Category: rhyme

Diets Of Sacristan, & Succor, & Seek

Do you think they will riot. Some great passionata. A capitulation upon calamitous exertions. Would that the succor of the seek be to mind tendering anything greener than an occasional hitching thumb.

You know that old mother nature don’t real mind comparisons. Not really. No in fact she likes them all covered over in their thatches. Hiddering up their camp like the weird flotsam and jetsam tumbling out from under the hot lid of a pot.

Yes, then there are grades, and hues, and scaled out wages of jubilant thrift. Ergonomic precouncil. The skittering Draco slumming it down pavements with breaches of his mission flying for the pole.

A spindler slicker on a rat back. Conditioned by epistles of extemporaneous gestalt.  Tenuous distractions in an early test of the litmus. Fixing on the high mast a bear of the Kodiak weight.  Newsome and branching out fleeting dam near a full tidal wash.

The animated dreams of antiquated charisma. It is no mere abased and contemporary state of inherent miasma.  The borne again citizenry don’t need to swear up and down the streets about nothing like righteousness.

Soon as your tee is to bat it is to begin the series of steps that will lead you to a full capitulation. Of your every last fear. The change will be tremendous. Mac! You will be among those standing in viable mean upon the very breaking of the circle of control. All them folk you know with a vested influence in the fate of some little bunny fu fu.

Cycle of life. Yippee, aye, aye. A gladden themed dei of the avuncular realm conditioned. Here by his gestalt the lad approaches a workbench and says a prayer for the light. A matter of werks and those things by craftsmen drawn.

I would say the commons are not the shanty full of dillies. Each waxing on the folly of chili pots brewing too long. Soused and taking to last call for the hounds and ruffians still outside in the door yard withe less zealous observers of the contested friet.

Change Of Fortune

A poet who doesn’t know it. Or rather as rye as he is it’s in the mark he tows. An Erie lake flag coming down to the riverside to reside, to dwell, to make good on a few moments without hell.

Don’t languish. Look yon and grasp mindfully the vibrancy of the air. Reach out in clemency of spirits and draft the mindful throes of your own expediant nature. The kid fears and the quick. The spacia in the stir. The nebula of glad and gossamer rainbow strands.

Within moments the availing stream has taken up the tangible and set it sailing upon the current of the waters. Brought it broad down the pathos of weir and flag. Jam and strag.

After having made the full round are you anyone who frequents the meditative state. Do you pray or contemplate the word. Does your fresh opining thought come upon the crossbone fetch of ariosa and the tempers of the clave bone? How much of a bully pulpit would it take the tea totaler to count up imperial tea. Is there a new market or a rehash of pensive collars. The works and the grand scheme of things.

I have to move on with it. I have withstood this mount until I feel like a stump. A chump on a stump playing his fiddlesticks and thrumming it out on the ole viol. Oh but for charm of sagacity. The Agatha of virtue. The benefits of the enchained daisy. A sea set of sidereal ranges. Glad strata in bump de bumpidy thumb print thump.

Where ever could be the other side of the world. Can we accept that it is away. That it feels in its own synergy. That the kitchen sink spins round one way or another but the earth is country and sea. And her inhabitants are glad of the mannered crewe. Again the crowe and his elephantine friend the fly boy has done a bang up job of propelling his rappaport with the birds into a stargyle of like satrapy. Of penchants and beneficent unto the causes of others.

Within the memory of comparing styles and suits and phials of the knowledible and loving spheres. There are souls and spirits and entities. How then are the rests we should take to be given back to the faith. Be given back to earth. Through learning and instinct I would think is the answerable acolyte of the given gnosis.

The Ommm and others the mantras, of a moray rambling the mundi mind. Now settling into things thoughtless and almost renunciative. Letting go of things and ideas and predilections of auld gammons. The heydays of youthful practicality. Of resource and enginuity.

Having made the full round of glam afternoons. Taken to glide and tamed by repose. A dualistic might of poles and Shiva stick supernals. The auld shanty in the wooden hill. A wheelhouse sequestered in the deep trappings of a rare season with the acquainted Earth.

Given to sharing of aptitudes for relative nature’s. The likelihood of seeing through hoaxes by the lands down set. A citizen like quandary of strides and reassurances amongst people’s of a no unsimilar tide. The day in it’s crisscross continuity. The night in it’s crawl through milky starlight and kept lamps. The diurnal cycle coming round with the ribboned and golden arms and sleeves.

A system of caparisons girdironing upon the thoroughfare in up and down and roundabout drives of the up-and-coming and the long ago. No ghosts. Just spirits and thoughts of a delightful memory. In the arcs and palls of wind some and gracious soul. The last bound before footfall returns once again. As if to assuage and to reinforce.

