepulchres and predated, bashed by second fiddle-hood,to sigh but never sighed,to heave a lasting relief,every beauty that cringes,only to itself are nothing but an imprecated benediction,In this moulder,applique is as worthwhile,as the antique.All things are immanent to themselves,tis is tested by malediction,making no fudge of the green lush of a wanderlust.And thou,a false witness,before evidences' forays. Without ligament,rootstock and equitable assemblage,all plant species and apes,are nothing but growth ornaments,in thy store.And a nature's spring is the seed of its destruction and its rainment of ravishing rai.son d'et.re,towards apotheosis. Contro.Sonnet-69-With all those sinewy,embedded in thy ramrod and imprisoned in thy impregnable bone, all 06/26/2017 10:07am all realms,even beyond thy impiety,cannot impugn with impetuousity thy vacuous impassibility,to remorse.An Impropriety,AndImpropriety,that only thy providence can alter.Unveilingthe truth bare,as it were,thou art being imprisoned,by thy intendments and thy volition,hardpressed by st.blues,and thalt be freed by same,But those intents,that give thee, a transmogrification and transit thee,into a novel widget,to this eulogy,well beyond confounded realm.To see beyond its dire consequences and wedge of its direst clouds,maketh a providence of art,uttering the accents of the gods,perceiving beyond the realms of disgusting beauty.And in that intent,cast bile away,to enslave,what notion direst clouds might ambush thy posterity,Although, unfair flowers,spew vile of the providential intent,thy fragrance,it emits holistically,watereth a blissful posterity,not by thy seeds,which thou soweth,by impending harvest of dionysian intent's importunity.Thy blandishment,at once is superlative,as a neuter of the treachery of sloven intent and its impressment. Contro.Sonnet-70-That thou be not exonerated,for this gale of impressment,for impropriety stigma,was ever yet the penitence,for the aromatic bespoke of arts,to groove.A penitence that instigates in the innermost bossom of the heart's impecable grail.So,thou be intendment pensive,eagerbeaver doth but impress impressario,thy wedge the impostor,being wooed of imposture,for imprecate vile,the bitterest birds,doth unleash the leaven of havoc,and thou incurest a besmirched boor of a bothersome plaid,thou hast evanesced esteem by the carteblanche to arcadian bliss,boddle and hedonistic bric.a.bracs,ambushed thy golden intent of unpremeditated bootstraps,and like an enchantment,thou art charmed and a wisp,a cannon fodder,humus and debris,for the burning fire,yet by this,thy destiny cannot be impugned,to tie thee up,in the bitterest clouds,for the days of machiavelli.If some penitence,be then impressment,to betray volition,thy convalescence,might be elusive and not deciphered. Contro.Sonnet-71-Do not cry for the direst clouds,when they by windbound recompense strike,do not pest,when thou art pilloried by karma,thou shall hear thy survival,when convalescence bells rings,to graft thee with a scorecard,of the morning bliss once again,that thou art insulated,from this villest soil, with the bilest hell,if thou salve thee ebuliently well,then tread carefully,recall not thy wit of erstwhile hell,for i foretaste thee to repent,that in thy fair flowers,thou canst counterpoise,stalwarted by heavenly moisture,rejuvenated arcadian bliss.If binges stink at a furlong,should make thee,ware of dire consequences,when intent is meshed,with empirisus, rationality is enthroned,O if thou witness once again its sullen gravity,thou lookest upon thy gravity,when i peradventure,thou compounded with salacity,witless do,Does thou with empiricism adores,for where it is transplanted,smarter deeds are supplanted,and fatal men of errors,belching with comedy of errors,decay and wanton crest,found fatal ,lest.... 06/27/2017 12:32am found in the city.Not to rehearse, by memory its forecast of dire consequences,could proof the fatal, lest the wise become fooler and the fooler ,becomes foolest and chaos fly on the street,in the sea,in the air and in the land.Froward not benign thee,off thy ass. Contro.Sonnet-72- Now avoid ridicule,lest men should tast vice,with shame,what values should thou subscribe to make thee show allegiance,to them,afterwards of posthumous penitent-pensive tilt,rebuke quirky camaraderie,at a forlorn mile,neuter their jungle,for in thy grit, thou cannot by intendment be soiled,when thou art resolved.Unless,thy art so virtuous spared,thou waiver but abundantly whacked,to do more damage to dainty passions,on the st.blues.not yet salvaged,from the executioner's noose and defray plaudits instead,for salacity and boozing,to beguile,what mincing words would torrently pass.O lest thy time,heart may seem brutish,in that foul tongue and murky customs,speak guile of thy nature,and self esteem,interred in thy sloven earth,when when thou art still fowled and germed by salacity,And still liveth with a strange creature,in an alien land neither thee wacky nor thy wacko,as a vulgarian,vulgarises thee canst nebula doused,shall thy resolve be free.Art thou not fied with lifelong stigma? And thou should normal trades thy love. Contro.Sonnet--73-That time of benediction,thou mayest,in thee behold,when fair flowers and sweet roses,or avalanche or artesian wells do blanket erstwhile slothful soil like a chilling fog.Upon those mountainous allied pleateaus,which protrudeth against the valley,dunghill metaphors and hellish sward,Barefaced ridicule haunted,where flung thy art,was impugned by it,in thee,thou sweetest revenge,shall be sinew of a remorseful state,the blinking emerald of a new dawn,long after the sunset of the primrose bank.Which by its direst clouds,doth take thee asunder,for the contest of intergrity and much maligned,much evaporated selfesteem,that seals up the greatest battlefield of mankind, aristamagnetism,In thee,thou seest the glorious,are captivates at its wits'end,that quirky gales be of slothful soil,doth blown away.As glowing fire charcoals,whereon,it stoop,must obey,consumed with bias,with which it was passionately glowed,this perception thou shouldest not binge,which maketh thee,an indeterminate human superior,to which,wits end must be mated with perception. Contro.Sonnet-74-Be thou contented,with selfesteem,through which thou settest customs and binding practices,when thou art faced,with below paradigm,ridicule thy bloated potion,fly everewhere thy legacy.without importunity,thou wouldest not be bailed,from it,and thy life ,a ridicule before thy time.Shower thee,some interest in the reminiscences of sloven earth and rudderless banks. Still with thee,shalt thou stand,when reviewest thy sordid past?thou dost recall none,to consecrate thyself,against impending dooms; for sullen earth cannot be but sullen eath,hidden beneath quirky pall of vapid idiosycrazies. the by superiory clash of human species.So,then thou hast lost thy esteem,to the debris of the earth,caught in the welters,amidst welshers,villains of unkemptsoil,whose direst cloud,is symptomatic of sword of damocles pending,and a pint of ridicule,is in the natureof its conjectured sorcery.Contro.Sonnet-75-O thou my legatee,inherit,digest and inhale,this paubulum,in a crimson season of fair flowers,gathered in their lows and prime,barely rot away eternities.In this tranquility,grim-death shall be supplanted headlong,in a lifelong voyage.As betwixt,esteem and disrepute,is found in my struggle,not to defray infection and infected sickos,contaminate of slothful earth,to pilfer thee away,from treachery,struggling for the most pristine art,then worsted by its gravest clouds,most times true remorse is by sober reflection,than extrapolate and exhortation by alien tongue,to hood thy signatory of appended intent,starved of misdeeds of an obstreperous earth.Save what is reflected and true remorse is candidly betoken,to care much morethan a hoot,for the transmogrified art.... 06/27/2017 5:38am or binges in its eternal memory wither. Contro.Sonnet-76-Why is that refrain,so tedious a bile,for thee to bear? insofar as dire consequences,its variegated piles of agony,indisposed, to change? why wit time fret,thou derided? why cherish i still repentance ever the same and keep that intent in a bustling ado,that every item of pensive tilt,doth tardier dismayed,exuding their penultimate influences and where prior,they damage,O salve thy good,remorseful intent,thy ultimate price to freedom,this wish i did not spare of thee and mine bone of contention,so all mine intent is drawing thee of arrogance,frugal with penitence to thyself and to manifold sapien species,for as thou resisteth,to remorse thy spouse,in both old and new wounds,thou mouldest findeth good mettle,to guilt thyself. Contro.Sonnet-77-Thy benighted rupture will show thee incurable and moorings filthy.And thy plunge contemptible,hurled beneath nefarious norms,gullible imprint,shallowed thy fist.And of this stray of dastardly act,moment...... reprieve,is requisite balm, of sombre wrinkles,glaring in the face,of mouth's tumour,that disengages glibly spoken ,of rancourous memoirs,tearing us apart,that thou by sinister intent ,stealth mayest abnegate them,within time's masticating furacious theft of fate.Hence,we reach a poreless shores and all entangled nets and geniculated axis,still begging to pay the price of freedom. Look,recall what history says and tells thee and depart in earnest,from this wasteland laden with squandermania venoms,of vultures rampaging conquest of mean-less or gilded shores,And thou with thy nursed progenies,will then salvage,the grueling hordes and envoys of saturnalia boat,from this blissful ignorance.And this convalescence,soft as the glow,shall lucrative explore,in compendium,the impecable whole. Contro.Sonnet-78- Songs Of Adamatine,did Sadomasochist,barely refrain to tinker."So Oft have they indur'd the stigma for the smeared eaon.And every delectable damsel,has pelt the nugget and nozzle of my manhood,And beneath thy joyance,sandness full.thy holy eyes,that taught thy youthful days,to dope with same salacity,that thou now tagged saintly,should be censured,for being haunted with improvidence and insensate to empathy,twinkled by youthful sinew,how come thou deign,so froth spined liberty in troth,like an ulster for righteousness,Had grooved turgid licentiousness,in thy youth,to later transmogrify and days of sacerdotal engrave leapfrog, And time's aethetical tolerance of clemency,gave so much grace period,to penitence.Yet,be not ample empathetic of this gracious gesture,from that which earnestly i inquire from thy household,whose tacky influence,thou didst gravely exploit for remorse.Art thou not born of the same crust,that thou mayest bamboozle for penitence? foibles of the mortal parlor earth,dost take time to mend and arts,with no ebullience,may tardier gross remorse:for when thou dost penitent tilt,thou art fully remorse,giving graces,ointment to sigh a good sigh of relief,entrenched from the stigma of the days of yore Hence,let entreaty causes thee,to apply the golden rule,and be as wise as a fool is wise,in the days of treachery. Contro.Sonnet-79-Whilst loathe i did twinge for thy peculiar resolve?Mine wonderment versed alone,had all the magical spells of an expedient censure,from thy foul tongue.But now,my gracious grooves are plumpy enthralling,to douse thy hackneyed resolve.And my providential treat,doth give another torch,unleash i therefore,a censure,to sewer thy traduce,travailing calumny,to cajole thy witless jackdaws and cult of sadomasochist like his ilks,deserves earnestly also,the applique of golden rule,to balance uneven equation,yet what of thee, thyself,thy guile,doth braggart. Thou didst target youthful villainous sinew,when thou didst rebel,against the holy grail,time lends thee grace and amortise o pawnbrokee and yet,with the eruption of senility of the bough,thou restless cajole hapless youth, hence be censured from what belabour,thou didst now belabour,to impress modesty and chastity,upon the breast.. 06/27/2017 8:26am of swashbuckling youths?And nature found it a fraud,sour than thy sullen cheeks are,frosty plaudits, heave i thee,they boisterous sacerdotal......... that frittered away youthful sinew as days of youth,with same offence.No panygery to thee,as thou didst stink hell.Then curse not thy stars,but to thee,thou,thy volition and sensationalism,thy voluptuous bank,that froth thee to err,to bilk. Contro.Sonnet-80-O i shall not entreat thee,when thou art assymetrically muse,pouring an equitable traduce,when doth i encroach thy bellyaching navel. And In that frosty plaudits,thereof fritters away,all thy verve in seeking adherents and hagiologies,to make thee guilt,laden and tongue tied,but since thou presumed bulky nuances,wide as the ocean;thy foul tongue earnestly twinges sullen earth and gooseberries as the bitterest clouds,doth bear its sagging sail,even with my sordid intendment,far more,superior tact,to thy fabled wimble upon thy sullen earth,doth perfectly broach subject well. 06/28/2017 2:11am As minesenility in clamourous guilt doth unremittingly infects,And refrains this wacko,in the tempest of direst clouds;not that the frittered dusk,is less nonchallant in thy hone than when the inglorious guilt did hover impending doom,but that weird lewdness to the hilts,taunts every bough that rose too late,And songs and cries in the day and night of a weary womb,lose their torch,to find thee,therefore like the ambiguous shores,as thou art,will i not hold my peace,because thy voluptuous bank,shall contend with passing days and passing night.Contro.Sonnet-113- Behold,what nursery,this illbred garland brings,that having such a contempt of thy youthful sinew,to show his recklessness,the baseless dot,gets nowhere,thatthou shouldest,in undissimilar context,fritterthy youth,with lust!Then,when it hathnature's recompense as a malediction ! O exonerateexogenous influence,let alone fingers them.Letthy libido,thy confinest grail,contends that overbearing blunt,that stalks quite so easily intendment,in struggling times and during struggles,with thy innerself, were it not the direful cross of hades,why then the strife and striving to mend,to elope from the scar of infamous mucky dusk,that was well known to us?For to no wiles,thy tendons succumb,than of thy subserviency and humour to mutate;And passion,much vaunted passion than in thine remorse could penitent morsel by mucilage,bite,thy own naturewit,shows thee not unripe,when thou art by thy mortal winkle,transmogrify. Contro.Sonnet-114- O unfair roses,thou can never survive,nor a ridicule this knight of old,for thee,were been smeared,when first thy gauchy eyes lust'd,a typified obscene stings,wherein addiction,cannot deny,even doses and overdoses cannot repel,mustering from its infection,rendered fugitive,selfesteem'sglorious heirloom,billows upon billows,wobbling,voracious volcano,volleyed with roving eyes,imrisoned by lust,a hilly mountebank of incestuous ridden inflamation,a hone have i witnessed,like the perfume of Arabian,burntpersonage,stinks gluttonously,like a lark 06/28/2017 7:28am across the board,since first thy foible,i uncover,which still yet sordid plough,oh yet entanglement doth still knots,like a tangled bird,brisky for freedom and redemption at hand, so thy mucky earth,which methinks still doth smears,hath infraction as friction and thine eye may be obscured,so thy sloven soil for dread of recompense,thou age with peril that defy insulation,ill bred mucilage,as fodder for burning fire of karma. Contro.Sonnet-115-Let not mine chaste be dubbed a lethargy,nor my kindred as a dumbshow,since all mine plea and supplication be,to mammoth youth of uncanny days persist.Sacred is my chaste now and still a hotpotato,in a wondrous pool of guilt and trauma,therefore mine chaste to indefiniteness conform'd,excite ostentations to blot out its mark. Contro.Sonnet-116-In this benigh,a conjugal bliss of chaste doth lends its bent above misshap, and chaste is not chaste,which impugns substance to take effect or bends its metalic sinew,even when altered, o it strays flawed,upon its taint consumate and grating blot.It is a dreary mist to every wanderlust brew whose graphology,untainted beams forth,though in hideous gram.Time's fury is punitive and a punitive orgy,though rose cheeks unnerved,within his sinewy contumacity's complexion grumpy: chaste alters not,with this gruffy ground and superheroic lust,but blankets diffused for mutation,to the precipice,if this be comedy of errors and upon intent be proved with retribution,barely i freestand nor no chaste without stanchion. Contro.Sonnet-117-Be now no more a naughty jerk of grotesquerie,that thou hast slanted every turn,wherein great chaste maketh a frenetic of a guttersnipe,do not recall the dearest foul play,whereto all flaws to tie thee,to guillotine by dusk;that frequency,thy fleeting kismet been modulated by bent of fairest springs. Contro.Sonnet-118-And given to time to heal thy fitment mortise,to retreat from customs that thou hast hoisted over direst clouds and inglorious nights,which should ferry substance for remorse,furthest plunged from.. farthest plunged from maudlin shelf,both binges and lust,drowned beneath,And equity quell,thou prejudice;tally remorse with bandwidth of penitence,bud but do not shoot weird at thy volition in thy disgusted prowl,since mine pleading is writ to wit,at thy wit's end,caresses,did i perchance strive,to fizz substance,the purport and calibration of thy omnifarous chaste. Contro.Sonnet--119-Make thy engross more keen,with grit as natural flavour,to remorse with alacrity,palate and tendon instigates,as to boost floodtime and refurbish thy flotilla,to distend and tame unknown,we retreat to fizzle chaste,when we err,even so,being froth not unripe,clamourous of never ending contempt,to belch acrimonious seasons,did i enthuse mine unfair girth,And a sick patient,that pleads no entreaty,brew lethiferous potion of pitfall,to be flinty ire that there was viable,thus tenets in chaste and chaste-bashing commerce,to anticipate foibles,of foul play unborn,i,of checkered intense peccadiloes,grew to treasonable venom...... And with such scorecard,by annals,trickles down with sledge hammer on anvil,unfair roses,which flung vile upon vile,abashed by ailment ,creases be,But then true pedagogy dreads everything in scandals,a potion that so fell sick of manhood. Contro.Sonnet-120- Were you not once,countless times chaste repellent,to befriend mediocrity at thy spring?And for that impalement,thou vilest rabid with kamikaze frankestein,to spite axiom that neccessity is the mother of invention,unless thy nerves were brass,penitence thou distilleth not,at thy ferrule,for if thou were by precarious unmoved,as i reproof thy mused despot and pariah stance as a nation,have more relief and sigh to heave.To plow,how once a terrain,wherein i was suffocated,in thy oblivion,that our dread of gales,unknown might have subside,mine ignoblest wit,how hard postulate pomp,And so,soon to you,as thy guile crimson,twice times a decipher,fugitive bossom of the grovelling bandwagon jumpers,poisoned humble salve,Over thy prance,shouldest thou prate,and thy noisome wacko of pandora box,as thy wit and satire be enamoured beyond omnibus sorts. Contro.Sonnet-121-Tis better to know,impatience is vile and king of viles esteem'd.And to resist reproof,thus overwhelmed deign,to censure incivility,not by garnished lust,but by furtive poise poignant winces,Give trepidation to thy beguiling sport? Or its requiems,why are they many times sung in vain,which in their renege,volcanoic eruption of pandora box-incivility,dismantle what i dispose . None excruciating on purport,am i not a bridge builder,that i am and they fleas,in a fleabite at that strand ,must earnestly depart,At mine affront,thy alert tendon-stimulating,mortifying and mutilating,immersed may be poignant,though they themselves(erroneous youths inferred),dissuade remorse,By their quirky corpus,fiendish bandwagons,doth barely spare,unless this dickenish penultimate antecedence,and all men are vile in their art and misdemeanour is not immuned from a typified corpus of wights and mucky cheeks,garnished by lust...... Contro.Sonnet-122-Thy foibles,thy crucibles,are within mine tempest boulder,undazzled,edified with befitting love,which slings above that inclemency,stinking froth abide beyond ignoble frequency,beyond omni-vantages,even walkie-talkied by its frequency modulation of fugacity,Or so,to much aversion,so long and sturdy as the fastened belt,and he marbled with rotund wit,by severity to apprehend;till a morsel of the impiety,calf its malaise,thy ignoble reputation,never for once,can be equalled.That parquet of pariah osmosis,could not but arouse its momentum,nor efflux thy grit and oleaginous thresh of desideratum.therefore to show penitence avidly,was i with unslackened fortitude,boiled forth, to thirst remorse in thy bone marrow,libate them,to keep away from vices and garner restitution of insolvent esteem. 06/28/2017 11:53pm Contro.Sonnet-123- Refrain but no guile,that thoushalt not be stained,in that which thou doeth. Tentacles,vintage circa diffused with the freshest lewd,barely wanes,methinks, are sordid past still hauting,noneless to scorn they are sting,but arediffusions of novel ailments,enticed by dreary dolts and also perverts of an incarcerated but fathom of an imprisoned ego.Our fate are multipronged and differ and thus,we are whatwe choose to be.What thou dostmortify upon thy navel that is salacity,And rather make thee,apalling fastened to a deathknell thanremorse,that can be nurtured ,haveenslaved thee,thy subconscious ego,and thee thyself both mortify by ill bred gangrene,nowa wanderlust at thy vicinage,northy motherland eulogised,for evidence is the taste of judgement,wedoth lie,with facts,fabricated byscorn of chastity and votiveplummeted and this shall ever notsworn,not to miss.I will be chaste at thy goofy neck,and chaste's scythe,shall not be unsword'd.Indeed, Chaste Is a censure and a ridicule of reckless art. Contro.Sonnet-124-If mine taste turns stale,dread chaste,by mine kid,a stain and desecrate abstain,it might for exemplification's cascade be a mirage,As subconsciously subject to chaste's hatred,weeds upon weeds,shall they grow,it was by accident,an evasive craft;it hurls into open contempt,nor a recess from scorn'st scorn,obtains by neath of its enthralling enthralment unsubdued,whereto,the passion for golden fleece,is bartered for salacity,it dreads not penitence that strangulate which emasculates,by artistic freewills of sicky psyche,but alone fastened with no anchor.That it burgeons nor swells with chance,nor heat doused,to this i summon the fools to learn from fools,which dye and dice cast upon the wise to beware of their footsteps and inundated propinquity. Contro.Sonnet-125- Were caught Were they not caught,in shreds torn apart by its tentacle,with thyself esteem,immolate palmiferousely or hood not conformed to vanity,which impost much more,with chide, than with haste.Have i not witnessed the impolitics on the rampage and impanel its malaise?Binges strut omnipotence,and frounced by reverence to ado,are impaled for compound substerfuge,engrossing guiltless frivolities and pathetic banks and fruitless rivers,in their womb dismayed?Now,let Me with this knight of old,be frank with you,And take thou my siblings,froward but freethinking,being furiously hotchpotched with artlessness,but mutual mockery and uncanny art,still mere interference,maketh thee much more a brute,Hence,a scorned street urchins,a truant of justice,impeached by salacity and drowned on the high seas. Contro.Sonnet-126- O fret boy,but not in the wraith of licentiousness,who in thy gravity,dost not hold renege,his fastened pandora box-sword,not sheated,who hast by impenitence,grown stiff necked,thy afficionados creeping,as thy stinking self grow,if retribution by its commonwealth arbitration,that is flung over ubiquity,as thou goest gnd growest raptured,still its blanket,spareth not thee.Improvidence maketh not thee,the spirit of retribution forgives,for she keeps to her verdict,with the tricks of time,disdain,not the grandmaster with the frittered youth,but not so,in the vagabond spirit of blissful ignorance,tear apart thy amplitude of youthful exuberance,that thou shouldest not censure thy grittled bars of lever. Contro.Sonnet-127-Character soars and swears more than words and accents,even though, it is the intent of the former,O If it were otherwise a mere wind wile,it bore theantecedence,afterward of its ostentatious shortputter;But now chaste's sacred ignition,libidinous, And sateand state smeared with impropriety expunge for,since,a per capital taint,hath i piqued mortal guise's splendiferous poise,plunging beneath selfesteem and plethora of artlessness's infection,spontaneous scold,hath no time&finis,no bespoke,but ........ is unleashed,if not gangrene smotes,in an aplomb vomit.Therefore,thy Misty eyes are ravenous coccoon,smothered by its beguiling sport and ubiquitously,they freak,Sewn with the same hewn,at such morbidity,who will now relish the equal share of the retributive justice?And chaste frittered at thy beckoning,is likened to thy false esteem's cankerworm weevils,Yet,they so bewails,when every verdict returns in isolation and equal proportion"Grandmaster Paused glibly garb and the deuteragonist,nigh gooseberies,fired anew his contemplative salvo. Contro.Sonnet-128-'How oft,when thou catch time,thou canst play as Daniel,upon thy ignoble den,whose potion sours,with hemlock of despair,when thou feed'st acrimony,that thinesinecured image,contend.Do i seduce,those jerks that wimble evenly on a balanced equation sordid cheeks,to kiss the primrose bank of thy sullen feet,whilst mine poor retentive memory which should that reflect,hath longuer.At the tardy feet of venom's emasculating torch,blanding vanguard.To be so tinged ,they spot and sport their identity, and commiserate barely,with the fading feet, o'er whom thy sharp breath,adorns its genteel's lurk,making ignominous strides,more bless'd than a scoundrel remorse,since ignoble jerks and porks in the porky pie,so blissful hearted in plenitude,ostracise thy volant precipice,to chart a lonely furrows. Contro.Sonnet-129-Chaste spanking in a wimble of lutarious impairment,fame's glory,for every action and infamous ados is nothing but the ignoble dalliance of the tainted glut.how inconsiderate for the spirit of chaste to be wacko-ed by intemperate clowns still bilked by salacious gangrene but piety to chaste impaired,demented by gregarious chants and obsessed to his ilks.All scold scorned by purport,pleat ire at flight,before dusk,heavenly bliss and self esteem rectitude ,yet none discredited,to shun machiavellian ilks that leads men to tribulate ,is a proposed paradise,yet unseen. Contro.Sonnet-130-Thy misty eyes spangled,blotted out of vista,mistiness is far more crimson.... 06/29/2017 5:00am than thy lever or rudder,if vice be white,why then its chaste refrain and if vale be thy above,its mound ,piles of viles crease on thy navel and marrow,Have i not been deserted by fair roses and lampooned by idiopathy,that a forlorn mile,retreats out of scorn,wherein there exert mere delight than in the nuttied and nutcased breath of an alien,i scorn not chaste whatsoever,yet to comply and concur that humus,hath in the moult,far more impetuous to breed remorse,a lease of art,goddess of wrath never regret,mine foible,when trods tread on thin air,tis vanishing point,And yet heavenly moisture,i crave my love ,a guerdon,As any ignoble,she lamented her fate with obscurity. Contro.Sonnet.-131- Wiles of art are despotic groom of its hanker,As these wiles whose seduction,inertia maketh a reproof,not downright feasible,for craft thou knowest it to be crafty amidst unfairest spring of doting infiltrate,thou art fairest when thou by humus moult spirited and infernal expurgate. Yet,in good chaste brokered, when betoken by thy lusty mirage,hath no rudder to indure,to scoop and feed from the avalanche of the grandmaster's artesian wells, Although, Mean spirited folks,may stain like weevils,candid art brewery smouldered a million perils but thou shouldest not defy voluptuous banks,shalt thou not know sedentary garb on thy sinewy encroaches,to witness crumbling buffet,thy chaste bigotry,is quite sordid plough,in a beguiling sport,thy judgement,a brittle fray,in nothing but meanspirited ilks art thou humus moult,refrain,And then this calumny,upon thy personage,infallibly disposes. Contro.Sonnet-132-Thine scornful eyes,loathe i and they as a disdain,goonish ponderous with contempt,that baste and bruise remorse, have held in captive,pompous cheeks and craving a dissident ilks,fastened with plangent rot,upon my wheedle. And verily not the heavenly moisture of penitence,by barter,turns the unfair roses of the saturnalia boat,nor that iota of acatalectic binges,that unctuous in this rot,doth hath the resolve to exile plenitude of penitence,As those vengeful thoughts,clamour moults-refrain: a soul weather beaten, o let it not retreat, o spirit,let it not abscond,to whack for selfesteem,given that thou knoweth apoplexy,doth thee bringeth disgrace, at full blast,And suitors,thy bay vamoose.Then,will thou swear some orgy of penitence herself,is a virtue,not to be forlorned at thy tilt,And all nebula,girth beneath nefarious complexion,relinquished impromptu. Contro.Sonnet-133- Bestrouded With beer money,rampaging with bell boys,pouncing on geisha girls and nocturnal strippers for the smeared votary,and it gives youth a ridicule,with the scar of inglorious hood ! 