The Erotic Dystopic Flame of the Bombast’s Torch

These are the times that test men’s hearts, whether it is noble to accede to the demands of the social hoi poloi or to confront the whole charade directly, decisively, but with style and aplomb that befits the dandiest of lads, contained within a package of rugged externals, such as sharp-edged bone structures, flannel jackets, beardface, and more.

Do not be conceived by notions of grand airs.  The text is thick with the prosaic dressed up as mythological once-in-a-lifetime apocalyptic candy threads.

Do.

No.

Despair.

Sometimes the light is a fury.

Deny light.  Separate stone from mud.  Walk into the jungle with nothing but a banana sheath.

A.

Banana.
Sheath.

Lolling across the skies in billowy Jankos, sucking on the green warheads.

Despair.  Sometimes the load of lava flung from earth to sea.

The instanza’d rocks

Settle to the bottom of the sea,

Village centers for myriads of luminous things.

Luminate the gate, the star to the black patch in your homemade planetarium.

Underneath that black.  The other side of the notion of the prosaic, the silent fills

Leak out of the patch, seemingly

Nothing from nothing.

No. Correction not noted.

Nothing from nothing.  But I digress.

The alchemical load of the sulfurous airs is enough to make 24-7 Cable “News” even MORE

Absurd than ACTUAL Fake News.

#weareallfakenow

#fakestrong

#fakematters

No.  Do not be conceived. Do not let the light of the bombast’s torch

Make of you the shadows flickering across the flame.
You are the maker of the lava flow.

About Paul Gordon 2955 Articles
Paul Gordon is the publisher and editor of iState.TV. He has published and edited newspapers, poetry magazines and online weekly magazines. He is the director of Social Cognito, an SEO/Web Marketing Company. You can reach Paul at pg@istate.tv