Encouraging The Entity

A brogue and a jig. A rogue and his havoc. A public outcry at Sheriff John Brown having had put good olde Satan in the stocks and not given us any rotting fruits and vegetables to throe by. Oak at the neighbors tripping bright up the hill.

Meanwhile there is a rising on the othern sidhe. Anamaskers on armchairs. Ringtail clows making off for sad eyed coffee hostesses to make flurid flakes of snow in going the bye and bye.

What? What’s that you say? It is all to casual for cosmic flagrancy. One foot falls in front of the other while two mules walk side by side. The muddy lane and it’s gauges. The busy bee ditch side walkers collecting orange spice teabags thoroughly through and through.

Becalmed concommitants acing test zone flight patterns. Butter chops exhumed from frightening resonance of coffer keeping saints. All bejeweled in horseflies and hash. A friendly condition of relative neighbors sans the locked doors and fences.

Don’t give it another chance. Move it or lose it. Proverbial gusto of marching infantry taking on the big swell. A respite of peaches making good on the potluck and the copse. Stipulations of daily ark into the freedoms of the genuine libertad.

Until broken bags of tea swizzle in the conventional atmospheres of protean swimmers. Glad armed in the pathos of footfallen and clandestined swings.

Letters to the editor radically explaining her variagated points of view. The garnered resorts of floral gaity. Long drawn shadowing fates in need of the freewill of exercise. Without license or excide. A chowder power of bean men.

Counting up the umpteenth gaggle of freshwater fish to swim the stream and bid to relax in the idylls of pulling current and lapping pool succor of roe.

It is a long road to the union hall. The coop is chicken full of brainstorming and seclusion. The Sun is setting on the back fence. And the light is on at the front door like a pitched skirt has drawn us to cover and hedge our bets on the given.

Warm and arid days in a tide of hedonist weathers. Now surfeit. A larder of consistently speculative measures. Lazy and Susan coming ’round to wrest the cannonball.

Roping in the delerium with a step of lifting the gaity gate. We high aloft the blooming avid and stratii. With dual enthusiasm and finesse for packing in with the rat.

A year by year route. To given states of perfidity. That an assembly has its liability for the cost of trying to engender the joy of its propitiating powers. Within cognizance to trepidations make allay the hitherto and unknown here abouts.

A running darkness taken to the ground and emboldened by the grave. A church ⛪️ Street set of pewters and tin for pie. This accumin of the savory. This native instinct to go about the passways of darkness.

Given to the endgame like night. The dawning and the daybreak at a copesetic remove. A gooden for having taken the ride. Now tucked into bed and goodbye.

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.

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

Are You Holding?

The clave horn. The well trimmed board. The spice of life. Some friendly beasts, the canines. The home of a Franklin or even deeper into the well with a bucket plummeting from the common beheld ledge above.

Good company and fine friends. A home in the country. Fine upstarts in offspring. Stables for those beasts whom carry burden. A message from the hall. Dinner will be served on the hour.

A babe in my arms coming up with new ways to express most anything. The call of the Supper bell triangulating. The good company of the fast crew in their implementation of menial slake. Time for bounty on the turn and the sea change.

What is done is done is done. Forgive and forget and in this brave world of commizeration go afield only to come again some day. The blazes are beaten but the impaliar is sound. It is sitting right here on my fess. Cute little thing the way it switches from one to another hopping feet.

Sailors in love with time it takes to put the distances between. The trust in the work done. A one off with no way back in but for getting nasty and drawing marks. A sluice in the byway. Utility hats beckon the shell shocked laird from his ornery corner roost.

Oh I see you Sam. So over my head in Alabama. So ignorant of everything but that Madam Georgian’s new hit song. The thousands lost to pallor for dollars viscount.

A gregarious means to shake off the lethargy of connubial thoughts processii. When an apeshit bum in the garten tries his best to make off with the jackal’s ladder. The only climbing gait a pack of rabid rat racers could have laid out before them in the country.

Downs to await the waters’ course a free meander of able bodied mastheads of cross the paseo reaches. A trafficked palace street of the arid and clement. Where there is situated the respite spot. A glam space of trekless passes of eyes across the plane.

The ignobled stretches of grimacing big cats. Touring the brushy fledges. A house 🏠 for the crazy moon and her lucid manner. To behold the tide of a way through the field of precise star 🌟 laden sky.

