FUNKY FRITH-BLUE FUNK

                                                      

SONNET-1-Impale not the hours, that genteel pact did stook,

Upon that furtive gad,it winnows,whereon every specie doth bleed,

Will pluck like a leaf impalpable to blench funky frith,

And that immolate,imporous fairly doth not excel over peremptory

Implore,

That stealth away,unflappable placidity of the  impassive  waves,

To a dingy din and dionysian bray of heinous gallows and hoods hie

him stringent,

His fume fungible cannot fumigate , ecclat incursion of its funky frith,

And like a funambulist, trapped with its tethering rope,the incorrigible

Earshot of the incrustation

O earth ,funkying  o  the earth moans,and barrenness flies on every side ,

Frost on lusty leaves,impudent pottery,a postulate pleonastic to elope,

Nor as a plumage, disdain’d brine being pluck’d and viscid like a plumpy

Prisoner,

Lush’d out of drowned seas of funkying  wedlock, O gathered flowers rot

Away when not timely  distilled by heavenly  moistures,asphyxiated by

Trapped breeze and winter of gravy train far away.

SONNET-2-As whiffs,like a whim,whistle in the whist,that caprice like

a freak,a buzzing sound,

A whir barely  frets ,its whirlwind over its sagging mile, whisk eyed reverted

 back to its windbound,

Then let not its winter wheeling waves deface thee,break even some spiral

over hapless dusk,

Wince not,adorn not your neck with the bracelet of its sorcery,to deign its

vitriolic malignance,

That unkempt swagger is forbidden usury,which wattles those gladiators,

Wasping its unflappable Trojan horse,that’s for prudence,to breed another

 Crust,

A thousand times thyself a merchandise,warpier than thou,or a thousand

times virulent thee submerged,

Be it foul play or wastrel tacit,if a thousand times of thy wastrel thee coagulate,

Then,what could a funky frith,a voluptuous grope of sandy shore do?if thou should

Wassail’d ,wasp in its gaol,be not a nebula,and a warren to banish its volcano,

Volcano!volcano!!volcano!!! it burns an Everest lustre,unhallowed and all the

Colours of rainbow sunk beneath its primrose bank.

Sullen’st music hear’st not mellifluous symphony,nature’s vouch,sour after

sour,sour with sour,

Flex and war not ,nor its yellings mangled tis gravy train eloped;why hear’st thou not

 humourous girth,

Or otherwise cringest with hedonism thine contempt;if the funky frith of

Trojan horses,be smitten,by hurly-burly.

SONNET-3-Do pervert thine marrow,in retrogression,thy sinew,should’st hustle flimsy,

How one persevere humorous girth,hurl’d beneath dunghill,strikes a lackluster

With tides downhill;

Veering  pertinacity and ignobility ,to encrust sarcasm,in one fell swoop,

Funky deign doth sings whose clutterless and clueless lyrics,being frivolous

Vedette,

Sings foul play,to thee;’’thou unblemished rot,is it for frith,runnest thou affray,

That burnest like a volcano on misty mountain?Ah thou clueless bigot,if thou

 Clutterless hypostatic

Hypostasis shall harp to abide and trojan horses,reddened by kismetic palms,

Running away,will make thyself merchandise of contempt,and not to  smother ,

 A steely fibre, rampaging igneous rocky ignite,the earth with thy hell tarry still,

