What? How?
By bdgrey
Never did I plead the case of a million stolen nights of pain.Pretending never not ever have I played such a quizzical game.Wondering, fleeing, into the nights shameless discontent.An epiphany has finally arrived to squander the once restless, timid beast.Unscrupulous behavior has tamed the enigmatic trickster.The one next in line to Steinbeck, Poe and Tolstoy has yet to reveal a single line. Yet the one who knows it least has already stood at the door to the web which shall remain unsurpassed.Rhythm is required to unveil such a monogamous quandary.Those who are to play in the hands of Aphrodite should know this.It is a fact of life that cannot be dismissed.The next is a vain attempt at orange.For one must achieve the inscrutable STORANGE.Rhythm becomes too predictable, so I bid it adieu.Why fight that which is not winnable?What gains can be acquired by spite and effort?Who gives a damn? Mystery is the benefactor to peace.When the answer has presided over me since the beginning of forever, I must provide it with a swift boot to the heart.Spontaneity over monotony, defeat over victory, the enigmatic undertones that are inevitably no more than delirious illusions of predictability.Yearning for that one moment, so eloquently mused by Barnaby’s friend.Bye bye now replies the lamented sanity. Was kann ich fur dich machen jetzt? Ich liebe dich.SLAM! Oh, was that you? It replies with facetious mockery.Quivering you reply. “Who are you?”Lacking the once present waiver you denounce. “I only want what’s rightfully mine.” Now with full clarity. “Ah, forget about. I never liked it in the first place.And so begins your new whatever it’s called.Never the same but definitely oblivious to your once boring existence.Going into in to great expoundment now seems like the haven for your newly acquired sense of a lack of reason.Bewilderment has begun.So with the garden, the school, the studio and the rest of the poetic dreams comes a now forever omnipotent being to bind with.Throw wind into the caution, and always abide by the basic rule that everyone knows.Learn from the universal mistake.And let the course of your destination tempt as many potholes as that there are unforseen.Uniformity and logic all remain an unfurnishable commodity embedded into the thick ambers of forgotten time.Who, why, when and how are a joke to be reconciled with, like that of a beavers dam or players ball.Take the step even with fear, but never look back to shed my tear. Written December 3rd, 2001 © on Dec 02 2001 04:47 PM PST 0 • 10
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Never did I plead the case of a million stolen nights of pain.Pretending never not ever have I played such a quizzical game.Wondering, fleeing, into the nights shameless discontent.An epiphany has finally arrived to squander the once restless, timid beast.Unscrupulous behavior has tamed the enigmatic trickster.The one next in line to Steinbeck, Poe and Tolstoy has yet to reveal a single line. Yet the one who knows it least has already stood at the door to the web which shall remain unsurpassed.Rhythm is required to unveil such a monogamous quandary.Those who are to play in the hands of Aphrodite should know this.It is a fact of life that cannot be dismissed.The next is a vain attempt at orange.For one must achieve the inscrutable STORANGE.Rhythm becomes too predictable, so I bid it adieu.Why fight that which is not winnable?What gains can be acquired by spite and effort?Who gives a damn? Mystery is the benefactor to peace.When the answer has presided over me since the beginning of forever, I must provide it with a swift boot to the heart.Spontaneity over monotony, defeat over victory, the enigmatic undertones that are inevitably no more than delirious illusions of predictability.Yearning for that one moment, so eloquently mused by Barnaby’s friend.Bye bye now replies the lamented sanity. Was kann ich fur dich machen jetzt? Ich liebe dich.SLAM! Oh, was that you? It replies with facetious mockery.Quivering you reply. “Who are you?”Lacking the once present waiver you denounce. “I only want what’s rightfully mine.” Now with full clarity. “Ah, forget about. I never liked it in the first place.And so begins your new whatever it’s called.Never the same but definitely oblivious to your once boring existence.Going into in to great expoundment now seems like the haven for your newly acquired sense of a lack of reason.Bewilderment has begun.So with the garden, the school, the studio and the rest of the poetic dreams comes a now forever omnipotent being to bind with.Throw wind into the caution, and always abide by the basic rule that everyone knows.Learn from the universal mistake.And let the course of your destination tempt as many potholes as that there are unforseen.Uniformity and logic all remain an unfurnishable commodity embedded into the thick ambers of forgotten time.Who, why, when and how are a joke to be reconciled with, like that of a beavers dam or players ball.Take the step even with fear, but never look back to shed my tear...."