A night’s pleasure in slow transpiring glances at the painted mural walls. Depth of field dipstiches of the drumming aptitude for martialing the airs of the tree borne greens. Through Summer and pining to give soil leave and rejuvenation.

The wrap up of a minuteman melee. Fading blue jeans canvas of old Army tents. The scoop of beans given to ward the hungry from the holding commisary. What lays in store and what only remits to entry of a given day’s collar.

The irony of dispatch from a trust back into the mete of the matter. The actual worthiness of viand and calabash as means to carry forth the fruit of the greenwood tree. Sturdy find of the largesse and illuctible.

Treats with a stash of the strong drink. Passersby accepting the good news of a favorable wanderer’s message in having traveled through. No more than metaphysically strange. The real need for familiarity in the circus of estates.

The bridge 🌉 that traverses the skunky stream. A spring feeling for the back meadow passes listing out in frugal new grains. Catching the fine and golden taste for shine. Each newsome bandersnatch to aggress upon the dates of frequency.

There arrives to races the folly gander, the eyefull snooker, and the workable embrace. New to old in a matter of labors. And the success rate of proud mamas and papas with the crest of there mountain ⛰️ home now brimming with caress and touch and holding a swaddling babe close.

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.

Burdened By Beast & Truck

The wallet whines and the wind assails. Slack sails on a doldrums salt watery sea. Crossing the lines of ocean that will never be drawn. Contracted with shipmen and society and with one’s babe. A crow’s nest passion. Taking it in with the extension of an ocular. Cloud swept, passionate,,, LAND HO!

It’s fair to say the river ran high. And that the tide ebbed low. It was a mammoth in the ice since time began. The scrolls of our jailkeeper have the guise of ashfelt lytresis in the tradition of their teachings. The mole scurrying across the floor has fallen on hard times.

You see his pride pig exterior expects to ride but the church shot his horse. Then they set fire to their braying mule’s tail. Foxes wouldn’t suit this jack Joe. No they need the butt of a joke to raise their 10,000,000,000 billion chillies by.

Ever and amour the hoar grass bets on its nervy rack of pluck. The land is a mission alive with the bayoful round of a doggone heaven. The lot of its terminal awareness caught up in the gutsy beliefs of its new sown children’.

Every iambic lamb willing to mow grass. Every swisher’s tale within awkward instance of a throe. Every atypical trafficking fly. The variegated depth in a rushing of damask for choice spots on the floor. The leaf pile instigators no longer treeless. No hot in the spot of jumping beans. An over the top wrest of the aviary and wreath. Coocoos said it best. The time is best now for a rest.

The countdown to infinity. Going nowhere fast and then some. A reminder of all things once saught after civil and and a time to begin again anew. Nothing disharmonious left to be undone. Left to the party of mischievous arborist whom when given a seat say just plant it. Never to chose who choses to deceive it.

Dawn and daybreak. The lit up new sky. The borne upon the doorstep. A gift of mystery to the new school. Pinters of the apt boon and new kith. While spirits counter them out looking for their swain.

Leftwich

Roseline. Equater. Ghana Sound. Benediction upon the dance steps of the Lord. The very horde is gold digger tramps. And all of their easy riders. See here! See here. I know what’s best when it comes to my mindfulness. Ain’t you never been across Texas. Snaking on bye? A real rattler? Bombastic and the figure is done.

All those toward and minor needs for redresses can go and float the boat. Hop to it. Bet tight with Cheer leader. Take the dance and win it at just that. Makes night hollers turn to what is homage. A gregarious but distinct pledge holder. The lead card and the sorbet.

Give the Herald his chuckles of cheese. Wish him wigs of locomotive cheese. An afternoon in the plain sight obfuscate of trumped up maidens from days gone by. The fierce recourse must request its tide. Must ease out flow with depth and candor. It was just a scratch.

But you need a pitch. Bet you with one eye I can see in the dark. You sense the other would be flying around in the candle light getting harangued by every zapper with a loose zipper. That way lines don’t get crossed. No the A train takes the A line.

Lists are for gaits and this one is closed. It picts the corsair with a trippy build on the Anglo Fair. The penchant for derangement is the slip that sits comprised of silly sear and tight rapt sequence of sussiance and snap. The honeycombs getting tapped by honey badger and hummingbird.