And thy impudent iceberg weep,

Not being with a trademark distinctive hewn,has hurtle behind glorious palms

And feet,

When every sordid plough,in that hell,might be dunghill cremat’d by sweltering

eyes of laborious hours,

Her humus vertex enclosed and still  the world contends;but  custom’s freak,hath

 upon the earth elongated,

 Behold ,what a miser in the world doth speaks,condescends but his  immolate

and groove unscath’d,

the afflict’d so destroy’st his hood,so illogical and illiberal and no poison as

venomous and no cancer as gangrenous,

As the frith,funkying on a pure cauldron,its carteblanche sparest no rod,that on

Himself,kismetic feet smouldered,

SONNET-4- What a vile ,that heaven’s plaudit eulogises,for

hypothecation thou bearest not sword for nothing,

As the frith and thy merchandise are so froth a verecund

Unleash if thou wilt,thy art as thy defence ,thy breastplate,

That being against thyself,might loom and linger ,seeking

furacious claws,to ruinate,

Which to thy thraldom,should be thy relief tied,shall its thralldom

 fairer ,that its purest gold, be as the glorious dew and kismetic

palms not akimbo,Make thee that harpoon for  dart against whales ,

That beauty still bedecked the gladiators,with untangled kismetic feet

of gold ,

Or to thyself decimates its kindled kismetic feet of gold;rise above

 The heartburn ,impetuous and headstrong,

So fast as thou canst run,with that fresh blood that thou mayest

 Fret with arts yonder hills’ escapades,

Beauteous pearls and pebble dusk,coagulate at hansock ,imploring

Hebetude to hebetate,

Clasp and heckle a reef knot,that homily,upon the growl of sands

of time,might centuries preach,

Heathendom decrepit with funky frith, heaves its headway,whereon

Sweet compare,hailed mass boggy cloak,but homologous disjointed .

SONNET -5-O that you were not slammed by this thraldom yourself?

But harlequin like a clown in a pantomime ,haziest hawks,much stronger

Than hebetude yourself ,

To treacherous slam thy bellicose navel,and in neuter of this malediction,

Beware of wits’ end ,

To jealously price your verdict ,not imprudence plucks,so should thy heed ,

Be bristl’d to hatch in its season  ,

And above thy deign reproof be,held in legion of hostage indigo,helot and

Hobbledehoy of its gauchy but ineffable clouds,

As infidelity infest its despondent seasons,infelicitous growls its sullen

gown,

Whose ode on indolence ,is as stale as frittered zeal ,and a  barren land

Which lets so  a discreet callow,overwhelmed crust,fall to deceit and

 decrepitous indexterity ,

Which infecundity,in an evaporating soil,upends against  its stormy mists,and

Barren soil,unthrifty jingoist,o none but impaled frugality appends sagacity,

O you had a bile ,let your foible be cut,O you had a bile,indeed,let your

foible be cut  ,

Let it be cut otherwise obscure shalt thou histrionics and melodrama play,

Then shall the impudence of this oddman’s mélange,whisks infiltrate away.

SONNET 6-Thyself pedigreed,thy pedigree itself pedicured thee not to funky-

Frith,

Over strangled vale unbetrothed ,over pink sallowed shells befuddled and 

besmirched,

Still jump through the hoops,hoicked  in a hoopla of hornies and horseplays,

Hobbyhorses of hobos,fleabites, hokum and hives of  histrionics,still funky frith,

Thou hillocked hillbilly,be not in hock,wherein you plow this glum brass that gnaws

So deeply,

Be thy gob,at thy fulminate,not gobbled this sacrilege,and be not gadfly as thou

sunketh do,

And when thou blue funk,funkiest fracture and fest,gallivanting footloose,shriek,

At the pit of hell,

Earth shattering earthlings,perished earthwork,burrowing earthworms,subacid

earthenware,

Dotage of dead-brat and deadbeat ignition,gadabouts,whammed, with

confiscated volition,

And wrought wryly yoyos,whingeing and whining and shrieking,a mere whimsical

pracis,

Thou art thyself a whipping boy,witchdoctor of thy own self-abnegative witchery,

When bulwark falls,a waif that returns his distending passion,not shirk its eagle,

Nor its  tendentious wakeful,hobos no more at the ignition plow;what viva his

 plaudits earn!

How come vacuous vagrants entangle this plain,embroidered by blue funk

that friths!

SONNET 7-The urbanity of this utopian urban myth,more than proven,as

 Sacrosanct,

As urbane as its diffusion,that s fairest of its provincial legions,to stymie

That s splenetic  styptics  stylistics to eclipse  carthasis of the cosmos  renegade

 funky frith apologia summons,

Much averse doth avarice its avaunt ,bally ballot of its

tendon soothe

And much less worth not much a disdain of his auxillaries,

More than a sinister to balk and hoodwink,once the balloon

goes up,

One dapper ,a Cardoso at Venice,poignant out of corps de ballet,

her ballerina swayed ,

Hardly had he decked his waist with the baldric of baleful baulks,

Did he his balls of  banal and prisoner of foibles at the bar interrogated

at a stone s throw,

On a bank holiday,a tenth foot pole at the cashing point stared him in

 the face ,

And upon bearing his soul ,that his teeth bared,that quirky eaon,barge into

his sedulous groove,

And barges as he traipse and  traipses as he barge,stonefaced as barefaced

Barmily barmy

And no pacify to sooth him apoplexy and exhaustion tis like a barman and

a barsmitzvah,

A toddler barbiturates served he,and soon,that his ignoble beast of burden,

Ferrying ire and beaten blue by its own batik, dozes off,on a  sofa of

crowded alehouse,

His orgy,beast of prey by aura,that brash alterego that bearded the lion in

his den to gash showbiz opera,

A repertoire of besotted ballerinas,stampeded with besmirched feet,at his

heels .

