The Invocation of the Muses
A Petition to Zeus the Cloud Gatherer’s Nine Daughters
Before another foul smudge of ink…the end:
One must beg graces
from that of the Nurses.
unwell strangers back
from the dread
which one may present as certain
at time of death,
a bamboo bridge in
the Mekong Valley
but before i go please for fucks sake, right?
heavy moments begin post – detonation; handing vehicle to island is possible,
…then passing left, now of course.
Scripts of fly vomit land at the new generation’s door. Step child-like-baggage and more.
Egyptian spray-can gold graffiti
as it appears,
etched deeply inside the pregnant belly of that very bloated kingdom, the high sphinx.
apparently costing deaths
flood the godless hallways and
super rich people design words like
to capture splendors
to be manhandled from above—
Intended peaceful resting
homes for those in gauze,
Fresh baked Prophets pop into
Jerry Seinfeld’s New York lair of laughs
and greedy bastards.
they are palming our perceptions, pocketbooks, and
they are making us laugh,
Laugh out loud. Lol.
Once overtaken by the bug
an expedition is funded,
seeking mastery; death; or futility of disease.
very long winded lectures consisting of endless rules consisting of numbers and such.
Long winded writers. Laugh Out Loud.
The bug is
a metaphor for anything one undertakes in life.
not the highest dollar commanding tip amount,
but where the true dankness
of which will then please your stomach
(This will be fumbled by my punter’s hold of our language)
This may only be done by thy will.
only from those residing quite tall
from above even the very tall length
of my house. or
your house too : (
At altitude resides the muses,
for only they bet.
Stacking the highest of gold plated
In here only delights are inhaled
and its grey wisdom fog
fills the far-
out sound of Waters
Nectar distributed into
seeping into forearm veins
receiving such high
Opium infused Tech Nines litter
the artist’s yards.
If it pleases now…
Release gats from their safety.
Breathe science into my greyest of matters.
Speeding swords of words and periods, commas, semi colons and so on.
And so on and on,
at the foot of truth and justice’s large
white and blue
Workers inside her Roman hallways care deeply at heart
in chilly confines,
they care for these two things:
truth & justice
Whisper now nocturnals of blessing
far too few
into the ocular
cones and rods,
a vision of worth
one worth having that is,
to begin more