In reticence they contemplate, commenting
About the ways to escape the exciting place
Where perverse triangular thorns were based,
Preventing their carefully laid out plans;
Surmounting nothing except foiled futures.
The genesis of the prototypal, of evaluated worth,
Spread their roots with effervescence,
Since the time genotypes
Might’ve been fumbled, quietly
Stirring in dark paletted vats
Located on the Space Station X.


Ever Did See

Recovering soot covered attendants pass by
The palace’s esquires carrying rococo styled
Heater shields with bouches bordered by
Scrolls of decorative Tibetan floral designs,
Standing, oriented in square formations,
Classifiably tending to the bourgeoisie
That came as foreign visitations
From the furthest reach of universes,
Learned, far wiser, stronger, and swifter,
Than of those mistaken members that
Trivially lead and inhabited those homes.

Suddenly they dragged one over, eliciting a
Whiny: Aooowwwww, yer hurting mine arm!
The abhorrent outburst quickly struck
Fear into the heart of the lowly
Swine, now weeping.
They imploded, reddened
Faces of the divine, shaking.

The aboriginal aberrations who wanted to believe
The time they spent, was a place of propitious propriety,
That ‘twas a shared love, stead of wanting
To peer into the why’s
Within their twisted obsessions in
The very same things
They owned.

From The Afterlife

Demeritorious occurrences of shamanistic
Negligences in perceptive perspectives swapped to
Unanimously negated perspicuous red veils that met at the
Rolls of the underworld’s drums in lived differentiations
Allotted to perspicaciousness in the still perceived: counters
Worn in constantly having to uphold hardy established defenses.

Excessively outwitting the negligible that threw
Solvents; actions that never really seemed to dissolve the
Biogenic oozes the dead imperviously kept summoning.



Vagrancies from straight lined arcane blossoms solemnly
Blither, competing with trumpeting honeysuckles on a plateau;
Withering tendrils, alternating their routes, of climbing hydrangea
Jittering ‘bout illusive rules in which belonged to whom. Set
Horrors, over the loss of imagined consequences, with a few
Timid assurances, they grew, despite the blockaded view. After
A brief moment, they dispensed shoots entangling onto grav
Trellises quartered near their rear, where some thorny ancient mixture,
Nascently reemerged and swung, fixated onto a not so unjaundiced
Vennel that partially displayed a, thought to be lost, crushed fresco
Leading to uncurtained windows, paranoid and uncomforted by the
Passé of the post, but chattered excitedly in reverence, about Leonardo.

A Mere

Furtive disambiguations of celestial dominions, immensely
Noxious, tightened their grips on psionic leather strapped whips, from
Yesterday’s lashing songs when they used to never stop playing along
Onerously, always screaming incoherently, “WAnnA hUrt?!”,
Like seriously, a kind of bonkers bouncing off the walls. Instantly, the
Others paled, in subjugated comparison; Plasmic men, Etheric gents, and
Generals of the Atomic; lascivious members amazed at the lengths
Ubiquities apparently sought to grab at and uncountedly impressed
Steely knives onto their necks, unnecessarily friskily infringing on the
Stolen lives, of whose?


Some Sort of Play

They be leanin’
Back on their cathedrae
Posin’ smugly, noggins tilted,
With they thug like swagga
With they arms positioned o’er
Promised sceptres, rollin’ n’ flickn’
Their wrists as they snapped
To ordinances within primal games.

Laymen at the ready
Dove into psychedelic waters
With loamy bottoms
Where winners were wiped away
Like dust on memorabilia
Stored inside storage units.

Conversely, they decided
To falsify the perceived actuality
Within tired memories and the
Credibility of loves psychoses.

Discouraged in worsening occurrences, they hate
The prospect of resurfacing dreamscapes
Without lungs they just
Be hopeful fantasies, summed up.
But in compliance, they
Just kept

To Be Beside Them

Sickle trees suddenly grew limbs,
Shooting arms and legs and then
Heavingly endeavored to embark on a journey
To uproot and move
To a bustling pea soup city
To grow closer
To celled fatalities in eventualities
When all their spirits upturned upon gravel embankments
Which revealed irregularities of residual mist
Within the errant plains of what was,
Perhaps, burlap.

Quite Quiet

Disbelieving the jarring
Slight of the harpy’s beak
Slipping in the front of her face
He scrambled forward,
Then hastily held it in place,
Futilely hopeful, at the firth,
As she sat up, still,
Unresponsive to anything he’d say.

His council coarsely shrills,
“Ho! Come,
Leave this bird woman
We’ve places to be today.”
While some inexplicable neuronal force
Keeps him from moving,
Yearning to stay.