Iconoclastic Fete Stances 1996/08

On Autumn nights when the rye in the fields has been harvested and put into bundles. Merrily and with stealth comes the cather of hay into the rye. To garner away the faith of accumulated clave ceps of purpura from off the stalks. The bundled stalks of rye.

Politicians would argue to keep the clave crow on the rye and let the seekers have their fill from the milled grain and suspiration throughout the year slowly drawn along. But the cather could refuse and go out to pick a many lot in order to brig back the letryses of the garland with him to make out well in doling the larder of his accomplices. The gud stamp of the dance set.

Occasionally when propositioned by gypsies’ and their ghost and when they had enough some was given away. At the want of the best specimen for ingestion. Simply they are were boding of the thrown chances in a lucred plight. The having of dances in the arms of iconoclastic fete stances.

The politicians realizing the light coming long before dawn. Stalwart in doubt as to the wind weaving of survival in their grain stores and stirs. Wondering without refrain and often shunned. From the interior country where the travelers were known for coming out with the laughingstock of the rogue and rambling, the revelers and a rake.

The fact that gypsies had their own sundries of a tailor and wine to speak of the vintner of bleaky sun aum mantra chant nourishment. Taken heartfelt to dreaming child gait and sweet reminiscences. With strange calender romances they would thus have their dances in private on mountain sides beneath the moon.

Cantus Abilis

The shade, the winning link. The one that the presses chose to go by. Whether a lemon still belongs in the tree or is it now got for the white picket fence as well. Taking part in a long and ornately drawn series of parades. There in the flight zone of the aviary and the walker of clouds. With the amalgam and the parlor fan. The frequent restitution of query.

The choice to be dishonest. To what purpose and to what ends. The spectrum is rather broad. One could simply choose to look out for another. Then again one could actually be trying to frame a loose acquaintance in their own feats of death defying grace. The relation with God whereby prayer and supplication along with offering and petition are led up toward the alter of receiving the divine into the heart, the loins, and the mind.

Somewhere like the chakras. Less mottled though. Really giving to each other the plea of dissemination. In the step taking, in the free exercise, and with all the tenderness and care that a loving set of open arms could give you. With these precepts in the rational field of change. Whereby no trespass is survivable in its own unnecessarily divergent and nasty want of a constant state of quarrel.

The need to make it out to change comes upon us again. It asks for the familiar. That which is in its essence a turning of the ephemeral charge. Blues and sunshine yes, but with the impression that not all will stay the same. Day by day through much seeking and in making out no such feckless saltiness in the take on the universal and its broad ocean swaths. With the rivers and currents both breaking up on the shore.

Long on the road is the way of the kenning song. The certainty that a jackdoe or her friend the muledeer can light up the marquees and spotlights on this man’s new run on the long Broadway. Walking with the sides and asides of the bully tom boss lumber yards. Inimitable given to the pathos of the tourists and scapeys. A penchant for the abased tonality in the transmission of freeweight and dummy’s bell.

Continuum, inertia, and perpetua. The glad free former in a gladdened gait of highstepping. Along the wickets, along the thickets, in the pitch and keep of the very blossoms’ troe. Down lengths of animate forested path. Fortunate as the believer in her garden. Looking over the lost crop of apostates prudent at the death of their pig. Does he still need that ring in his nose? Must his ears remain on fire and will he ever see straight so much again?

I must be sure the laggard slaggard aces remember their five finger discounts. So much for the name of fire. A supposed fallow light where the tramps have to excuse the trees from burning, the animals from dying, and the human flesh from conceiting itself and say please let it all in. Slating up karma and reciprocity for devil worship. Earth body disease point lye. The inquisitive lie. That must break the bough from its wise, from its nature, from its instinct.

A broken West heisting its own satisfactory course. The ride pig and her hustle in the slave yards of the forgotten sonambulist ditch. Stray dogs barking, braying with mules, howling with the wolves at the moon in the mid of night.

The Corn & The Vine

Rationing of reasonable foodstuffs has alway been a cooperative effort of the highest endeavor. At least in my opinion. And as that is so thus and even more so what is the reward of having chosen to let the Earth flourish and flourish abundantly.

In order to better affirm the writs of my langours into what betides a fitting parlance and rhetorically speaking to do that up in the conquest of those things I may allay one with another in some hopefully good sense of simple resiprosperus action. The holding of coats aside any who do not aspire to reeve at the commonweal with the matters of feeding a nation.

The many hungry from the seclusion of spirits and seeking the comfort of a daily prayer. In so many ways does this eventually lead you back to the simple need for one’s stover and draughts.

By the merry tide of expectancy. In the gladsome raring of memory with the potential to expand the witness of selfhood unto the realm of all the many possibilities for compunction in the masting of cates. Rite assuaging the guttural truncation of a time to refresh. Acquaintance with this paradisical continence and the accountability of breadwinner does not leave one alone for the reach of faith that is steadfast in the actual belief in what assists us to exist lifelong from birth onward.

Should we by the time of responsibly and satisfactorily safewise and manifesting maturity of aptitude. Larder enough to turn with and discern merit or otherwise bear in the functional indemnity of terce branded cross or incrementally the moniker of tenderness and viability with gumption and cheer.

To see is prayer for guidance in order to mature to the point where one may be responsibly sensible. The extent of the adventure that we take in grasping our becoming is neither to be set aside in the way of good company nor what sanctimony there is in a familiar table or the head and nut of interspersed manners of assembling our needful store.

To greet peril with props for the drama that fate is in our core and what grounds we have for enculturation of those same endemnified characterizations is no real trepidation but a put on. Give up the caveat to the gerrymanderers of later days. Nothing to say 💭 is a pessimistic way of airing that moot is the worst and most egregious feeling of being a lack in a world 🌎 of untried respites.

Recipes for reminiscence amongst the mingling days of a well drawn interlude. At such a juncture in the day and its diet we should guide the foal and the pup to remit and acquire the gnosis of a fitting condition for continuining on with good relations succinct in the convivial art. At while the wanton or bereft may hale other shores. Not to tell the dam to break before the Lord. As well the faith in a happy grave supercedes its soporofic need for contest.

To eat and to eat well. By God Thank you Lord