Embracing with smiles and sparkly eyes. Good for the hours to serve. Against the travail and monotony of lost bounty on simple wit. A retinue of sandbox travelers. Early upon the morning in the guided and hand to hand practices of freedoms. Left by the gate and slowed down. A time to quit it. Made for passing light. And to rebound.

Canti Moralise

I tell you. It took me 1000 trial runs to come up with a genuine pop song. Not that this needed to be genre specific by the way. But as it turned out the song ‘It’s A Good Thing’ in the strophie style is genre specific. That genre is the old French Provincal style of the Canti Moralise.

A strophie is a system of passes. Like over, across, and athwart the manner of a subjective term. The affirmation of the 3 passes in this Provincally drawn condition I have l laid out with 3 quatrains(4 lines) rhyming them as I will. Also at times using a repeat of 3 lines Leveeing the weight with a 4th line acting as a cadence, unrhymed, and usually borrowing from the auld tradition like the words “In the morning” or “This old way”.

The quatrains in that they may be arranged with this repetitions and a cadence, as well as in couplets, extended with a backbeat, and further by unrhyming the 1st and 3rd lines. This perfectly comes into line with taking up the couplet again now though in the Homeric style. The modality of Church music meets with this cmmprehension at its 1st prerogative.

A respect for the theory of a set aspect in keeping clear of the clutter of assuming in one’s possessions that we are more than simply ourselves has need counter with the same sentiment but at this it is in regards to the spirit.

Not that we would indulge the daemon with largesse or dream of too much of a good thing.

Unreasonable as it may seem the quandary of difficult experience has to rest on the aptitude of its sufferers. These to make good on the endevour. Asking for reserve in any more want of the presses as a makeshift horde of contentments.

To give time to the remove of those obstacles to the succinct matter of viably giving expression to the quality of movement upon earth of those good natured beings accepting of consensus values in the revolutions of persons, thoughts, and matters. Simply in the sample song of that which can be seen as united and worthy of moments held aver.

By the sea. By the mass. By the representative host. By the considerate child.

Before I Write

Before I write of second sight or about a sixth sense gained from painting a wooden fence.

I shall sing a song heavenward. It will be long but not absurd. It’s not wrong and yet it’s every word. Is virile and strong, hawklike a bird.

Be there time to concur hereabouts. On matters that are just and for now. If seldom without understanding this will leave you wondering how.

The lonesome cowboy at finding a broken childs’ toy would not just kick it into gear. No he would desire to better his situation. Ya dig, like knowing the real Pink and Floyd.

I used to cuss and really fuss in what I chose to write. Now I would that what I laid down was peaceful, and topical, and bright.

More of my second sight and early sixth sense. Climb a fence, meet a dog. Get mauled, for blood on a towel. Stitches on a jaw, a cheekbone, over my eye, and behind my ear. 47 to 63 stitches in all.

Should I write like a fight? Always running away until I fast. And come into your musing arms to last. To address what are grave derigors of anger and might.

It is there I go and curse with a mourning words thirst. It is not to grab up handfuls of Sun in the club and bring error to some flipped out edge. Going down for the worse.

She’s a girl and you are a boy. But do not let your acceptable love forever cloy. Those amorphous regions of loss and argument and a high helot for a roy.

When the belated want of our speaking tries us with garrots and gins as such our lot. Like tigers in the spotlight their logic has a goose to whisk us out of shape into some twisted helix got. The nether light burns bright at this conflux of our utter midnight.

Carolina sounds like ‘Oh Sweet Lord’ when the bird flies and gives rebirth to her lost chord.

Quick heartbeats connect lines of blood. Holes in the knees of my blue jeans and some mud. What will I have to do around the next corner when I catch up to my buds.

Predicate Considerations

Disputation upon surmise. Predicating purports of profundity. Predicaments of pre-eminence. Presentiments upon postulations. Upon postscripts. In the brevity of repastes Sunny.

Realizing the quickened firth in the rustication of truck and swag confusion over mule money. What thoroughfare makes way for barnstormers and tree crawlers and lemon brawlers to all go home 🏠 in a gunny.

The precipation in a treacherous rifle down hillside. For a daliance triffle swill-bride. Under June auspice and spilling wide of the Season. Not meant to be funny.

A Study Of Themes 2014/08/13

Appraisal of themes dramatica. Liet motiff theatrica. A fabling hour empathica. And the wanted embrace deeming.

Can sweet bye and byes. Urging anyone to sympathesize. With the quick of light and the wise of lies. Set sail or leave the quandary scheming.

With letters addressed what may avail. The pearly gates endangered to prevail. A certitude on clement street writ scale. The vapid aether winds up in the air creaming.

Liberate to flag a qually dodge. Stir up a pot of fleshy homage. Make good on done deals about the boarding lodge. For a night’s stay out in the streaming.

Make roost of chorales on platform decks. To take on a burden, treat the rejects. Waft fleeting bodhi the gain elects. To find out for good the weather’s down in the dreaming.

