LARA AT ST.BLUES STREET.PART 5

 LARA'S AT ST.BLUES.A PLAY FROM THE ANTHOLOGIES OF ST.BLUES QUEER STREET. PART 5.JOHN:Hearken now to bankrupt your tedious reticence, away from your gibberish and retire to labour "Involuntarily, they resumed labour on the farmfield. And to her office, she was headed in huff, looked obscene, at the officious temperament of her employee director and banged the door behind,in the quandary escort of the director, who was later embarrassed over her weeping.                     

  John:Why the yell madam.A worker must work to get paid.So, what the fuss madam, weeping over your sloth labourers, that you seem to engage them in untimely discourse?Will thou avail them from labour, so you can pay sloth for their indolence? But this much of your grief, want to exude clemency for grief. Why the yell, I do still perplexed much of my navel.                                            

 Lara:See, let me weep, if you m indeed cannot, I can weep.Let my emotive bank its catharsis tear apart .   John:Then what weep, weep do you weep?                        

 Lara:I cannot choose but to weep, for my brethren.Now, they serve me.                                                   John:You mean you know those sloths.                              

  Lara:Dont embarrass me please.You call my old school mates sloth?                                                                                                                                              

LARA AT ST.BLUES PART 3

LARA'S AT ST.BLUES.A POETIC DIALOGUE FROM THE ANTHOLOGIES OF ST.BLUES QUEER STREET. PART 3.Oh what sacred plough in her poohpooh, for still in her pooh pooh, ploughs a lonely furrows . Never did herself a red herring, drawn across the rail, ev me ince her red flag shot.She was engrossed for a pound,from being in for a penny until the days of reckoning. They behold that Rome was not built in a day, what pyrhic victory, beckons she; for history barely cast pearls, before nebulous swines.See, how history exhume the escutcheon's blot, in a turtle of dual deconium.And so the dead horse was flogged to death.                       

Enter the labourforce and exasperated. Clara and Adeoti.                                                                               Clara:Oh we are the sport of stigma, another fortune's tool.                                                                            Adeoti:What vile beginners of fray are we? Did I hear it right that capitalist is a gorgeous maiden, still in her early thirties.                                                                                      

Clara:what piercing steel for us, of a colleen in our age bracket?                                                                    Adeoti:Had we not sojourn offshore brothel, that we be not mewed in this haunting heaviness, from which bliss,we could still have reveled.Let it flee.

 

LARA AT ST.BLUES

LARA'S AT ST.BLUES.A POETIC DIALOGUE FROM THE ANTHOLOGIES OF ST.BLUES QUEER STREET. PART 2. .Either be stoned,before depression, be, boredom or by the stress of distress, restricted from trenches. Transit not in thy state:I'll be on

the tapis to enquire the silvermoon, and it shall be boon to mine golden age. Every good charm to thee, that much vaunted stalwarts to your relief.Give me a breathing space tis farewell to my distress, bid I riddance, And that joy that exceeds joy to soothe my navel , kiss me with my laurel.                 

 Clara:Have you convinced her? I've been thinking so, time by time's laughter ridiculous ridicules, mortals its kinsmen. And so I did not notify myself. Well we were made to bliss and stress, peradventure stress and distress bedridden, but to exit this distress, anew, let this plain by us depart.                      

  Adeoti:this woo fell on her deaf ears, earshot amiss, and to her limpet, she was clung.                                Clara:Why the refrain to accord the Rubicon, in rough and tumble ? A rolling moss gather no stone.This ropes I did blatantly know without prejudice and none wire pulling could unmake her to turn her turtle and fortune smiles that eludes the minnow's tritons.Had the nine days wonder at the twinkling of an eye, not vamoose into obscurity of history?Solitary confinement, pays her earnestly with a lone ranger's pedigree, baring to the plough, to put her back

 

LARA AT ST BLUES.PART 6

 LARA'S AT ST.BLUES.A Poetic dialogue from ST.BLUES QUEER STREET. PART 6.                           

   John:You mean your employees, were your former school mates.oh my gosh!                                          Lara:Dont ever call them sloth? Okay. How come you call them sloth?                                                          John:they lamented squandering their time away, in foreign brothels.I had firsthand information and am quite sure.                                                                                                                                                 Lara:You are getting on my nerves.Can you defend yourself, when you meet them?                                     John:Of course.i can call them.                                                  

 Lara:please give had enough .dont embarrass me.             

