Thursday, September 4, 2008

The Gyaan of Sephirots

Thus Z---- spoke:
He said the young one is tiny. Tiny as a bean. The chalk flipped. Of course, the lad was humming low snores. Pink matted books on the table were the destined battle ground of the gory archanoids. Hush... the class is over. smirk. But Madam! Meh! She is yet to charge out, trampling on bits of lime. That slob. Blanc and azure air punching holes into that grey matter. Then exclaimed he, the ill fated messiah of overbrainy delinquents. Isn't it a universal responsibility of Homo Sapiens to resurrect the chocolate eating down trodden amongst them?Ecce Homo?Cogito Ergo Sum? How wonderful be it to efface existence and silently creep in the corner! But alas!
The xenophobic butterfly in the grey garden flapping away to holocaustic glory. Me imagines. That's all that remains. The Cathedral's whore has chimed again. Present the mistress of spray and sputum! Yes, my lord. 'Tis time for a rave. Across the yellow opium papyrus. A trance indeed, the smell at each stroke of the finger. Mister Polo meet Missus Behn. Ah dear Schopenhauer skewing frowns at that murderer, for God's sake(dead already!)it's a deja vu! Well well, let's not trifle! We almost missed mister James, the son of Yehwah's progenitor. Poof! Missus!I could do with Brooke S! D'ye rilly fink we kids o' elementary high'd give a damn 'bout ye Hiss-stawriii. Purhaps we mite wanna rock it to Nirvana or root fer the Gunners!
Indeed, precious moments of blank, slated minds ground to a fine melange of white, dipped in the strangest of wet whites and charred in the white lights of wisdom, wilt away within time frames. All that we could all say after years of cooperative tyranny , was Amen.

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