06/29/2017 9:25am Isn't it good to avoid trauma of fiercer nebula and yonder heights but smother,to hush thy direst clouds assailed?Groove am i of old sentinel,hath winnowed misty cheeks and mine patent self,thou dost not slander to forlorn;Of this patent self,thinself at thy bosom growl not forsaken,a conscientious and a capacious consumate thrice fairer and thrice fortified than ours sedulousness and shadow throws,be not thy brow imprisoned,in thy weakling's sinew,that thou mayest not lunge.But then fretwaters' musketeering,let thy artlessness,velvet greases along:whoever plunges beneath,let insipience volatile be the golden fleece:thou canst not then mensrea,nope with trojan horse ,growl st.blues queer street:And yet thou writ nutcase;for i being harry as histrionic harp,pent up cartharsis,perforce disgruntle hobble, and all that is thee,thy guerdon unassailed. Contro.Sonnet-134-And so oft now,have thou been bing'd,that he is inextricably addicted,And writ i,as i am myself,wit to appendthy hill dismay'd.Thyself entangled in thy befuddl'd state,that wit to forlorn,not shrouded,thou wilt equipoise find a space,to be thy frenetic plunge still:But refrain,wilt not these pulses seek,nor wilt thou baste thyself convincingly ahead:for thou art ravenous of binging pandora;Be erudite,but pastime is not disguised from the face of the labourer,serfdom that binds thee binds thee earnest as discreet doth unfold thy blindness,the parapet of bibliomaniasis,thou wilt not elope,from thy graveyard epitaph,thou infidel that bungled and frittered omnifarious grit,wherewithal at remorse.And guilt a stranger,came later,as a frequent visitor,for thy moult,so thyself,nature loses atdusk.Impenitent soul,inflamatory ,have i booed,thouhast both sides of the divide:Hepays not penitence,withremorse,he pays not remorse with impenitence,and yet earnestly craves to be master of remorse and declined a master of freedom.'Now,majestic old grey beard,barely decipher spanking youthful wiles,trembled and corroded his contrite feet of clay ,contused bycontretemps wherein deuteragonist thrash halted. Contro.Sonnet-135-'Whoeve hath aspersion,thou hast thy vein to espionage,on thyself and elsewhere.And prejudice to unbundle lust and willpower politics sulky pouts in satiety;more than passionate are thou to damper,damp squib and daffy, dances to thy direst clouds will karma,not merely discredit.Wilt thou whose scorn is amplitude and commodious,not once to aptly condescend to remorse ineptitude,hidden in thine scorn?Shall not bonafide be to scold others,at the romp of senile bough,And in thy chaste retreat ,thou a reprobate,a renegade art mingled with fair roses?Nature stirreth at herself refutes thee entreaties,And in gullibility,grabbeth follies,So thou ,being sloven plough into the unfairest plunge,One in thy lunge,as lounge lizard,to make stale further still,will more sordid plough befuddl'd,think of beguiling sport and thy gravest consequences distendeth,harrowing dunghill. wherein deuteragonist 's diatribal thrash halted. Contro.Sonnet-135-'Whoever hath aspersion,thou hast thy vein to espionage,on thyself and elsewhere.And prejudice to unbundle lust and willpower politics sulky pouts in satiety;more than passionate are thou to damper,damp squib and daffy, dances to thy direst clouds will karma,not merely discredit.Wilt thou whose scorn is amplitude and commodious,not once to aptly condescend to remorse ineptitude,hidden in thine scorn?Shall not bonafide be to scold others,at the romp of senile bough,And in thy chaste retreat ,thou a reprobate,a renegade art mingled with fair roses?Nature stirreth at herself refutes thee entreaties,And in gullibility,grabbeth follies,So thou ,being sloven plough into the unfairest plunge,One in thy lunge,as lounge lizard,to make stale further still,will more sordid plough befuddl'd,think of beguiling sport and thy gravest consequences distendeth,harrowing dunghill. Contro.Sonnet-136-If thy soul, chaste vomits in thee,i come so far,chaste to thy blind art,that i was enjoin'd to mend,And mendest so soonest to uncult the foul play farthest afield,thy doses and overdoses knoweth no atrophy: thus scold my weather beaten-chaste damndest accomplish.Remorse will ornate penitence,even as chaste will ornate remorse of thy misty cheeks,this mortal treaty with nature,cannot be impugned,as edict of transmogrify.Enraptured with motive,to re-engrave selfesteem and time well spent,reckoned from the empirisus of grandmaster,then in the weevils and throe,let verdict triggers its gavel.Though in thine nissus,fiasco jerked the mainframe; for nothing bar the gritty earth,from golden fleece,and so,it pleadeth thee,to dwell,make but thy fastening hook,thy bonemarrow afford,and unflinching still fretwaters salivate,And thou havest,that which thou dost have' And thus the old greybeard antagonist's antagonism,a fairer bloke,scissored from the genteelity of the gooseberies thus anew began..... 06/29/2017 11:02pm Contro.Sonnet-137-Thou blindest simpleton,what dost thou know about chaste,that thou scoldest and recalled not oueer street,thou art juggled with thy unholy hours and still the stain lies.Yet the best oratory is taken to the street, to worst salvage cannot be,if misty eyes of thy household,still persist the rankie,diffused across public square,where all eyes pay and discredit homage,upon history ride. Wiles of mistiness,mendacity hast thou forged,nooks thy profile whereto,the remorse of chaste is bargain'd?why should thy chaste,hurl'd at thy gooseberies,thinkest and thickest than the scorn,hurled at thy household,which siblings brothels' frequent'd? or their hazy eyes,chaste defied?o tie them amidst fair roses,acunpunctured by chaste,in things of serendipity,extemporise,And to quirky instinct,are perfect men evolved.Contro.Sonnet-138-When reproof tingles with her spirit hewn,is a fair humus of scolded earth,but homage stinks thee unfair to wear its garland,let diffuse them,that she might be brought to the gallows of chaste,unholiness in thy reproof,be moult,thus,vainly or ambiguous dreams,that shalt change,at thy household,fastened first,even though are arraigned against thee,implicitly unfurl thy sinew and expropriate avarice to neuter moult.Hence thy pedigree,farthest afield shall soar unsuppress'd,wherefore saith that remorse at heart is remorse farthest plunged afield, o chaste best norm is in the moult return,neither can the medes and persia dissuade its norms nor thy avarice dump them beneath seashore, And by girth,unpolished,loves to be told vintage's sinew unfold,And mine moult ,newest life lived. Contro.Sonnet--139--O distant not yourself ,from thy sordid past,that thy direst clouds lay guilt,upon thy homage,would not with thy misty eyes,but with thy propensity,to remorse: use remorse with penitence and transmogrify also thy household. Ignite their tendons'kindlest spirit;but thy countenance,thou seest the ornated oratory,as disparaging remarks,what kindlest thou,gratify with scorn underneath chaste, is quite more pleasing than overbearring intent,can wallow,in its supercillious mud?Let this spirit bind thee to unbundle this tacky foible,mine chaste,well heals like the doctor.Her basting prolificity,fastforwards,have been grooves,with lots of scolded sinews;And therefore from thy own household chaste,convalescence shall be ecumenical,that thy offsprings shalt change,as the fugitive tongues,shalt have imbibe, Yet, thou detest fiasco,to do so,but given thy pedagogy,that fell on rocky ground,kills foible outright,if not first within thy household,and rid thy household of ignoble festoons and effeminate effetes,not embossed and emulsified with empyrean epithet,a far field. Contro.Sonnet-140-By artifice,art thou not foxy?Do now relent,thy trojan gee-gee and gander,tacky with chaste,grooms intense penitense,lest direst clouds maul thee,with retribution.The disdain of chaste-refrain and rebutal,if i might vagabond expunge norm,worse as it were though not to scorn,yet scorn;to groom perfidy refrain so; As heavy.. -laden,when the guiles-sticky groove,no distilling showers,can her writ be,but direst,haunting and hounding from its saturnalia boat; for if i should renege on this knight of old,should i not be spared?And in mine moult-harbinger,speak foul of nature and naturewit plow;how this ill-gotten predisposition,is bound to bomerang. Uncouth calumy 06/30/2017 2:39am calumny by maddening dogs ranting,i myself befuddled be.that i might not this path tread,nor heaved by distant gale,i mine eyes poignant bear,that though the chide might but the chaste itself be scolded,for a counterpoise. Contro.Sonnet-141-Do i not by kismet,desecrate thee,with mine fairer eyes?For they forsooth are the truest chaste unveiled by mortal guise;But tis thy scorn that desecrates what i preachify,who inspite of the makebelieve sanctity is pleased to ridicule;nor are thine eyes frail to observe:nor dainty fret away wary grit:nor thy grail,froth thee not immature;nor ample scorn and inglorious damper and dent,it hurls still exhaust not thy palms,to rebuilt above thy voluptuous bank,where strayed wits,art pleased thee to dwell,can impound many a wanton heart to endorse squandermania orgy,fret by youthful sinew,with the salacious clay feet,o elegy thou who in vacuum sings,o elegy thou sings thy lyrics in vain,o thy elegy sings in vile,who desert voluptuou bank,to crave thy indulgence,o that senile 06/30/2017 5:17am bough's waning moon is ample rotund for much ado of inherent piety and holistic grail.Were it not for thy ineptitude,in this numb,so far have i harpily and hawkily hassled and disgusting lethargy at spanking thy household with rebuke;so drossy a droopy be,like an effeminate effete,not embossed and emulsified,with the ferrule to censure budding guiles of queer street duffers and fetid dumbos,let alone a halfway house grapeshot fired. Contro.Sonnet-142-Chaste is the reproof of reprobate and renegade psyches and thy reproof as thou reproofeth unsuspecting prodigy ,the arbiter of household,grounded on norms,to nymph foul indulgence. O with mine chaste,compare state with thine household,if thou barely scorned,thou shalt find thee bless'd.If thou this indulgence barely usurped,from a mere lampoon of mine tongue that have ridiculed all day,as if smeared on all canvas,oft as they wedge,hustl'd,poised to emulate relics of annals,a mammoth drew exemplification inferences,both to duck and to moult.Be it tempting..... 06/30/2017 6:27am art might scorn this knight of old even as thou lovest to indulge,But for thee,thou gravest know,farthest plunged importunity,can be scorned,I that growls at thee,its direst clouds ventilate thy crusade not merely with verbiage but empathy! empathy!! empathy!!!Does he deserve a barndoor?If thou dost known to have erred,still what thou dost know,thou stealthest hide,By thyself a worse than a scoundrel be. Contro.Sonnet-143-Lo,as thy hauteur heap,loiters thee at the knight of old,one plying on thy pinions,caricature and snobbish prey thee upon thy hopelessness,sets thee down to addiction and makes all entreaties,a vain treaty and plea,in pursuance to the guille,thyself art pleased to duffer;whilst they binge,still brandish chaste at gooseberies,hulked in loftiest embrace.Yells to disentangle a ducked bird from its tangled knot,whose penultimate eagle's flight fell upon pleadings is itself prejudiced,to in vanity fret,that which pounces impropriety astray,before direst cloud gravest smitten,not abrasion of..... the wit,to desecrate pleadings as asinine,so foulest a dialect steeds,thou altereth,not which fiddles from thy grasp,whilst at thy clayest feet,fisticuffs loathe,far benumbed;But if thou promptitude lixiviate thy laconic visage and banish inane indulgence,And play wit as fiddle's broth,bid thy profile sham away,bid ridicule astray:So, will entreaties persist that thou mayest alter thy indigo dye of a mole? Contro.Sonnet-143-Reproof flies in comfort,out of the courtroom of despair,swirling despair's pang,which as foundry and furnace,doth chide blot out renegades from sybarites,in transit of golden crimson,doth farther afield pays homage,to a villatic but willing personage,self esteem is the colour of intergrity and the price of freedom,to win thee accolades and untangle thee from frosty plaudits,the loafer's loam unwieldy loathes,smitten of voluptous riverbank,freteth dunghill metaphors,And thy saint,caroused with even more taints,castigating and booing his much ado,at every twist and turns of checkered ante The above contro.sonnet posted now is wrongly tagged c.s.143 instead of c.s.144. The next contro.sonnet as shown below,should then be tagged c.s.145.instead and ideally. cedence.And peradventure,mine chaste be the fiend,let dumbo refrain,yet thy disposition by intendment repugnant disdains: Yet this foible,plain as a pikestaff both to gooseberies and thy clan,this bad blood guesstimate i may never,reprieve be; yet this murky quirky pall of tarnish'd conscience,glaring across the scene,but dread i dread tis stalwarts and afficionados in dismay of thine dissident truth,pine away, O homily! o homily !! thou barren of holistic mores and latent exemplification,how sordid thou art, miserly smitten and carcasses on queer street. Contro.Sonnet-145- Those chaste that scold refrain did entangle,breath'd foul play,that an hypothetical ensemble and emblem of repugnant carapace ,a clayey feet,to fiddle,with that gall of gallivanting tympanum,for thy loafer's loam,But when vintage circa,lethargic cipher,poignant in her loam,did loaf 's liquefaction glide,gliding that brisky uncouth tongue that ever lashes,was hearkened,in doling out tranquil sigh,heaved out of its Contro.Sonnet-145- impending doom';And enslaved by scorn,it thumbed a novel ground,subsequently to remorse,"disgusting" numbed by nature,she with haste alter'd,as she threw. O that amazon,a adherent in the peripatetic school,succumbed to her penchant with empathy of the pamphleteer,upon whose epistle,she gourmandised,for penitence,out of its saturnalia boat and its direst clouds and the queer street was agog doth a mammoth transmogrify.... 06/30/2017 11:55pm transmogrified,who unlike thy stunts of foul play,from a piety-luminous household to its firmament suffusion,the realm is engrossed.' Dread from dread,i dread,not whenever she is thrown into gully,And her fortitude,mine fiddle condescend to vouch her fillial piety ,but how sullen art thou,twist i not thy ambivalence. Contro.Sonnet-146-Sordid palm,sullen feet,the achilles heels of thy direst clouds,despots at rebellion ,impounding thy garbed sinew,against thee astray,when they are arraigned,why dost thou nutcase ,not to detest this snobbish tempest of arrays; suffocated by dearth of writ? why dost thou pine away,at the numb of voluptuous bank,to unculture thy foible,wherein frenetic quest,doth thou upon thy clayey feet,whisked into obscurity and subtlety ?How thy gradient align with libido,heir apparent of precipiced fiddle,is that thy numb's show ,that defileth with reproof thy homily and homage? then,bankrupt live thou upon thy precipice and personage's decrepitude,not so gracious ,with nature's gothic.. dementia's rampaging art ,to pine away its saturnalia boat,inclusive hulking its salacious grampus and disgruntled gizzard:rebuilt phraseology in thy celebrated quest,so shall thou coaxed thy bossom,to feed upon piety as amazonian feedeth and custom and cipher once cultivated,barely abscond.Contro.Sonnet-147-Mine Chaste too,is as a scorn,moping still,for that which fiercer,breedeth armament;quiting that which doth banish the scorn,the groping morbid apetite to plead for an expedient writ,that pious humanitarian lifetime,the medicine men to mine chaste compounded my breath and hackneyed ordnances are flouted,hath miry feet,begging the land for cover.Chaste art,now stale,as mine screaming bazzaar peddling did accept.And every inglorious past,as umbilical cord upon which remorse is supplanted by penitent souls, And frenetic pace,tarnished with delusion,to enthuse forgetfulness of ill-bred antecedence.Let peddlings gavel not and its bazzaar closed shops wherein stunts are pulled before dusk.Be not enthralled Contro.Sonnet-148-below posted C.S.148-O behold,thy stupor,what misty eyes hath chaste put asunder which bore predilection,with fabled writ, Or if thou hath not scorned,where is thy remorse,that thou penitence fled,that scorn boldly played ,intuitive misconstrued?If that not be foul play,whereon thou stand to overlook thy mole,what inference,do we pluck,that thou art no contumelious to smite remorse? For if it be not,then chaste doth well dignified its prime,as chaste's flex,not so pragmatic as all thy sinew retreats subserviency.How can it transmogrify?O how can chide by sinew,be heard and held to comply,that is so seared with contumacity and parozysm of haphazard rage?No retreat,no surrender,then i must be frank,to be concise: the moon itself as well as the sun itself,barely reprimands their boundaries of days and nights,till nature's counterpoise brightens spark at the milky way. O hazy scorn! With derision thou lord keeper of the natur's conscience, keepest remorse,at bay,let thy household be scolded,in the court of first instance... wherein thy foulplay,should find thee unworthy and a vile on earth. Contro.Sonnet-149-Cast thou o scold enthuse,to befriend thee,at thy scorn,when thou art belligerent brisky,thyself that with thee,remorse fled?Do i not plead thee,when i narrated thy unholy past,And of myself,all piety too must be cherished?Who detested to be reprooved,that shalt not be fouled?On whose frenetic pace,that thou mayest clamour,with thy disgusting opposite? if thou mopest upon thy guile,do i not clamour in vain,transmogrification of thy eroneous personage and retreat upon thy belligerency with thy domestic remorse? What reproof,do thou refrain that with thy self a prestige,that is dignified,to aplomb when all entreaties doth fall on vile ground;dusted by karaoke of hazy eyes? But Chaste,the mother of moult,for now ,glorify i on thy mud;those that can mutate,thou fretest and of thy self and state,a worse than blind, grimaces thy pleateau. C.S.150-O from the power of chaste,hast thou this night,remorse to remorse. With full blown repentance,art thou,at the heart being transmogrified?To Make thee wear a new leaf as emboldened face,embelished proof of thy moult, And Befuddled moult doth not disrepute.Whence hast thou this moult refrain,of this beguiling sport that smear thee? that in thy remorse thy deeds,wears its own novel apparel,to sheath its sloven navel,and all fortitude vultured upon its concord. 07/01/2017 8:28am Professor Abraham 's Diary : Chapter 10 : - Parson's Black Magic . He must have taken the right lane to racial pride,in an endless stretch of varietated roads and queer streets that barricaded mortal choices,and ambushed by fear and indecision but charting his own course in life,apparently leading to his own personal discovery and eventually rested the case of his own racial ambiguity. Tunde,the first son of Prof. Abraham Popularly known as Bola at the University Of Ibadan,living In his father's mansion at the Grand Cayman's,passing bunch of cottonfields,shunted gaze aside and slowed down his dark blue Cardilac to a halt,shortly rammed his shifting gears into a serene but dusty public park,and hurriedly ransack,a chapter in a book,he had borrowed'Parson's Black Magic' and to basically douse the pocky pie of Passion's Invention as mere creative thinking.Then he zoomed off again,shouting eureka for the discovery,as he squinted against the sun's blinding glare.Holding up the....... steering with one hand and the other to shield his roving eyes,invested with the inquisitorial power of attorney,and bluntly glanced down at chapter 20,page 250 of this book he'd brought back to help him recall his memoir,a research effort,documenting unsung history of Yoruba's global influence on western civilisation. He had been gone in research for his first decade,in the States,which Was begun,with the pioneering work of his father's research repertoire,and after graduation relocated back to New York.And a great deal,had changed,having confidence,in his racial identity .Now,he was older,smarter and work harder.Gone are days of subserviency,the encroachment of dreadin his intestine,about the superiority of the caucasians. Had had he not chuckled to himself.Blacks,Not Inferior?Since,he moved for the non-degree course,hardly a day,passed by without being caught,with sloven catchpenny of catch-22 nightmare. In the northwest of Alabama,a couple of kluklux clan's get on his nerve.Many had..... considered him a real jungle ghost of Africa,a real bad boy,one of those niggers,of Harlem,with misery identity,a trash coloured outlaw,that needed to be gunned down.Initially,he Had been as tough as expected but after relocating to the states,and on a short trip to Alabama,learnt to speak out.Had he not hated the the legacy of poverty,suppression,marginalisation and ignorance bequethed to blacks in the States,that he wanted more platforms,to fight long hard,to effect a change,that blacks in the U. S. in general can not afford. But the clan's detective had planned to destroy his dream,even before it was begun. fifteen years ago,he had been threatened in school,by folks of white supremacists for being a smarter kid of the lot,especially for his wizardry as a whizkid.He was threatened with jail over a rickety and unsubstantiated evidence and patriarch's recall back home,change every mockery of histrionics,played out on him.And nowback smarter knew better,how to deal with highly organised but racial crime Barely had he closed the book,shifted gears into faster drive,and drove to a nearby public library. Infront Of the library park's circular drive,he parked his rental car,across Montesserey Avenue.He had visited the library 4 years ago,prior to renovation and frequented the nearby lodge,not far from the street Casinos and the Boulevaard.Tunde was a bookwork like his father,and could grind bombastic decrepit elements,in a polemics of no return and with the boisterous knack to shout them,should he have his way,fitfully.Hence,inquisitorial drove he like wild boy to the door. Walking the front doorg,the bell rang and book returned and exchanged now for a pack.But the audience that showed up,gave him the heart beat of his life.And excused him abit for a pedestrian,in the voluminous arcadian park,staring at his ignorance and rodeo of blissful bluntness and fur of intellectual funfair.His sarcastic grinsuggests something missingandfunkyplayed....... This plumpy,middle aged librarian,thus began to fire its salvos and unfold the detective gestation,like a leak from the gestapos,into his graceful arm. " O young boy,frolic nigger,do you know Or have u read about the history of kluklux clan in America?"his grandiose slammed his granular face,later gulped too easily by his gungho's gullies. Now Mr Branson unveiled the poser. "Were you aware,they were stalking you?" squeamish on his heels,moved away paces,from him and stepped back into the gracious entrance ,and then he shouted. " The vultures in America have nothing to loose,but you hapless niggers,old dickens,have everything to loose."he humbugged,with entangled homiletics,humped on a traduce,both the hunches and evidence of stalking,and closed the door behind him,as Tunde,the detective loadestone melt away,deadened in a deadbeat. As if the vehicle,suggested to him,please come inside,let's go and heypreysto,summoned courage, got back in the driving seat,and zoomed.. off from the bedecked park with an enormous bonquet of flowers,hardwoods,glistening underneath the sunlight and gigantic arrays of blossoming trees. Obsessively,he Was an oddity, oddball,who misjudged and underrated potential upset,that the could cause a rift and the extent of public ridicule and racial contempt,that might be hurled,upon those niggers,like he,who sought to oppose white supremacists. Why should he be upset,in defense of colored people,the so called backward races,according to social Darwinists? But Certainly,he was upset,with derogatory remarks,for sometimes,being vocal at the public library,where he had become,a demigod among scholars both white and blacks,in most cases,made his mark,in the rendition of unsung black history. Hence,threat Was begun at this numb and the necessity of getting over painful memories,became more daunting. He drove home the interstate so rapidly,as if being chased under klieglight. Now,he seemed so appealingly vulnerable and briefly..... 07/01/2017 12:19pm got home,unboard his vehicle,stood aghast at Mr Branson's reminder and for the inklings, it was quite,a mumbo jumbo,until a deserted voice,spoke out of murky dead silence. Shocked to the bonemarrowg,mooched and sombre, but raised his eyebrow. He Was known as Halley after the popular Alex Halley in the 'Roots ' a black flick in America,with popular slave narratives. " Hello Halley, how are you?" he probably unknowingly stoked a burning fire, and hung with carthasis and psychologically infested stir crazy, Tunde lampooned "do i know from Adam? U stalking me right? Are U Kluklux an agent?" "hmmmm" He relaxed abit "what?" staggily struck and thawed with fallen cadence " Were you not aware,we met in the library?" he slipped his arms around him and radiated with smile. " Halley,you throw dread around these days. What really is the matter.Please concentrate on scholarship.which book are u reading now?" George,a... 07/01/2017 11:39pm Close pal of Branson,unknown to him,cleverly covered up and patted him,on the back and risked a smile " Good for you " "Nope,i ve found out,that if you were fighting for this underpriviledged,they'd kind of single you out for a persecution. That took me about four months to realise until once again recently, Branson's reminder geared me up" . Now he was not afraid,it would hurt,if he was,he wouldn't have spoken out,in the first place,just as he felt in his innermost part,that incessant deaths among blacks and inequal opportunities,afforded them,was not the right thing and a fault on the side of the Caucasians. Somehow,he should have known better,having witnessed death related racial profilings on the increase.Still he decided,to popularise unsung black history . The sun burlied and warmed his hatless head,as he stood silently,waiting for George 's reply and shooting to resume,as he dabbed sweat off his forehead and buttonholed cheeks.As George,a stealthy bilker,baulked directions within his........ bailliwick subsumed,felt his seducing eyes,slowly browbeated him with intense interest,so,the best boy,adjusted to the penetrating light that had been strung to supersede subnatural flux as scholarship topic meandered "Halley,dont be sentimental,forget about stalking horses.Have you read Leadership Gold by Robert Maxwell,he said Are you focused on your strength ? spend sometime to reflect on your strengths and also said succesful people focus on their strengths not weakness.I ve read about a vast hordes and sometimes ragged line of progressive but a strategic line of coherent thinkers,stretching back to Chandler and Ansoff ,not excluding the great Porter and then Mintzberg ,later I came across Gary Hamel a Professor at Havard, And C.K.Prahalad his close mentor,together they wrote "Competing for the Future" find the book in the library,i recommended them to a friend of who was later fond of them. These guys have a way of challenging orthodoxies and statusquo especially,making it difficult,.. especiall Hamel,making it difficult to predict the next line of research." thus again,he was begun with another rapture." Are you aware the origin of management consultancy,contrary to general belief,was not linked,to draw a straight line from Frederick Taylor's Principles Of Scientific Management in 1911,through to evolution of such firms like Booz Hamilton Allen and the like of Mackinsey. Chris Mackenna,a lecturer in management,at... His hammer struck the anvil so intensely at around 2 o clock on the dot.Time to interrupt,he did not. The ragged but boisterous noise,was thwacked by dead silence,and soon fret intensely unsubdued.Too sententious and insensuous,for him to notice nor summon the hammer to a screeching halt. The trenchance,not trepidatious and tremulous bullied forth.Outside its cadence,it was still as dark,when the anvil had rested for once,even in the midnight oil burning,to tranquil 's wishes except for Tunde's Body language gesticulating a recess on the anvil. As the stunts went,after about 30 minutes,Tunde muttered something unintelligible then disembarked his feet on the gravel and pulled from the saddle and landed infront door,so hastily,his knees,nearly slipped off to a fall and adjusted a little wobbly.There was rashness in his conduct,as could not help but followed his footsteps and now seemed to notice the hardlines surreptitiously buried in his boggy face."Come on Halley" he whispered in whizzing movemement,seconded from Halley's whirl.His voice so tender,it nearly solaced Tunde's raging inferno and his covert and overt sob at seeking soothing palladium. " maybe you dont give a damn to me or about yourself.Perhaps,your rising adrenaline and dread for these faceless stalker" His Jabing Jabbering Jabbed gusto,rythmically stopped but the jagged jangling ambience persisted. For some practical but political expediencies,they were slow,to unlock the door and he couldnt but noticed his apathy and the hearthtrobs,evidenced in his voice,........ The engross was ready. "Dont you understand simple body language?"he munched noisily " Oh,sorry chap! And If there are stalkers,we will gun them down. "as He moved closer to hug him and there were hugs and smiles,to detach them from his miserable lot. Their friendship had often thrived on intellectual discusion and had survived explosions and blasts at the local library,prior to renovation.And thus a new they bantered" You Talked about chris Mackenna's Book,' Hubristic Champions'.He was a lecturer at Said Business School,University Of Oxford,and I think the book was launched in 2006 or thereabout..."jagged and janggled,nailed the anvil,with his hammer. " oh,you are right . Halley,u Just too sound too good,two steps,ahead of me "thrown eulogy in a vertigo,as Tunde finally opened the door at past 3 o clock or half past three And both headed inside. "See, forget the bunkum,forget the trash like Taylor,Peter F. Drucker, Tom Lewis,and those guys,you mentioned.Be it your melange of philosphers ,scientists and technologists,inclusive of their tardy engross of widgets,invents,patents,munnitions and missiles,we the yorubas,being the glory of black race,were instrumental to the succesful evolution of world civilisation ancient and mordern.That is why stalkers wanted to gun me down."he landed the bombshell from space,as if exorcised and binged by his African voodoo. Ocultic Power according was the first salvo,then creative,second salvo creative,as there is a limit to which the latter could go without former's first initial backing. "How do you mean?that is the first am gonna hear this esoteric lie. " George was covered with the mist of nebulous clouds,stammering and stampeded for breath."how!how!! pls,talk"tormented by obscuritist Tunde. His overtone never overslept and he was always hale to the overstate.That way, he had time,to prepare him for the bombardment and bombshell,from the pit of hell. "George,am Happy to meet you once again.Sit down calmly, for the beautiful tales" 07/02/2017 8:47am " Halley Am all ears"sitting on a palate, with palatial panache,in a palliative fashion,to help him pander with his panygeric and panoply rendition of ambiguous history that the world can offer. Pall as pallor was fallen on his face and this palsy of pallidity did not abate by the time Tunde turned his palatable globet of Alabama wine and both share glasses to pan out this panoply. George,a Middle aged Caucasian like Branson had fallen respectfully silent,perhaps for the beleaguered mind of a mawkish and minowed matador,whose machismo as a black mafioso,an endangered species,in mainland America,a loudmouth like the loudhailer,a lousied lout,with no frequency modulation of both the bizarre and the expediency,with the lilliputian tendency,to shows blacks,were not in any way,inferior to the caucasians,who according to him ,they mothered according to anthropology.He was no lilly livered and a lightweight,nor a limp in a limpet,to be boxed,into obscurity and unschooled about his cradle.Invariably,out In a thumb... his lily-white baritone voice,like an alabaster,limbered and suppled through his throat,for firing his cannon and so he confrontthe labyrinth,hitting cylindersraw and polished,and the greatmayhem,thus was begun,a battle of racial flexing and Parson's blackmagic hammered."In the 60s Sir,sorry to say,when you were much younger,say less than than 20 something,were you aware of man forays and giant strides into space"his laden mouth,though still lacerated with skepticism,placid and laconic in la-di-da fashion,filled the lacuna."Yea, it was cool,i witnessed it that historic feat,in my lifetime,dubbed'one giant step or leap for mankind"he quipped. "Were you aware about the fact the invention of thecompass that made globalisation possible and that of gunpowder,was credited to the Chinese?Little didthey know about the People,that civilised the 5,000years old country.The Europeans came with their rocket scienceand still pundits failed to decipher the myserious powers that made possible,this enviable relics of golden history.Were you aware thatthebiggest innovation in westernhistorywas steam engine? were you aware,that it was first invented inancient Egypt,prior to rediscovery in the medieval,when there was need to pump water out of flooded mines?Today,It had been converted into variegated uses likecars,vehicles,machines,planes,rail and rockets.Now the single biggest invention in mortal history,was the rocket science, and yet,it extensively used blackmagic"he hit bombshell with a jigsaw."what?"jawdropping"it was nothing like that,dont be depressed pityboy,it was just mere thinking,mere creative thinking,soshut up,black monkey.What do you know?"he blastedhis goon of a carapaceand blindvitriolic vituperation."Oh,you still livein thedark,old man pity you.So,can you recall the inventor of that rocket?"he laminated his languour of lameducking,landlubbered,in this context."Who invented the rockets?i wouldnt know,that wasntmy field anyway."his laborious labial,swelledup again longuer and lacklustre,but laissez-faired. His jinks still jeered in a jiffy"You nigger,what do u know.Tell Me!"he bombed."look,it's going to still be much easier,for us,to disarm disarray,that frivolous infinitesimal mole,tearing us apart and get a dint of the esoteric truth."he validated mildly "You nigger which truth?"his vaporised vapidity parochially vantaged out of expediency. " wait a minute old"retooling to disburse ambience and fact."which truth,you nigger professor"still jeered his mumbojumbo,as decompose rose sternly."that blackman's culture is superior,in any way and by all ramification,because in any construction project,foundation is key and once you get it right,the construction becomes a success.Be rational,for once old man,you goof of a caucasian neanderthal,a cave dweller,robbed with animal skin,ten centuries after the arab civilisation,and thousands of years,after blacks were already dwelling in palatial homes?"he tinged his tinder with burning fire,at full tilt."oh,my goodness, Jesus Of Nazareth,where is your face"he wept like Jesus Wept and as kennedy wept,when the Russian Cosmonauts,beat the Americans To the game and became first supermen to land in moon,the Yuri Gagarin Boys.History Was never stolen from them."Is that an affront or something you nigger,where did you get your fact?what superiority?"he queer streeted. "Ready to know? Have you the sheerest inklings about the genius of inventive nomenclatures like Jack Marvel Parson's,Weirham Von Braun And stealthy manipulative Sergei Korolev respectively.Old Man you tilt and sheen of crepuscular shennanigan,plead thee,cool down"he pestled gritty and pounded the mortal,as he landed the volley,the sharpish sharpshooter sheepshank,grown sheepish,shelved its momentum and adorn of mannerless sheepskin.When his tuxedo of twaddle left adumbrated,he struggled to alight and counterpoise.He pulled down his face and away and sitting scraggly,demented on the sofa. He Was becoming lushed by superior tact,that built drudgery as moral fabric into the momentum of the somewhat picky racial debates. 07/03/2017 1:24am Fathomed that he could see himself better,where he was headed,not much on St.blues queer street parade.His ignorance salved,but even,if he could convince him and trust reliability of his sources and could bear somewhat fairy tales with his ears. Now,with this bigbang,he was coaxed,at full pelt,a consumate discussant,struck in bewilderment,but still hesitating about the affinity with black magic,given the fact,he was embroiled,over context,wherein he could not emend nor emboss,with superior tact and somehow,emitting emollience and excessively emoting.He was on the edge of the argumentative precipice and just managed to stay. George knew Halley so well,since they'd used to rampaging tempest of intellectual discussion ever since the library public and passing to see a friend and a sister,at a spare time also branched,to check on him. He had never lost an argument ever since met.little,wonder,George,though May not admit it was glad with every time,they fell into such discussion.Both had a temper and almost hated to admit it.Sometimes,scuzzily scurrying With seamless slanderous and scurrilous scalpel,piercing tendons,scalloped like a scallywag,scandalously,scalping,modest indigo of argumentative sanity,that sometimes scared passers by.Such scatological recurrence and smutty verbal sarcasm often tizzily titivate this tiptop of ireful tirade,intoxicated like a tipple,the tittle tattle percipiently,tinkers this contest of the mind.There was a little silence and then he spoke out,putting down the glass cup,to clear his throat,adjusting his position on the sofa"And so,what's the matter with them?"inquisitive,he tenterhooked,but now vamoosed temporised tepidity. "Anyways,these smartest guys,paragons are the mega- celebrities behind the success of western rocket industry."he unleashed the bombshell and with the tag,"blackmagic was their phenomenal but esoteric powers."he pinched,somewhat pilloried,at comfortable distance,that he oggled,in the mutative conviction of the dreary contest... "Blackmagic!"his indigo,vertigoed once again."blackmagic or creative thinking?"he closed his eyes"jesus christ!"he moderated in a chargrin though his tantrums did not fell so fast to hamper his bubbling zealotry,not to seize hold of the genius of the blue sky,and if possible,lampoon his conspicuous rodeo of rodomotade.A faint sheen of perspiration,flashed on his face,wedged over muffled thumps,mottled with the patches of mudslinging mucillage,from an inferior nigger,as the challenge lingered in the air,unruffled towards Tunde's Whooping sound ofvictory andGeorge still numbed. Thebroad band of the blue sky,outside hisapartment decked withtintedwindow,had not only turned rose but later to red gold and by the time,it was deep indigo, George gazed at his watch,still have 4 hours left for the discussion,before headed to Beverly Hills for a late night flight,barely threw down his stampeding gauntlet.'i still get more time left,to spare'.taking up the cup,to sip abit more."Without blackmagic,they would n't have... been sung,let alone a smash hit.And you countrified coccoon of an ostentatiously, intellectually ossified goat,whacked by nearsited collision and derailment of maddening osmosis,still ridiculed our culture as inferior and ,still call me a nigger. O,What a weird !"he jibed again as he moved closer to him,stretching his arm and yawning,whilst he was forced to relax his breath,wittingly ,at the unscrupulous ireful goddess of war,laced by hot temper and running lips.His Smoldering look seemed to accuse him with musdlinging catapult,as if a lie was told,with pain and pang,shadowing his hazy eyes,at the time swallowing hard,with a mouth that runs tirelessly but never blank and bland."Now,do you have proof,blackmagic was involved?You ranting of an ant."still jeering "want to define that?"he niggled for nittlegritty,snuggling deep into his sit,engrossed in the loud cadence,as he noticed a soddened reflection of the moonlight on the floor,2hours to go.George sterned at the...... amusing glimpse into their somewhat altercatory friendship and Tunde Smiled but his defences barely slipped a notch and a minute after seized the stage dropping his glass cup. "Now,listen the famed hungarian physicist Theodore Von Karman,invited Young Marvel Parson,into the research planet of Aeronautics Academics.Basically,like great inventors,who simply used holly curiousity,he had no formal college education,but Von Karma believed in him,recognised earlier,his talent and intelligence. He had no difficulty,imbibing and blended easily,with researchers,academia,being naturally charming and was later included in a research group,that dealt with extremely blackfuels project, And so,having made a distinction in research Parson's group was called the suicide squad after a series of failed rocket fuel research attempt,that was caused at Calteth,due To Scandalous safe concerns. This was caused to be moved to a few kilometres of land left closer to San Gabriel Mountains,little above, devil's gate dam. so,......... 07/04/2017 4:04am  ELEGY TO SADOMASOCHIST Whacked by supercilious brat and invectives infested uncouth tongue,the repressive durress within that ambience circumnavigated,ignited his tacit and so,he by temper swung,stood at a convenient hiatus,to the rampaging art. Elegy.that in my heart,thy guilles all but interred ,wherein nature's heels,taught thee how to unfold chaste's flex at thy cloven hoofs.The more i say,the less thou art observed.Thy scorn art scold abhored,thou shouldest not abhor mine utterances,but in selfesteem,thy adore should be,if thy self esteem is blotted,more guilles at thy household,comes home to roost. Contro.Sonnet--151-Chaste is too benign to abscond,where conscience pleads;yet who knows not how to chide,is born of scorn.Chaste Is too senile to know what foibles,to patch,yet,who knows not moult is crust of adamantine,then a greater whore,importunes her juicy sport,lest of mine refutation,thy aggrandised self elated be,for thou scornful of entreaty ,i do not elope.Mine intergrity,to part thee,of vile,mine fiend doth shoot as thy ignoble den,that thy household might trump and triumph in lust,as moult stays farthest behind pleadings.But rising impetuously as thy tolerance facade of licentiousness doth contendest with no patent guilt,contented with dreary eyes and thou art pleaded and pleased to dwell by the wayside.No fathomed piety,without conscience,hold nefarious fingers in high esteem.That 'chaste'for whose dear crust censure,i still sell thee. Contro.Sonnet-152-In thine chide,that chaste is chaste,that saves multitude of souls.But thou art to be scolded a thousand times surfice.To thee that chide,might transact piety and break fallow ground.,for thou art not sworn,to thy piety vow'd.And breach,evidenc'd in thy fortitude,art strayed thy household,And all mine chaste and scoldings,sank its titanic and dreadnought,beneath seashore,flat fell,for the graveyard itself barely smears an earth for the dead.And every resolve is pothered by guilles of sentiment,and to elope thyself at thy writ and grit,consumate i nebula,or made thee slaves,at thy achilles heels;for have i mourn,a thousand fall unfair,as more perfidies,at thy faith,to cajole and censure a mammoth,with the pariah outcast and the wickedness of their gluttonous behind. Contro.Sonnet-153-Scorn laid by brute barely fell asleep,a maid of honour,it glides thy marrow,And thy context,scornest kindled did sway with recompense,in an ephemeral, hedonism of lampooned chaste;wherein filial piety disdain'd uncouth lips,lively feeds,unfettered by rabidity doth abrasion kinky froth,which yet all foibles pleased to fathom,but at the guise of misty eyes,direst crowd frigid. 07/06/2017 7:51am A DIRGE OF THE UNKNOWN.Wittiness goons,that gropes boisterious,A dirge,too cankerous to sing,distant waves,when merriment wallows,knits the isle of man,frivolous feets,trivialising whose mnemonics tardier gruels, enigma belching subtlety,futurologists and futurity wails,fallen heels,fallen eyes in fallen lands ,interred beneath soaring hills. Wail,that the horror eyes of the owl of the owl canst not decipher,the unknown hills,sapien's greatest dirge,is ambiguous,an eternity far away,a dirge too many and he by byzanthine,can simply not be known. A DIRGE OF THE UNSCRUPULOUS.Wanton sands that gawkily sloths,unscrupulous clouds when sullen goofs,frigid all night long;turgid seashells,whose frills are vile ,mangled dreams that fled into cosmos,whose stook,minxs and manxs,taints carvenous gorges and drudgery basins,wail o unscrupulous vales,for the golden fleece of the graveyard,world richest goldfields. 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 The 1st Part And The Third Part Were Published Above Now The Second Part Is Therefore Now Published Below. Groteque Winds\2nd Part.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. 07/06/2017 1:51pm quake,jaded jack.a.napes,jaded jackdaw,jackpot wrangle,jackpot hit,acatalectic storms,acatalectic gale! Do i plead marrooned with nature's entreaty,importuned more than the swiftest horse,And I above jaundiced,to tame my kismet,dews on her,with the distilling showers of celestial moisture and charming arms of the rising sun,the green lawn and its chemistry of lushes,in their golden junctures of distressing dunghills,jangles i but you to quench;In those hilt,benign of fairy jaunties,fairy morn living behind distant hills;In those jazzy,jaywalk,hibernates to shoot the golden salve of a starry morn;i fortified by mandate beneath these sanddunes plough and interres,vacuous arts,upon your fortitude,treacly down a pearly groove inevery sullen prowl. Jaunty Sinewy.Jejuned crimson belched jaunty sinew,cannot but bliss morose palms in disarray ,jejune crimson,an impuissant repertoire,whereon jaunty sinew,is sloth infested vile;Alas,it leadens mahomet Mahomet's Milestone apetite,neither its Jack Robinson not its tumulus being jerked by jiggery pottery,nor by jingo,gravy train be,jejuned crimson is reef knot,jaunty bone is landmine,do i not detest thee by them alike;and abhor thee by them alike,tis shephered vale hide me above this cut and crux of jaunty sinew's jib,whereo jezebelic hewn to jocund fathom of morose palms.Ride,Ride Thou Distant Hills.Ride,ride thou distant hills,thou art so far away . As man's plunge,plunges deep beneath;thy prestigious presence,they seek is withdraw from sight,becos thou art invisible,at the time of the plow, although their clump,be contumelious gungho! gunges gungho! gunges unto the gimcrack ballyhoos;a vast fleece of gravy train,if tacky ,are mere fable:then gungho,the foil,ride,ride thou distant hills.Thou does not dislodge thy severest wind as furnace and hurdles foment and frowards be as the acme prize of glory;You as gladiators groan and your sting is not benumbed of guerdom,As a gratitude to sail as he that willeth 07/10/2017 1:48am O MY ROOT O MY GONG. 07/10/2017 3:03am Once upon my couch evinced i my heart throbs,as annals evoked memoirs of distant hills,over time's quaint giddy goat,subsumed broken dreams,in stead of palmy days ,beneath bulrushes of interred sands of time. Brutely moped i nagging,heypresto,at the mockery of gooseberries.And my gorges goodily rising,at my tarnished boo to a goose,burrowed from a boo to a goose.tis a meagre remniscence,i sighed,grating at my gravestone of bibliomaniasis,a mere ecstasy spurred me on. Bravo,respendently,i Could recall,it was a muse of camaraderie, And behold,they the bibliocrat sinewed with gritty grenade,flung its cannonade upon the groove.My being brisky,entombed in marrow ado,had i not groomed to unwind and sail farthest sea? Antecedence speaks of me,supplanted of my root,my ignition key,for a wobbling sentry,persuade me to abscond,for the infection ogre and infelicitous infantry,whom their masquerade,bent upon lobes of spurious lores,evermore luddites blanketed Yoruboid cosmos.And the sunken gall,with rampaging.... 07/10/2017 11:14am ,lushed with rampaging sport,pounding and billowing,trounced me with inferno and a transfixed palpitation that tore apart and barely subvert the subterfuge of the stupendous curio arts,attheunsung harmonious crescendo and scabed gong of my genteel root,my hazy feet pined away.Groans,my weary Souls displeased;o my humble bay,o my genteelgong,banished by inglorious sobriquets.So,they duffered by torpedoof this innuendo,Oh my greymaster earnestly thy pedagogue,my sullen bank seeks,to recoup all the colours of rainbow,sunk in the titanic ofprimrose bank and despond slough,Being that i was a minnow,riding obstinately,with pinionson pilloried horseback,bereft of mutation in a mutation plow, Andso grandiose,they came,gone grey,shrinking and shrinking pointless roses,at my motherland,aptly to groove,edified by insomniac,on a nocturna bed,tis the greymaster epistemologically unleashes its avalanche.Darkness flees,with rising stars,far flung from tutelage,still barely do i hesitate to wonder its esoteric cult of a masked glory,a sunk apotheosis. Lachrymose yoyoes lachrymose,lachrymal terpsichorean lachrymal,decked with the inglorious tag,with which it was roped and gangraped,still treachery yet unbroken ,crisscroses lakes,lagoon,seas,rivers and across the atlantic,sailing like a journeyman,casting irredeemable nebula and lo,the writ whispered in my ears"tell the story" shall i not tell my story,o my root,o my gong ? Sat he on his heel,subservient on sandy bay perch greedily,my tendon broke he to utter,that he supplants within me,burning my marrow to hear"sure i shall retreat from this vicious vitriols of specious insinuation of the infelicitous calvary,impaled amidst throng of gathering clouds.The thunderstorm,gloriously raves and sails like a meteor,garlanded by contending sky,a hazard that defies soft landing of a gentle breeze,with the gentle leaves,to breathe and take a recess,to fly above gauchy clouds,is to gather stormy twists,in thy hands.why shouldest thy heart sobs quiant quirky?why shouldest thy cheeks pale in thy misty eyes,to dread at its dusk?strong as thy ears and eyes,shalt thy resolve be. 07/11/2017 9:34am Scoffers do not scoff,when the sunshine glorous diadems coronate a king on a throne.Blinkest is he that strives and strides in nebula.Time thy fortitude to blaze and scale grandiose heights,Starry morn precipices at thy indigent millstones and freestones,quake dread in a shepherd vale,whereon nightwatchmanship's burning the midnight oil as unflinching shepherd,incense a new dawn;it does not persist without guerilla,malediction of its hostile squadron,neither unsheath your drawn sword and spears nor its sunbeam glitters afray.The night breezes,creep over its dinghy horizon,And heavenly moisture,in virtuous drill,showers its tentacles,hazy mountain quaking volcano,yell over poignant moist of unruly vale and at its zenith,sordid it plow?To tame the hamlet of the plangent cloud,to run the precinct of the wild forest courses,hunt for sloven game,in the wild,beyond st.blues,heavest the gaming table,with a new gong and songs sung over the burning gleam and morose palms. Mammoth in a lush, lushed and they could sing and wrapped their head in hymnody.And stress,durress and distress,impulses mammoth cheeks,a hilly beans,prowling nature's quaint sordid plough,barndoor hit,beneath my fallen plunge unsung,swims fortitude that skates sullen feet,crusped beneath sunken boats,flung in wild courses and stormy steep,that friction,crystal sands,froth daisy-kick sunken,lunged with the immanent gale,corroding the tides,sequel to a bent and burnt limb. Distilled With the humus of celestial humidity,they cut their teeth with the palmiest days' engraved silverlike sheen,fed impecably on scorching earth,frittered diamonds,squandered timologists and bantered dawn,recoup a groove and its fleece,but in a transient perk of owlish eyes and gracious earth unbundled. 07/12/2017 4:27am O Fate o fate,all men call thee a fatalist.if thou art so,what dost thou do with it that is impugned,for a mutation plow?Be fatalist o fate,for then thou wilt chide effortlessly,to bear the spears and venom of recalcitrant men into shape and norms,that thou lookest pale,in sight of mortals,thy eyesight sees beyond the dark of nature's ill diving verdict,things that to utter them to be heard,things that to hear them to be heard,things that to do them to be ado,makest an unstained vision and impecable journey,wither not in tattered robes,overwhelmed with overwhelming brows,meagre were the taints,plaited upon sharp misery,had torn apart broken bones,And in this despondency sate,a damocle's sword hung, A thurible thy arts thwacked,and other crucibles,Of infecund ferns of tightknit frangible ricochets;and about he,the swashbuckler's shelves for shelfing this irreverend patches and moles,A mendicant rendition of green earthenware pots,flung in remorse and mustards in a mutation plow,Nothing in this numb,to myself i refute not,And If a man did need a earthenward potion,much worse than this sate,let him die alone whose stale,is abscond of the broken dreams,with the direst clouds,into thin air.Here the wretched of the wretcheds,at dunghill scavenging daisy kick unmourned, And this same achilles heels,man must tend if not mend as a hawk,in a lifetime buoy,Art so bare,so sterile and wretched,that thou fearest to famine thy fatalist cheeks,with sinecure and starveth impending blossom of golden fleece,whereon contempt art climbeth thy tallest trees of pride,to hang thee,beneath stale? O thy root thy gong maketh thee a numb when thou affords it,no stress on thy distress,a lacuna for lifelong stale.O how sweet roses,a visioneer brings to its gaming table,with those flowers,bridal bed ,i strew o fate,if thou not being deluded,thy canopy is hell and brimstones upon decrepit girth,thy root,wanting zealotry,distilled with appetite for yonder hills,assuage thy spine,for a yonder junketing,armed thy brow with bibliocracy then lunge.. refute,And If a man did need a earthenward potion,much worse than this sate,let him die alone whose stale,is abscond of the broken dreams,with the direst clouds,into thin air.Here the wretched of the wretcheds,at dunghill scavenging daisy kick unmourned, And this same achilles heels,man must tend if not mend as a hawk,in a lifetime buoy,Art so bare,so sterile and wretched,that thou fearest to famine thy fatalist cheeks,with sinecure and starveth impending blossom of golden fleece,whereon contempt art climbeth thy tallest trees of pride,to hang thee,beneath stale? O thy root thy gong maketh thee a numb when thou affords it,no stress on thy distress,a lacuna for lifelong stale.O how sweet roses,a visioneer brings to its gaming table,with those flowers,bridal bed ,i strew o fate,if thou not being deluded,thy canopy is hell and brimstones upon decrepit girth,thy root,wanting zealotry,distilled with appetite for yonder hills,assuage thy spine,for a yonder junketing,armed thy brow with bibliocracy then lunge...... MAYA ANGELOU'S MISSING RIBS. My heart pants for her days,to be reinvigorated ,even beyond eyes posthumously,And spasmodic vamoose the fugacious winds,like the eagle'n'flight,And heypresto,with the janglings of the nocturnal lurk,she was gone to the heavens shores unmoored,Oh,the homeostasis of the caged birds,drowned beneath,A nestling bird,rose forth and dawn,from the rickety winkle of a tunnel vision,whimsical of a soiled root,with the broken gourd and wrinkled gong,tardily soft budding,softwinging and softpounding,hurling gravelly brimstones,at the heart of white supremacists'encroached Americana,gratuitous they impugn their freedom,and out in a thump,upon a hackneyed soil,taint their robes with punitive invectives, Oh,sail she a conscience farthest sea and the caged bird broke its tangled knot,and flies away empty into vacuous space, singing imponderables, At a furlong taming the wind's flight impetuously,and gales and bales fly forth with the plunge,from the frenetic vales to the hilltops,the soul of the caged birds rises,a lacuna lampoons absenteeism of a tribune,and a vaudeville of the distant hills and esoteric galaxy left uncharted,dinning with the spineless,who were once her bucaneers,flying her cosmos into the infinitude ofno return.Were she not fractious,with fragile self exhumed,wouldwe have been immersed withbiographies and bickering poetryof the soul?Splittedas if like a foundling with no gazebo,unmasked durress splintered across a globetrotting imbrication,swooned by spleenetic tide of motherhood,racialism and her voice of the nightingale.Was Guy a betrothed-like son,a missing rib or a penchant bardesquely bent as the trenchant pen,that she absconded literally and metaphorically,from the vicarious engross of minstrelsy,at every of golden fleece chase? Was he still a missing rib postmartem,that she would cringe,her moth eaten plangent bone,at her graveyard? Was he a surrogate to reenact her winning streak?Was Time a thunderous varlet like an unmissable vagabond that should swindle irreplaceable precious stones adinfinitum? O how sweet chilling and painstaking,does an enchantment of excruciating motherhood thrills? So,she Was sung,at the Porgy and Bess scuttled European tours, And so,she dipped her broken pen,imperial hands and swollen feet in gall,for the unsung Americanah,and Heypresto,belching Her cartharsis,hephtacentric autobiographies,were slung like at the rudderless banks of her sullen roots.And the plummet skyrocketed,with the enchanted witchery of 'I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings'.Does the caged bird,not sung to defray the windbound windsheet of the ochlocractic bucaneers? 07/14/2017 3:55am APOCALYPSE. Appanages,hung On eggregious mile avariciously they woo the apocalypse,and tends the appendixes of kismet,to append futurology of the homosapiens.And dancing the arty crafty,timologists,befuddled in its beguilling sport,and the morning appeases to the night for the ap.o.gee of the great apocalypse.They play with the dart forth fire of the pejorative arrows,as they banter and badger ashcans of naturewit's persiflage,effusive and ebullient,eggressed and effused,on the eggregious mile,With eggs thrown on their faces,the ascetic minded and the hedonists alike,the clan's eke,as festoons of parlous roses,festooned by fetor of eunuch's effete pouch,Elapses time's docker of vaudeville doddle.And they dole a pittance and a penance for a livelihood it.sy-bit.sy,waow,what a scrooging lifetime! Dogsbody-birds,mousetrap cheeses and pipsqueaks,squelched in their marshy,motheaten squadron,dissuaded their infantrymen,rottened sports in the damp squib,dogstired and still doggoed,rummaging like a fodder in the doghouse, Squeaking,squawking,squealing,squinting,squiggling and bustling like a squire and the swiftest canst pacify timology for a pie of gravy train.Dickesian clamour of the egregious mileage,sings the dirge of the Dionysian dingy,to refute the persnickety of nature's boundless ever cooing persiflage,diddles the sojourn of a sojourner,Birds Of passage,squarebashing in the earthly sojourn,as vile felonies,cryptic and a crucifix of prejudice as volition cross,bent on the edge of the precipice,crumbles neath earthcrust in fest of timological squandermania,as golden morn,the true price of freedom,goes up in smoke,and esplanade of espousal,wails beneath its labyrinth,to unravel even the frittered escapade of the jungle.She bares the fangs of hell and the promenade of the seventh heaven,whereonmalediction and benediction,being malevolent and benevolent,oozes from its sedentary butmutational couch. She flies,in thevacuity of the cosmos,her pingpong,plays with the mouses,the bats of the rolling moss,and the languiddickens and the obstreperous motes,languid dickens of the raving monty,a leveller for the marshy moles,in the truculent morsey's tiring trudge of the egregious mile. Matrons of honour flock to her orchard,as insulator of the supples of its mines and crucifixes.whose moult,decked with unflinching plait,matadors of this mileage and time's machismo of masochists,maroons of the serenades,Ambush bedwetting pageantry of fatalism,to jail the bedlam and bedbugs of time,she rejoices in the beautitudes,the hobos,beatniks,sorcerers,villainous,mavericks and the libidinous,dancing gore on goreish horses of the starry morns and starry nights alike,to celebrate the backwaters,backwoods,the backbenchers of the idle courts of sapiens'trojan horses,with their ambidextrous regalia,wrought marvel of the open sessame,Her invincible and invisible cult personalty of esoteric hewn bustles as noble and ignoble pawn that frets in labourious sun,a golden fleece of the rising sun and fallen moon,and Thenthe day junketing into the deep as night 07/14/2017 8:41am woven into darkness,fugacity flies away,ambiguous into empty space as freebooter of meteoric vale of checkered antecendence.All You a cat's paw,let there be no cavort,cease,to cavort and gallivant with cavil,a caustic cause celebre,to scorn her cavalcades of cavalrymen,masquerading up the spout,with the cavalier spout of catch 22 spoors,robe no more thyself,with obscuratism,casuistry and catatonia schizophreniac carousel mental catalepsy,Neither its howler and cussed heap of gallivanting mirth,nor its fickle of raizor-edged perfidy,cuspy and cushy,to do your damdest as your cart horse relishes,Carol no more in oblivion, o birds of passage as she flies away into empty space,with her carnivorous fibre and trouncing with her cannibalistic canopy.She plays the blindman's bluff,to blink and be butchered by itsblast furnace and guillotinous foundry,bleeding hearts crumble,into gaol trumped by the blandishment of the blankverses,and bland poetry of the languour but long and everlasting mile,oh,everlasting mile ,the Basketballcourt of the timologists,whose complex umpire,knows not scorn,Hung on armchair armada,an awesome craft and spawn ofattelieries,enamoured by neurosclerosis of arson,to slay the apothegm of its appliqued in trodding the longest but languour mile,a slothfulvile detest this trudge,her anthromorphic alopecia nebulous withapathy,unmasks anorexia spawning of fleeting times,plodding her womb in clamour of anticlockwise and anticlimax of cacophony,All You vilest cat's paw,why the anomie and season of anomies that frisk that you frisk