 John:What do you really want?                                                   

Lara:recall them to my office and

 place adverts immediately  on paper for ten farm wor kers.

TRIUMPHANT MILLS.PART 2

 

ibikunle laniyan <ibikabram@gmail.com>	Wed, Feb 12, 5:32 PM
to ibikunlelaniyan

TRIUMPHANT HILLS, A POEM FROM THE ANTHOLOGIES OF ST.BLUES QUEER STREET. PART 2. over sacred hill.The proud entente of lake river abesi itself jubilant, eloped to cart away more bouquet of flowers, where its squadron rode.Not an aloof ride where this spectre apologia greedily trumpeted and jubilant hours feasted.Pines waned,flutes danced to jubilate the trickiest battle royale ceased, minnions beat alabaster cups and horns of dread.And thundered feet became flying feet to make mountain the home of the gods and wolves on the mountain,like whirlwind from wolves beneath. Millennium of grief,strickened fine dogs and deadwood, could with mere putsch of the knight of old's dragnet pull them into stardom.How not like goody goody, shouldest nigh comport,on a gormless gosh and gnash of piffles.Not the gourmand of the vulgar and the vulgarian fraction,that quashed  it beneath,Alupluto's to this gory height to abhor the gooed twain and silvermoon's gooseberries.What a gallimufry and godforsaken goddess outshone  the encumbrances. And they gabbled but chaos and they gadabout but banditry menaced, and so this gaggle gaggled yonder its friable frippery.Now miser ,with the fortuitous foxes of the foxhounds, clenched at the Alupluto's forest creeks unclotheunclothed this hideous fracas. A thousand grenades had done this witchcraft and when the flurried hot spots had been fluxed out, nirvana emergence but not surfily wherein forest battalions unleashed the flotilla and the auxiliaries'fret.

TRIUMPHANT HILLS.PART 1

 TRIUMPHANT HILLS, A poem from the book'ST.BLUES QUEER STREET.'. Spears of tremor fallen upon my navel, Avenging spires, to an allegory of kindred spires, maiden's shrieks blushed brazenly cheeks , at the strand of iron eyes, giddy feet hath summoned the squirels and dances of the thunderdrums, to spawn pikes of craven hills, insooth where brave lads, so dire a zombie, agonised over the daughters of eve, celebates of wondrous fairs, who quailed with solemn brow and tense derision, steeple throes, corronated by hangman's noose, over fickle punches and blunted sparsely spears where friars' beauties, desecrated and repugnant. Those  glorious herald seemed not to wink, not in draught to fall into naught, of those goofs who could not set thames on fire.That rap that almost treated the weary to spread mine toast of bread ,unfilled and unarmed cup in the fire, where wood merchants had briddled nuances of forest tales, to quell inferno that stiffled lumber trade.The faggots had eaten my intestines, to a hamstrung bounteous bounties, on thumbscrews and racks, And assailed by suicides, who being stuck to the logtrade,miaowed by leeches,whose eloquent tones,flows and rots like humus of the forest leaves and droppings of the sweet poppy syrup,hung over this earthly drones, where mammoth laid their dreary cheeks.Crownlands in the ride, boulevards,culdesacs,streets horn aloft in triumphant trumpets,knights in purple robes,gallant horses, anthropomorphic hoods infested strode

REVAMPING THE HIDDEN CHARACTERS OF AMERICAN ECONOMY.PART 1

 The path to golden age civilisation from this mordern age civilisation as it were from the ancient has not changed abit down the millenia-a natural law of freedom immutable as the gods and the medes and persia. As contained in the oracles of the great charter of liberty this law of freedom begins by paving the road towards intellectual freedom as the most ideal platform to unleash idealogical freedom .Heypresto the avalanche of psychological freedom and its sedentary thrust of objectivity that previously lay dormant within human and social psyche is quickened by artistic ingenuity to ferociously demand for social change .

However the theories that underpin and catalyse social change cannot be so reliable as to detach itself from the intergrity of social freedom needed to catalyse social change-itself an ablution of an appreciable mass of economic and political change.This indicates that as natural law of freedom characterises  the substructure of the societal fabric it must be in alignment with with material