The Illest of Dialect Smart Bombs

Fri, 02/03/2012 - 10:30 -- poet

I insist that the English I polish and finish is intrinsically more challenging than learning quantum physics, than Polish or Finnish.
It's more exquisite when giving a kid 100 quid to fills his Popeye’s wrists with liquid verbal spinach. I snatch lexicon snitches in quidditch, popping eyes signaling sickles to mentally pillage. Superego tickled and triggers the Id cyclical are dicks appalling target women with bread more pathetic threading kids under cosmetics urbane-tics spreading the pledge of pubescent legs forcing medics to push gurneys under fluorescent splitting metrics pumping stomachs detoxing the head. Tubes of charcoal dread concocting stories during hallucinate journeys to amuse parental skeptics and feds. We cruise against the profusely evidential truth that fails to convince or confuse those of you abuse or the food that you misuse and neglect to ingest inducing vomiting but don’t detest the mind-amusing cruise. Feign classy brashly verge metastasizing bruise into confessing the nasty surge of belly seamen regressing. By all means bile burns the seams of throats and beguiled dreams wild flings with star fiends scarfing and sparring in magazines. So capricious to eat this aiming to drink Chirs and earn glitzy bliss beyond ostentatious being blitz by the fragrance of bling from basements up to unlimited filament burnouts without an oasis. I don’t enhance the trance or the enchantment of ascending to the highest of politeness mastering acknowledgement blindness nor chastising the kindness of being broke but not mindless but for those who resist enlistment making poor men wifeless pump that sky fist high and be that wallet packer or pocket picker palming the needed bills for medicinal pills packing a pad and a quill arming cynical grills before instilling charm hearing chilling alarming lyrical skills dropping the illest of dialect smart bombs. Lazing noble hills where the USA grazes on grey depiction of Bombay as being the hay day when it really lay wayward has been frames since the first word. Shouting its clouts sprain the sane of all frequencies May Day, May Day, To Day is going down in notebooks and no logs nukes fly dries will vaporize the eyes of the gods.



You have an amazing way of using language, because you take so many different words and put them together in a way that creates your own story through that chaos. Discovring the endless ways to use language shows that you are a great poet.


so fun

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