For all the tales of the cantankerous Beast,
one stands fortuitously chaste.
The twisted Beast once sifted
through taught Thoroughbreds. The ethereal were-light
unadulterated by florid flagrancy,
quickening his dreadful den, its haunt.
-
So stuck in smeared and smoking haunt,
it slumbered in shackles, tattered ears. Torrential Beast
licking lugubrious lesions. Immigrant
of churlish triumphs, not chaste
in the glow of sickly seaweed were-light.
Awakening, severing a shifting
-
crimson claw, crumbling, sifting
through tortured Hollow’s haunts.
Golden strains stagnate in were-light pierced,
lumbering malevolently the licentious Beast
gores curious Chastity
with streaked obsidian tusks. The Tale of Flagrancy
-
has but only begun. Barbed vagrant,
of Elysian fields, sifting
with onyx rancor through cerebral Chastity.
Sickle of squeamish sinews hunted Hollow haunts,
thunderously throbbing the brackful Beast
descended the pedestal of pomegranate were-light.
-
Curling lips upon finger tips, opaque were-light
beseeched the blinded Beast, least it flagrantly
feigned valor. The brutal Beast
clutching sickle in clutches, scrapped, sifted
the haunts of the horrid hubris Hollow.
Inquiring lackadaisically the Chaste
-
knew naught, who bled upon the burrow. Baleful Beast embraced
the fickle, livid laconic were-light
and imbued its harrowed haunt of the Hollow.
Victorious the fervent
fugitive became a swallowed swift.
The Beast for all its hate released, creased
-
the sinful Chaste with a furious, fiery flagrancy.
And thus in the crimson were-light it did shift,
wept tears of spaded leaves, haunted evermore: the Bereaved Beast.
Working on stuff. I have a sestina in the works. Look for it!
Why is it that men where given violence? A kind of emblazoned emblem that marks the brow, creates wantonness, no matter the purity of conscience. To grapple a bear on it’s hind haunches in a snowy conifer forest, leaving blood smeared impressions in the drifting blue banks. Every fiber, every…
Dark shines of smoked glass
glaring with a twist of malevolence
appeal of the vicious fashion
edging the corners of paradox
of cobalts and crimsons prisms
the burn of photogenic philosophy
strumming the strings of the satyr’s axe
and the flawed intentions wailed in verse
And ends in darkness once more
All dead… Search for the Prophet with the copper in his eye. Let him flourish and twist in his flowing garb, fibers spun from the suckling bees. His bronze irises gleaming on the shimmering ivory robes melodically. Astral hymns tell of existences unfathomable, cavort in the courts of forbidden knowledge. Conduit’s body lurches violently sprouting lanterns in beams of pseudo-plasms. Revolving as a meek snail on a leaf, the charts of a million minds flayed before wandering souls seeking serenity. All dead…
I haven’t done this in awhile sooo, I figured it was about time to say hello to my new followers. Hello new followers! And to the old vets, thanks for sticking with me. Your continued patronage, of likes, is valued highly. So thanks to everybody! Here’s to hoping I put up some good stuff in the future. Speaking of which I have a prose piece all queued up for tonight. Also, I will be on a brief hiatus (until next tuesday or there abouts) because I’m actually making sure I have a good summer. So this is my metaphoric gone fishing sign.
P.s. I’m actually going on a fishing trip
Fluorescent flickering defiles
visual vulgarities
and I sleep at night
lucid lamentations of languid longings
the bipolar bulimia never belonging
to acrid aerosols that bite adolescences’
eyes as eccentric eels
squirm in a squalor selectivity
subject to shallow values
too many times
too many times…
It could be, elusive Anon. I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, either way it’s a nice thing to say.
I have a pretty good idea of who you might be because you said that Anon. I know you care, it’s pretty obvious. Heh
The paradigm of imagination is creation