might bleed?Caustic temperament caterwauling,burning on a sunk but cattied caisson,ambrosia itself burnt to a frazzle,on its cauldron,and so much caverns had gone beneath the bridge,to cling to stampede and catfight,chatters and old chatterboxes like a cheapstakes,flock at the chasm,the cicatrix of morbid chutzpah.Cockfighters hurl into dunghill,coddles a cockpitof cock and bull cognoscentis of the cold ak with one voice even with a broken gourd,As She flies,trading her consignment of eternities away in vacuous space,convolution coos proclivity and then ages unrestrained fret infinitude,to kick its und leather game,at the ignition of time,Plead thee,come to me and depart from the countryside of perfidy,that we may confab,Courtesans of coupde'graces and melees of coxscombs,cramp on the vintage creel of the old lady,to damn her dalliances,with ambivalent spaces,Where is the deed of covenantthat they might pay whatthey owe?A decrepit mission of thefritterred generation of distant memory,stupefied by embellishment of fugacioustimes.how furacious times fly,at the furtive cloy of her couch.In this couch,sobs not karma,when it cometh,on this couch,deleterious trenchancy denounces denunciation.. to depose and desecrates folklores of the deep,oh old lady of mothernature,this vile,it clings piouslyanddesuetude lingers pouting andporting like a pooh-pooh alone,up the pole,in the desert and savages of the delirium tremens,stilk dingled with the innuendos of the rapport,Hence delirium dances its double dutch dealing and draconian double crossers'grin where doss by its dosser,fly rampaging,jumbling the cosmos,like a flash of lightnings,in the asshole of dystopia,dyspepsia and dyslexiac earnest brawl twinges,wherein,dynamites are fallen,where she lingers ,delirium becomes its in laws,to curry perfidious favour and esperantoes of theguille,murder sleep of time. Bewareof she,the old lady of mothernature,shall with karma repay,her furry barely obliviously ,piously shall repay,with the swords of eschatology and retributive justice,she holds the plumbline of justice as the final arbiter,elope Brownstudy Of the escapologists and the sarcastic grin,let them compete,from which side of the trenches,trenchwarfare 07/14/2017 12:58pm inferno cajol'd to bliss?"Her eyes what a war of gazes,petittioned through them. 08/21/2017 11:50pm Her inferno of raging eyes wooed still her purposive verdure,lushed from a prisoner's gaol of alabaster band of libido.Quoth she her quo vide of intendment crenelated:"Here shall i my quotidian libido of fairest and foulest plunge stoop and plucked from my shore at my bay to berth forever".So,black a crestfallen fiendish cretin engrails so white a brownish studious crescendo,contiguous brows,wriggling and browbeating and he,creeding up the creek,at its creek and crescent at his crepuscular creep,by steely soft sighs,that cannever gravel.Her slight with a sledge hammer,still sleekily sniding and still,with one sweet stare that scorns and beaten her quondam but intermittent pussyfoot,into shape." plead thee,give me space for my moist hand scholarship,fret palladium."saith he,lifting up his brisky chin."Why dost thou feel impatient?" "Get me a recess from thy stook of contumacious flippancy,not to ensnare this serene home" Still she cries and never she a quitter ,in her wayward glance,quivering and quizotic..... as if on the quizvive,quizzing the quizmaster,for her parochial and sebacious but randy quorum.little wonder,she says"it takes two to tango." "for shame,thou art shameless,for illicit fun,thou art shameless pungent plow. Thy all time delight,here crease,libido fringes libido.when thou art born and grail thy calf,welcome thou no marvel and shall they not be like thee,thy seeds of blackstudy,how like a jade,if thou not smothered with sear'd conscience,thou shalt stand;how like a jade as grown ups,will they stand? for the seeds and the sower are nothing but the same on the farmfield,mooring weeds and crops,base and debase romping debase sometimes into base?Ebonoids are blackstudy synopsis,save a thimbleful,who dwell on the otherside bibliocractic atlantic,how much more worse for thee,thou o black damsel,a vale of biblioklept!Enfranchising thy yobbo with thy impatient tongue,to stain thy unborn seeds,still in thy loins,even with blackstudious D.N.A.I Know not known below.know,even tis borrow to borrow esteem.. shall i borrow.May thou with apotheosis,not maligned by bibliomaniasis?All stardom,know's profiling of know,bundled by grace and time,planketh its birth,who wears the garment,another sows unfinish'd?You hurt my spring,my numb,my flabergast,with scorn.Drop this insolent tumour,this rigorous chatterbox and ill bred clamour,now a mishit for mine hedonism,for where pleasure enjoys trips,they maketh no slack for purport and vaudevile".Pulling her wooden'd but weary hands away"why canst thou think?" quoth he "shall i not race against time to sing the heavenly but melodious tune,over this eldorado of intoxicating drat and harsh sounding biblioklept? Or had i no passion to glance and to hear ? Or were i a numb,a dumb or deaf,thy outward beauty,would still stinks,to detest even every bit of thy erogenous curvature.Yet should i be bereft of brownstudy,to trade prosmicuity for thy libido and welcome misery,in my home astray.A Time for meditation,is not to be sneered and slighted by a time to funfair,to court misery." Saith She"say that thy sense and emotivity for me art sewered." "Art thou not matured and older than puppy love flirts?"She would have broken to tears,at his somewhat sarcastic but ridiculous stares,that went blank,that she flatly heeded to moult.Her unblushed and viperous bullets ungunned.Unfair wit,crash from her obnoxious writ,amazed to bait off,his creel of crassly intendment,which hiring lust did wittingly reprieve and remorse,for on the floor,she lies her embattled low as she were a twain,slain her fingers' baste pulses below a thousand ways to scorn her teeth learn'd,to mend,her perverse crucifix in unkindled flirt; He browbeat her with intendment like a sorcerer,to rig her censure,will never wayward rise,still non-availing;so,he will now treats her still,a restless ocean,illumined with his awe:whose colours of beams,tessellated upon his sternless face affix'd,as if from thence,nagg'd no more,with the lusty but lutarious sparkle of her borrowed plummes,Her moult not shone like moonlight in the light and in the night,"am i a guilt,stained by debris?"quoth she"the tickling of tintinabulation,tickles biblio-glots and devise they,a pathfinder,to which they succumb and pestle with their mortal.Serenity Is the bandwith.what ecstasy moulds it?if not tranquility,what thirst for punditry,oh goddess of tranquility,enrobe me,my exigous frame,with thy savour,that i mayest,glorify my yoruba kiths and afrocentric heritage...?, 08/22/2017 4:15am And so,what prime motivation consumed thee for midnight oil burning to alight". "O thou didst nag me again.to hobnob with tranquility that murder'd sleep,takes a long writ,strictured with pass,an unflinching trod that gravitate towards dreamland.To alight at the impending,you've got to accelerate scholarship." pure lips sheathed hid upon her upper lip and bargain of wits,censured immodest cheeks,to barrow brownstudy,with the steepest steel.With rattled chin as sheathed swords and retired spears,hid their cavernous noises,was greeted with the reticent encroach of the impending night,marching down from her face,streaming serenity from a broken shell,rumbled at her numb of famished scarification and mutinous plow.In the cool encroaching sunset,the drizzling scald,resonated across the living room,darkening the crenelated intendments,for a moorish spite,fallen brow tardily rekindled engross.Sometimes,the rankled palms pulsating on the pulses of Dotun's memoirs,with witly garrison muffling her turbocharged highly resillient stallion.She lays in her archipelago of stolid and sombre,traduced with guilless bulletholes,muleteer'd,in the pacification of her conscience asterisks,with one side of her askanced craft,plunges deep with all her munniments into the atlantic of sedate mystify,to mimic Dotun's brownstudious prestidigitation.Barely did her scrumptious and rapturous curvature,miss the long drop of pensive sentry,not presumptious of erstwhile but trademark nagging imprimatur,a valley stood betwixt them.Stonefaced and crumbling ogre cliffs in beleaguered unison.Her frame still rest on the floor,sofly illuminated by fading light,cautiously gathering steam,her demeanour now beating into shape as she felt Dotun's brimstoned scolding grenade,basted her hilt.This protracted escapades,pilloried under the pinions of moulting frigates and bent was she peradventurely to burn mimicry not of her own resolve.He sometimes gelds his sentinel on her qui vive,uninterupted wind,not coagulated,tilting through her equanimity,ransacking through the shelf to incorporate Dotun's Watts and frequencies.The rising breeze,ricocheting through the windowpane,thatched her resolve,though the stars had become to grow dim,where vertigo and dizziness summon better part of a mimetic art,kindled so tardily on a tesselated squares,to which she returned,And thus paces away from the twain,she whined with one giant paw,scrubbed pintly at the glass,and dizziness retook girth.She burrowing disinclined,hurled the book aside the dimpled porcelain,jerked her grit away,to twist and dramatise her swinnish blurry and swiveling swiz.Hence,sallowed blood of a biblioklept erratically dozes." goodnight,good...goo.."as she scrambled to blot dizziness from the blue sky.What a waxing mortal pounding saliently,she cautiously lust after,unscrupulous to mimic,for where empathy lays,solitude is barely a pluck afar off." Sweet boy"quoth she "this night shall i burn?" "waow,"sarcastic grinned,guffawed he"what a sudden pace,still thou sleepeth!" She will not by homage pays him... 08/22/2017 10:34am esteem,brittled in thraldom of pally but sheepish engross.Shard queen of bristly pikes,skippered with dappled swords and sheathed spears,wherein stalk of brawny helmet,contend'st.Heypresto,he snipes and began to tease his betrothed sheila and outruns her undulated guffaw,snuggling her frame at his feet,to stir awake and cranks her dizzying ribs.Chaste sometimes,drills like a clown,to flag the well upholstered upcountry collegiate,from unprincipled crucifix of its fastest falconer and fleetfooted dear.Beneath the valley stoop their ramschackled home,exiguous in comparison to the adjoining ostentatious abodes. From the Allegheny mountains to the Missisipi River,the sunrise vamooset for the sunset,with its valedictory booring,yanking momentum,a vainglory for the sunken day.The sunbeam colours darkened the living room,clogged the eyes,shrinking eyes fallen asleep.An ambience that spurred his heavy feet movement to jab her voluptuous bank,from dense snoring once again into girt,slipping emery from his feet's..... center of gravity,from which he sensed signal and notation by heart,to conjecture the encroachment of dizziness,rampaged by tickling of overbearing snoring."Oh,what a fiddlefaddle! rest time so soon."as she barely fell off the stanchion. He felt the prop of her head,slipping off its rendezvous and flung her arms into shape and her body,dramatically placed gently on the sprawling sofa."really serious"as dark goggled his scrambling feet and alighted back to the floor to rekindle his bushel.The roaring waves of the furlong rain,now smashing the roof,with its giddying light and rattled noises,had marched down the hills,blew its dudgeon across the vale,in hurricane zigzags.The dark patches of the sunset,he could lusciously feel.With hurricane cluttering sound of the raving waves,swarming the window,her ribs greedily dozed off and galloping with gallant snoring baritone unease.His fleet footed pace,struting timely at the window,was ample resort,to avert the firing grenades of the waxing waves and creeping mirth, wearing its masculine swagger,minacious pounding of immanent torrential flood of rainwater,overwhelming the ricketing window,as nocturnal plow,eloped with its fugacious passage.The dizzying town,went to town and osmosis went to town with it.The bludgeon reticulated its ado and morning breeze,rose from the greenwood,rattling the living room cottons.She woke up,to this scented air and so soon,was she briefed of the impending harvest and routine transacted,reverted back to rest.The midnight oil and now golden morn oil burner,stayed wide awake,the starry night,his retreat from the alcove,barely employ eminence,still junketing his wraith with bazaar of books and archived journals.The love sick duo,hailed from the neighbouring towns of the adjoining hills.Thunderstorms emote from the furlong hills and she dozed off wherein optimistic retreat was dimmed by enveloped pall of his embroiled vertigo. 09/01/2017 10:08am Bludgeon To Be Contd. CRICKET VOICE OF ATHEISM : CHAPTER ONE His mind was made up. He was fond of wisdom and could read anything at the slightest ease of excitement and provocation,even text on tattered sheets of paper,on the road and the strength of his legs,melted at the stumbling upon books,to the point of reckless reading inside toilet.He had thought of reading the day out on Monday,but it skipped his mind,and was consumed by writing all day long.The next day,the urge to write,a truculent savage of writer's block and heypresto,he could find a means to annex and avert its momentum." Oh,read,read and read everything until vommit blood,belch or bleed"he muffled.Then he took up his monstrous facade of books,one by right hand and other by the left and headed,with his rumbling,ready to belch after a sumptious meal,headed to the toilet,to arrest his monotonous mood and monomaniac reflexes of a mental blockage.Lost in the mental stupor,he read nonplussed about 40chapters of his book on Business Law,that he inherited from his father's shelf,within two hours of asphyxiating mastication of raw texts,what a fleetfooted readership and scholarship!His rumbling stomach vamoosed and pronto,stepped out,heaving a sigh of relief,having adjusted his motleyed dresses,to himself.The day was chilly and so,he headed towards the neighbour's door.He was impressed by the bustling street and after a twenty minutes of luxurious promenade,that followed,he stumbled on tattered sheets,flung on the street by a middle aged woman,a groundnut hawker,hawking away his likelihood.Therefore,hellbent to pick them up and did have a glance and lo,it was a Jehovah Witness booklet,popularly known as 'Awake'that lay fallow,with its meteoric contents and he reads:'Is there a God?','Where do we originate from?''Do you bellieve in God?'These esoteric words,like crossword puzzles,lying dead,now with glowing fire,in his hand,petrified his Africanness and pulverised his wobbling feet as they stumped him but stimulated him.Segun's headspin was intense,a reminiscence of same esoteric books,in And thus,as he boycotted his direction and bade to return home,it was like a ballyhoo and indeed,a boloney of ballyhoos,when the groundnut hawker returned,and she went ballistic with baleful intent and held tight,his back pocket."Give Me my papers back,you thief!"still locked his back pocket as they bandied words,flung in their ballistics,baned in ballyhoos of open ridicule and he was on the receiving end."Are you deaf and dumb?Can't u speak?Get Me,my papers,am the owner! give me!"her barbaric metal took a new tide as two or three men and passers gathered round them." What is it mama?you want to tear his cloth?'he barked at her"Who are you?Are you his brother,the brother of a thief?"barking"no, madam,am only trying to mediate.let there be peace o !"And the second mediator thus began" Young Man,is it true?what did you steal ?You dont even speak,are you satisfied with this public ridicule?what is it talk are you dumb?" "no sir,am not dumb"he cooled the raging fire,bareback and barefaced,"so what is it?are you a thief?tell us!"By this time,hewas over a barrel with the barney and vitriolic barge,barmily danced at him,stiffened his neck."first ofall ,leave me my cloth,you idiot"he rattled twice with his tongue,not batting an eyelids,"you thief,you bastard,i will not"as she raved anew and second mediator,anold man,struggled to separate them."please madam,drop it dont tear his cloth."having batted him,the old bat,was pacified though with batted breath,to accede to their request."hello sir,i did not know this woman from adam and she just came from nowwhere,accusing me of theft.what a slip of tongue!" "which slip of tongue"she raged again"are you the owner of my groundnut papers,which i used to hawk.i boughtthem from malam.""but i saw them lying scattered on the ground and i picked them and arrange them.how come,you embarass.....""embarass what. i owned them but i mistakenly dropped and i wanted to sell only to discover,they were not with me.so,how do i hawk""am sorry madam,he didnt know oh boy,please give it back 09/04/2017 1:01am please give it back."The raging spot,a specious cluster,after an hour was jampacked with hordes of triggerhappy miscreants,street urchins,mischievious fellows and blackmailers,with guffawed gusto and sarcastic grin,save the mediators"give it to her now"one mocked with ridicule,who stood behind mediators,as five other jesters,chorused similar lyrics and clapping inunison of public ridicule,though the funny event was mired ina culdesac.When it was time togive it back to her,Segun,thewhipping boy,in his usual contumelious characteristics wasrepugnantto their wishes havingbeing in another salvo fired whimsical,to their stance."i will not giveher."And likea whirlpool bath,shewas begun with rage again,whirling and whinging."give me my hawking papers"as she try tobreakthe mediating bulwark betweenher and her enemy."why wouldn't you give her belongings?Are you content with disgrace?"the old man retorted as ragamuffins struggled with the bulwark to beat him"we will beat you thief,you idiot"butthe old man pacified them "You guys cool down please,let us settle the matter amicably"turning back to him"sir,for her to call me a thief,did me the highest disservice,to my intergrity. I think her wares was not worth more than3,000naira?""what are you driving at?"the old man replied"ah ah useless man,papa,maybe,he wanted to pay me.Not three,my market daily is five thousand naira except for supplies to malams and otherresellers on wekend.""so,you Want to pay her off,""yes!"checking his levi's,with tattered but now well arranged booklet in his right hand,as he a southpaw,ransacked hisfront pocket for fund to rescue evasive intergrity and lo,heypresto,the crescendo and cadence of vociferous jesters and ridiculous chants,capsized.Instantaneously,the first mediator shifted his tardier but pulverised feet,behind the once raging hawker,the old man stood mouth agape and the whole caboodle of jesters,ridiculed in return and left gradually"just because of this little but free booklet,by jehovah witness? incredible that is unafrican."old man still stupefied on the specious spot as he handed 4,500 over to her,who whimmed with relief and whisked with repressed joy,for the jackpot of bittersweet,bad-turned-good samaritan.Two Jesters who departed last,were curious about its content."oh,boy what do you think is in that book?" "go to him,let him tell you. Were you in anyway related?""so,what is your problem with a foolish man concern,a messy story of a madman picking book on the road.that is madness!"he remarked bitterly as they moved hundred paces away" haba,you hate him too much butmade up later""which made up,it wasshame that made him to react positively,trying hard to regain streetintergrity"pacing away from the long culdesac,to a vanishing point."We Africans,we barely read let alone.they say put it in a book,blackman barely read it and here you are,trying your own little quota,to clean the augean stable"only the old man thatwas left with him,after departure of the hawker and first mediator respectively."Now what could have fascinated you to that? And you are also boyant,ready to spend not only to buy intergrity,if possible,but go to any length to seek knowledge,even at the point of ridicule.that's fantastic"ecstatic in his voice"sir,but why is it that only you out of the swarmy locust and sea head of jesters,understand me?"inquisitive,though he appreciated the good gesture" Anyway,am a lecturer in a private university,babcock,where I teach philosophy and my little child of 12,loved to read as well.Although he could pick up,some of my old papers in the bedroom dust bins or waste bucket,dust them,read them and later write similar things,emulating my poetry skills,but not to the extent,on the street!"readjusting his feet,now laughing hysterically."i wanted to readphilosophy before i opted for law.niceto meat you sir,i lived in the next street.""but what is your profession""am a realtor.sir,can i collect your contact?A sister of mine is trying to study law.Who knows,you could help me out""09036790644.call me,am in a hurry.okay?"jumping into the nextdanfo. 09/08/2017 6:17am At 4pm,Segun,forgetful of where,he was formerly headed at the close end where his friend lived,before the unfortunate incident,took him unaware,reluctantly returned back home with tattered booklet,in his face,and his face twisted painfully at the booklet when he thought right there,infront of his gate that this might be last time,when they would ever embarassed him again.He went straight into the summerhouse of his large garden. There,he sat down and read four to five pages,and created havoc once again.As he glanced at himself pitifully,across his peach coloured quilt and blankets,the thought of his library shelf preoccupied his mind,which rattled across his startled looks and the five most voluminous books,he had acquired way back,at a local newstand,written by atheists on Atheism,drove his fancy.And heypresto,he stood up,from behind,climbed upstaircase and headed to the library.Though,he was able to find them,but dusted them before use and settle to read.And if he had been sunk,in this imagination,wander ing,cluttering his feet,she would have spent the whole day wandering inthe garden,like a wanderlust and the whole day,gossiping away,at his friend's place,for nothing,like boisterous female gossipers.But he had tremendous fun in the garden,which within an hours of booklet meditation,drove his high pitch clamour to cloud nine.The garden was full of spices,roses,flowerbeds,fruit trees and misclellaneous fruit plants and variegated patchwork of bushes,laced with nature's moderate spine of intermittent breezes,that ricocheted his passionate rib.With this ambience,what a beautiful garden,clamouring for attention,that often drained his energy.Nevertheless,the gracious lawns,with enterprising elegance and the occassional voices of glamous plants and animals,singing as the day,dawns or dusk approaches,it offers he a grandiose scenery,with which to prey and play his eyes upon.The topic atheism,occupied his mind intensely,had prickled his spirit,since the last embarrasment and its assymetric emotion.Being an African is a topic that was often criticised and touted by blacks as no go area andwith any adamantine,you could betouted as the great antichrist.He had made up his to finally,read up,these esoteric books,that he hadfive years ago,acquired from newstand and local bookstores.As a voracious reader,he was ready to be informed,and to avert procrastination,his thief and theft of dreams,which had ravaged him,long ago.Now,breaking his boundary to read,that his eyes could not stumble.However,he loitered his sloven feet,but calculated towards the alcove,a commodious cavity between the library and his living bedroom.It was like a research lab,where disturbances,maketh an allien entry.Clutching the tattered booklet,in his hand,he went straight to philosophy section of the shelf,to search for more resource items,including the ebooks,audiotapes and video materials on the tempestuous subject,then he sat down,at his alcove to read,the books,he had acquired on leaving college,being the focal point of the antichrist study.As planned,he an area that was often touted as no go area.And so,he was determined to conquer his fear,battle procrastination,the thief and theft of his dreams,to be learned,once and for all and go through the books he had acquired,five years ago at the newstandand local bookstores,onleaving the college.As a voracious reader,had thrown muchweight behind the subject,withoutgood perusal of the dangerous cocktails of its intellectual toxins,that his eyes and feet,could notstumble,headed to the philosophysection of his shelf to search for more resourceful items,with an intention,to head to the alcove,a commodious cavity,which stood between the library and his living bedroom.It was a like a research lab,which maketh disturbances,an allien entry.He loitered his dirty feet,clutching the tattered booklet,in one hand,added downloaded ebooks,audio tapes and videos,on the most maligned topic,by an African.And then,he sat down at the alcove,to read the voluminous books,with window several paces away,blowing breeze,to further titivat 09/09/2017 8:46am Segun finally taming a lion's heart and getting over age long biblical sentimental thraldom of eternal damnation and such notion was no longer deemed satanic and his instincts right on the seat,that it was the right thing to do,as he flung open the first Book after reading from the tattered booklet also opened beneath the books." Does God exist?"he reads again and now intoxicated in the esoteric chasm of fabricated mortal history es himself.Segun finally taming a lion's heart and getting over age long biblical sentimental thraldom of eternal damnation and such notion was no longerdeemed satanic and his instincts right on the seat,that it was the right thing to do,as he flung open the first Book after reading from the tattered booklet alsoopened beneath the books."Does God exist?"he readsagain and now intoxicated in the esoteric chasm of fabricatedmortal history.As he flung,the wordscorresponded in the opening chapter,"Where does the world originate from?Is it from God?or Does God truly exist?" Segun began to get absorbed and felt that magical impuls,went into readership and internship,which last till night poached him,to sleep in the alcove and woke up early morning to resume engross"Oh my goodness"he moaned,yawned and cleared his gauchy eyes.He did normal body sanitation routines such as bathing,brushing and dressing up for a Sunday Service,but suddenly upturned his decision,changed his cloth and returned back to study. Book;CRICKET VOICE OF ATHEISM.end of Chapter 1-Curiousity-22pages. The Second Chapter-Eye Opener 09/14/2017 3:09pm Chapter 2- EYE OPENER At half past eleven,by juggling with research work and conscientiously making sure,there was ample motivation to tarry with the work into the evening,segun thus began to ransack through the video pack to unbundle them possibly for a virgil night. He narrowed them to two videos and swung them into playing mode,to aid more ecstasy into the research. And then he saw two guys in the first video and they began to debate this hydra headed wmonster. 10/06/2017 7:21am The cricket Voice of Atheism to be contd. 10/09/2017 12:45am BURROWING FIELDS.Burrowing fields gone grey,inthe summer and flaccid in the springand the autumn.And all the colours of rainbow,gone for a burton.Golden fleece was sunbaked and then frozen as despicable sundries,from all and asundry.Pebbles of flamboyant nosy parkers,a sunless sunken floodgate of the atavistic age of the pecadilloes and achilles heel.How come neuter to burrow,tarnishes its modcon,in a ray of sunshine,yet zeutergeist wimbles and tumbles as burrow fields gone extinct!There are choking birds,left in the jungle,and miserabilists dislodged shallowed midgets,jetsams and gallows'manikins from megalomaniac tingles of the earth troves.They dance to the melifluous cymbals of filthy lucre and its zurich gnomes,lumberjack jingoists of immanent luddittes,lushed to the guillotines of infecundities and miserly,and they and their metropolitans,rant like them.No one rest its laurels like the laureate trimmed loonies and as they laddle,still yet,it meeds,as litteratis'fallen heelflakes to rap,on the knuckles, the labyringth-a jenesais quoi.To supervene the tall story,with tall order,inveigle thine art to scold those inveiglers and behold this mote,this carapace of arboreal eyesore and the persnickety of inured inventiveness of inverse proportion,sallowed at the intransigence of the interspersed assymetry.They foul to innoculate the assymetry,the insidious,insensate,insalubrious and incognito commodes impairment.Forsooth,the percipients concur,times and seasons are frozen,betrays him that keeps silent and tardy at the smother of inventiveness by rising philistinic heaps 10/16/2017 2:33am PRODIGAL SON.From oft a blacamoored vale of ill stared whose ill will at ease prodigiously ill omen-ed pokes ill tempered that it be not a metropolitan,pooh-ponhed from pollard pollination of pollard.A poleaxe of a psychotic bile from a neaveau riche.Apparition within me appaled,to pestle within mortal at hushed pestilential pervasive viola. 