A pandering parson with little panache,
Percieved a need for a parallax in the pattern of his personality.
Playing the paragon and persuading the people of his perfect persona,
He found himself in a pickle of a paradox,
Pleading piously to his maker,
A pawn no more to perdition would he be,
If the almighty would just pluck him from his piteousness.
Prayers answered,
The parson saved,
And a parable for all he became.
Sorry about all the little poems and alliteration snippets. For some reason my brain has been churning them out. It particularly likes to churn them out when I am suppose to be studying for one of my classes. I have found the best thing is to write them down, so as to clear my mind for what it is suppose to be concentrating on. However, as you can imagine, this does not always work, hence this post; another way for me to avoid the speech I am suppose to be writing. I am gaining a new appreciation for the saying "make love not war". But, in my case it's more like "make poetry not arguments". It also doesn't help that I am high on massive amounts of antihistamines that my doctor prescribed for an inner-ear infection. At the moment I feel completely incapable of writing a good argument. But, that is neither here nor there, as I have to present my argument in class tomorrow. So come hell or high-water I have to write the speech. I guess I should get back to it now that I have had my little rant. Bye!
Silvery snakes,
Slither sinuously,
Through my mind,
Magically spiriting in,
Idiomatic inspiration,
Enlightening the id,
That secret savant,
Of thoughts most potent,
Sacred in their symbolic sentences,
Subserviant to that great abyss,
The unconcious.
Simpering simply,
Singing salaciously,
Sanguineous in my superlative sultriness,
I spin and spiral in my own splendor.
Severing my sanity,
From saintly scribblings,
I sally forth,
Solvent in my silliness
Silently sedate,
and sadistically gleeful.
Shared somnolence sidetracks serious conversation.
Singlehandedly slipping you into a soporific stream of sound;
Serenading you slowly, into sublimely shared somniloquies.
Silvery slippers slip slowly and softly,
Creeping carefully and cautiously down the hall.
Standing silently, senses searching,
listening longingly for the liquid notes of the Lyre.
Mysterious music, magically musing,
Flowing fluidly but fervently through the farcourt,
always finishing upon her arrival.
My classes are kicking my heinie. I am sooooooooo glad that the semester is over in 4 weeks. I seriously need a break. I am looking forward to having a month off. Maybe I can actually make it into my darkroom. I have several roles of film that need to be developed. It has been months since I even printed a picture.
Interesting...
I don't have much to say at this point. I am just testing out my new blog. Cool!
