THE BOOK OF
extracted from Ciphered Messages of the Inundated Qwerty selected with the enigma of the human condition in mind
The coming of the second one, the only one who can rebound from the fate of the first.
Perhaps the perfection of the temporal is the essence of parfait making. Anyone reckon any advice for migraine woes now moving past midday. Pathetic leftovers fuss about done things. Perfection-obsession born to a finicky self esteem, a considerable tonnage for a short burst of life. Handcuffed to the panda, is to eat breakfast with special guest. Rainmaker riddled the sky and the few rainy days prior deal marred. Cursive inter sounding native language begs not to be tamed. The same occasion when forlorn floodwaters drowning flowers meant to comfort them and it did. Sometimes middle name used to stay anonymous, like opossums playing dead. Disenchanted ideas in a coma, bubble-wrapped forever. Victims of peddling and assumptions losing stamina, ambitions derailed, locked out of own palace of dreams, found safe but haggard adrift with aggravated defects. And I, delirious asked myself does typewriter use blood on Leonardo’s writing machines. Sliding down psalms, solace on the run, along drains of slushy misgivings. Know how unjust the day like a jury can be. Having an ambivalent day, or are misguided amidst crafty dealers and offhand remarks premeditated to confuse. I am still waiting in the vestibule, neither coming or going, nervously practising the songs of idealism before the lionised halls, quixotic utterance in the utmost respect tone. In the end to begrudgingly earn the badge of staying power. Please fly the paper banner that downplayed the special winless and lossless slapdash bohemian election, forsaken gentle mob of doodling fellas, dwellers of no abode, seekers of naturAL wisdom. Avalanches are really timed impendings, reminding of the eventuality of piling high and digging deep somewhere. To witness in the details the meaning of the whole. Writing from the heart an entire life, as one wrote one fell, like abandoned outposts, wow ok grim moth.
Looking forward to recover deleted privileges in the book of second chance. With a scimitar, I cut the chords of affinities, guided by the numbers in the albedo, skimmed the cement off my page to continue the unending story. Still I have failed those strong enough to make it, the intoxicated hero with a fondness for sacrifice. Left a gaping distance, a slow type of hunger never to be full. So hike low the gentler you can go, so go, unto you, strikingly to reassure. Fighting high as gods in sky know setbacks aren’t livestock losses, but scores gone to bed danging their rights due to a muggy day. Dharma executed that brushstroke of life by the finest hedgehog hair. Suddenly, a glimpse of the mystifying wonders, aphasia rendering us pale and quiet, slated for explaining like leprechaun sightings and how you got the aphids in your hair. A while ago, a frosty jaunt in Hungary, strumming a lyrical life, eating fancy, a taste of oxygenated margarita, dining on orecchiette to the dance of dithyrambs, adorned in snakeskin and matted hair, starry eyed like a honeymoon. In tales old like dragons lair, a golden duke, a role model in kickoff discussions, ideas sold by the loads in the minutes. Probably eat fish from the sea of affinity. Everyday flopping out of bed, slipped past the floodlights, flying with elaborate skirt catching the wind, bumping elegantly into kaleidoscopic fog. The fairness of the sweetest fruits pelted down with abundance from the fourfold sky and forgo the given luck of the privileged. Courage the best fanfare to salute openness and I, still upset about them aggrandising the planning of our lives. Some place some time, some slip-away in a serendipitous moment, gets a dollop of buttercream! Once in a while, in the essential hours, the obscure stands out to deliver succinct aphorisms. Apostrophise some and leave some alone, unstrung and free.
Forlorn fallen down rookie, hopes for a sophomore revival, tags all the mistakes, met an avuncular leader, whose dealings are like an elegant swordplay of flowing giving and taking
Have you been coerced to sell out your ancestors whose myths they mock as problems pregnant with superstitions. Endorsed by the old strings that hold the weight of the declining reign, the claw of the old dynasty hangs to the skin of revolution. The obsolete devices of learning, gradually mocked by kids with their own righteousness worn like costumes to hype the new arising. All the structures of knowledge deboned to make ubiquitous mash. Activists releasing profanities on the decommissioned obelisk, oafish ones flicking the flyspeck and no one dare to judge. Sleek slogans the protagonist of this euphoric election. Lifelong working sCeptical of keeping sane with same class, same dribble, same grumble, same, sameness seldom feels pretty. Flopped carelessly into the heap, a viciously cycle of a nevermind move, exhausted by labyrinthine organisations and benumbed ostensibly. Malpractice and medals sometimes smoke the same pipe. Breaking the spell of thinking I can benefit from perks. False adulation to goods of market design desired so again to perfection, effectively killing personality. High life felt the helpless addictions incarcerated in the images elucidating themselves and giggling. Excuses pave the way for the deluge of lousy performances, perfect to condemn, absentmindedly digging the same mammoth wound. A mad wish to die to avoid drastic changes, misplaced perception and clumsy moves in the duel between desire and development. For others the dwelling disillusionment dissolved all else, remember the domestic league of chores and tired hands. What about the legacy of the prodigious allegiance to logos. Still there are ironies like the award that soon became boo and add hiccups to one’s career. Kleptomaniac thief owes his deeds to the coveted pageant of materialistic things. Disingenuous crazy practice a high speed game, yet sloppy to seldom keep on a look out or ready an apology. Wolffish fluffy sheep fiddle with perception and point of view. The post nomadic life and habilitated phase no need