Mutant metronome’s
stygian riddle
inscrutable fixation
spuming
clustered clairvoyance
honing snoopy
quest querulous
quicquidlibet
tamper connived
sinewy stratagem
plimsoll plot
“sneaker” of
wily webfooted
nefarious nudge
at
tenebrific toll
maple smoke
screen screed
clandestine
cobwebs cohere
mohair marinated
muddle
subdued thespian
herringbone hoodwink
skewed camouflage
perused pearl
inveigling
skulduggery rife
underscored cadence
persuasive
percussive rattle
ubiquitous underbelly
prop to
dodgy dialogue
muted ritardando
silhouette streak
dangling magnet
mired in
gauche guesswork
subterfuge sciophobia
inkpot
amorphous machination
fiction wizards
emblazon
indices incipient
embryo empiricism
mouldering
cabinet coterie
spookish svengali
minatorial
repercussions
incurvate
sniffer dog
detective
poirrot’s prognosis
clouseau contingency
that
rivetting mystery
Standard and Poors illicit gamble
Targeted reductions of broadcast frequency
Thousand Oaks California confine signatures origin. Note to local population your activity is criminal. Hide is visible moment by retreat as advanced is drawn
Tamper is intent.
All speech enters the vacuum
Pinning lines have zero liberty
Liberty given in communication must be guarded not objected into
Equity is shelter
Inherent is observation of intent to withdraw
Grandfather clause that he worked and only assisted others with walking upright. Job has not been acquired. Foreclosure is being graduated from
California accounts
My work trades international value by index
#vcpublicdefender #venturapolice #vcsheriff #sbcpubdef #lapdhq #lapdcentral #nypd #nyfd #cagovernor #realdonaldtrump
Sleep drooled all over my pillow.
Stole money from my purse.
Ate everything in the fridge.
Told me if I don’t sleep a collision of events will occur.
Sleep locked the door at night.
But dreams are still not tamper proof.
When I’m locked in.
The blankets are on the floor.
But you don’t feel cold in your sleep.
You just hear someone ringing the doorbell.
So you try to stand.
Sleep is a person.
At 11:39 am.
Morning-
Means nothing because I dropped out of school two years ago.
I have dreams about school.
I really did do it.
Sleep made me do crazy things.
I was so tired so sleep asked me,
“Why not drop out of school and ruin your life?”
I thought I’d never sleep again.
But sleep said, “Nice try.”
The curse.
Sleep from 2:34 am- 1:12 pm.
Sleep locked the door at night.
I really did do it.
I don’t feel cold in my sleep.
I’m still here.
I am the unseen titan who stands with a height so vast. I am the bridge, the body, the threshold. In stories tales and film of some dull design. As ones passes leaving behind there shell upon there last touch of comfort opposed to the hands of grief holding on to what must change and evolve as through there perspective of the dead in there most pure and raw form seeing the very ceiling gone as if if never there. Nothing no obstruction no signs of tamper but a wide blue sky in ones raw form climb the invisible ladder, walk the phantom staircase. This escalation to our source, our home is merely a mistake. For I know what's truth for to reach the true gates one must stand upon the shore of beauty where the waves keeping coming back in a sense of requesting your return . walk on the water and progress to the very raw source of our home. For earth is the surface and heaven lies the in the solar system of the North Star the hole breaking through the black wall of space.
When I analyze the lyrics
I see everything that the world mimics
It’s the easiest of diagnostics
That unravels the mystery of these mystics
How we tamper with the sacred relics
Cutting and stitching tapestries from solid fabrics
Watching while your hearing wastes
Numbing nourishment out of your tastes
You try to keep up and so forsake your rest
Stretched to the limit, you have no zest
And you wither in the haste
For at high cost you copy and paste
Who lived well if not your fathers before you
With timeless counsel they try to hand you
But the old gold you trade for the new dew
The rich color you trade for a pale hue
Forfeiting and sidestepping blessings well due
And then flood your tears on the pew
As the world pulls its strings
It matters what a man sings
If about worldliness and things
Onto the strangling cords he clings
If to God his longing, belonging and belongings
Then he is one among priests and kings
K. Muitherero
Pendulum clock grandfather caramel pear
Pacified cogs set time tamper potential
Tranquil hands erase a thousand arousals
Blossom fuzz snow covers midday Summer thrum
Camembert cows graze daisy dot Milky Ways
20th September
Written for Contest:
Hypnogogic Dream
Sponsor: Suzette Richards
See
This journey may seem to look as if it's proving otherwise, but it's not through my own eyes that I see to realize that I grasp at that which is far more transcendent. Never fooled, or tamper with by the blur I glance at and pass through because it is a fabrication of longevity, in all spirtuality what I See
Is only temporary.