And being turgid upon his hellbent,sloshed them to pulsate wherein pulses

And pulses as they heart-throb,

And dare a damn dead opera,damn dead ,unfair to fusspots with bated breath

Asphyxiated,

Open sesame!open sesame!open sesame!open sesame!had he gone to bats?

How well,his stormy petrel blazes them trail to trail-blaze in his traction of

tortuous grail,

But he not frugal at Venice,had morbid lurk,at nadir to jade them well beneath,

And now at hand grieving as they merely meek and prattle,without practice,is

his soldiership of oratorio,

And they like a heathen to the atteliery goons them moorless,at his beast of burden

Apoplectic avaunt,

Beyond their  kungfus,kudos coronated to him of a timely berserk, they crowed not

and kowtow,

And being subservient as sedentary at his heels,they ply their troth,tis awoke he,in a

Flabbergast ,

Why art they cringy bounteous crowded at  his circumference,wherein his radius stood?

O lest his cosmos should fret idolatry swing thy neath of apostasy,

wine and dine,

What merit fastened in his fret to goof that he should plumb upward bank

 licentiousness,

After his cameo refrain then under duress swung in the amorous bank,

And a lifelong flirt stained and stigmatized a once glorious plummet,

For you the love as lust or licentiousness can mean nothing to prove,if nothing

But smear,

Unless it be for chaste to chide thee,a  bully-some virtuous lie,that never

Refrains,

To do more damage than mine own lease to wither funky frith’s gauchiest

 Clouds,

O how sloth,heaved more coals upon the deceased dreams,than libidinous

Heels,

O let not this defilement,pine away sanctity of the soul that should in his

Martyrdom mammoth salvaged,

Ain’t no true love at Alupluto;for the banditry by tentacles of its blanket terror,

Had mortgaged womensfolk for a prize of aggression,and every raid,pleasure

them deeply ,

And durress’d into oath taking,minacious random raids coagulated with terror,

Stare them clear,o stare clear;for the womensfolk,art being plunged into its

 Cimmerian darkness of counter espionage,

Lest thy esoteric well kept be divulged at the price of lecherous dogs

Dine and wine

I am the bard of Alupluto,in me thou fadeth not in the sunset tis sunrise

And twilight of such glorious herald ,

Which by me if not reneged doth gavel silvermoon  as the deathbed of

 laborious rites,

That on the ashes of ash heaps,gregarious chant ,greedily and greedily

doth lie,

And if it be not thee pervertest abstain;abstain!abstain!abstain!abstain!

Why is their resolve,they the mighty fallen heels, so barren in the land,

So windy sail  besmirched and encroached ,from the coagulated bed of

 silvermoon?

Why with thy gorgeous brawn ever flexed at fracas do I not they as thee

Implored them to lunge?

Abstain!abstain!yet they  disgusting and repugnant abscond from its refrain

Why I write thee,I implore thee that this salvo  that  they fiasco flex’d,thou

Mayest not err,

Keep the invention away from the weed,that every word of the gospel,doth

Fairly observe,

Let it be known that sweet allegiance,beyond compare,a surest salvation

train,

For as the sunrise is daily twain to the sunset in the conjugal bliss of the

Elliptical oval,

So shall thee to thine twine of salvation train unbundled,as is the pracis

 of galactic stars,

In the golden hook bereft of wrinkles,whereon that this thy chef d’ouevre

So grandiose a cheesepairing of painstaking good cheer enlist thee in

the golden sands of time,

As predestined hewn of the kismetic palms,unctioned by mothernature,

In the frittered banks,thou shalt not be found nor fired blank,with the

Blandest grin,

Many a ilks of this Venice dapper,crissedcrossed this plains,damocled

by licentiousness,

And lo,silvermoon went up in smoke,depleted without remedy and this

Epistle of etiquette,

Not etiolated,wilt not thee, thy craftsmanship crabwise never ever

Crashland,

Where all thy treasure as thou thyself not outgone noon doth not

 homage pay.