for gas station stops to break the monotony of the long road. A dawdling self esteem, follower to friends’ motto, like such important measures, but in fact under it all a flimsy, diced, faked and judged decision. Brace yourself for the brash imitators who unyieldingly create louder and indefatigable ventures, bagful of fascinating whimsical lies mocking the truth, until the hypnotic bottom. Kicked off the field of dreams, lost times in odoriferous woods, squirts the ink that sketches difficult childhood, dwindling care of less, for less returns, not a hoot about coming home to rest. Did you not see the sorry for the mum and her kicked in habits, ideas of offspring of spunk, beaming heroes someday, instead bemoaning the ode to living. Stay away from the ungracious mob of nitpickers, convert and suffocate entire world to great lengths, tend to erase subtle relationships through meticulous counting of obeys. Having to heave along this legendary monster is the biggest lovable lie, nicknamed cash. Juggling the same bundle of problems, piggyback the same borrowed time, tired of not belonging to oneself. No mystery just bad luck lurched into spectacular background display. A life sold to sodden worries, clear thoughts and restfulness not in a while, pleaded the salespeople missing their sleeps, depleted of dreaming, drooling at the door of prospects, clinking keys eager to open any docked opportunity, busy coordinating appointments and lies. Crops left to rotate are given to immigrants with the dearest of hopes, having forfeited their birthright for the outline of a dream. Estivation giving needed retrospect to hurried lives. Hordes of seafaring hoodlums dispersed, at the earth’s bedtime with surprising svelte respect, but at dawn abetting the hunt for sea beasts. Even the ogre will loathe their maladroit treatment whether of loot or life formS. Lest we fall prey to the booming comments from foreign advisory, glad to be near a library of a thousand miles of books. This is a land of bestowed miracles, despite the thievery and copping out. Stretched helping hands and hooded egos sorely missed. Meanwhile the leftovers felt fostered to the people who have everything.
Your nifty skills go to waste to a moaning attitude. Be grateful for the bathtub of water that covers your knees. Useless like an umbrella in the storm, your lofty plans too neat and sure for the unruly world. A feeling of being accepted, safe and also gullible in my radome. Previously rejected efforts scored a touchdown today. Wrong times to scold the lackadaisical, prospects of fevered hell revving up kindly acts, relieving servants of a dull slavery. Sad shillings victims of a vanishing act. The anatomy of greed gave an example of the sellers of days, the weight of gold immobilising their souls. Descending clodhoppers, worrisome and adorable, laced the scenic route dotted with human dins causing cosmic delays. Woke up so early, sometimes solely for the kids, pillows are snowfields for dreamy mornings. Oddly did not do anything when blue sky fled the city, cloud watching missed days of poetry. Fell back on plastic to patch the anaemic hollow the departed essences left behind. Prying open heart of choking art in shunted cargo and abandoned imagination. Someone allegedly lapping up malapropism but sophisticated meaning is emblazoned on the asynchronous Machiavellian. A dorsal attitude to avoid calamity of emotional fight. Patience is sweating to unravel your complicated life, to demystify the shrugging tendencies. When one day truth speaks effortlessly, knapsack filled with selected items, for days leading to starting off, to fall away from the designated plans. Synchronicities see new astound meaning, the internal collapse seen as an interlude to forsaking everything in this world. Objects of lullaby for the scared and baby thinkers, losing composure over persistent prickles, keepsakes stolen unknowingly. Come back to the warriors they need a leader, the baby ones saved from days of caged and fed, eager to feel the mighty wings of eagles. Anthropogenic desecration of the pristine free lands, obsessed prestige ownership, as delphiniums fold into the night, asleep forever. Cold is the night, dead wildlife left their furs, saving the day. The reappearance of the wayward ones spark concerns about art scholarships, over everything analytical and measured. Those who made love furrow and despair, be prepared for widespread resonance of the patiently and kind acts, dismissed offhandedly by an industry dedicated to climbing single minded ladders. Honest words like a flower on the tomb of lovers misunderstanding, hiding and hurting. Warmth from purely a hug, chirruping lifelong remembrance of a much closer proximity. Definitely liberating energy good for all, selfish groomers ignored, egos milder, triple feelings for someone special, and even greater efforts to listen to the uniformed goths from threatened to overjoyed. Your buddy has gone alone in the middle of the night, his back swathed in bandages of your broken bond. Nobody can high five the years and love lost. Poets reading aloud, piercing anguish soothed in the round of the domes. A promise whispers softly through the freezing air, thirteen times you said please, keep it real keep trusting don’t worry keeping up. Goodnight my little guppy, perhaps apostrophe will make you mine. There remained the sixteen chapels of meek angels and lords, hued cubicles of equanimity enclosed from east to west by the riffing of cosmic voices. The unfettered has gone into the ambrosial night, leaving the sweetest trace. I sought the luminous teachings of evolutionary curiosity and original prose from the grandmaster of philosophical enzymatic theory. Trusting at last the decomposing process, the wordless teachings of mother earth. The genius and giddiness of the eccentric hydrogen explorer, who mastered the atomic aspect of solitude and conquered loneliness for all humanity.
We look to the master of spirits, for each and every eidolon of us who lived ever and before, with eidetic memory to rewrite history as it really should be, not of dowsing the best, but present every moment to the fullest being.