The glad praise singer getting down to his hoodoo in the punk straights of a true dat kind of broach on the peace. A real keeper in the blanch peanut industries book of hop lauds. The school days run a long of book chase ribbons. Making meddle out of founting silt-bed boggle boots.

In Competition With Convenience 2000/09/09 Thursday

How does one enter the public domain? Do those who have their rights reserved? What if I were to cross over into the public domain? How would there be someone to escort me, as in a service?

Write, write well, and you will come to this posture, this passage, to lay down extant your remains. And don’t over worry how it will go for the next artisan, the next participant. The next person to feel those thoughts, to hear that saying.

For some it will be a higher power that draws a link between you two. Between you and the next or even between you and a someone who came before.

But if your writing doesn’t work out and you find you have no such rights before those thoughts. And feelings and sayings slip from your fine fingers back into the ground. The common acre, the open domain. Well then maybe you should try Algebra.

Give A Fig, Define A Tree

Climbing. Ambling. Delightfully walking the bout around in my day. Talking and walking and exhorting great sympathy for the changless grange. Jeez! Someone get the old bear to go on and roll over. How romantic yes. But the glazy eyed sleepers are in an expressly dampened portion of the official roost. The dank drabbies have only more to accustom themselves with the caress of breezy time to know that a tight spot is remiss. That is to say there is no holdover in nights’ cahoots to run implored. The self knows. The day commits. And the nights do pass.

Scale and wages. Full on passion directed toward the thief! Come away from your spoils. There is no foul play that has needs be labeled cheat. The higher ups on the wagon into town. Going to get a barrel or two of the local snuff juice. Hope the rye is key to the holdings of the house. Born on the well side of the measure and containing the elemental and the anodyne.

A blazon making quick exchange with the sky. The players in assay with their weight. To bear it away and remove the stigma from the pie. No steal for the crickets provender or striding locusts to take from the honey pot. All welcome to partake by the course. Bound sellers in their market stalls. The great trading halls laying out tender for surety. Promises for security blankets. The leader of the pack backing down before the hallow heart.

Bees knees! Your burden is truck. Waltz right in and pluck that flower from the wall. And the next one! And them ones after that. A box of hats doesn’t strike you down from your mill. Leave them same sorrows of efforts to the greetings of salutations.

Pick up your gear and don’t lambaste the seasonal climes for their refrain. So thus in not furthering the extent of consumption by placating one’s footprint there. You have simples to live and let be.

Accept a little light into your hearts. To acknowledge is to recognize is to gain acquaintanceship with a level in the upstanding mind. If you are to don your cap and fly please just don’t buy Crow pie for the pandit to outfit. Please give to the reeves of your village something more sublime and yet still subtle. The hopes of a generous thane are in the compass of your faith in the new survival.

That can be respected and and let go of. Oh but for the repasse of flighty birdsong from the arid reach. Beach sand deserts. The just and virtuous. Sinclair and succinct. By measure of dose. A gone deal gone down. Those rites have passed. Et al fine and so gone.

Curmudgeon petitioning their man of God. Take the pulpit MAN! Free up this savage race and don’t commit your trespasses here again. The Gods in heaven have no time for your blindness or your maddening exalts either. The day to apprehend is the one you must wish to pass by.

That is the Seeker and the earth for its salt. What ocean’s remove would failsafe such an implausible breach of candor and decorum and those things strangely relying on the drunkard and his wine. California in the old days the passion play of quiet mountain running ships. Make for town and fuck yeah!

To blame the professor for a bit of bad luck is the fate of the Hempseed and the Buffalo. Dagger reaches for his loom and espies the crumby ropes. Mofo of the pentacle set. A manner of putting on your own suit. Still In the service of others but blind now and fooling. Beating that glad drum with the best of them. Bang, bang, hey wait a minute! Why do you want them gone. Did your ill spoken mete not head your Mystery out. Did you have the last laugh?

Taking advantage of death and all that. Goodbye snafu. Goes to show your weight replaces the gold with drose. It is a smidgen gone and you have to bitch. Woe unto the beholding lank of shifty sand dollar alibis. You knew it of the Lord. The mercy. You might as well accept it of a good woman. Don’t you think?