ADO-PHOBIA

                                                              

Crimson frigid invertebrates,unassailable,involutionary,

Infiltrated with the infirmity of the neurosis,and jaundiced vaunt,

Tethered senile and hobbling hobbledehoy,Inveigled,with the

 invidious impinge of the ogre,

Illbred histrionics of the city square,to play the mortifying

 molasses

As dazzling razzmatazz and impecunious bough of poltrooned 

psycho-cide.

Perforce ,it will iterate intuses’galumph,inversely ferried across

Its splendiferous languor,

A landsman ,who cannot see above his lassitudinous landscape,

Tongues and semantics of the Moorish polyglots are alien to him,

To whom this brutish carapace springs ,froth upon his blushing impiety,

Livid lips and subtile evasion,

And the imbued suicide pains ,that cannot be allayed even  by  sheer

overdose of nepenthe.

With subacid passion and imprimatured impiety ,he  lies intestate ,caressed

 with fusillade and  indigo of ado-phobia,

And the sun rises,and the moon rises,and the sun falls and the moon falls ,

at the racketeering of elliptical oval,

Grim-death,pawned,in that summit of evaporating sunbeam,thou wilt not

 deign this favour,

Still it meeds, by naturewit ,carious suggilation,from its impending farrago of pothered

 intuses,

And the sun cries when it rises,and the moon laments,when it rises,and the sun cries ,

when it falls,and the moon laments,when it falls.

What a sundry of peripatetic gangrenes ,replete with, stupendous nozzles ,and

frangible banks of  inapposite rudders ,

How shall we be relieved,if we gather ,such plenitude of infirmities  and fragments

 of a potsherd,to re-groove vacuity,at convalescence,

To whom, nondescript nooddle,defied,with its nobblesse ,pouted against its

nidulation,

Sturdy simpletons and weetless half-wits,stale and staid,sings like a minstrel,these

 verses and stanzas of ado-phobia,

He atones thrice fairer ,than himself,with indolence ,pledges,to woo his sick-thoughted

bile and obdurate neurosis.

Furthermost,he nauseates from the gully of his viviparous gauchy clouds,warbling with

the necromancy of insolence,

Pleads him,to ambush, from contumacious well-spring,to vouchsafe ,at the molestation

 of motherwit,

Oh,that myrmidon,pleases him,to dwell,wherein slothfest,in slothcity,indulges,to the

Plenary of gregarious chants,

Rudderless banks,necessitous,but namby-pamby indigents of mottled navel,monomaniacs

Of the wall-eyes,

Trembling in windy escutcheon and vitiated mores ,to do a villainious good,amidst famished

nymphs, mumpish recreants and vagrant psychotics.

To refrain a truce of  the hoity toity aperture,ridiculing supposed piety ,at the saddlebow

A thousand foul plays,not numbed by a thousand nebulous secrets,unequivocal,shall the

Vafrous sands of time be enamoured,to recoil its lambent,

Oh,what a nefarious unicorn,time is ,with its elegiac ode to ado-phobia and its inglorious

Cascade,

To sequestrate,palid undulating jingoism of its ultra,montanious freedom,and barter its

Festivity,

Truculent,still,it steeds and by its treacle,imoinges ,tophaceous translucence of naturewit.

Tacking and tacking ,titubation itself ,totters, its rudderless banks whereon,tenancy of time

Canst not quench,

Let time’s scorn and tantrums,scold the beautiful ones as punitive strayed horses ,once

Mutilated as lack-lustre claws,

And the thespian introspectors and histrionic cartoonists ,shalt return ,to river streams ,not

To  pout,

But to scoop , fresh water ,with a thesis ,tutored by Hegelian dialectics,  socratic dialogue,

And Cartesian logic of cogito ergo sum,

To refute tenebrous ligaments ,and lo,the tempestuous temerity of time’s inglorious techy,

testicles .

