hellsforheroes

Epitaffy


I ask for just a piece for a meal all willy-nilly, from one alley cat to another, a fellow hoodwink hoodlum from the slums of Rio anywhere. Oh lantern sleeping light, let us here men be brave little Indians, painted like feathered action poets, warrior visions excluded beyond the peyote, and fields of marijuana, good men. I beg to ask for I would just like a little thankfully beseeched sustenance, fragrance unimportant, calamity daring divine. I, would just like nothing more than to offer my thanks, for a symbol of gracecertainly already indebtedI am selfish God. I can see the blossoms on all manner of pine, my furtive nose; truffle selects crops so glorious, from your garden lord. From you garden the fir looks over existence like angelic perches for snowflake and Valkyrie, I am not yet slain, lord, and gratefully humble, and bumbling like a prairie buffaloed cock err spaniel unleashed, sans collar upon lazy eyed Susans, I unready for the next life. God, I feel like heaven requires me to slay dragons, like in the paintings, and I am not ready in any way, shape or form, to sodomize grander creatures, yetmaybe someday if given, I take a very holy knightly vowI would love nothing more than to serve like Enoch, and be a good man, free of judgment, filled to the book written brim with patient cajoled resounding wisdom. Maybe I, lord could sit in some capacity on a cloud of summer thunder, and bake the beauties of the forest, with hell, if I could lord, sit upon the horrible casket of pyre for so many tendril dendrites of years musically inept, but so in love, dead without song. Lord, I am no sadist, but rather a lover, of flowers, and whip creamed nipple suckled nitrogenous wild flowers, mangel-wurzel begging to be goldenrod, or mustard weed. I would be gratefully sown like oats, to see humanity churned from butter, to watch the forest burn. Lord, I could not have dreamed a world so strange. This is the mountain, of god, with the altar I am searching for; the shepherds weary of what the mountain men dare. Lord, I must eat from rock bluffs, I must sleep dangling, Lord, I must love the mountain to enjoy my lifeI must be like a lichen, satisfiedevolving in the face of despair.
Lord, I am afraid I am not a simple symbiotmy mechanisms are pagan, my pity is no vow. I damage dutifully, the woman and or beaver hold no candle, to your atoms wielded by me. Both the woman and beaver are experts in wood, granted, as I the man, and still they have no power over any desperate wares, but good god you see license in certain segments, quandary in profound thought, so you give the women the advantage and stole the very key, like religion to a donkey, floundering in a sandy sea. And so lord I pillage, blasphemous son of sodomy, I know what is right, but a complicated measure, life and humanity, golden, fucked without Viagra and elastic pleasurable sanity.