Anima animated in like cullies supposed. Fragrant meadows heavily drowsed and low. A malarky train bandying with Augustine groved. The very light comes liturgical and gleaming.

If Suns recede from surpassing rays. Like a dew laden field of feeling clays. A pleasant reprieve upon toppem cat Heath blades. The hooks and Barbie tabs remit in flashes beaming.

Backwater country making out a spirit for this dew. The meadow press warmed alive under foggy brew. A long lasting look on the lady and her eyes full of blue. Like a shiproy stir nums the grace to go on steaming.

We may just be together apt to surmount the idles. Take on a stretch of the rising gait goin’easy on a bridle. The bunk down night of affable chow and set on fiddle. A truth for the overjoyed parlay of Philly ziet teaming

Over Field & Glen

Run free with the wind. In the fielded glen. Fast as a cloud with few minutes over a valley to spend. Then rest beneath a few trees. With hints of azure skies. Above the boughs. Or bath in the cool of a mountain. Streams during Spring thaws. For such occurances. I bodily strive. Bound through natures’ eternal struggle with happenstance. To keep my life. I write, I sing. I fly as in a dream with birds. On a wing. An augury of flight. Innocents of the night. With our lives like ritual. And a foreboding sense of might. Where we will land. To the predator. There is given no clue. Simply a fact that. This story continues. Later, is true

Discourses & Parlances

Talk about the rhetoric. The happy hunting grounds. The Stargate and the mountain’s song. Play up Swany river in the tremblings of an outbound gestalt. The theosophy of trillobytes.

Plagued field hockey consort. Team efforts to make it out to the fair show. Grand Gypsy eloquence at tapping in the goal. Here we are amongst the lipped and the laundarer. Make out good at reading scrolls of potent bone fodder.

The good old mission church treating chillies with brimstone. The image being supplanted by its fiery host. 60-400 ways of gauging the illimitable and the folk geste in its plurality of the remit in the casual extant.

With a guest book of the tripping high and mighty. The recondite demand for pompus license. The fate of the big, bad, Boston Creme. Sitting on the counter like a rematch fridge keeper for the Associated cops on their pedestrian beat.

Walking to the sound of image. We are all real good keepers but he is steel on the link iron asserted. We will to brave the clement of notions. We turn out to look through the daylight heats at the supposed rabbit tales. Them whose lines mix up mastications of the pouty coyote bitch and her new collared brood of babes..

Its a spinning take on the raptures of the well cultured. Its a grasping at the scratch of molecules. The permagrin slide of matters own horn. Amounting to as much. The general opinion that surveys the lay of the land. Spacious, airy cappadocious labors making out for the broad waters.

The semblance of flying opining choice with too much fodder. Telling the whammy ball to requit the dodge of aces. Give and get back. Like a silly putty gamut runner.

Having made out for the gangway and spilling down the beltway like rainbow man and his emissary, the brave cloudwalker. Trip it on down along with the ropes of a fiddle roger. Let be flying clout in the peacekeeping efforts. Also in the block and quizzing zingers for the ambergist and viand pouring wine.

Tumbling blocks of woo. The procrastinator’s will is to carry his bliss to the moon. Where chi anthems are no hour of exploit. No the weir of staying is vouched for apparent in the musings of the sobriquit of folly. The OMG realization that I should have started a long time ago.

Intrepid Voyage 1996

Beth

Thrice magestus

Hermes of Octune

Tragedy of Neptune

Dithering crystalline fractures

Universal ascendancy

Plane thwart nuclear fission

Fusion semblance

Tz mantic

Ars magnifica emantic

Neotic

Light in extension

Origami rapacity

Bachelor press

Dinosaur brains

And nervous systems

Four church modal

Conjuncts in the stellar apparatii

Vigor of cuneiform figures

At transcept oritan en fret

Cant etiology of crook and flail

Intercalary periods

Fugue of accidental

Interest

Sidhe

Grange

Kirk

Irony in benefit

Placards

Tocsins

Shingles

Golden store

Atu the acorn

Ancestry-bone

Genealogy-skin

Church of modality

Projection

Extension

Extrapolation

Exhibition

Lengths

33 By the dinosaur

130 Bone

365 Tale full of

1077 Aberations

Binary code

Movement in the Mercabic

Oxymoronic quark

Movements by precept

In 10’s 100, 10, 1, etc.

Or else no movement

Represented by zero

Inducing contraband

In verisimilitude of a range

With just such surity

Of bow and sultry in the realm

Of a mass transcends purity

The host becoming the flesh and the blood

Mother’s mass

Report

Enterprise

Oluricular imprendarius

Declination en esque

Agwire Mira lay a lay

Ta wins na sa boot fit

It goes by coot and root

Daily to meet its ends