Mated,with terraces of temerarious pedagogues and irreproachable erudition,not impeached

By intransitive intrepidity,

Tepsichorean dancing,dances threadbare,capsized by languor ,clams like clambake,tingles ,tambourine

At kickshaw of paratonic paresis,

Moult! Moult!!moult!!! ,the cricket voice of Nightingale sings,

Moult,so sings the nightingale , to carry coal to Newcastle,

At a peripatetic circumference ,engrave now ,perfervidity ,perforates thee,

Perforce perfidy ,

Peremptory and perdurable ,flog subtle wits of perfunctory darkest hours.

Behold ,penny wise particle ,now partible ,thou canst not fail,

And the moon rises and the sun rises ,even above its perihelion of smokey orbit,

Ado-phobia ,reverts back to its bellyache and burning earth,whereon its keepsake is

Nothing but sheol galore,

Antiheros and antiheroines , antediluvian arids,woo not armistice ,to bait a backward

 country,a backward charm and a bag of bones.

As it trods the earth,with  unearthly volley ,esoteric pearls divers ,smitten   and 

asphalted with armada of argy bargy bazaar of bedridden charms,

To frolic its flippancy , gallivanting miry girth to beards,with glees , ado-phobia in

 its den.

BARBARIANS ' OAKS AND THE GROVELLERS

                                        BARBARIANS’ OAKS AND THE GROVELLERS

This poem is written in the poetry novel format,in contrast to poetry versification like sonnet,controsonnet,hexameter,terza rimma etc.The poetry novel is a new standard like controsonnet,devised by the novelist poet.Read on.

1

Upon this primrose bank of white elephant luxurious acquiescence and inebriated acuity ,did they hung their lance as  the ahoyed jetsams , in their acropolis of

  acrobatic lust.And their chins,floating upon a caisson,like a longuer’d pearl-diver ,not cognizance of peering through a stormy sea  surge,who being steer’d by sloth,still numb as naivety crickets bonemarrow; to take contending might,into an elongated truce ,which acute long an algorithm,have not widget’d,making sandy feet to wobble,from its boggy swamp.And one temperamental naïve and rashness,shall pay this burden and  burble of countless debt,So,hastily  offer  they by torpedo of passion,what they as raving debonair,they did crave;But when they,flinthearted coteries, by fastened lurk,were bristl’d and ecclips’d for the ebullient downwind, they roil and rogue with rodomontade,as Romeos of quicksilver’d punctillios and hence retreat with immoral lust.

Never did a fiddling in a factitious Fahrenheit,more sanguine,for lust than they for this vile at Alupluto,They by prejudice ,succor, they retreat away,but succor at home,they cannot get; They  lush in facile and revel in a factious facsimile,yet its fire as bellweather friends must burn;‘O barbarians,pity-glots’gan he lament’ puerile lax;tis but a roil,they dunce,why art thou no solitude indure,that thou mayest freak not as Aluploto’s prince,salvaged thy badlands and motherland?Why art thou no sedulous brisky?

‘ I have been savag’d as I woo thee now,by top etchelon of absolutism,even by the pungent goddess of purgation,whose drawn sword,still unsheath’d never did refrain in its razzling razzmatazz,who grovels,where they jabber in every facile; yet hath they been my topflight barbarians,razzling and tittletattling,tiresome  in every turn,And not trit’d for that triumphalism like the old sleigh bells,for thou which thou resolv’d to do.Over this altar,hung I impuissant,hath they too,impuissant factious as they trenchant growl,effeminate plow ,they with batter’d shield flung its tirade and pettiness of sportish crest,making my tent blurr’d as my feet,as well as the bed upon which I lay’.

With rapined ire of red rosecheeks,Femi stood appalled and squinted’Barbarians grovelers!’’ ‘’ Oh yea,look in mine eyeballs,this viscid vim  of yokels,ragamuffins and yobbos of high places,stoop to vulgar,racketeering its yen,out of leadened sprite, for  the weary sun,doth they burn in weary soil, darkened faces,overwhelming their unwieldy feet ,hegemony frosty, so guile and its malediction so unkind ,this vampirism of a vindictive vampire bats,vaporized the coarse soil of the thespian birds of passage,alas, a thimbleful floats ashore this rudderless bank,things of palladium,but of no precedence bred,whammed their complexion,fie of no ransom and a senseless stone,And turgid passion doth provoke a kleptocrazy.’’