10/16/2017 4:16am And pronto,downward spiral,I mood,belching the ill-fated horror tales.Ere mound encroached,a fickle;as if like hoisted petard of the fickle Peter to rob a fickle Paul.Orbiting of horror suspense filled,psychedelic and protracted protem's unpruned neurosis,an Omelet of eggs-in-reprisal,plaintive pounces his world,with grouching rains and windy sighs. Upon his poppycocked, pop-eyed,but hoodwinked heels,portentous,a motleyed pall of pawky humour,being pawed his hazy feet,from the boggy patina.Whereon the castrated gaits,assaulted by wobbling pedantics,might peddle.Sometime,it peculated,the pecker up of pejorative pendulum and pendulous:Time itself by time's penn'orth pennilless,since crevice begin.Nor perdiem,frittered revisited,but a spite of peregrinatory perdition's rage.Some clowns pertinacious still plumpi'd through lintels of relinquished abode.Oft did he wedge his popcorned poppycock to him blanketed,Which on it had superficial surface,but a peskied mole,laced with populous porkies,picaresquely pettifogging tis kleptocractic rainment bespoke to the hilt,whereon his pickings breaking the pickety fence,that picador'ed pickled on inglorious rides,had piggyback axed.And invariably,legibility not contents to bear.And oft piffle,to shriek not with the piece de resistance of a windy presumptious boor,in clamour of moult but moult submerged,doth like....... the zurich's gnomes ,the beaurgeousie and petite petit beaurgeousie,milking power corridor vommit alike fret. Sometimes,his piebald sky-pie,his ilk's moisture symptomatic,as they did battery to the ethos infered.Sometimes,rode pillock,fringes their piddled feet,barely shrunk,being tied to the stanchion;Sometimes,pinched to pint avalanche,their phantom headlong;saddle prowl gazes bauble,to everytrod,theyturn like the rodents,banditry of the commonwealth,barracks and wilderness moulted,and nowhere pilloried.Theirneurosis and sickos,so distressinglynot decommisioned,with its wrong tree bark,worsethan its bite.His pinion,nor noose nor nor loop,not umbilical corded in its jinxy foment,enumerat'd with equivocal enticement of his equiestrian enthuse.For some espied,descend'd his gaunt filligre and old greybeard,a contro-bathos-barmied raconteur,expostulat'd ipsofacto,pendulous his ersatz explicate,barely expunged extemporaneously and expostfacto,blown gongs enveloped rattling and startled engross of the jungle folks.Some in their cheeks wither,gooned him for amplitude expose,belched to avert last extremity,that might befall his lower and upper extremities,still his extrovert self,did not bid him to extricate.And true to crimsoned custom,serfdom would not him moult dire,thence though eyewashly eyeful hanging on sternly by his pertinacious eyelids.A million eyesores from an eyeshot his autocratic eyesight drew,Of crystal eyeball gazes agape,of crystal eyeball to eyeball confrontation and of facetious facade,Which one by one,old greybeard's blue eyed boy,now old faggot,in a facile threw,Upon fluxiality of the weeping morn for fag of moult purport,he was not hellbent,like taskmaster wielding bigsticks 'gainst the slaves.Or warder's jail that ceases bliss downpour,where wishes yell and fret in vain,but still strangled facesaver for freedom far away.Of his farcical faragos,had he in aplomb,diverse and obverse,distinctive his breed reckons,Which he fiddl'd,firebomb'd,fissil'd and fission'd,to unleash his munition, Many a fatcat,policticking amplified,dipping hands obscen'd in patrimony of the public toils and siphon'd muddy pie Fell on the flat,rubberstamped,sewn in intricate sepulchres;found yet more space to revert mole back to penury,with twinged flaps nosedived and ebbed,envenomed by assymetry of polity power hoodlums. Prodigal Son To Be Contd. IT WAS A PEACH AND HER WAIST. It was a peach and her intoxicating waist,with a orotund hey,me spoit?no,no,no but yes perforce,prudish and lo,it was like on the barbarians'highway,she still evanesced with the ever rushing mammoth crowd,on Sunday of Lagos midday tepid heat.Oh,it was like a flash,will i ever see her again. That o'er this darkish hazy moor and nebulous field,of hustle and bustle,she did vamoose. In the midday banter,a light,alabaster-skinned,pretty dew of heaven,breezes-by.When barbarians do gossip at the rancorous plenary medley of the newstand,hey bantering,blah,blah,blah,blah.And sweet above compare when my chin i raise,did my jaw dropped,for the angelic maid.Sweet damsel than i ever before seen,surfaced like bolt from the blue,and lo,at the quarrantined banter of Daddy Canada,engrossing evanesced forever.Betwixt the hours of the banter,cramped with trips expose to Canada,With a trembling presence,and ho,a trembling sinew,this pretty amazon,would my hearts,fret lie.In the visage oil painting, quavering bone,that fond'st day beheld his acclaimed sole dew,from heaven's above.Did I woo her?Oh a loungelizard,my feet emboldened.When barbarians do banter at the newstand,the pristine parliament of the grassroot,indoctrinated with craps and crafts,hey blah,blah,blah,blah, sweet love above compare,never acquinted with passes-by,O sweet love beyond compare!O sweet love beyond compare!This torture o my tendon like a pregnant woman,quivering with mottled feet,raptured by agoraphobia,that quakes even my breath,at that hour of moral rape,blanketed by intoxicating waist.And thence,be reticent and relaxed,with this lover's bug,if thou cant pull a maddening stunts,when it strikes, With a tremor planking thy introspective within and tremor eviscerating,might be easily caught off guard,for love is the anchor and crown of a mortal soul,how so hellish,to heartbroken.In the canvas footdragging and hocospocussing of monkeys and bamboos'hoipolloi,my soul pretty dew from heavens,that day,when barbarians do banter,at the Igando Newstand and hey blah,blah,blah,blah. Sweet love above compare,thereafter evanesces into thin air.Will Someday the elope into thin air find?Oh not my mystery peach,not in the graveyard,whereon sapiens nebulous thrown.Will i my elope resurfaced,to quench my qualms?Oh,will my elope resurfaced,with that same bluish velvet rainment,adorned in company of her comtempory,strolling the promenade,perhaps into eternity? Time Ticks On. MISERABILISTS.'Miserabilists'and neither identity nor stunts pulled,Supplication,entreaties galore or suffocation upon entomb the damp squib; Nought but that fritter assigned to the providence,that solitary confinement not equited at its burning cauldron,to distinct ados, from all asundry and cast aspersion cloud for him who lay sombre with indolence beneath.Most wretched folks,who chose his fate?And he himself by himself,sedulously alone,could thus have agitated to dare make a difference And carve a niche from the cloud of living dead and cotteries of the airful sown, Nor stigma that he scared unto himself dismembered from despondent shores,betrothed womb,toward dreamland.That every trod might a smashhit downfall,with the farthest aplomb,trampling your obscurity. Bird of passage,strange to the earth shores,pass softly this vileness of transition to salvage the contrite golden sojourn well lived. 10/16/2017 11:52pm B.]PRODIGAL SON.These vilous flicks,flexed in the public till,cynosured with mammoth roving eyes,And oft salivate,clings opprobriously flung in horror,floppied'O dementia' thou flippancy still shirk to moult,What foggi'd fodders dost thou exemplify!Incognito would have painted thy portrait,much more damned here!'This voice like a foghorn,not fly by night,in top rage vents he the old grey,Malcontent footle,so breaking Omelet in reverse,footles footle away.An irreverend night that footlights footloose impugned reverend gospel,What fucking hell o blusterer! that the footloose knew,of footstray a psychotic furlough with fume and fret,hurled in full toss,of gauzy fusillade and had by its slice of genitive verb and genius loci let go enmasse surefootedness and gentlemanliness.The quirkiest groundbait to lure,guised as they begrudged,towards the afflicted jetsams'simpletons gullibly threw.And thus gunged by guffaw,gustatory gusts them to gusto,frightfuly,frigging them with a gyp like gyves to the gaol's flagellants ,gyrating with their halfbaked gymnastics,on the gyp's spot,whereon living dead jonesses yell adinfinitum and posthumously.So slides he,his hangman's noose,revert to same groundbait,he had set with his harumscarum folks.And grandly distant,whisked nights its princely karma,on his dining table,by his side,a rehash of old hark back,old recompense.When he again desires to be freed,incarceration thus anew began,And Karma being sat by his jade,by his sate and by his side,his grievances,old frankeisteins knew no bound,If then harvest moon like harvest star,at harvest home like harvest noon,feedest greedily,there might be no escapees,this hellish folks,Which may by karma,suffocation and asphyxiation ecstasy barely assuaged,tis eponymous villains pay in full throttle,this nemesis of harrowing headwind.O harrowing headwind bizare,thy nemesis thy shoal,basketful!"Old greybeard",genuflect he "Nought,me smears hewn,behold the heartbreaks of manifold seasons unruffled,let it not wrath,pang my footsore,wherein so now hath multiplied,upon my leprousy,i might as yet redress gusto,fresh to my judgement pluck,not appall'd,if i had one more verdict trial,redress jinxy to myself,not forsaken' 'But vain is me too late redress,a senile gall,it was to heartaches,a voluminous grief,Of one by gander,naturewit's cumudgeon,so vitiated,those fiendish dickens and stolid stook,creviced his cycloned feet;addiction lack'd modesty and hardly no plea ever made to moult; And when its gangrene potion did he unleash,he was damned and damocled.'His cupid gander,did maidens'hearts curl;And very daft and damnable,lightnings'the wind.At his dabble and dawdle,decibel now sunken,as his deportment now spiral,What's vile to hanker,aptly will he find:Each ravenous eye did not brawn to descalate,for on his defacto defecate,his mien was not at all,struck in little quandary.What deodorant festoons,in dereliction of duty,was dung of derring do-ed?'Mammoth flicks of ignominy was yet upon his grit:His barbaric phoenix himself stupefied he to stuporous neurosis,... like unsticky detritius,cleft on that rocky but rudderless mound,whose bare sandy savannah,outwitted detrop the detonate,it deuced to pay.Yet,diddl'd his diet by that demagoguery,an exorbitant imbroglio;And lurid infections,dilating,diced away troves,in ding dong battle loss.If dime were as it were,or best a dozen worth,would it not have mattered?His sternness were brute as his vile,for a pedestal pedagogued,he desecrat'd and thereof detest'd homily;yet if villains moved a mountain,was he such a hell?And oft'twixt dipsomaniac and bawdy prune is to prude and binge like binge,When storms billow dire,gunging though they be.His insolence,so froth,with him crescendo-ed passion,did Jene saiquies,vicious in a wedge of discountenance.Well,could he still fathom now highland fret at dunghill and oft jockey to disoblige civvies.That rubbicon,his pass exit from the rudder takes, Beauteous sate of surfeit,dickens by countenance,What orotund,what rigmarole,what chicanery,append what halt he sickens!And controversy,then.... he sickens!' And controversy,interogate him at the exorcistic,punitive and esoteric feet of the old greybeard,When his trojan horse,manifestly by his heels ,tergiversately his harply afford,or he being his nissus,tense essay,by the binge,they steed. But nimbly,ramrod on this fasten,the specious jailed,His dizzieland jazzy masonry,was dipsomaniac,wine and dine,To purtenances,melifluous cymbals and dances danced,hoodwink'd in himself,now in thiscontext sloshed;All remorse themselves made villainious,by their offence,Not fermented at dizzying,not to say a dicky bird to trim dimness pall for moult,pierced not his tendon,but tis the dunghill metaphor,he cringes.Oh what my speckle at dunghill metaphor and dunghill,now say a dicky bird!'So,on the heel,on diddl'd tongue and aspersion feet,And deeds of derring do,interogates he,the existentialist old greybeard,And all explicates sombre,casuistryand its immanent,snowball'd betternoire impugned,for his boon,stilldidnot him avail him,from the torrents of the weepping dusk,the hysterical laughter as guffaw deeply pinges than footsore at footloose,He had the diatribes,the tirade and doctrinaire docile.Hardly submerging his double dutch,dolorous self to wriggle out he,at his hounded homily,tis dunghill metaphor'd, his recalcitrant craft.Now,too jumbo,to vouchsafe,genuflect he for a second chance,afrosty before the wisest man in babylon.'Thathe did a rodeo,in the bossom gadabout,of his ilks'impenitent folks,Of gaggl'd hegemony,of ransom'd menjack andmacabr'd public king's ransom,of degenerat'd clime,in their rash momentof rapacious ogres andomnibus declivity-a rapin'd rancid rampart,bereft of remedy.To deify the st.blues queer street,with its rancourous,delusion,or make it an ideal praxis of realpolitik,In deluxe,dichotomis'd this clime,in yonder ramshackle,sequel to wherein with his folks,he restrain'd,Dejavus bewitch'd,ere he crave,have genuflected.And denouement for him,what he would not deny,fasten'd tothe wall and density,his karma obey.'Diverse a host that did this torture unscathe, to denigrate their existence and in it pent up iretheir demoniacal cruelty;like featherweights that in by teleology befuddl'd be,the derelict'dly desolates,which confines,in their rapierthrust,they find pleasing to torment or rankle. Of minacious strangleholds and tarnishes,theirs in annals desirous and pendulous but unimpinged,And by detour,detonating in hankypankies,to ambush them.That they themselves,effeminate gaunts, Marx Which concurr'd,doth owe them writ to struggle;would they ever take take up this gauntlet?'So vile a Summer,so vile an Autumn,so vile a Winter and so vile a Spring that never immutably lost.More than sweetly dire compare of his diaphanous bitch,his billows'self-a self punitive attrition,like his ilks,that did no him no incognito no free.And was my own dilatory dillemma,not in dispute,What an art,an ass,his youthful gustos appalled,as dolorous verve distends what folly in ass threw, that infection dilligent in his dunghill metaphors,resurrected to afflict his intemperate and discourteous guille,at the smother of the ashheaps,to which he now returns.'Yet,did they enthuse differently,as some contemporaries fret,Desirous of him,a second chance,somehow second fiddle,nor being moult pendulous awakened; vommitting him..... in reverse,not so forbidden,should he strikes again;With the atrocious acts,i in mine honours,so much bristl'd in implore now to counterpoise.'Empiricism'for methinks,i doff my hat,a manifold tutor of pedagoguery.Of dispassionate disintergrate,which so embedd'd in bone marrow,foil cannot gash,of these rolling tonnes,that gather no moss.'But ah dive bombs,who ever distraint and distrait by its allurring explicate,The precedent of pith and livelihood,ill-admonished he to keep?or impulse exemplifications,'twixt distort himself grand assay,To dock the counsels out of perils?wiseacres may halt a while,what will not endear;for when we moult,a soul is oft a pendulous karma insulat'd.By blanding himselftomake writs much more purile-doggone.'Nor mend,its quicksilverheelsfallen haggard beneath,thattheymust precaution others to err,To forestall neoplasm,poisoned chalice and hence its neologism exhume anew,for dread of karma,that peaches and pleaches punitive garb'gainst his heels.O karma from time immemorial,spareth no rod.The bald pate that hath soiled its noble hands with bathos-swamps,will its bash by bash,be bash-full;for the fine kettle of fish,wherein mutation is plowed and ridiculed,would not cease to yell its damocles.O thingummy,first as thermal spring salvo,fired its lethal keepsake,to pounce on kerfuffles of the harrumscarum folks,peradventure a retreat to memoirs,to gash,nefarious stunts and ados.If not moult,thereafter triggers hell at full blast.' 10/17/2017 8:06am 'For appologia,i could forment that adamantine next of kin,knew no karma by its Newtonian impulses and foul of its beguiling sport;nincompoop where well nigh a nihilist of his grovelling plant nutpicking grew,bud-nipped and tucked,how karma was geld'd in his,Wallop'd nobblesse obliges,were ever keen to defile him;Demagoguery and tirades are nothing but mere farce,And prodigals of nomadic but nondescript helmsmen,banished by power voodoos,from jetsam civvies,at nodding acquintance,hellish winces grovell'd.'And long upon this nugatory of noveau riche,I held my bait,till thus he gan karma he:'nuclear mischief,have of their suffocation dire,some empathy numerous diobliged,And be not of his indifferential piety,vows to sympathise,with compassionate gong,That's to yell and shriek was nothing but a crocodile tears of fairweather friends;for festoons of the punitive garb,have been ordain'd unto basketful,till karma pays did he neither deescalate nor controvert himself. 'All my defenses thoseprotruberances,they mound and haunt,Are musculaturesof time,noneof them my chaste blinkers,obsessionmade him fret:with allure in his bone be,where neither chains nor candid obverse known,these folks emboldened to cavil and not exonerate the beneath that so their shame be covert;And not much of them intergrity knew,By this vile,city squares in haphazard quandary struck and bulging bracket'd much of it volley'd in smithereens."Among the annals unarchived,mine visage fiend,in whose obstructionist flame,maketh the heart so much a nausea to bleed,Or infection from itsybitsy flexes tis appogee or of any gestures whatsoever ever invidious soil'd with dirt;Mole feedeth its fibre on he,but ne'er was apris'd,kept unholly knots,in meanness and savagery,but mine own prodigal son was pattering,And being patter'd not bred for pathos,fluxing hood in his derisive despotism."Gander,now what patrimonies,bequeathed homages to dunghill folks'gusto brew,of paled petals and rusted nickels as goofs,though.. pegged away,deemed pejorative,fracturing mores that they,with their libido,likewise denied them,of gallantry and gape open,curatively denied,in encrimsoned buffet,and fever pitch-ed galvanic strides daisied by nepotism and ethnocentrism,cycloned 10/17/2017 1:50pm in daisy and daggers drawn,but damndest dallying philistinic heaps as it were,when the flag was bunted."They dare not presumptious,that these folks,the dickens of dastardly act,frippery fringes,with the hoohas of the higglepiggledied frisks,stirring up a hornet's nest.Have we not been all derelicts of this horse and buggy menjack on horseback,Their dead horseflogging,horror stricken,hopped up,in their chambers of in daisy and daggers drawn,but damndest dallying philistinic heaps as it were,when the flag was bunted."They dare not presumptious,that these folks,the dickens of dastardly act,frippery fringes,with the hoohas of the higglepiggledied frisks,stirring up a hornet's nest.Have we not been all derelicts of this horse and buggy menjack on horseback,Their dead horseflogging,horror,w!j stricken,hopped up,in their chambers of horrors,wherein hoipolloi by horse de combat,are mornfully beguilled,With the saturation of ambiguous,not heave a sigh that did him amplitude,hot up its hotwaters. 10/17/2017 3:27pm "The horselaugh,why it was impudent and hotpotato,whereto to his inverse proportion did tarry,giving hostages to his fortune,in whose dunghill asunder now haunting greedily,wobbling in sickly dalliance,with nebulous plow,hardly mend hugger mugger:With manifold hullabaloos,each on the indian files, its rubicon well hotseat'd taken or ramrod huffily cast over the hump its hubris vomit."Lo,bliss howsoever,now a howling wilderness of atrophies and infectious civvies,ginned away like the gipsies,from the gilded chambers and gilded palaces of gilded youths,of punitive nights,morose palms and morning crows hotwater'd,Nature hath tend me that i by gospel,be moult emblazoned,But succumb where they themselves art pleased to fathom,that is the kernel of going into a huddle,for this variegated howl,must by libation be,since I their mediator,naturewit enrobed me."O demotion of yours those hums and haws,whose gliddering glides of inverse proportion,now huddled in ghetto,o slum art naturewit pleased to return him.Now Take.. all the stigma to thy own perils and disrepute,hollow'd with hungermarches,that burn ablaze the miasma streets aplomb;what reproof,you mince for your insubordination,unscrupulous bay:and to your ensconce waylays. Their ill-wills grouch in plenitude,pouncing on their heels,their karma never weary grew."Lo,this infelicitous was consigned to Northernwind Civvies,those nomadic tribes that like monkeys still liv'd on the trees,deciduous not just in the summer but all seasons,Of contaminated desolates,of superficial philology;which smother,jetsam's golden fleece,in the boggy swamp of public toil,did revile,whose blandest jackanapes,hatched by power jackpot blew,for he was that breed distanc'd in that aridland by infinitesimal ken but much savagery.But kept its beguiling sport,that did thence smother beneath folks in dunghill,to jagged jester of their precarious horizons'endear'd."But o achilles heel,what legatee,isn't to leave them in desert,the jive,that jogs memory at psephological times and seasons and pledging what not capable.Grasping the nettle,which did none succour to savage folks'neurasthenia and neurotic wobbles?Playing this beguilling sports,scor'd in illimitable gyps?He that by his arms akimbo,lends fast to his newel of nine days wonder,the scalpel of his contrives like his ilks,gapeth beneath folks,yet hors de combat smother'd,And maketh a virulence,sitting gallantly at the glee of metropolitan contempt."O implore thee not,in that thy grit is adamantine;those apoplectic incidence which tarnishes thee to the public eye and public gallery,at this stigma,did karma lay its brute force exude,And now,he would not its cloisterer's wince forestall;pious knot incarcerates hazy eye:not to be nugget for nuissance value would he imbued,and now to nudge,recalcitrance to subside,all nutrients to liberty uncensured procured."How hazy spoor and a hazy spoof,then are you,o when you refrain!The broken song that to me cannot be sung,have indured omnibus spigot from which they spoon and sport,And mine obliterate to hurl upon thy rudderless bank:And I stringently,bymammoth still persist,overyour grit and you over me nastyand excommunicable,must asunder thee in the dunghill retains,as exemplification parade sickos and neurosis of thy ilks."My bowels had dissatisfaction sacred charmed,Which deem'd delirium of stale,likepathetic fallacy i anthropomorphism,wimbled ludicrously in grace,Assault'd its infliction when they by battery of absolutism,begins and pugilist throw;"All intendments and unfair pledges giving pale'Now,on his pattella,intermittently turning the sacred hagiologies"o my most indefatigable penninsula,bond,bid him scrupulous intimate nor eschew,in him,hath penance,done sting nor at full pelt,confine to his ilks,for thou art master of thy fate and all penances,are thine karma pendulous protuberances swung."When thou piffle,what are pie eyed precepts endear,of a pigheaded pigmentation?When thou wilt moult,how cold those munitions,still splurges thee to climb,of decapitat'd throne,of supercillious spoof,kindred of pow,.. 10/18/2017 7:32am of bristled lethargy,armed with infections that capapied city squares with fractious ailment,'twixt carteblanche unsmouldered,'twixt despotism and ethnocentrism,And pleach by pleach,in the turmoil are pangs sown together.O how grasses asphyxiate,when elephants brawl."Now,all these plenitude,kidgloves play,exculpating yet themselves,from the excruciating bleedings,bequeathed to groaning folks,pinning away unmourned;And this inglorious fanatics,a factitious old faggots,facelift factuous,shortsighted and faceless fatcats,thrive as prestige in public assault and battery.To avert this scump of fleabags as mad as a hater,rampaging this flatspin,and haymaking obstructed by haystack 's needle,gone haywire.That uprising uproarious be and undertake revolt like the Bolsheviks Of Old Soviet.'This pounce,this needful heaves,tug at my heartstrings turpedoed and heartsick,whose hebbiejeebies tis heigh hos,then were hellishly ostentatious on gregarious contempt.Each week,a repugnance,ruinning down,masquierading hippies, With hither and thither,hitches hoisted amidst a hobnob and hogwash of hoitytoity hoipolloi,with so much rashness,in their face boomerang!Who being hothouse plants,with dickens froth protuberances of unfair roses,that flagelation through idealism,which their tepidity,barely idolises.'O brethren,what a sigh of relief heaves!In the infinitesimal lobe of one particular tear,But with the illicit grail,of the ignominious jerks and bristles,What rickety palms,to ruse will not muse?what grace so infecund that is not appended here?O bald pate!impecunious hoipolois,fallen inallienably at holocaust.'For lo,his passion is nothing but an art of boloneys,even then repugnant his reason,my reproof,there he be, hellish by mound,to refrain charts and chastity,i rus'd reflexes off my sombre guille and civil gaunt,Serene to me,as his brisky brimful,all intergrity as appurtenances;though our dreg this bland blushing threw,His potion potion'd me and public contempt did thee,but rebuke. 'In him,amplitude of idiosyncratic customs,astringent lays across the burning ghats,wherein was availed and gewgawed and all quirky norms dilate,of his chimera to thrill appogee once again, or of chiaroscuro-ed chicanery or chiselling chockfullness and old greybeard lampoons he,now a bull in a China shop and sated to brawl and his leave,he takes in gutter stupefaction.To chink his loungelizard and gallery dancing,betwixt his contemporaries inveighed or to what barometer,will we him gaug'd?Fond of choking chisellers,'That not their stook,nor pleach,which in their clambake miscarriag'd,could clamber civvies,clamourous much worse than ever,and clanger droopping by unfair roses,illimitably plow,And veiled not the civvies,in vomit,did gyp in persist.To castrate 10/18/2017 10:38am golden fleeces wherein in the land they seek,when he and his ilks,hardly cleave,hid them and live the Civvies out of clover,expunge them from the book of top etchelons,otherwise bliss a cloudcuckooland,with its chimerical cloven hoofs,pure dreary maid to their salvation'.Thus,with his heel,stamping dust away,vacuous and arenacious,vamoosed into thin air,Naked with open shame and clothed with garment of ridicule,how tempestuous,time flies like karma in the sky,which in vile boomerang,every soiled robe repay,who for both young and old,rod not spareth,clownish playing Civvies' coattails,yet in clutterring fashion at apotheosis,smote them with damocles sword'd,why should i keepsake gain and looses again?O that infectious feet of hemlock,o that cold and hellish crevices betwixt civvies and gilded youth and harumscarum folks,hobnob asunder,o that civvies,be no thrown in the sponge too naively,o that countervail, might their countersink be,o that inflicted cowboy might exemplify how punnitive charm,dispose them oth Otherwise,with no introspection,their illwills would yet be perenially a reverse of perverted folks,back to same vomit and Civvies mutate from an endagered species to extinction A HOLLOW GRAIL OF WINCES AND REMEDIES.Is a hollow of winces,across burning ghats,haphazardly hankypanki'd and laced betwixt the submerged causeway and its winding slope?Of happygolucky harlequins and harlequinade,hexes the briddle with highwater mark,of highly stung,seeking palladium,slung in the hightide beyond,And there inroad,the high tension and highwater come hell bled.One placid morning winces ere the cloud had highton'd ensembled,sunbaked,hotfooted,in this hotwater and hotpotatoed tardypath,ill sated hothouse plant,planking the bay,with barehand hypochondriarchal in turmoil,toy'd with subterfuged winces as mere stroll in the park.It was an illusory and dare not vommit,such illwills not immaculate as fugacious winds and blasting storms had tossed beneath,wither or wince,o wight in thy widgets,cluttering feet or gnat straining,each incognito,incoherent upon prior salvo,googly as they goof,and in that mote of infiltrated neurosis,Not inviolable or innoculated,did they insouciant trigger to inveterate tis some inverse proportion of introsective intumescence or introversive intuision that hardly reinvigorated the surface and stormy surge of the sedentary bonemarrow.Heypresto,not yet halting nor ebbing,an inviolable composure!And remedy of winces once again,deemed with freak as vile;in its omnibus beguiling sports,dandy invertebrates all along,making a hoodwink of irremediable reproach,that was its pinions,its vulture,its cricket flight,its ironmongery,rather its verve,and invariably,jackbooting with remedy-jettissoned,what with this jelly are jetsams'alike,all asundry pitfall,were purged nor jejuned by this vile,And now to inverterates,pluck judgement at a fresh perchance,to instigate remediating levees or scrutiny too fain groovy,either to be dissected from its jeering spots,On which it grew or to be lacklustred to venture to its own vomit,diverse a fern,jives this tardypath.Mammoth still impenitent ferns recalcitrant and haply that those jocunds of jestering jibs.So,stately dignified of this damsel, nomenclatured:hotheaded charm,in its humble abode,set ablaze on lovers'night than placate by the parade of belicose brood or jingle grin of the manx,on a fine piety kettle of fish,whacking his kettldrum at a recess lawn:So fared she by passers' by,that sparkling dusk,from the sunset,Meanwhile,a niggling was slapped upon he,when he first amorous salvo fired,the rodeo mirth of lovers'bug,flocking the recess lawn,to groove its flamboyant clubbing,disdained greedily his feet to the furthest encroachment,flocked to those fancies and damsels earth,were emotive blank fires of the spirit,he plunged in this mire,when in a twinkling of an eye,a glitterring and glimmering haze was unleashed,infront of jawdropping fanfare. 