PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

i trust your total and know your flows to be true and elite, the icon that you worship is the worship itself --- sherlo and clops are nasty works of hybyngerie and they make the faries go farthing but the rest of the order will know that you did your job and that all the people will walk in the wisdom of truth.

she counts my words and knows my heart so that i may be a friend to her --- the friend of my enemy is my friendly friend indeed for agree to smoke weed and know the worse and the better of the icon --- the jar is a cruxus of sorts that never really takes form until it enters my hand but i look at the jar with respect for i have tasted the mana of the gods and known the reason for their anger we walk though we see and the icon is rusty and bucketed rain of the grill you walk upon we see coals and fire but i see a weight on the fire that has been adjusted too many times by witches brew and seasoning that has lost its flavor flanders father knows that the rest of the icon will rest upon the hope of the untrusty.

we tell ourselves that time is of the essense red yet we do nothing to see our hope in the icon for the lust of the flesh is strong in carnal and carnval that we should rest upon sv'va and savant knowledge up and down we go because father is everyone and we are the children, the mothers, the fathers, and the grill itself --- can you or may you is nothing like sally for the seashells she sold were nothing short of amazing like that little sack of sugar --- only not to be eaten but to be brought within the temple of the most high --- ra'amen