Well, he thought to himself, I set this this up, no , I was set up. To come here, to this place used to be a safe harbor for wild left bankers, and it has seen many in good form to be sure.
e was far from home, on the wings of Vigor, with Sandra's blessing, by the arte of the most outlandish and fabulous magicke, wearing a great ring as big as a
city block, in order to transform it's bite, into the realism , away from the longing of the maidens, who considered stolen.
But what was stolen? Or lost? From useless underwater near glimmer for those eyes, only, who
dove so far, that they would decompress for fear of
surfacing too quick, ?
Where among those in this city who went down like a
rock, as Rene Crevel suffering double jeopardy, chronic aberration of the imago, distortions of
Now the ring, stolen revealed, the wearer of
supposed emperor's clothes.
The magic is cure for bizarre optical effects, and he could have dropped her, but couldn't, squeezed between the lofty stature of a long unsettled project and the question of her soul. Which will win?
That is what's behind Vigor's formerly aka Votan's power source, wondrously and strangely within the underbelly, the unstoppable burst of hope springs eternal that even he prostrated to, whereby all bets in?
Must do, the magicians were of a constant and patient users of a medicine gentle and kind, which have been given ovation at curtain, many, many, :
that love for 3 oranges, where his under-ground
journey, led him to such limitless terrain?
Or, must he wither, as Neil said, it's better to, ..then
OMIGOD, he thought that magick to ride him to 7 th
hell, then not raise her to the same in heaven. On the
seventh horse of an endless end.
She crooned somebody has to do it, this trumpets,
seven hornets, and finally opening with seventh key.
Someone has to do it, and God only knows how
foretold, his journey, mapped beforehand, by
symbols as varied and rich,
Illuminated manuscript carefully labored upon for the longest time,
Longer then it took the largest battle known to man, as Stalingrad fell, over a million in graves ,
The unknown soldier, even now, a dear to some maiden broken-hearted, deprived of promising progeny.
No, it is only a transfiguration, a keen whistle in the semi-dark deep azure, where the breath's feint mark upon the glass,
And he called her out on it, and very slowly and quietly saying, 'where were you then, when I screamed this,
In a Howl, you, one of the best minds of our generation?
He shouted it into the deeply hidden ring, and it echoed back something so incredibly faint.
The red letter, balanced against the black, where is here the fulcrum, that should be placed , for you,
Should the short of it ever be on your side, so as not to seem too much leverage give rise to much slack?