10/23/2017 1:38am A handsome wight of Adam,pigeonholed as a bully,a draper,winced his golden feet artlessly,but obdurate at her emotive garb,in the estern wing of the clubbers'night,it was moonrise and was like an oasis from the desert' 'Obfuscating,improvident and feckless'lover bitch dazzles maidens'partying,blokes must be adorable,fashionista and oarsmanship unblushed,a breed,who can loose no sleep of the strangulating amorous oddysey,when it strike,lunge's tactics hire immaculate is ample and some meagre alterations,widget'd wherewith to hedge her slippery antics' Eavesdropped he a stranger,intoned fellow draper and alone stood he as melodrama unveiled the obverse.His sickly gaunt awakened.Close to the spot,drapper winced his legs so long as his frame could carry him,which alone maketh him,loungelizard cringe,for his hagard self emaciat'd,Alas,the ambidextrous adonis,in this grandfinale,alternates his horsepower to ploy her to his tent and heart,with one wince and then successive volleys,winces by winces he,cavorts with ease remedies,won her heart.What plays and coys,so cunning a fox,were soon to be jubilant as the old sleigh bells.And sobs he,the lounge lizard at first volley and salvo,frittered away providence and the boon of a precious gem,motheaten by haply longuer'd intendment,in contrast to she who fell weakling for his wizzardry. A.)PRODIGAL SON.B.) APOLOGIA.C.) EXPEDITION IN THE JUNGLE.D.)ARMAGEDDON.E.) MEMOIRS;JUBILANT AS THE OLD SLEIGH BELLS.F.)OLD GREYBEARD'S PASSOVER SONNETS.G.) VALEDICTORY. Apart From Prodigal Son,the Rest Of The Titles Above Complete The Epic Of The Golden Morn. It Begins With Resorgimento. RESORGIMENTO.Even as the subterfug'd correctitude,with corrosive cosmetic countenance,had defeaned his crabwise cranky crabb'd deviance,of the lugubrious earth,diatribes disenchatment dispel'd ovation to the diffusion. Dispiriting,he dispirit'd,but dispirit,he divin'd to dock this lachrymose earth.Dripping wet,drowsi'd Alupluto,a deciduous tree,deciduous to beat the drum,unto the dross aversion.And like a drum marjorette,dancing to the wiggles of the cymbals,the gallery dances,gins to woo dalliances.Much mendicant fairer than he,himself,of these ilks that play drucks and drakes with money.The golden boy,came into the city,amidst the slipknot out of the slippery slope,above the age of consent,Alupluto's exegenesis, stain to its sparsely hagiologies,much more dire than the clutters of prodigal sons'aplomb,more apocalyptic and daft of deeds of derring do than the immanent slingshots are,Naturewit that hath made Alupluto,hath slog with herself at more than dire slide, Saith that the prodigal sons hath sloppily slinging with their catapult,slough though tarry to abate her slick,And smacks out of smokescreen,the smooched sucker and a smirch of slushfund,whose volume,stash'd away offshore,unsticks and smash'd to the smithereens.Hardly,had he vamoosed,the whimsical whipping boy,that the golden boy,with the torch of unflapable resorgimento,emerge to the warm embrace of the old greybeard,genuflecting and to him,before him,at the winnow of the oracle.Thus,with his triumphalist lungpower,this snipper smithy as ever,hoists the snippet;" Thrice gilded youthful fairer and fortun'd beckon'd than he,over whom prospects and providently,prettily counts"thus the old greybeard,browbeating the throng,snappily began its snapshot,with hands on his bald pate."the field's chief sniffer dog,not to be sniffed at,sweet above machismos,with aversion for snootiest pall and hardly sneezed at them,more spotless like alabaster than their snipes and strife are:Polity that bred thee with itself,harldly not unknown,even oracle itself at strife,to to snoop out,thy homage,saith that nirvana,hath kismet,with thy life. Solace,thou trickish to sojourn thy solipsism,And sob's story,its douse stink to the solenoid-magnet.If thou wilt reciprocate this sojourn for the needful placate,a milliontimes wiseacres,solecitude and solidarity shalt thou belabour at strife for reckoning and resorgimento,let not advantage and boon of time slip thee unhallowed,And being set over this serpentine gulf,not cloyed thy heart,with deviance as prodigals marrooned ilks,maketh them,by beneath folks famish'd at their decrepit shibboleth,What suave stubby are thou to stymie their struts and shibboleth,making them gaunt for eternity,O how oracle speaks with esoteric dialects,beyond comprehension and stomps with pond of beguiling sports,above our tender perusal,inapprehensible,with multiple cuddles,not as a coercion,the stertorous sticks in the mud,as rambuctious sticlers,sticks in the mud,with the precedent of gross animosity and livelihood.How frosty,fall betwixt the stool,stomp Alupluto,tis Oracle,the messenger of kismet,to the dying but grouchy plants,how dessidential folks' incensed stircrazy,eas'd cephalic index at the stirring stodgy,placated by oracle!A sojourner's day at nirvana,will an hour like an eternity,And trembling by Aluplutans,in this purlieu-brewing scumbags,sepuchral serendipidity,o pitiless boys,dissident folks call it pleasure,insentient septic tanks,scrounging the beneath civvies,schizopreniac with scholastic schmaltz,Thou a lugubrious earth's sovereign god,to do the damndest godly good at this unwraply resorgimento,Being so thawed,hegemony doth lend thee a holly hanker,Viccisitudinously,to Pluck thee,from the dungeon of ashheaps,Over this one sallow clime,a saviour the toast,to twister,this twit of pestridden fleabites and parasites,succumb'd, Under thee,o potentate coronate and viceroys,ultrasonic unmbrages in pale disdain leaden'd,They red as truant and even truce ever straying and he red for ignominy and frosty in totter,by sullen bagatelles swung beneath, O how haste is the chaste of hoipolloi and uprising,they cometh in revenge'Instantaneously,there was a sweeping mammoth,flung swankily to Old greybeard's ovation to the consternation of the golden boy,hail him." "Long hail,the coronated!long hail the corronated!The gregarious folks,having been grown dizzy,of whipping boy swansong 's stinkers, chant,rose to ecstasy,with the herald of the squeaky clean eponymous hero.Squidgy was he of his squidgy frame,a squire from an alien stablemate,stage fright waowed first struck,but yet stagehand'd and stagemanag'd fret,wanton lie.His nimbly,hot as coals of glowing fire,risen from a spring cleaning eldorado of Alupluto's revolt and squall marshall'd by him,squash'd annals in his benefaction.The senile in reverse pelted him with tones of interrogation: "The gauntlet is scaled down and even more dire protuberances,to sloth the horseback and its ridden piggyback,Backward they pushed Alupluto and forward leaning driven propensity as he would be thrust sinew-imbued but no 10/23/2017 6:09am t spent.let them thee".So,soon was he on his sit,as he was wooed with plaudits,Each velvet sheen sheening on their plunges and their lunges.Now doth he stroke,the throng,with his electrifying elocution,now doth he venturesome bully veracity as verisimilitude and tote browbeating and random,If thou wilt him touchstone,thy gesture touchyfeely,shall never bereft him. Peradventure,touch and go,beyond mere touchy sanctity or raptured evidence,concoct'd by oracle.This torment of torsion,he hardly burns with bashful tornado,Doth torpsyturvy,totter the the torrential musculature of his machismo,then with his windy sighs,reads his torah with uncommon piety,to ferry the dreaded tonnage ofhis passionometre,in their defence,over this lugubrious vale and now ratiocinatedbank,Senile saith that he is toothsome as the oracle,aptly tittletattled and titivated his lordshiptitle deed,what follows left to time his tinpot lashes,tintedly tinkers.Even as tilt tinge,timely ado,tires with his beacon on pinions,twinkle and karmabone Tingling in the yonder morns,feedeth him on an impecable resorgimento,with good tidings,thumping throng in eulogy. Till either times be threnodi'd or threshold preys on him,doggone damocles:Even so,he thrifty throve his thrust,his thump,his throttle,and where he,derelicts,senile doth a new begin,Forc'd to demagoguery,but never disobliged,from its obeisance,trammeling,he pays dearly and recompense breatheth in his face,and he pays it but greedily feedeth on trammel's tramway as a trajectory on a traipse,And calls it 'apotheosis'tragicommedy',an air of grace,whose glut is as ennobled as flacid smashhit.Wishing his trencherman-like subtleties,were plates and dishes,bereft of toxins and cholesterols.So,there were dew'd his with such stupendous trenches.Behold,how tangled bird in tangled knot,cannot snap, So,fasten'd he to thestanchion,less tolerant of sedulous typos and smudged pecadillos of power voodoo,even to two-penny-half penny tyros,unschool'd its dungeon arts unspar'd,It was twitchy,twichier,twitchiest yet he clings to damn,So,fasten'd,Alupluto's kismet lies,Sedulousness and solicitude,embroider'd in his tendon's fury and tug of war,made him not wanton fret,tub-thumping,Which bred more entreaties,in his frantic cheeks and so,hung utilitarianism with his rapturous lungpower:"O placate,"gins he"i placate thee,flint-hearted folks of this urban's frenzied sob's story,tingling tympanum gall,Tis but a pacify,implore,why art thou not stunts pull'd?Have i not been woo'd by senile he,as i titivate thee now". Even by this turpitude and direful goddess of karma,whose unruffled turgidity,in retribution,never did saddle-bow,who wasps wherever mote,she spots in every old faggots;Yet,hath he not been a potential captive by virtue of legal lordship title deed and a slave?And being implored by statutes of ado,that which burrows earnestly for wasp waisted justice upkeep and safeguard.Over this resolution altars,hath he his salvos hung,adroit with intemperate crest,hath learned to fondle townspeople emotive bank as they... whisk discipleship,in his homage.And so,with he his apologia,for expedition unflinching,they were numbed and punchdrunk at his punchline. APOLOGIA.And so punting,he punts he,his disclepleships for this overwhelming purgatory expedition,to quell shrimps,shrewish bitches and shtum wizards with his mercurial quiddity and quidproquo,the quills and quesiness of these harumscarum folks,at Alupluto.The rabble rouser,rankling aod pouting at power with rabid rabble,stamping his feet,to the ground and raison d'etre,for the punitive expedition,raucously and raving'gainst this league of recidivists' folks,somehow guillotine immun'd,Even still,so stamped his feet,his recherche,his homeostactic receptacle,under siege,his polychromatic dexterity engross'd,Long was he dew'd with distilling forays and vengeful spite,which prettily overflows its cartharctic bank,For to a throng pretty field ears he prunes his tales,still is he crimson,still he pommels,and prettily pommels,Being red with vengeance,they love him best,his fair immortal hands swears him dire above derringdos.Look,how stale they cannot choose but love him from that tardy path,a poltroon ponds,from his soft bottom.And they now dreamt of usurping dickens'bespoke zombify of the city's townies and Zombies and realign Allupluto,to a paradise of equity and utilitarianism,till contending tears no more torments,which long have drain'd its floodgate,making it a refrain,until the ugly duckling's ascendancy;And with one sweet salvo,above compare,hath he them convinced,Aftermath of intense volley,his voodoo and vogues,worked like magic and he bathes them in demagoguery,unopposed.And when his lips,hands and legs,were brisky for the vengeful mission,with this rarefied volcanism vociferous at the summit,they barely wink,nor winkle.Never did the beneath civvies,envisage such enthralling winsome,like a gazebo where they put their heads,for a recess,from a stormy sun.Calumniat'd where help they see,but help,they cannot get,wherein eleemosynery,a fugitive,in their shores,for mastering his craft,not as it were,with illbred folks,but foil'd the goddess of deceit,and being bold to sport,over this wishywashy wistful plains Whereon they witchhunt,blackmail,backstabbing and willo'-the-wisps,wimp'd underprevilled,And hisbeauty as the spring and episodes,wiggled on the indian files,doth vicariously by mutate,hourly grow,And so dew'd with wits,he spoke;"For every generation,viccissitudes,inform new verve and a fair trip,upon the green lush,be no betrayed.Dance on the sands of verity,and yet let footing be seen,and asphyxiating vermins,with waspish long dishevelled mole,at this vertiginious vertex,be expunged,from the history books at Alupluto.Expunge them,they this countryside but nomadic tribes,hibernating from the northcountry,a fifth columnists,of the bandits'raid and periodical vets. Is history so light o pity folks that upon the greens and sturdy trees,verdict it cannot give,to draw it from the hazy cloud,over his primrose bank,where Alupluto lies vertex heavy that it cannot be villified,that we should'st think it heavy,to lampoon?Is thine own kismet,to thine own land,not tied? Can thy right hand that tranquilising tranquility, seeketh it well blossomed,bereft of fiendish struggle?"Oh,of all times,you are the worst of all vociferously nation,galled by turpitude.Then boo thyself,for out of stigma,to steal thine from them,thy hallowed freedom,And so narcissus,triggers paradise on earth,for the posterity.Thou wast begot me at full throtle,to be discipled by mine and thine to be led by mine,the road is short but long,tis cascading brook,willingly thee,to drink.Unless the struggle,with thy art be fed,upon upon the earth's fugacious field,freedom thou cannot get;for freedom springs from struggle"And so dispute,thus commenced they,a handful of the electrified throng,rose to interrogate this validate:"O tribune,thou sprinkled amaze,amuses mine gore.Vampine bats,thrive in the forest at Alupluto,and by its custom of impunity,thou art bound as they and we are bound to be led.How vapid are thou to strike there in? And titan,still bloodhounds,still persist in its hideout.Two decades of raid and bauditry". 10/24/2017 5:26am With burning lips,did it overtake him: So,thou like mine exhumed not bathos and by mine,thou art armour bearer unleash'd,this lazy sprite of vampire bats my burrows unveil art infest northern vertex at Alupluto's Forest ;if they burn too vile,at this vale, i'll quench them first by the rear,fist by fist when they lay asleep at night and then forest batallion shalt hence strike,from its obscurity and rocky slope.Much heart felt therein,that darts forth fire though at variance doth much harm.At full noon,on the morrow,we shall by gongs and swords fire the pyromania"And so,the chants arisen,the gregarious twits,graciously anew chants;"long live the coronated! long live Alupluto!"The teeming voices thundered as he boycotted remainder duo for pending interogation.And the rabble's distending passion doth provoke,stupendous jubilation tis they dispersed the uproarious rabble,across the urban nooks and crannies.Now left with the senile tongue lashing,serving as valedictory warning;"A threesome battalion not..... uncultured,fittest as the fiddle and first salvo must be fired upcountry,that which plays second fiddle ought to graze like vulture,north of the Alupluto's Forest and then rear salvo,nocturnal bent,making entry within lovely but desolate caves,if possible,a nocturnal annex not immuned,and be the intemperate crest,thou shalt at midnight oil burnt,evanesced and assure thee being jubilant as the old sleigh bells shalt break asunder in the grand finale,the slippery gordian knot,of the fifth columnists,their proteges the bandits inclusive rampaging dissident in the land".His raw and upright but sententious,barefaced pilloried at the senile's enigmatic sentinel and esoteric ordnance.And on his bended kness,his sum total cudgeling,sentiency plummet and acquiesce to the wisdow of the owl,with its witly responsive bulging eyes and horror voices.This gentle majesty,his cuddle embrace and so did his consumate trojan horse did seethe;"Am i not with pleasure at your side obeyed? for thou art sees as the oracle sees." And he looks upon his love and dying breath to spank lugubrious earth. EXPEDITION IN THE JUNGLE 10/28/2017 11:17pm To Expedition To be Contd. Expedition To Be Continued 10/31/2017 7:57am ARMAGEDDON.By this unruly fugacity of time,the warsick eponymous hero,within his purlieus unbound and faraway,was begun to prodigious.This quagmire indur'd exploit he,its purblind folks and the psychotic paraplegia of the voodo-ed scoundrels,at its nocturnal fracas,workhorsed even as worldwise,yet as worldweary with overwhelming fairsight,wherein moment by moment,as they struck,uncommon but wideyed serenity blanketed the pleateau,white elephant luxury,had wizened and wizardry fled itsjuicy spots,a ghost stown,kleptocrats cringed and wobbledat no commodious palladium,for this wasting vendatta.Hence,from the meadows of theRiver Abesi where the Sahari Camelsfeed,to the north forest of Alupluto,stupendous massacre of the harumscarum folks,thwacked the lugubriousearth,its fifth columnists,its randombanditry,pilloried and rapined.For where a victory is sought with open hands,they makethno hasteto procrastinate.With unyielding heart to accomplishtheir pledges,battle the siege,every gladiator,trumped toits stanchion. Garrisson men rode piggyback,nightwatchmen with swords and spears unsheathed and grief and sorrow to the shepherds,in the adjoining hills down to river Abesi andbeyond the forest vale,markedlyfallen and exchanged for good tidings.Under tentacles of old greybeard luminous rays,they shone like the moon and like the sun,when the dews of heavens,dew'dthis mortise of scornful earth.What a nocturnal hour,was this enigmatic vertex,when the wearymoon turned a golden leaf?Vagrant did they live,vagrant did they brawl,vafrous,did they unison,untarnished and vagabonds of the earth,come unstuck among them.The suavest stratagem did they not untangle?Sometimes,after their shoalswere carcases,fed their salivation and abstemious bellies,withstrawberries,a modicum at one hand and munition,at the other hand.Butfor those pouted lips and clutches at straws,when naturewit,chose the bolsheviks to draw the short straw and then overpowerthe vertex straw,were slain,at river abesi.Oh,the streetwalkers and the streetwise indoor stay'd! 10/31/2017 3:03pm Long may the mischievious and the miscreants,kiss the lugubrious earth. Recidivists claw that tarnished and smote benevolence of the humanistic modus vieviendi and like a moggie,seeking to devour its rodents,were they not devoured at the forest vale and sinking plains groaned?Then,he rode to the palace,like a suitor to be twain'd for his coronation;wherein his generals'assays and censure maneavered at evacuating the decapitated monarch,pays dearly to return freedom back to the dying kingdom. 11/08/2017 9:33am 'Fair king'quoth he"if any fret,for this pleateau,it be the affection for it;if any tree be planted,it be the tree of unity.The forest and foresters are no more gone to the vampire's bats and the vultures,O sedate charm thy home,thou hath returned and thy impuissance thou art mauled with marching orders.O sedate charm Alupluto's earth,thy footstool,thy reverend lotion lickspittled,lustrous adinfinitum".And then he bow down to perk the mourning earth and then bade the mishievious nights and dolorous morns adieu forever. 11/18/2017 4:46am To Be contd. SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A BLISTERING BLITHE?Shall I compare thee to a blithe,blistering as the wind?Thou art more bland a blandishment and intemperate as the riding horse,wishful can go,A gauchy cloud of battering rams and arcane arboreal,And a disgusting bellylaugh on thy bellybutton,canst not restrain thee,Sometime,too bellyache,the belligerency of thy bellow bell-rings,And oft is his benefactored beneficence dimmed; And every fair or unfair mound of bellyache and bellylaugh,By beset misanthrope breeds or berserk's traitorous wings clamour;But thy bastion barrel,shall its munnition slouch-exempt, Nor barb gauchy cloud to its barbarous mustrous muster cringest,So long as wights can blister or words can blithely bandy,So long within this barbed wire,modus viviendi barbs and this slouch,a vendatta unmoored,A contraption of existentialism,we are fallen;for there is no censure without baits. OSSIFY.Art he more temperate than he is,a mutant he,never bereft to mutate.And art he devoid of mutation,giddy hell,headlong falls, When in ossified emboss,giddy art,giddy hell enthralled imprecated. And emollient bubble,hath all too inalienable stigma;for art without this embryo,ossified by windy sail,a dung for the boggy swamp.Never dare to ossify,but when osmosis impinges,giddy art,giddy hell teases,a tearjerker OSSIFY.Art he more temperate than he is,a mutant he,never bereft to mutate.And art he devoid of mutation,giddy hell,headlong falls, When in ossified emboss,giddy art,giddy hell enthralled imprecated. And emollient bubble,hath all too inalienable stigma;for art without this embryo,ossified by windy sail,a dung for the boggy swamp.Never dare to ossify,but when osmosis impinges,giddy art,giddy hell teases,a tearjerker 11/18/2017 7:03am SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A LOTUS?Shall icompare thee to a lotus?A lotuseater and a lounge,fibrillating in the blue sky, Thou art morelotus and a freakish lounge and no gadfly to thy freckle, Bathos-wranglings off beam,a beachcomber of subterfuged purple birth and gilded forays,And downthe hatches,hath all too hellbent-ungenerous to batten,Sometimetoo benumb,that archipelago ofphantasmagoria anomie,his bearhugs screwed,And everyindolenceby its bedbugs,like a walrusmoutache,hanging on his own,its sloven bedfellow,By beatniks'spurned or bedraggled intendmentbecome or therein moreishpsychotic bedridden,But thy bedlamtransit bedsit shall not its timber slumber,Nor baulk obsession ofthe unfair lounge, Nor shall indecisionas sloughed as loungelizardin thy bone marrow with bated breath,crumblest baste, When in baroquebarkings,to bark thou growest,Solong as with your barehands or that immanent barrenness can pluck,So long barefaced,this gong of balderdash lines and unfair lyrics sings,glued to thy feet its doggedtwain A TARDY PATH BUT SOLICITUDE.Hardly had the day gotten a beaten and tempestuous, That my visitant had taken a tattoo,signaling his antiheroic prentice to a bibliocractic oddysey,His binoculars pulled staunchly,tasty and tauty,over this grit hath hung his lance,And thus synchroniously and asynchroniously,was begun the tattle with my sibling,a selfacclaimed blueeyed boy,whose indignant talk-to and reprimands that barred ethereal espionage away,Sometime this smashhit repugnant razzmatazz,pissed him off this paroxysm of mine deadhand brotherhand,And it was a tailspin,when that eccentric oddyssey and the day's quirky pall,seizeth its sweltering palms,on our nebulous feet,plying tardy path,but still by skimpy intent forlorn... 11/23/2017 11:29pm And so was the tresspass and then tettering the tardy paths' axis.Thereafter,adventured,the Mistimed Oddyssey,as featherbrained dunces,we evince perplexity,in rigmarole of effacing eerie,peregrinatori'd and perambulated,an unsung but esoteric greyhack press myself and he,a quicksilvered pedagogue,famished with sonorous eagle and sobstory roused by its uncommon solicitude.What an unwordly priceless wight and my heart clings to him like a promiscuous lass.My tendon dumbstruck,when with this eagleeyed predilection,gems in my personage exhumed and he,in my stead,sedulous pulsated.A dutiful altruist,snuggling solicitude into my bespoke mementos and megalomania forapotheosis,unimpinged.Being so enkindled,tactile dutybound to spank my ignition key,doth lend its blister.Conscientiously pluck himself,to dung my drape towards nepluslstra,look,how oft over my gem,hath he endeared solitude of his garnished solicitude.He was downtoearth,not repugnant to expel my down at heel.Hardly,did he doze over his holistic cheeks 11/24/2017 3:20am to clamour my reminiscence and browbeat my sedulous dicey but quickwitted singleton into my bespoke treasured innate elymassynery,enroute passionate sinquanon,vindicable by outgrowth reckoning.Was i doolally hung?Oh,doolally was i momentarily hung but my ungraceful steps with his fair lips coagulate: though mine being not so fair;yet still they doodled tis but the glorious herald.Upon this culpability,wherein my tendon grew as stuck,narcissus so with this cornerstoned trigger of his solicitude,spanketh my poetic endowments as dainties to furthermost salivate my wearied smashhit intendments.And this cinch of a chutzpah ochestrated by himself,batten down my hatches and above my furnaces,stupendous aplomb.Thou my alterego's crapulous solitude solicitude,an appogee's coxswain,over my ferocious lance,unbriddled hung. How crackpot was i,plummetted at donkey age,to desecrate my timely endowment's smashhit stratagem!" Thou wast begot my coy"his temerity fondled.And he saith unto me" i 'll be dutybound to thee and thou shalt coxswain benefactor be. Feed thou,where thou wilt,at my bossom,my solitude,at my bossom my solicitude,on misty mountain graze.Graze upon my solicitude,and if those contradistinction contends,and solitude,its millieu entangles.Consort thy wits where consolidate,upon this conjecture and conjured time consigns."A tardy path stinks a tardy path,wherein sensuous winds,numbed the adventurers.A day and a day frittered with impunity,even though like a sheep at the abbattoir,did i go with him,himself by himself benumbed by its domino effect. 11/24/2017 5:46am to be contd. 11/24/2017 7:02am ON THE HIGH SEAS.Shoreless out of shores,left behind.St.blues. Shrinking violets.Oueer street. Unequivocal storms.Ulullated.Winds vafrous.Vagabond vamp up hell. Vacillating.Paresis gallivant. Penology farce. Pax and paddle pasquinad'd. Parablepsis pealing. Sunken parapet. Paralogy bemoaned. Eschatology pennated. Ships sank. Oh,tragicomedy. Transit paradox. Scatological threnody. Perfunctory penumbra. Pelagic pantomime. Triumphalists saturnine,but fairy trips rescheduled. Oh,what an ominous paragram! Birds of passage twitched.Holistic goofs.Not a holly passage.kowtow. Obtuse.Obstruent.Sometimes,obstinately and obstreperous.knack and jubilant obvolute.Sometimes,grandiloquent.Gravely,gravid. Guerdon goblet glamoured. Clung like a limpet. Godly girdle. Sometimes, glabrous viscous glued like a gizzard. Not pouted gimlet,malodorous and infraction deficient.Visage sterness embossed. Insentient . Howbeit,on the misty,misty on the high seas. A holistic homily! Oh what a boon transit! The boat paddles.The rabid sailor sails.The ship cruises.The Yatch yatchs. Terrific Ocean surges. But Captain and crew stupefied. Sparkling plugs overturned. Spartan speculators. Straitened seas but now straitjacketed. Straitlaced lank. Pipping hot pipedream unplugged. Like a streak of lightning,triumphalist streak streamlined.Peddled peek.Pilloried pikestaff.Persiflage censured. Panoplied panorama. Pantomime plunged. Penumbra pandora boxed. Odoriferous oik oggred. That aloft parexcellence. O,HAGIOLOGY- IT WAS A HELOT AND HIS HEEHAW O how outmoded,living on trees as babboons and monkeys are like hagiologists are pretty not undisimilar. And being set by time entreats as time nicks and to the catchy but tuneful tales,its gongs euphonious and melifluous trickles by time turneth,prettily entreats. Amidst this famish,christologists like muhamedans,hung in tempting piety,slapped with crooked dint,mutilated hagiology and hallucination of the soul. Till insentient mamoth, trite and truce,piety refrain they to take,dew'd with windy sail. Hung over this graceless steps,fondling their navels.Still voyeaurs in this numbed piety,wagering grew,wafting ,waggish and wacky. Viscous time,thou art sticky with narcisstic winds,thy mountainous field,bold to sport and so being froth to steed that by kismet,every heavenly moisture dewed,reckoned he with its age and beauty,that by law and naturewit's salvo on the earth's increase not ossified and nothing is spared,that like Hararclitus all things flow. That time and only time alone,grows to itself,neither spared customs nor the accustomed values and so,tis its kiss on rudderless earth,a vertex verdict of karma.Time by itself,and impenitent billows is vindictive of its artistic atteliery and stream of fugacious,pugnacious thwacked to spare no exist with salvos fondled upon its navel. And when it dost chaste,resorgimentos dost begin. When it chides,her lips barely open nor unleash its potion,supplanted upon every invidious windy sail and gilded passage alike,even when versified in ambiguity. Like every selfied piety,hagiogists are nothing but sterile wishful cheeks, whose gardens replete of treacherous flowers and schadenfreude petals,basking in its vainglorious foils,are like empty eagles,smouldered by time's apocalypse. What pathetic appologia by recalcitrant apologetics,in their piety,time's sooth of windy karma murders with her sunset and sunrise potion.Yet,were they servile to its sonorous ploy phantasmagoria opprobrium.Scorning pieties'assymetry, even much more scold joyances of heavenly rapture and nirvana envisage. It runneth like the winds and nebulous winds its glorious herald as glorious passage.And once glorious folklores goeth moribund in the mere twist of nebulous winds,sancrosanct on its pugnacious but fugacious milky way as the cosmos tintinnabulates,spareth not polymorphosis and mutants like hagiologies. Behold,burning midnight oil,beseeching paraclete for benediction,repugnant of day's gratify theatre of the absurd.A laborious feet beneath a laborious,dewed with heavenly showers of the reapers bundles.And lo,in the vacuous morning thaw,thatched by fugacity,it was an obstreperous helot and his heehaw,whose mudslinging,spareth not this pious speck,mortified his morphology,that undiluted crasses of personage,an unexpurgated mores and pristined achilles conspicuous with hagiologists That visitant to a holy shrine,prettily supplicates his desirous breath,greedily entreats and toads his lips,with pleadings a galore,making he red and pale,in every crimson dance so febrillated,And not cloyed his wagging lips with censorious mean. Perforce will trove overflow its riverbank,wherein misty vapour,parched with blue funk,overwhelmed his unfair sight,an overarching menace,palpitating its oscillate,a palaver,embossed by gall infested pall bearing palate,palatable upon contemptuous lips when they with nebulous bossom,blots witly hanker of its blue sky. 11/24/2017 10:15pm Entreaties spring entreaties even as entreaties plead for entreaties to greedily clamour like burning hell,whose clamour greedily stinks clamour.Narcissus irredentist so himself in a closet libation,an hepthacentric winces,hepthcentric genuflects deities above for windy benediction.In the hallo of morning mist tis tireless twists,tortuous verve,with haggard face pleads he,himself yelled and panged like a woman in labour,sowed tears yet still sobs till dusk,wreathed over desirous gilded fleece,pure same vertex,his libido,audacious to sport,hesitant grows painstaking unto its belabour.Still on his toes,with deities' lines toed;yet toffee-nosed visitant,a self touted toerag,like Sisyphus whose helot's admonition,his bone marrow disgustingly detest.Why him did you impugn,kith and kins of Grecian Sysyphus? Then why subterfuge on subterfuge,basks in his ridicule since helot's eyes,distant land and distant gale seen? Did he a clue borrowed,from searchlight beamed? And in his eyeballs,he looked to chide. O bathos boy,refrain mortal entreaty! Laborious toil,beneath laborious sun,thronged with the smartest wrestle,an incontrovertible therapy,a balm to indolence,a medicine that wows undiluted apotheosis,whose writ ,every wriggle obeisance be. Plead so,now,if deigns fiddle,on thy mat and desirous knees,even for eternity itself cannot libate apotheosis,on thy bended knees. Fortune Keeps its apotheosis,where but indolence on the stampede. Time thwacks misery with its jaw,when the smartest toil and smartest grace persevere.O thyself brethren,not be bled,upon thy bended knees infecund.And in the morning libation,passeth his windowpane to apprise him and unto him,he saith;"Is hardwork so intemperate,o pathos boy,that winces cannot to thee succumb and toil?May it not spare thee,had thou smartest think it heavy to cult?Is thine own heart heavy that its salvo,so froth as teensy weensy or deadweight thyself cannot fire? When in glasshouse,barely do you throw stones and when in Rome do as the Romans do.Those tearaway clubbers,revel not o revert not in their sport". To Whom,he again goofed,pleading tempo rose and windowpane shut,but he in reprisal heehaw as guffaw,obstreperous took the better part of him.And now out in a thumb,those sports synchroniously and asychroniously bedevilled himself,his hauteur his banacle,swindled his meeky face.O how the dusk skids speedily,the sissy still on bended knees,but window opened,though not to alight his siroco of sisyphean skate.And now,back from the toil of laborious sun,being now on the promenade,fondled once again his psychosis and rabid routines. Nevertheless,helot's admonition perpetually fallen on his heels,neither his heehaw nor guffaw,did the trigger pull.This ignoble clubbers,sunken morphed its palatine with molassis, Same supplication they tendered,but visitant was stupefied,when helot,his entreaty procured,succoured,by exemplification,seduced to moult.Alas,subverted piety studi studiously inclined,now sturdily crept its mound,strenuous in the old yore,did him stripe,to elope to the strangle of ignoble den,he strewed. 