of non-textual matters
one’s covered flesh,
and hidden embrasure’
as diffusate primer
slips life’s veil, and
in agitated pontlevis,
cleaves the universe’ reason…
“Egads! What sorcery is this?”
Holy heart failure, Batman!
“Beavis and Butthead”,
on Soteriology!
or merely, this word wizard’
celebrity; slap my knee,
and pass the shinola please
would you then consider the following:
palliate your lesser selves, or else
where silence seethes, your spirit will
bleed asunderp; and in the depths of space
and time you will forget your moment’ cill
so divaricating your soul, until
that whisper of your assibilate voice
remains in memory’s forever
as that sound of death’s last hissing
And now to secularize
your quarters out per se,
a knotted rope and stallions four
two palms, a cup and nothing
more than, one’s perceived illation
with rigorous and self-righteousness’
precipitancy, my will so locates your
remaining sang-froid serendipitously
and in humaneness casts, this lifeline
out to thee for free for you to grasp,
of each person placed above all things
as nature sings concretism’ simplistic rhythmic
wringing “stream of consciousness”,
a-flowing upon thought’s eternal thaw while
Descartes’ “Substance Dualism” does so
battle, against Plato’ “universalia ante res”
supernal then, is an ideal’s whim, or Ids whine
within one’s thought’s stokehold, as axis bold
or love’s bestow, fires the flesh to render
that pondering patch of thinking’s wrath
awaiting that awakening moment’s bewhisker
in essence, life’s xenium given in kind
as is the universe’s night skies splendor
passing that lending thought, behind a silent chador
visualize the context and intent within
a compelling and perplexing write to win
an idea’s kneel before that “mercy seat”
this particular and incomplete entelechy bleeds
of questions asked and left unanswered continuously
of generations after generations in weeping
conscience wistfully fawning in defeat
and admitting, to a lowly ponderings musings.


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