in the quietest valley of the bitter courage


I blossom in the valley of bitter
courage
the rotting tooth

masterly.
funeral good words in the coffin
On shovel!

galloping nonsense
talking about the menacing forms of the Day
longing – cosmic hazards
encompassing – continent-continents

with your thumb in your mouth
big baby
suck up a gold dump
through a snooze.
a humanist angelic song,
cross and neck rope
Pilate, don’t prolong the debate
even though your hands are sweating.
On a basin! And the towels!

Ah, deity! extend the nectar expiration,
honey and thirst.
as an impostor Godot
at the time of my euphoria,
the shackles of the more serious things
steal time behind Beethoven’s scenes
by the way,
I have a long, bearded beard.

The time foretold – I look not like reality,
but rather
the citizens of Calais’  nightmares crusaders
(France, habitat!)
Pontius, you boiling cattle, my fault has erupted
hotter than the Titanic glacier’s
swollen kidney dipped in self-love
try to steal a drop of water from the Source
(Incidents are side)
I’m stealing blasphemes against the wooden bastard
tattletale me to the Gods who performed me

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