11/25/2017 12:32am His pollard no longer seizured and from closet bended kness,in his retractile resin,that switched allegiance to helot once ridiculed.Strapping now in the moult,did his stringency fret,ovation rollicked,amidst the exhortation, Helot's reproach did not to him to condescend,tis he replicated by choice and destiny,the same treasured trove,procured,that which visitant on his bended knees,could not pronto,reposte,as if with the spirit of the beguilhg sport,hauting gongs,forbade and pool in a sinecure. Ovation eulogised and when the mammoth had dispersed,left him standing with him,who repelled exhortation. And pronto,his chin fallen,jawdropping as helot heehawed and guffawed his teaser of temporised teeter and frittered" Had I been heard long,long ago,two glorious feet would have been this dawn celebrated."tablet of tears was his guerdon.Wail,supercilous cheeks,how come helot,,in the vacuous morning thaw,his gasconade and rodomontade,time's paroxysm,prettily rusticated and sewered its final stray?.And it was merely his guffaw that did him to moult at evasive eleventh hour,to graze he,himself,a transmogrified personage,smouldered from specious soprano? O pity boy,gan he snob tis but a twain he sops. Why art thou snob? Ovation eulogised him,a helot of a vulgarian fraction,and when the mammoth had dispersed,left him standing with him,who repelled exhortation. And pronto,his chin fallen,jawdropping as helot heehawed and guffawed in reprisal his teaser of temporised teeter and frittered temporal;"Had I been heard long,long ago,two glorious feet would have been this dawn celebrated."tablet of tears was his guerdon,but the damage had been done.Wail,supercilous cheeks,how come helot,in the vacuous morning thaw,his gasconade and rodomontade,time's paroxysm,prettily rusticated and sewered its final straw?And it was merely his guffaw that did him to moult at evasive eleventh hour,to graze he,himself,a transmogrified personage,smouldered from specious soprano? O pity boy,gan he snob tis but a twain he sops. Why art thou snob? NEBULOUS FEET Nebulous feet hastened by nebulous winds and gumptionless sickos,And oft is it gridiron and goldsmith furnace,embanked hazy to trod.Shall i not be compared to a nebulous feet? Oh,shall i not be compared whereon nebulous feet had been raped by simpleton and nebulous wind? How sedulous sedition,seethed in its tangled knot, So fastened in its serfdom seeps,Sensuos sepulchral thatched with serpentine groove,made him slouch,Which bred more vulgars in his sickly pale gaunt sickled,Frosty addendum to its briddle that is slothful vile,Perforce purportless sickos like fecklessness,will overflow its bank,Still nebulous feet,windy sail,as contaminant of nebulous winds gallivant,still a skintight skintish;for to a slathering numb,naturewit slangs its slinging match,Still is he nefarious,still is he bicker and slices slink,twixt gall fathom,unflinching trudge. Look,how purportless he himself,he cannot purport,whereon purportless spasm elongated.And by his spanking sparkle,he skinflints from nebulous winds,nebulous feet,windy niche carved,Till he take off rodomontade with her stealthy apparel,Which long have had tinpots,making nebulous feets to be tricked by nebulous winds,And with twice crimson transfixed,pays his pristine price of liberty,upon this scaffolding of sedulous scabrous,did his purportless himself,a savoir faire uncouth,like a saturnine satire,honing sardonic emboss,in saphire foams,Who being appendaged on jiggery pottery as mere sabre rattling,sacks moreish sabbatica.So offers still not sackcloth and ashes,a sacrament of shrimp's sailor. But when pouted lips were ready,for his karma bone.Saga and saga,flown by saga over saga,turns victory away,Never did a traveller's sahib,more brisky satellite for a satiate than he did for this strangled satiety,His scintillate,he seeks not but scintillate,he cannot get,His scientology,he submerges,but buddhism of scientology he with a scintilla,can not proffer;His scion wryly drowns in this sclerosis,yet his glowing coals like glowing fire must burn,'O pathos boy',gan he trudge,'frosty leaden sprite!' Tis but a frosty scholasticism,rebukes,why are thou scrounge?Scums of the earth's scrums,booed by nebulous winds,as they nebulous feet's scuds of the scuffles,Thus,these hordes of scatterbraineds,frittered golden morns at the ratrace,receded, And for thy sake, o scallywags,vendatta retractile rearms. Tether rythm pulses affray,for a bud-nipp,puerile but puffy clouds,quickwitted servile,purportless himself objectionable and being so quarrantine,choke its pleading tongue and nebulous winds. And being judge with thy intendments,so shall i be freed,o nebulous feet but not with quidproquo struck on a bed of quicksand. MOUNTAIN ABOVE, VALE BENEATH AS NEBULOUS WIND WHISPERS. Nebulous Winds at my feet,unsteadied my fugacious sod, So soon was the mud aloft recede that i was down on thy nefarious earth. How i gin to scold my foible,yet still nimbly,keeps me fastened. As if like an ocean surge,each raft of nebulous winds,giddied on my bonemarrow and fortitude;Now,doth it strain my oasis as oarsman,rowind the windy sail,now doth it chokes,And gins to obfuscates my gait but much dampens my rude cheeks,And Oafing batters i with winnow's carthasis,where imponderables and unspeakables unspoken,If thou wilt mute,thy wilful mutilate shalt never muzzily eloped be.And then i burns with bashful coy,nebulous winds with mountain above and vale beneath,my goof nefariously outwitted,what follows more,my smoulder perception with grace doth quench the brutish burning of sullen cheeks, And where it blows,doth a new i begin,Mammoth forced to discontent and so,were they pulsated to fret wherein nebulous winds frenetic bays,And they cannot be overruled,where hath it not overswayed. to eschew kittens and kitsch and so narcissus winds so thyself,thyself forsook pedigree of those whose footings were not seen as mountain glides and vale beneath mewls,as wind whispers a sentient bellows.Thou,canst not see perception in thy sight,not thine fructiferous eyes,but emotive bank,in thy temperate moisture condescend to its eulogy, Nebulous winds,dancing placid placidity placid on the sands of time,no one is spared,the buccaneers and the buccaneered to the guillotine,are all whisked for a verdict on modusviviendi.This plaid,all men alike obversed and obsessive grilleth. Mountain above smokes,why thy night hand seizeth my philology from left hand 's preserved morsel;to woo thyself above its frowsty encroach.When nebulous winds at thy bossom whispers,let that your oasis placatory be and be not hung,in pizzaz of their gregarious chants, That moreish pandemic,a pandemonium overshoot beyond thy millieu,to milchcow evasive fortune,the world a mugger,muddy sloth embanks.Then niggle not over nebulous winds 11/25/2017 9:52am My pen dribbled with horror and fortune.Hardly had i scribbled my doggerel above,with the title' Nebulous Winds Whispers'as a Mystical grey hack octo-poet,that i was out on the premenade,on the street at a newstand,And lo,nebulous winds thus began,ravaged street bazzaars,grocers and hawkers,barrowing the day away under toil of laborious sun.Did i barely exonerate myself with my mystical stormy pen? I hid under a ramshackled tent,with lank thatches above,leaking the torrents over my bald pate and the hilly beans at my millieu,hibernating beneath porous roofs.And the storms cascaded further,beyond compare,circa by circa,to my chargrin,greedily winceth its troublous,heypresto onto my trembling feet,my ramshackled sandals.My pacify was hocuspocus with my angel investor,who was raptured as my discussant and a diminutive wight,stood apalled his tympanum frenzy.Torrents on the floor,crept upon my nebulous feet,as tens of blokes,grouched with my same tedious ire.Oh my pen was mystical and home i returned drenched. 11/29/2017 1:47am MY GLORIOUS HERALD MY GLORIOUS HERALD List Of Poems So Far Written.1) Ossify.2) Shall I Compare Thee To A Lotus?3) O Hagiology,it Was A Helot And His Hehaw.4) Nebulous Feet. 5) Mountain Above,Vale Beneath As Nebulous Winds Whispers. 6.) On The High Seas.7.) Shall I Compare Thee To A Blistering Blithe? 8.) A Tardy Path But Solicitude. List Of Sonnets To Be Written under Old Greybeard Passover Sonnets'series:1.) Shall I Be Compared To A Sheafless Winnow?2.) Shall I Be Compared To An Autumn's Greenfields ?3.) Shall I Compare Thee To A Springtide?4.) Shall I Be Compared To A Winter's Snow? 5.) Palmy Days Soon Ebbing 6.) Palmy Days Spring Tide 7.) Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Fury? 8.) Shall I Compare Thee To A Gazebo? 9.) Triumphant As The Old Sleigh Bells. 10.) My Glorious Herald TRIUMPHANT AS THE OLD SLEIGH BELLS.I am like the wanderlust that floats on the high seas waves, that foams over hills and vales,on the lakes beneath the trees and the forest,Dancing with the breeze as they gyrate,gritty as the old sleigh bells twinkles my verve for a dent in my painstaking pang,My vacuous legs stretched at suicidal pace,though barely sullied by sulphurous escapades,tossing my head in sprightly comedy of gutter dance,even as the waves themselves personified,did dance before me seductively like a geisha girl and i the gigolo,For Oft in such a jocund,in my pang when upon my couch reminisced,brooks of brood triumphant as the old sleighbells,raptured my petite solitude.For a manifold of footsteps,footloose do i make as the old sleighbells,to bliss my dreamland,that flashes of imageries,romping my bald pate,fructify be and then with epicure in its sly,my heart pants still. Still my dukes upward maul for this phantom of delight'triumphant as the old sleigh bells'cherished me to chant and chantgalore That was my phantom of delight of dreams not broken,of graveyards not enriched.When first,it gleamed upon my weary sight and hazy feet. At one moment's thrills,starred my eyes as the stars of the sky,A modest wraith,in dancing rigmarole to ecstasy fathom my bleeding heart.Eulogy,plaudits,gusto and deification,poured on this inspire.As mouth agape open,the bliss of a conqueror borne out of indurance,foresight horsesense and a nobly regalia,swaggered with angellic mission not far away, Triumphant Shall i chant 'triumphant as the old sleighbells'raptured my heart.Tis no space for a lachrymal infection,tis the worst pang is over,in a twinkling of an eye,I am as triumphant as my lofty heights and the old sleighbells. That neither the past nor the present or the unborn age,whenever my heart's dread avails,with grievious theft evicted,when that inspire thrills my badplate,stupefied by diurnal beguilling sports,winds impatience,gripping upon my navel,to flex with pledges and oaths yet unattained,do i my appologia braggart in reiterated engross enthuse my catchy phrase. And then one more step,then one more salvo fire,And then one more step and one more salvo fired, i am as triumphant as my dreamland un-suppines unfurled and as the old sleigh bells a cheerful merry bore. They came into city and they could not triumph meet and hence they departed. Oh they came into the city to fleece triumph,still they could not triumph meet and once again they departed like the Sisyphus,pulling the stone adinfinitum.There is triumph before triumph,there is triumph after triumph,there is triumph above triumph,there is triumph beneath triumph,there is triumph in the seas,winds,land and space, All is triumph in their divergent escapades, As mortal marrows being expectant,jubillant as the old sleigh bells,all day belabour for the purple birth of the rising sun. Triumphant At The vale,jubillant at your mountains,jubillant at your caverns,maketh thee not a discontent when phrases and verses speak. That oracle is my verve,in the howling wilderness,when i with nothing for nothing pacifies. When I with the trip to the barbarians for a nigh two decades throbbed,to assuage my agonies that glorious verse,thwacked them to my tendon kept yelling and chanting'jubilant as the old sleigh bells.And bare feet,did i trod it myself,none exasperated tis my facelift at the dying times,my potion and trauma flees,tis my dreamland arcane overwhelmed tis my starry morn eulogy appended,indeed jublilant as the old sleigh bells tis my glorious herald,starry nights bade farewell. 12/08/2017 10:47pm DICKESIAN HOURS;AN Excerpts from SORCERERS STONE 12/09/2017 12:18am Lord Dickens came to town,treacherous and oggling.Three bitches of the sorcerers stone, sorcerers of maiden dusk,In the trenchwarfare and the trenches' magical impulses wreathed,Dotard bitches,cheesepairing accustomed stings in the potion wring.Wryly and scarily,they scary torment feckless gowns,with the effrontery of hell and the vitriolic vituperation of oracle and magical spell invoked on the unsuspecting prodigy,in their efflorescence of dickesian plow cast.Hours and hours,hours by hours,hastily they vent,by Belzebub's ordnance,Dickesian wights outside the castle,on a booskied playground,stertorous stinkers cannabis smokes,as boozers boozed.Dicky throng etiolated,convulsing amidst laborious toil,Boshes of convulsion,contemptuous bowls of boors and boon companion frequent the isle,a splenetic windy sail,a scorch on coltish limpet clung. What a ridiculous bonvoyage for the evasive birds of passage,spoliated and sponge thrown too hastily. Of the spoilsport,splodge of spoliation defied,a spatulated spank,its springtide spawned,a spine chiller's spinetingling spill,calumniating bed of quicksand upon which the latter's modus viviendi's booboos were supplanted in misery,yet disparate bookish cannot see,yet bonfire cannot burn. Thrice troublous plain's misery assiduous ensconce,Of the pyrates of freedom,ascension they browbeat to submission,in the inferno of sorcery stone.Quirky charms and spells,ethereal incantations cooks its cauldron speaks.So,froth a dickesian hours,tripple potions' ungrateful and uncluttered flock they a spangle to fleece a blueblooded clasp. Like Rome burning,like hell burning,broth and bail doth the gnomes ignominious,but bubbles,eyes of the owls,nocturnal awakening,sprintly thawed,to the sorcery of the sorcery stone,a tang of the tangential knot,so,fastened. Plutocracy is unworldly rodeo of voodoos and brotherly cult beware. A DIRGE OF BENEDICTION 12/14/2017 12:22am Between 600pages To 650pages so far written. 12/19/2017 3:17am MIDDLESEX COSMOS RESOURCE( M.C.R.) - REAL ESTATE BUSINESS PLAN.Plan Outline. 1.0 - Executive Summary - Objectives - Mission - Keys To Success 2.0 - Company Summary 3.0 - Services 4.0 - Market Analysis Summary 5.0 - Strategy And Implementation Summary 6.0 - Management Summary 7.0 - Financial Plan Appendix Executive Summary.The purpose of this business is to raise $600,000 or sell 40percent of the company to investors. Middlesex is a newly registered real estate investment company with the Corporate Affairs Commission( C.A.C.) and also a multipurpose multinational having eye in the intertional market ,but based in Lagos,that will offer benchmarked services in both residential housing units and commercial buildings,including rental units as well as facillity management and a full fledged realtor based services,a full service property management company,which includes rentals,leasing and maintenance,working with experienced consultants and dedicated staff of property managers,leasing associates,maintenance and vendor managers and others such as maintenance personel,seasoned surveyors and property valuer.It is into real estate consulting and development and provides full service consultation. This includes creating financials;finding investment opportunities in the sector;and researching the best financing option It planned to acquire about 10,000 acres of land,for its various branded estates project,spread across safer geopolitical zones of the federation,especially across over three developing estate areas,in the suburban areas,for future devolopment,with affordability status for low and middleincome class.Middlesex housing units will offer standard and quality services,built on consistency in quality and standard,take growth oriented,with unity of purpose to share ideas and achieve common goal,balance safety,cutting edge features,customer satisfaction and create a positive atmosphere for welfare of customers especially tenants,with unparelled level of customer services,in which the sales andthe rentals,will be provided.Then,sales are projected to be substantial in year one,rising moderately but later also substantially in year 3.It also plans to develop and manageluxury,premium and classic apartments in selected citiesand approaches planning from customers'perspective,tocreate a conducive,living working condition . 12/20/2017 2:38am The Market.Middlesex will target three distinct customer segments,basically being the residential and commercial properties segment;the estate customers' segment;and other allied property business services segment to be distributed across its three market segments of the topmost or upper market segment; the middle market segment; and then the bottom rung,mass market or lower market segment.The mass market being the largest,fastest growing and yet most untapped,most neglected market as opposed to the upper market and median market will be offered with cheaper or affordable residential and commercial properties,and also explore limitless opportunities that abound in real estate rentals.This consideration is a wise counsel giving the exorbitant pricses of these customer products,operating in these markets,with seasoned proffessionals,value added services and robust management,either for construction,maintenance and managing in whatever project and capacity building,they found themselves,at a given period . Management Team.Middlesex will be led by Ibikunle Laniyan and his brother Ajibade Laniyan. Ibikunle is an unknown freelance Journalist at Vanguard Newspaper and also a silent blogger at www.kunlemicrofinance.blogspot.com,has been imbued with a pressman 's instinct ever since 2007,when his first article,a postcript was published by Newseditor Joshua Suleiman,at National Mirror entitled "The Plight Of Nigerian Textile Mills".This followed years after he dumped being a vendor in 2002,worked a stint in an hotel and attended a computer school,prior to cameo media forays that was begun in 2007,when he celebrated his first published essay and went to publish tons of essays as subcolumnist.Precisely,by 2013 had started freelance Journalism under entertainment editor Ayo Onikoyi till date though online journalism had begun to crystalise since 2007. Although the pay was not much,nevertheless Journalism and media work inspired ibikunle as an aggressive,gave him an incredible revelation and professional intelligence into potential industrial wealth sector by sector in the Nigerian Economy at large,which was made possible by covering beats in the print media,as a general reporter,as a voracious newspaper reader,as an information hungry lion and as a blogger.This gave him an eyeopener,into the boundless opportunities that abound in the real estate business.Hehad written tons of books,ranging from Poetry,Drama,Short Stories,Novels, Po-Novels,Poetic Drama, Motivationals,Science fiction, and countless papers,on Selelected major sciences,and all of them not yet published,including vast chunk of his 6,000essays.He planned to launch the world largest book of poetry by a single poet and also planned to launch 50books the same day all under his Nigerian City Of Literature Project,that can put him in the guinness book of world records,have also been put on hold,in order to explore this untapped potentials in the construction industry.However,it speaks volume that somebody with this kind of projected feat,is the brain behind Middlessex. The Media exposure and also under mentorship of Pastor Ekong,especially Baba Kwara and Baba Adeniyi,one Of the world best valuers,close mentors,whom he regarded as "Estate Godfathers Occult- E.G.O. forming his board of advisers,provided ibikunle with that basic insight into the riches of the industry,that he will leverage in addittion to his innovation and licensable intellectual property right,that can be monetised too,for a succesful venture.The industry badly needed a revival,albeit populated by quacks,poor strategists,ignorant proffessionals and shortsighted policy and project managers,yoked with elitish approach and squanderers of resources,in their care.With E.G.0s and innovation,not even the sky is the limit. 1.1 Objectives 1. Encouraging Substantial sales in year one;2. Substantial in growth in gross margin and revamping it over the span of the plan.3. Net Profit positive by second year with substantial savings.4. Have a crime rate and loss rate to be zero. 12/20/2017 5:22am 1.2 Mission. Middlesex provides not only standard services in line with international best practices,but also high quality and comfortable rentals units' services in the Lagos Metropolis Area and also as expected across each of the identified market segments wherein its tripod distinct customer segments will trade.Middlesex apartment units provides state of the art living condition,embossed with sophisticated internet facilities,ostentatious and reflective of rapid velocity in the advancement of mordern day technology and the prime importance of vital necessity like housing and land.It is not only concerned with profits,but also the safety of the investments,safety of the tenants, and the welfare of the of the environment in which they live.It is also a primary objective of the company to maintain highest level of attainable customer satisfaction in a tripod of tenant safety,comfort,happiness and then luxury at the upper and middlemarket respectively. Middlesex maintains competitive market prices,even as it 12/20/2017 8:52am is geared towards expansion of the product line items and agressively growing aggregate profits earned as well.This requires that in its corporate setting,a coordinate,an articulate,a coherent,a cohesive and a harmonious that focused on an exemplary mission,in which employee satisfaction is an intergral part of that approach,that will make a success of the approach and also key to its duration and longevity unhindered. Initially,the focus will be to engage the buying and selling,later buy and develop existing properties and will modify,remodel and renovate an acquired estate,in order to ensure that it meets Middlesex Standard and grow its long term assets and income. The construction of housing units will later intensify and predominantly be focused on the commercial and residential properties' segment. However,it will target choice location based on the consultation of Estates Godfathers' Occult or Orisa( E.G.0.) at their specific market strategies monthly meetings.Middlesex competitive market strategies promotes customers and tenants importance and also ensure healthy relationship between ethical commitment to customer and employee satisfaction. 1.3.Keys To Success 1. Safe,quality housing in which state of the art facilities is provided at competitive and affordable prices; 2. Maintenance of open communication between customers and Middlesex,in order to obey utmost appeal of first grade customer satisfaction and enduring reputation within the market communities; 3. To be consistent in the perpetual expansion of the volume of housing units,being built,owned,maintained and managed,while also substantially growing an intense level of profits for Middlesex and its investors. Company Summary: Middlesex Real Estate is an enterprise that is a round leather,full service property management company,with basic expertise in the evolution of high quality,but low cost residential housing.It also places strong emphasis on its robust training and also pays vital attention to strong customer services. The first property to be purchased by the company will be based on the advice of E.G.0. at the monthly general meeting( M.G.M.).It is going to be relatively located ,at the choice location that can be easily monetised,so that it will be easily rented,at full capacity in 10months and thus reduced rent in the last two months. 12/21/2017 3:32am 2.2 - Company Ownership Middlesex Real Estate is loaded with a lot of big dreams and will be created later as a limited liability based in Lagos with 40percent to be sold out.It will be owned by Laniyan Family and major investor being Ibikunle Laniyan and holds majority stake in the business,being also the acting C.E.0./M.D.of the company and possibly Mr Lanre maybe C.F.0 and holds stake,eitherdirectly oron behalf of silent investors and shareholders 2.3 Company Location And Facilities Middlesex will be started with good office space in Ikeja or preferably in Lekki environs as determined by corporate marketing strategies.This will be the head office and heart of the company and will be linked to its branch offices in selected cities nationwide.We are also installing state of the art internet facilities,in our offices and 24hours helpdesk service to ease business communication,with customers and clients.This is vital to be dealt with in an expedient and and fluid manner.We will set up market intelligence,business intelligence,customer and Proffessional\ethical intelligence teams to act as market informants,as we grow in every phase of the business,so that we stay on top of the market competition and incorporate new corporate byelaws.We will show it can be done at no cost.At the cost of E.G.O. Meeting,prior to full commencement and launching of the company,will decide the right purchase of the company first property and how it will be financed and methods of reaping from the investment. 12/21/2017 10:42am In Year 2,we will be purchasing the second building and more strategic buildings not long thereafter.It is difficult to determine badly needed to be taken into consideration for a start up period.The total start up expenses such as legal fees,stationery,insurance,rent,construction cost,expensed equipment and other logistics etc. Start Up assets needed (include short term assets such as trucks,cellphone etc) and including initial cash to handle architect and contract fees,prior to grand opening.The addittional cash needed is for the purpose of paying zoning fees and government regulations.The anticipation of long term asset purchases and assumption of longterm liabilities is built into the details which are hereby included in the following table and chart as shown below; START UP REQUIREMENTS Start Up Expenses Legal Architect fees Stationery etc Bronchures , Consultants , Insurance , Rents , Construction , Expensed Equipment , Other , Total Start Up Expenses . 12/22/2017 12:12am Start Up Assets(cash Required) ,............. Other Current Assets................ Long Term Assets............... Total Assets............. Total Requirements............... Start Up Funding............. Start Up Expenses To Fund.............. Start Up Assets To Fund............ Total Funding Required .............. Assets( Non Cash Asset From Start Up ).............. Cash Requirements From Start Up.................. Addittional Cash Raised.............. Cash Balance From Start Date................. Total Assets............. Liabilities and capital Liabilities/current Borrowing............ Long Term Liabilities ................ Accounts Payable( Outstanding Bills)................. Other Current Liabilities(interest Free)................. Total Liabilities ................. Capital/planned Investment..............Pastor Ekong..........,.. Lanre............ Other Investors............ Addittional Investment Needed............. Total Planned Investment.............. Loss At Start Up\start Up Expenses....... Total Capital And Liabilities............... Total Funding............... Followed By Company Ownership Contd From 2.2 Company Ownership To determine longterm duration of an asset,we will assume whatever E.G.0s gives us Services.Middlesex offers onsite security guards who patrols building projects,at evenings,nights and at early morning.So,we will maintain an openline communication between the clients,renters and the management,also via webpage,24hrs help desk ,customercare,videoconferencing,teleconferencing,skype and call in and answer service,phone etc whichever way possible. 3.2 Competitive Comparison.Middlesex competitive advantage noted in the tips below; 1. We offer higher level of quality in all of our units,more than our competitors. This also allows for comfort in investment. satisfaction for clients and those rental residents who hardly desire like everyone else detest to loose out on their investment;value for money.2. Each units when built will designed with mordern day technology and internet facilities where clients desire such option.3. Middlesex marketing and advertising cost will be minimal if not zero; Deployment of public relation strategy and digital marketing in most cases.4. The main competition as envisaged will be in the lower or mass market segment and the lower cost of the apartment units. 3.3 - Sales literature. Middlesex bronchures and catalogues will be available at our own offices.These materials will creates marketing awareness and will give customers an impression about available units for sale,explain marketing general outline and benefits of the units offer sale and rent.We will also have monthly newsletter that is appealing to our teeming clients.This will used not just to inform but also educate clients about our growth and outreach at Middlesex... .It also contains human interest stories about our complexes and residents.We will also advertise in local papers and massively uses our official website in a way that it generates more money than the company,if possible offline,adopting models,from Amazon, Apple's Stores itunes, Ebay , Social Media Marketing strategies and Software,combining features from online retail stores such Joomla,konga etc and a portal where all known trade and goods and services can be sold,in the country and abroad. We will have more work online than offline and that is the greatest asset of the company,including its official blog,web tv and web radio,vlog etc. While industry specific publications,to be fully subscribed to are part of the marketing strategy,creating waves as part of the strategy to gain audience for sales. 3.4

