Friday, June 11, 2010
The clouds are paling and fading as destruction hovers,
Loathe them forwards, headlong like a wolf of heaven.
Take your harness to ratify the cultivation of sin,
Loathe him mysteriously, likely ideologies are in mind.
May clouds nightly fade into the right of the sight,
Bold freak occurrences happen as freak work of the deity.
Let the thunder accuse you of sin and the lightening may strike
Your cranium as it did when you skilled yourself with trade.
The strikes are on, revolutions bestride to double the rifles,
Busily doubling again like real fires, really hitting, even acceptable.