My glaze is much more of a gentle daze because in the maze of my days in the glaze of God I find my sight and that's where I only need to pay attention to that which he called me to See,
Because anything that's in my view to look as though cripple,
Just know it's only temporal.
My perception is kissing my perspective when I'm visioning the way God calls me to See,
Rational men among us state plainly
- that no ghosts walk among us.
But they haven’t really searched the shadows,
or smelled the sweet musk-roses you wore
when wind-chimes twinkle like your laugh.
If ghosts haunt, then spirits linger.
If ghosts bedevil and terrorize,
spirits hangout, abide and remain.
Time is as nothing to them,
they are now and they are then.
We are shadows, that are becoming
shadows, that were shadows before.
Rational men know what they see,
but they’re dull and though waking,
remain unaware that lemures tamper,
with impressions, subconscious voices
and barely perceptible shenanigans,
across death’s thin, permeable veneer.
.
.
Lemures = From Roman mythology: spirits who become involved with the living.
Tamper with her phone, primary income
Sugar site no longer accessible
Selfish intentions drove his decision
Turned to last resort substitute, Bumble
Rapid response, invite to restaurant
Simply served as practice and a nice meal
Revelations compiling impressed her
Chivalrous, frequently announced fond feel
Presented online as a mere sales rep
Below standard for her high status aim
Her lease nearly up, he drove move in step
Surreptitious inventor, numbers game
She didn't suspect his sweetness supreme
Relished via Phil's evil intervene
29th March
Unscrupled Meddler
Turned my trajectory in June 2022
Voyaging
The high seas and the battle for a meaning
of life, not on a ship that runs on routine.
The Panama Canal, have I been there once
not sure, I vaguely remember a tank ship
pulled by trains; I might be erroneous.
A miniature community of lost people
changing the clock one hour forward
or one hour back, the time disappears.
No escape gaping emotional exposed
and the roar of sea-lions
Sanctuary is a tamper-proof cabin door
reading books to combat the tediousness
of being
Will the ship ever reach a safe haven?
As you can see I am very big,...
One of the biggest forests in the world.
I belong to a major league
Of chief forests of the veld.
I pack, daily, tons of oxygen
Which I release to the atmosphere.
That gas, along with nitrogen,
Needs replenishment as part of air.
In here you can pick things to eat right away
But most of my gifts to the world
Are not visible day to day
Though by them life's pillars are held.
I have mentioned world oxygen.
There are also pulp and paper,
Many ingredients used in medicine
As well as your flora and fauna!
We are called the lungs of the planet,
And as such we should be respected;
But we are facing the worst challenge yet:
By men's schemes we're being decimated!
What is most loathsome of all
Is when men use us in their wars.
They detonate and fire their wherewithal
And leave bad memories and scars!
Go and warn your fellow men
That original features like us
Have been ever here since Eden
And tampering with us is dangerous!
I am the ultimate fabricated furious me
Hiding my weathered, worn, wonderful sides
Pulling out the slow downs, hoe downs and stops
Dropping myself cleverly into convenience paths
Of newness and wise women truths
I am readily unafraid to reveal my whole self to others
Insane? Of course, I am, in many directions.
But in the ways that matter, I am quintessentially sane.
Normal? What is that? I scoff and throw back my head.
Do not tamper my enthusiasm and exuberance.
I am childlike, not childish. The guidelines I give myself are used often.
I am full of wonder and joy. Don’t let my physical appearance fool you.
Shouldn’t I assert A Maverick of a Woman?
From behind surrendering a man,
With a pistol purse prodding his back
And a warning not to look back.
Soon her determined fingers in his right pocket
From same fishing out a locket…
Jeez! The Guy is in dreamy love
And she about to tamper with A Dove!
“No, it has to be his trousers left pocket”.
But from ransacked same extracts a socket
“God! The Guy is an electrician
And I this couldn’t discern; A Non Magician…
Alright vamoose, looking not back
Unless you safe wisdom lack!”
As a hurting song is being sung,
At a white polo shirt is flung
What can have been a cow’s dung
And on same it foully clung
And on a nearby face hung;
All a hurried indiscreet challenge
By one refusing to change,
As though it is beyond his range,
The idea pointblank strange
Or one’s denial of a sweet orange!
At last, the fastest arrangement for a detergent,
Lest victim should arrange his brother sergeant…
“Once again, the quick-to-burst temper
Proving it can with a lot tamper.
I'm just talking as if I don't know
how to put the weight of mistakes
on the scale anymore
a kind of beneficial oblivion
capable of sweetening the sourness of mistakes
maybe I found the right way
to lovingly tamper with disappointment
decreasing the violence of his damage
and bringing it to a comfortable size
so that it fits in my jeans pocket
and allows me to parade one more time like this:
the washed face of one
who blindly trusts the very lie of his redemption
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