Thursday, July 27, 2017

Welcome to Arctic Dancing Mirage



Festina lente,
The stars are not right,
Where at least six of the principal words may,
Separately be,
Taken as the,
Propositions,
May arise in harmonious consistency with its,
Beatification,
Logic The Science of Inference,
The sun rises,
Withold such attribute on the same evidence,
Riding high,
From debts, and usury, and business free.


Epode,
To apologize for being a freedman's son,
All man are mortal,
And my father,
Seemed to enjoy the state of happiness,
Which is celebrated by poets and philosophers,
As the most agreeable to nature,
And the rising anguish quell,
That the winter is to be joyfull and pleasantly passed,
The conclusion does not in this case vary, for simplicity,
Welcome to Arctic Dancing Mirage,
Babe can never hunger there,
Learn something new everyday,
Seek the absent minded star.


The Island of the Seven Cities,
That in composing them,
Carried out at a subconscious,
Proteans,
Yes, I understand,
The stars are right,
And with strange aeons even death may die,
And sympathies were enlarged,
The scorching star,
Signifying its position to the right of a Muslim as he faces Mecca,
Orbiting at a full revolution every fifty years,
From his transforming nature, and multifarious aspects comes,
Men advised one another,
To see had risen up out of blackness of twenty-seven century.


Belonging to memory,
Great tidal river,
Source of all mythological legends of spaceshifters,
Who could change shape at will,
Who rule the earth,
Alien and human,
And support erection,
Weird, unpredictable, and possibly,
Treating depression, anxiety, and personality,
That which makes us into a person,
Study of all things,
Who knows,
Stalker among the Stars.

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