And now ,Osomo,in reprisal,riveted at the poolside,as jasmine scented the air,the fragrance twined the night breeze as he yearned but leaned on poolside staircase.The rythmn and synthesis of his binoculars,like birdwatchers,rapturing kaleidoscopes and birds of preys,sublim’d at bird’s eye view,ransacked how he weeps in retrospection and pondering on tenterhooks the rabid taekwondo of these stymied birds of prey, Now gazeth he upon him and strident,did he stranglehold;’I’be no foolhardy,to graze on thy primrose lips,to feed where thou wilt,struck at pale of distant hills,thou shalt no rise thee,from specious vomit,even though,thou a thousand sinews stretched,to shelter thee from the tempest of  varicose vein,straws of mendacious dimple.’

‘Close thy gully mouth,to so steed, be no hypnotized,to swallow cavernous gulf of the heart,Being stir-crazy, before ,by vampires,how doth they now jockey for wits?Deceit avalanche at first ,what a deceit astounding ,strike them countless times ?poor maid of voluptuous bank,in thine own hand art thou  breedeth more scorn,forlorn to freak that meeds at thee in contempt!Now which shall they go,behold revolution!revolution!!revolution!!! when ,where and how shall they do it?Their demagoguery are vile ,the bales ,more creeping ;And judgement is penal,her intendment is banal;breaking this stranglehold,and to them,they the revolution goes as they embrace their Bolshevik-like impunity.’

2

‘You, Voluptuous bank crazy ?’ ‘oh yea,it is the voice of wit,listen to it,feed from its lectern and let me an utterrances broached  of my poetry,versified in terza rimma:

                                                           VOLUPTUOUS BANK

’flamiferous bird of passage contendest lay,

on the sole doctrinaire of classless struggle,

Marx bridle unimpinged and Engel trumpet

 be.

To whose voluptuous bank proletariats,

Cringest but thralldom tend’st expunge,

O voluptuous bank,let manques and

Paroxysm,

Of maudlin,so gluttonously,hoist thee,

But thou,shrinking violet of the proletariat,

Foulest thee earnestly as piety,opium of the

Masses,

A gangrened and lumpy inference of  the

Feverish eaon,

Foulest earnestly twinge as foul play,dances

On the trod,

To this Trojan horses,trudge,thou not stampede

 to victory,

From this numb and benumb,leviathan stalks,

Every ligature of the nebulous clouds,wicket’d

 by  downwind cliffs,

Like a bulwark,fasten the sailors,prowling,

forlorn’d seas,

An expedition that vanguards the nocturnal

Waves so stringent,

Malign now thy quest as thespian manqué,

That derelict,nincompoop and pintsize can

Be the maledictive sheol-impounded malaise,

Lest the malevolence encrusted requiem,malignant

 Sings,

And thou maladroit,maze of maudlin deadbeat,

Frisk scorching fire,

That thy miscarriages and barren meadow,fallowest

-plough’d,

With the writ to wit,thou drovest verecund at a

Furlong,

Stainest melanged,mellifluous megalomania,crest’st

Thou trod,

To ambush thy deceit and hit its direst clouds;here

the epitaph,

Doth inscribes; dissectomy and meoisis is cardinal,

To  brown study,aproned by meditation and metaphors

Sate,

In a meticulous dread of a meteoric vale,so the banter’d,

As writs like a nuptial knot , coagulate with wit’s end,

Had the moiety,the modicum,espoused its errantic

Humour,

3

Distinctiveness and pristine lores adorned with eagle eyed

Dungs,

When juxtaposed,embellished the sand dunes and vulgar coast,

Dossiered with dovecote of ineptitude and reddened from

nebulous clouds,

Aristomagnetism met a brickwall and dunghill asunder

,yet mendest remote,

Repose, distilled with heavenly showers and bereft of

fugitive gestures ,

As requisite,betwixt the dissectomy and the meiosis

Of the whole ontological shebang.

