Eve of Inspiration Part 4 once 3 complete

I. Her growls a thousand lies decide Her miracle a dandelion two or more And upwards of a thousand circles Make cushions for your place to pour And smitten when alas you’ve fruited You land amongst a stable shore You’ll know your hearts in a kingdom landed And you’ll know what questions will reward. II. Ask without expectation of receipt And you may interpret But only with an honest intrigue And a sentimental shoulder to rest upon Your imagination is as wicked as a vagabond And your attention half as shallow as your breath But no contempt escapes this body or its venue Just so long as you are kind to close the drapes. III. Cuddled bruises, half misshapen Huddled neatly, ‘neath my skin Cuts of scrapes that blistered thin Where love and faith and justice ‘gin Now a time of fabled lots and fables tens And by his words, without two hands We’re left to stumble, left to stagger Here repeated, life and man. IV. Love is truer than a million versus Painted thin with sentiment and sin Bruised and bottled, battered neatly, Into contact packages of righteousness and when Yes we speak about the when Yes we speak about the Win Yes you hold an honest pen Lest we leave them hopeless men. V. Shallow wagers make for scolding As the water rushes in And the gates of Eden balding Standing ancient, let us in! And the Even we watch resounded Made our nature, made our kin And we’re all a sinless bounding And we’re all still happy men. VI. There is no ignorance with impudence No honesty with prose No thorn inside a manger And no pity for the rose No waving right of passage And no social justice cause There is only inspiration And there is only santa Clause. VII. Humor is didactic and we like to flaunt our know While the others scatter frequent to be privy for the show Rest not in constant motion but be present to the cheer And learn to write as fast as Mark while God wept in his ear. VIII. Justice or salvation are no pretty words as few They are themselves injustice And they are a mixed review To contemplate your worth amidst a salute of the blue While the rest are left to dangle Ever vigilant their cue. IX. Perhaps one day the notion of a genius once comprised Will establish itself present And make waste of all your lies And the pencils left in tatters And the egos left disguised Will make consequences manifest and petulant the flies. X. Gifted are the thoughts of men and sloppy is there know Once in lifetimes do they mingle With the stars the never chose Less the more is left to dangle If the shot we heard was blank Infer that scandal was our master And we’ll have only ourselves to blame. XI. Conscientious of all mention Dimensions, timing, not defined We would rather hear a thousand angels Than the sound of one goodbye The cherub singing mocks its Maker And the mother weeps, her child lost But it is we who suffer greatest And it is we, who know the cost. XII. Jingle jangle little brother Leave the whistle, leave the corner Leave the breast of our dear Mother Make the journey, taste the water And when else you’d seem recovered Bring forth a test to test your other. XIII. Premonitions predispose a caravan of mortals Their inklings come as 2 plus 1 as 3 not worth the taking An honest guild set lying waits, without a crooked motive But no latter schemes will rule this tide And no honor’s worth its votive. XIV. Shine with persistent sacrilege Laugh honest, loud and often Let them hear your patronage To Mother Earth! To Zion! To alabaster feral cats To daisies, dandelion! And when the water seeks its grass Laugh louder just to spite them! XV. Sugar coated Camelots Where Guinevere was angel Where Lancelot left well alone and lived to tell his story! Where dragon tales and nursery rhymes Chimed sweetly right before us And the fear of death, touched not our lips Though the scent was right before us. XVI. Brazen insubordination Vexing constitutions You like your words sautéed on skewers To feel your senses heightened We can turn a green from red And we can count the open But no more skies with painted grins Are ready for the mountain. XVII. Chester cat the Cheshire cat The disappearing artist No name entails no tail to tell Though that we’ll likely pardon.