a grievance of a snow angel

. . .a grievance of a snow angel a childhood memory.... We carved demons in the snow together; on a tent of angels. Bent the pinwheel that twirled the water of the axis it dangled. Turned it adjacent left and let the sun slaughter the masses. …and we sleep, we slept, and we slumbered… …on that tundra of 'sunshine on our shoulders. a heat wave, past the beginning of a autumn morn. upon a Quranic dynamite, rosary and Sodom's porn, under the tent, freezing....huddled with coat and mittens lies the casket of wine and fellowship, next to the toasted linens a burning of creed, with the angels treading on horns and pitchforks a crimson graze in an ounce of stigmata, becrowned with thorns in thick course. how majestic a dive in a frozen dogma! wallowing arms meeting the frostbite we're seeing a lost site, with celsius factions skiing down the lost heights. giggling innocence leaves the gutterals of the mystics and ancients reincarnation cloak over Christ, where eternal life misfits the patience snowflakes of ember falling in the lost of fellow guardians the glacial seraphim cheering with the mellow heart he's in. wielding the skills of a New Age; the devils advocate meets the artisan. but we pardon them, as... We embellish this hell frozen plain of stormy weather land. Then cope with the burning cold to someday be a better man. Walking barefoot; putting our left one first in snow of ash & wheat. …and those holy grail chiseled trinkets of wine will never splash defeat. …so we laugh at these … and we laugh at them, you and yours. …the whole tumbleweed of a broken tree that served coral in shores. Spread your wings! …You snow weaved b******s. Then melt away under the sun's heaved laughter. Maybe that sunshine tattered on your left shoulder blade… …will drown in the scarlet sea where the site that's colder laid. a scarlet letter marking.... a childhood memory, lucid in the hourglass melting in the lava, proven as it scours past... a desolate dreamscape covered with black bricks and Tinkerbells a karma mixture of soda and eternal life....dissipating a flash fizz in sleeper cells dawn to dusk, angel silhouette meeting the longitude of a demonic sundial six hundred and sixty six degrees south, east of the pneumonic lungs pile His sons dial, a coded constellation past the right of ursa major electron telescope encased in the igloo, with DaVinci there cursed with favors. there worsed for wagers, witnessing a comet of Hailey's with some nibbles of the Christmas stable mixed with some vomit and Baileys. a holiday spirit? nah we're eggnog and lactose intolerant equipped with road guides to salvation, but how the maps pose in falterin'? shadowboxing day light savings, off balance on our equinox spiraling Hebrew Dutchman, drunk off life and vexed to talk flesh embarked, building a tower of selfish blindness, as they babble-on mayan calendar falls off the ice sculpture, spilling embers from here to Babylon the candles flaunt, prophesizing sublimely the coming of the hellish sun the Bell has rung, a state of emergency! as we melt in our guardian angels in a rate that occurs to thee. how desolate and blind we trudge.... waiting for the comings of Spring to judge. el nino, little boy, Hey,Zeus!, where's my Jesus? "on vacation in the north, enjoying his masoose" The sun's embalming rays, reach and embrace the Arctic while Death smiles with paintbrush in tarsals, to finally incase the art quick.... A whole cul-de-sac, snow angel town was left melted in tears. Basking the cask of sun devil beckons that sheltered the spears. Wincing at the sky in a peek-a-boo stance that held the years. …and finally we figure out that we revolve around the inequitable. We shoved it back, but never possessed a spine or neck to pull. Stuck in the shadows with a shove relationship … Noticing… …we're pushing ourselves back in the racial grip. Voluptuous angels; angles of gold arched dribbles and strips… … enemy of the tusk suited devil with scribbles of evil scratched to lips. We keep it cuffed away in the cupboard shelf with common sense… …and play in the snow as we carve the angels hung by the barb-wired fence. a childhood memory.

Reviews

[Frantzuu]

This was very enjoyable to read, you kept it interesting from start to finish. Great job :D