APOCALYPSE

APOCALYPSE.

Appanages,hung On eggregious mile avariciously they woo the apocalypse,and tends the appendixes of kismet,to append futurology of the homosapiens.And dancing the arty crafty,timologists,befuddled in its beguilling sport,and the morning appeases to the night for the ap.o.gee of the great apocalypse.They play with the dart forth fire of the pejorative arrows,as they banter and badger ashcans of naturewit's persiflage,effusive and ebullient,eggressed and effused,on the eggregious mile,With eggs thrown on their faces,the ascetic minded and the hedonists alike,the clan's eke,as festoons of parlous roses,festooned by fetor of eunuch's effete pouch,Elapses time's docker of vaudeville doddle.And they dole a pittance and a penance for a livelihood it.sy-bit.sy,waow,what a scrooging lifetime! Dogsbody-birds,mousetrap cheeses and pipsqueaks,squelched in their marshy,motheaten squadron,dissuaded their infantrymen,rottened sports in the damp squib,dogstired and still doggoed,rummaging like a fodder in the doghouse,

Squeaking,squawking,squealing,squinting,squiggling and bustling like a squire and the swiftest canst pacify timology for a pie of gravy train.Dickesian clamour of the egregious mileage,sings the dirge of the Dionysian dingy,to refute the persnickety of nature's boundless ever cooing persiflage,diddles the sojourn of a sojourner,Birds Of passage,squarebashing in the earthly sojourn,as vile felonies,cryptic and a crucifix of prejudice as volition cross,bent on the edge of the precipice,crumbles neath earthcrust in fest of timological squandermania,as golden morn,the true price of freedom,goes up in smoke,and esplanade of espousal,wails beneath its labyrinth,to unravel even the frittered escapade of the jungle.She bares the fangs of hell and the promenade of the seventh heaven,whereonmalediction and benediction,being malevolent and benevolent,oozes from its sedentary butmutational couch. She flies,in thevacuity of the cosmos,her pingpong,plays with the mouses,the bats of the rolling moss,and the languiddickens

and the obstreperous motes,languid dickens of the raving monty,a leveller for the marshy moles,in the truculent morsey's tiring trudge of the egregious mile. Matrons of honour flock to her orchard,as insulator of the supples of its mines and crucifixes.whose moult,decked with unflinching plait,matadors of this mileage and time's machismo of masochists,maroons of the serenades,Ambush bedwetting pageantry of fatalism,to jail the bedlam and bedbugs of time,she rejoices in the beautitudes,the hobos,beatniks,sorcerers,villainous,mavericks and the libidinous,dancing gore on goreish horses of the starry morns and starry nights alike,to celebrate the backwaters,backwoods,the backbenchers of the idle courts of sapiens'trojan horses,with their ambidextrous regalia,wrought marvel of the open sessame,Her invincible and invisible cult personalty of esoteric hewn bustles as noble and ignoble pawn that frets in labourious sun,a golden fleece of the rising sun and fallen moon,and Thenthe day junketing into the deep as night

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woven into darkness,fugacity flies away,ambiguous into empty space as freebooter of meteoric vale of checkered antecendence.All You a cat's paw,let there be no cavort,cease,to cavort and gallivant with cavil,a caustic cause celebre,to scorn her cavalcades of cavalrymen,masquerading up the spout,with the cavalier spout of catch 22 spoors,robe no more thyself,with obscuratism,casuistry and catatonia schizophreniac carousel mental catalepsy,Neither its howler and cussed heap of gallivanting mirth,nor its fickle of raizor-edged perfidy,cuspy and cushy,to do your damdest as your cart horse relishes,Carol no more in oblivion, o birds of passage as she flies away into empty space,with her carnivorous fibre and trouncing with her cannibalistic canopy.She plays the blindman's bluff,to blink and be butchered by itsblast furnace and guillotinous foundry,bleeding hearts crumble,into gaol trumped by the blandishment of the blankverses,and bland poetry of the languour but long and everlasting mile,oh,everlasting mile

,the Basketballcourt of the timologists,whose complex umpire,knows not scorn,Hung on armchair armada,an awesome craft and spawn ofattelieries,enamoured by neurosclerosis of arson,to slay the apothegm of its appliqued in trodding the longest but languour mile,a slothfulvile detest this trudge,her anthromorphic alopecia nebulous withapathy,unmasks anorexia spawning of fleeting times,plodding her womb in clamour of anticlockwise and anticlimax of cacophony,All You vilest cat's paw,why the anomie and season of anomies that frisk that you frisk might bleed?Caustic temperament caterwauling,burning on a sunk but cattied caisson,ambrosia itself burnt to a frazzle,on its cauldron,and so much caverns had gone beneath the bridge,to cling to stampede and catfight,chatters and old chatterboxes like a cheapstakes,flock at the chasm,the cicatrix of morbid chutzpah.Cockfighters hurl into dunghill,coddles a cockpitof cock and bull cognoscentis of the cold hearted and cold bloodded,coaxed into nebula,in their colloquy..

smouldered morn,with the rapturous conk of the bats,Concuspicence rises,gathers momentum smites concussion,to condole its confection,impudent voyage of confidence trick,conflagrates its consecration, And then they speak with one voice even with a broken gourd,As She flies,trading her consignment of eternities away in vacuous space,convolution coos proclivity and then ages unrestrained fret infinitude,to kick its round leather game,at the ignition of time,Plead thee,come to me and depart from the countryside of perfidy,that we may confab,Courtesans of coupde'graces and melees of coxscombs,cramp on the vintage creel of the old lady,to damn her dalliances,with ambivalent spaces,Where is the deed of covenantthat they might pay whatthey owe?A decrepit mission of thefritterred generation of distant memory,stupefied by embellishment of fugacioustimes.how furacious times fly,at the furtive cloy of her couch.In this couch,sobs not karma,when it cometh,on this couch,deleterious trenchancy denounces denunciation..

to depose and desecrates folklores of the deep,oh old lady of mothernature,this vile,it clings piouslyanddesuetude lingers pouting andporting like a pooh-pooh alone,up the pole,in the desert and savages of the delirium tremens,stilk dingled with the innuendos of the rapport,Hence delirium dances its double dutch dealing and draconian double crossers'grin where doss by its dosser,fly rampaging,jumbling the cosmos,like a flash of lightnings,in the asshole of dystopia,dyspepsia and dyslexiac earnest brawl twinges,wherein,dynamites are fallen,where she lingers ,delirium becomes its in laws,to curry perfidious favour and esperantoes of theguille,murder sleep of time. Bewareof she,the old lady of mothernature,shall with karma repay,her furry barely obliviously ,piously shall repay,with the swords of eschatology and retributive justice,she holds the plumbline of justice as the final arbiter,elope Brownstudy Of the escapologists and the sarcastic grin,let them compete,from which side of the trenches,trenchwarfare

O MY ROOT O MY GONG

O MY ROOT O MY GONG.

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Once upon my couch evinced i my heart throbs,as annals evoked memoirs of distant hills,over time's quaint giddy goat,subsumed broken dreams,in stead of palmy days ,beneath bulrushes of interred sands of time. Brutely moped i nagging,heypresto,at the mockery of gooseberries.And my gorges goodily rising,at my tarnished boo to a goose,burrowed from a boo to a goose.tis a meagre remniscence,i sighed,grating at my gravestone of bibliomaniasis,a mere ecstasy spurred me on. Bravo,respendently,i Could recall,it was a muse of camaraderie, And behold,they the bibliocrat sinewed with gritty grenade,flung its cannonade upon the groove.My being brisky,entombed in marrow ado,had i not groomed to unwind and sail farthest sea? Antecedence speaks of me,supplanted of my root,my ignition key,for a wobbling sentry,persuade me to abscond,for the infection ogre and infelicitous infantry,whom their masquerade,bent upon lobes of spurious lores,evermore luddites blanketed Yoruboid cosmos.And the sunken gall,with rampaging....

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,lushed with rampaging sport,pounding and billowing,trounced me with inferno and a transfixed palpitation that tore apart and barely subvert the subterfuge of the stupendous curio arts,attheunsung harmonious crescendo and scabed gong of my genteel root,my hazy feet pined away.Groans,my weary Souls displeased;o my humble bay,o my genteelgong,banished by inglorious sobriquets.So,they duffered by torpedoof this innuendo,Oh my greymaster earnestly thy pedagogue,my sullen bank seeks,to recoup all the colours of rainbow,sunk in the titanic ofprimrose bank and despond slough,Being that i was a minnow,riding obstinately,with pinionson pilloried horseback,bereft of mutation in a mutation plow, Andso grandiose,they came,gone grey,shrinking and shrinking pointless roses,at my motherland,aptly to groove,edified by insomniac,on a nocturna bed,tis the greymaster epistemologically unleashes its avalanche.Darkness flees,with rising stars,far flung from tutelage,still barely do i hesitate to wonder its esoteric cult of

a masked glory,a sunk apotheosis. Lachrymose yoyoes lachrymose,lachrymal terpsichorean lachrymal,decked with the inglorious tag,with which it was roped and gangraped,still treachery yet unbroken ,crisscroses lakes,lagoon,seas,rivers and across the atlantic,sailing like a journeyman,casting irredeemable nebula and lo,the writ whispered in my ears"tell the story" shall i not tell my story,o my root,o my gong ? Sat he on his heel,subservient on sandy bay perch greedily,my tendon broke he to utter,that he supplants within me,burning my marrow to hear"sure i shall retreat from this vicious vitriols of specious insinuation of the infelicitous calvary,impaled amidst throng of gathering clouds.The thunderstorm,gloriously raves and sails like a meteor,garlanded by contending sky,a hazard that defies soft landing of a gentle breeze,with the gentle leaves,to breathe and take a recess,to fly above gauchy clouds,is to gather stormy twists,in thy hands.why shouldest thy heart sobs quiant quirky?why shouldest thy cheeks

pale in thy misty eyes,to dread at its dusk?strong as thy ears and eyes,shalt thy resolve be.

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Scoffers do not scoff,when the sunshine glorous diadems coronate a king on a throne.Blinkest is he that strives and strides in nebula.Time thy fortitude to blaze and scale grandiose heights,Starry morn precipices at thy indigent millstones and freestones,quake dread in a shepherd vale,whereon nightwatchmanship's burning the midnight oil as unflinching shepherd,incense a new dawn;it does not persist without guerilla,malediction of its hostile squadron,neither unsheath your drawn sword and spears nor its sunbeam glitters afray.The night breezes,creep over its dinghy horizon,And heavenly moisture,in virtuous drill,showers its tentacles,hazy mountain quaking volcano,yell over poignant moist of unruly vale and at its zenith,sordid it plow?To tame the hamlet of the plangent cloud,to run the precinct of the wild forest courses,hunt for sloven game,in the wild,beyond st.blues,heavest the gaming table,with a new gong and songs sung over the burning gleam and morose palms.

Mammoth in a lush, lushed and they could sing and wrapped their head in hymnody.And stress,durress and distress,impulses mammoth cheeks,a hilly beans,prowling nature's quaint sordid plough,barndoor hit,beneath my fallen plunge unsung,swims fortitude that skates sullen feet,crusped beneath sunken boats,flung in wild courses and stormy steep,that friction,crystal sands,froth daisy-kick sunken,lunged with the immanent gale,corroding the tides,sequel to a bent and burnt limb. Distilled With the humus of celestial humidity,they cut their teeth with the palmiest days' engraved silverlike sheen,fed impecably on scorching earth,frittered diamonds,squandered timologists and bantered dawn,recoup a groove and its fleece,but in a transient perk of owlish eyes and gracious earth unbundled.

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O Fate o fate,all men call thee a fatalist.if thou art so,what dost thou do with it that is impugned,for a mutation plow?Be fatalist o fate,for then thou wilt chide effortlessly,to bear the spears and venom of recalcitrant men into shape and norms,that thou lookest pale,in sight of mortals,thy eyesight sees beyond the dark of nature's ill diving verdict,things that to utter them to be heard,things that to hear them to be heard,things that to do them to be ado,makest an unstained vision and impecable journey,wither not in tattered robes,overwhelmed with overwhelming brows,meagre were the taints,plaited upon sharp misery,had torn apart broken bones,And in this despondency sate,a damocle's sword hung, A thurible thy arts thwacked,and other crucibles,Of infecund ferns of tightknit frangible ricochets;and about he,the swashbuckler's shelves for shelfing this irreverend patches and moles,A mendicant rendition of green earthenware pots,flung in remorse and mustards in a mutation plow,Nothing in this numb,to myself i

refute not,And If a man did need a earthenward potion,much worse than this sate,let him die alone whose stale,is abscond of the broken dreams,with the direst clouds,into thin air.Here the wretched of the wretcheds,at dunghill scavenging daisy kick unmourned, And this same achilles heels,man must tend if not mend as a hawk,in a lifetime buoy,Art so bare,so sterile and wretched,that thou fearest to famine thy fatalist cheeks,with sinecure and starveth impending blossom of golden fleece,whereon contempt art climbeth thy tallest trees of pride,to hang thee,beneath stale? O thy root thy gong maketh thee a numb when thou affords it,no stress on thy distress,a lacuna for lifelong stale.O how sweet roses,a visioneer brings to its gaming table,with those flowers,bridal bed ,i strew o fate,if thou not being deluded,thy canopy is hell and brimstones upon decrepit girth,thy root,wanting zealotry,distilled with appetite for yonder hills,assuage thy spine,for a yonder junketing,armed thy brow with bibliocracy then lunge..

refute,And If a man did need a earthenward potion,much worse than this sate,let him die alone whose stale,is abscond of the broken dreams,with the direst clouds,into thin air.Here the wretched of the wretcheds,at dunghill scavenging daisy kick unmourned, And this same achilles heels,man must tend if not mend as a hawk,in a lifetime buoy,Art so bare,so sterile and wretched,that thou fearest to famine thy fatalist cheeks,with sinecure and starveth impending blossom of golden fleece,whereon contempt art climbeth thy tallest trees of pride,to hang thee,beneath stale? O thy root thy gong maketh thee a numb when thou affords it,no stress on thy distress,a lacuna for lifelong stale.O how sweet roses,a visioneer brings to its gaming table,with those flowers,bridal bed ,i strew o fate,if thou not being deluded,thy canopy is hell and brimstones upon decrepit girth,thy root,wanting zealotry,distilled with appetite for yonder hills,assuage thy spine,for a yonder junketing,armed thy brow with bibliocracy then lunge......

MAYA ANGELOU'S MISSING RIBS.

My heart pants for her days,to be reinvigorated ,even beyond eyes posthumously,And spasmodic vamoose the fugacious winds,like the eagle'n'flight,And heypresto,with the janglings of the nocturnal lurk,she was gone to the heavens shores unmoored,Oh,the homeostasis of the caged birds,drowned beneath,A nestling bird,rose forth and dawn,from the rickety winkle of a tunnel vision,whimsical of a soiled root,with the broken gourd and wrinkled gong,tardily soft budding,softwinging and softpounding,hurling gravelly brimstones,at the heart of white supremacists'encroached Americana,gratuitous they impugn their freedom,and out in a thump,upon a hackneyed soil,taint their robes with punitive invectives, Oh,sail she a conscience farthest sea and the caged bird broke its tangled knot,and flies away empty into vacuous space, singing imponderables, At a furlong taming the wind's flight impetuously,and gales and bales fly forth with the plunge,from the frenetic vales to the hilltops,the soul of the caged birds rises,a lacuna

lampoons absenteeism of a tribune,and a vaudeville of the distant hills and esoter

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ic galaxy left uncharted,dinning with the spineless,who were once her bucaneers,flying her cosmos into the infinitude ofno return.Were she not fractious,with fragile self exhumed,wouldwe have been immersed withbiographies and bickering poetryof the soul?Splittedas if like a foundling with no gazebo,unmasked durress splintered across a globetrotting imbrication,swooned by spleenetic tide of motherhood,racialism and her voice of the nightingale.Was Guy a betrothed-like son,a missing rib or a penchant bardesquely bent as the trenchant pen,that she absconded literally and metaphorically,from the vicarious engross of minstrelsy,at every of golden fleece chase? Was he still a missing rib postmartem,that she would cringe,her moth eaten plangent bone,at her graveyard? Was he a surrogate to reenact her winning streak?Was Time a thunderous varlet like an unmissable vagabond that should swindle irreplaceable precious stones adinfinitum?

O how sweet chilling and painstaking,does an enchantment of excruciating motherhood thrills? So,she Was sung,at the Porgy and Bess scuttled European tours, And so,she dipped her broken pen,imperial hands and swollen feet in gall,for the unsung Americanah,and Heypresto,belching Her cartharsis,hephtacentric autobiographies,were slung like at the rudderless banks of her sullen roots.And the plummet skyrocketed,with the enchanted witchery of 'I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings'.Does the caged bird,not sung to defray the windbound windsheet of the ochlocractic bucaneers?

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

GROTESQUE WINDS

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.

A DIRGE OF THE UNSCRUPULOUS

Wanton sands that gawkily sloths,unscrupulous clouds when sullen goofs,frigid all night long;turgid seashells,whose frills are vile ,mangled dreams that fled into cosmos,whose stook,minxs and manxs,taints carvenous gorges and drudgery basins,wail o unscrupulous vales,for the golden fleece of the graveyard,world richest goldfields.

A DIRGE OF THE UNKNOWN

Wittiness goons,that gropes boisterious,A dirge,too cankerous to sing,distant waves,when merriment wallows,knits the isle of man,frivolous feets,trivialising whose mnemonics tardier gruels, enigma belching subtlety,futurologists and futurity wails,fallen heels,fallen eyes in fallen lands ,interred beneath soaring hills. Wail,that the horror eyes of the owl of the owl canst not decipher,the unknown hills,sapien's greatest dirge,is ambiguous,an eternity far away,a dirge too many and he by byzanthine,dent simply  be known

ELEGY TO THE SADOMASOCHIST

 ELEGY TO SADOMASOCHIST

Whacked by supercilious brat and invectives infested uncouth tongue,the repressive durress within that ambience circumnavigated,ignited his tacit and so,he by temper swung,stood at a convenient hiatus,to the rampaging art.

Elegy.that in my heart,thy guilles all but interred ,wherein nature's heels,taught thee how to unfold chaste's flex at thy cloven hoofs.The more i say,the less thou art observed.Thy scorn art scold abhored,thou shouldest not abhor mine utterances,but in selfesteem,thy adore should be,if thy self esteem is blotted,more guilles at thy household,comes home to roost.

Contro.Sonnet--151-Chaste is too benign to abscond,where conscience pleads;yet who knows not how to chide,is born of scorn.Chaste Is too senile to know what foibles,to patch,yet,who knows not moult is crust of adamantine,then a greater whore,importunes her juicy sport,lest of mine refutation,thy aggrandised self elated be,for thou scornful of entreaty ,i do not elope.Mine intergrity,to part thee,of vile,mine fiend doth shoot as thy ignoble den,that thy household might trump and triumph in lust,as moult stays farthest behind pleadings.But rising impetuously as thy tolerance facade of licentiousness doth contendest with no patent guilt,contented with dreary eyes and thou art pleaded and pleased to dwell by the wayside.No fathomed piety,without conscience,hold nefarious fingers in high esteem.That 'chaste'for whose dear crust censure,i still sell thee.

Contro.Sonnet-152-In thine chide,that chaste is chaste,that saves multitude of souls.But thou art to be scolded a thousand times surfice.To thee that chide,might transact piety and break fallow ground.,for thou art not sworn,to thy piety vow'd.And breach,evidenc'd in thy fortitude,art strayed thy household,And all mine chaste and scoldings,sank its titanic and dreadnought,beneath seashore,flat fell,for the graveyard itself barely smears an earth for the dead.And every resolve is pothered by guilles of sentiment,and to elope thyself at thy writ and grit,consumate i nebula,or made thee slaves,at thy achilles heels;for have i mourn,a thousand fall unfair,as more perfidies,at thy faith,to cajole and censure a mammoth,with the pariah outcast and the wickedness of their gluttonous behind.

Contro.Sonnet-153-Scorn laid by brute barely fell asleep,a maid of honour,it glides thy marrow,And thy context,scornest kindled did sway with recompense,in an ephemeral, hedonism of lampooned chaste;wherein filial piety disdain'd uncouth lips,lively feeds,unfettered by rabidity doth abrasion kinky froth,which yet all foibles pleased to fathom,but at the guise of misty eyes,direst crowd frigid.