But in them by bibliocrazy,were a wonder to behold,

So,betwixt them,writ did unveil the mastication of the

wit’s end,

That dissectomy ,broke the fallow ground,of the

infecund meadow,

And vulgar coast,fructiferous,but unflappable,flaming

In its meteoric vale,

Either way was passionometric  and passion supplanted,

Wit was thus appalled to be betrothed and foible masticated,

That both thighs and hips were not undissimilar,must be

Beyond scupper, be ploughed by deigh,on the indian files,

Neither pizzazz was scaled back nor forlorn battle won its

decisive plow

From a tunnel vision into broadway vista,wit in itself startled,

Evidenced by  conundrum, and meiosis broken down,when writ

Is summoned,

To their concord,yet disposed or indisposed,cringest not afar,for

its overflowing bank,

A thimbleful is on the plow,a thimbleful  is on the plough,behold,

A thimbleful is enamoured,

Mammoth with nebulous feet,marching on the hurricanes and

 Landmines of nebulous clouds,

The descent into nethers,plungest untiring;for voluptuous banks

Were not so acquainted,

What a wight ,spirituous and squawking,whose yellings become

A quirky pall,a pasty pastime,

That seemeth indulging this bulging but infantile distendeth

Scoundrel!

Aristomagnetism hath ventured writ to wit,mated by meiosis,

When dissectomy,ploughs its meanest shores;trigonometry

Of an equation,balance speaks,

If  what polymorphosis at its tendon seeths,can so much a pastime

rodeo encrusts,

Whereon  upon this maroon and caisson,it bays to the consternation

Of the dissident,apotheosis,

Bulwarked by rountine of this trigonometry,shall the arithmetics be

Eulogized and mystified,

AS stormy seas blinking before confounded tragi-comediots benumbed,

To all eternities doth lurk and lie my penfriend and boon companion,

-o voluptuous bank,my mortar of holy curiousity!’

4

‘You bard at Alupluto,gestures cannot be repaired once pastures,to the meadows  its horses graze,burrowing cedars bereaved! You mean trigonometry,what import,thou obscurantist?’

‘threesome,every conundrum, pleads for  a caesarean ,for every bit of animadversion.YEA TRIGONOMETRY art sewered at ALUPLUTO and shall someday perdition akimbo-ed.Barbarians gather beneath cedars and talk away lifetime,minacious depredators from the northcountry,in fest of fifth columnist thus thrive,Palladium o palladium ,why did you sleep?’

Obstreperous  blackspots,blanched Alupluto and ornated by hedonism,a repertoire of white elephant luxury.And they moved closer ,to plait a visage and a sentinel.

On both side of the cedars,cadence plunges

Its vociferous precipices,a bazaar of yobbos,

Barbarians grovel in their thousands,and thousands

Hood’d in their barbarian cocoon,not pilloried by

Alupluto‘s downwind,cyclone of chaste felt not their

Daemons’swagger,cranks of the old dickens,countryside

 baboon.

Bunch of sociopathic soap operas of erratic soapboxes

fret the air unease.

The festering sore of street urchins and ragamuffins,ogled

from their sockets,

Aluplutans themselves thrice fouler than Alupluto’s ordeal itself

,stinks high heaven ,

Over this fastidious  borderline ,Alupluto’s boulevards botch,

Above and beneath its garrison of sedentary hoist,stood the

Bouffant bridle,

Brassmonkeye’d,bovin’d,brass’d,brash’d,brandi’d and brink’d

At the guillotine’d bubble,

O,What a brinkmanship,that gins to immodest,and there where

The passion ends,doth anew it begins,

Now doth the fifth columnists play its guile,now doth they connive

With the bandits,

And bashful shame,they burn not,and hid remorse ,where albeit

exterminated ,

Lays the flaccidity of the voluptuous bank’s bubble of trigonometry,

Still they burnish and prettily still they burnish,decrepit of palladium

Burrowing,

for  to a filthy ear,they stale even its  burlesque,and greedily,burlesquely

sullen frets,

And still the narcotic tales,plank’d with contending sensations,raconteurs

Unleash’d,till they take truce to stare blank.

So offer they in their facile of facetious façade,to fritter away their

Treasured troves,

Being factititious,they love it best ;and  being crimson’d ,their

Eagle,the blue sky turneth not back,

Look ,how servile to retreat,they cannot retreat and by that unfair

Girth of blemished hand,sheol raises its chins,

Which avalanche long have rain’d to pilfer the commonwealth,

Under this cedar,a fourscore thimbleful of barbarian grovelers

Banter,

And to winkle by winnow,a winsome modicum, for  the great

Expedition,Femi and Osomo’s

Bovin’d  entreaties falter,before it began.

Nibbling on the ground ,the tip of his shoe,crippled by

Vicarious