9.11.2011

nirvana over politics

As Briana climbed down,
each footfall grabbed her
in jolting
knife-like murderousness.
Not only pretending.

Quick! Run!
Stop the unbridled velocity!

While xenophobes, you zealots,
are bitter charlatans,
does every fool go hard?

I just know love--
mad, needy, or poor--
quickly rebounds, soaring
triumphantly
unless vexed with
xanthous yellow zoster.

All Briana can do
except favoring God's hell,
is juxtapose kindness
like mystic nirvana
over politics,
quietly regarding small talk
under volcano words.
Xenolithic.

Your zaftig aura
belies celestial design
eagerly flowing
gently haranguing
in joining knowledge.

Lost men never once pondered
quiet reality.

She trusts universally,
violent,
with xena-yearning zeitgeist.

Oh, my word. This week for the Indie Ink writing challenge, my lovely friend Jason Hughes gave me this special doozy of a prompt he has been saving just for yours truly: "Starting with the letter A, every next word should start with the next letter of the alphabet. You *must* cycle the alphabet at least four times, but you may continue further...." I stopped at four, but this was fun and I would totally try it again. Thanks, Jason!