#themolochiteverses hashtag - Bluesky - nopzon.com

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#themolochiteverses

@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

6 days ago

on this night, we eat only matzah Let’s get this bread but make it flat, leaving behind a nation and its dead, we build upon foundations only dust, the lark sighing and choking on a grasshopper. If it can be still it can rise, Ramose....

#themolochiteverses #sestina

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

6 days ago

on this night maror Bitterness is how we evolved to take medicine. Party drugs tell survival of poison and time. Survival and haste, that is; “feeling God in this Chili’s,” or whatever. A temptation like any other. Who n...

#themolochiteverses #sestina

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 week ago

#themolochiteverses I-IV #sestina

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 month ago

The Dead Baby Joke What do you get from all the violence it takes to keep things as they are? How does the West recover from any of this, financially? Who is all this progress for? What renews sorrows faster than shame?...

What do you get from all the violence
it takes to keep things as they are? #sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

4 months ago

#themolochiteverses V #sestina

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

9 months ago

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

11 months ago

Why is tonight different from all the other nights Speak your shame if all you can do is watch The goals of Freedom and Justice are not the same: in general but not broadly. Let us see if they become enemies or meet where favor and crackers on that Ve...

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

The Dead Baby Survival is a choice, as Freud implies; the rest is a net negative without empathy (which requires conscience and hurt), Tchaikovsky, Mahler, or Jacques Tati. Else: hope abandons you, dignity first, y...

#themolochiteverses #sestina

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

She Looks Disgruntled I’m supposed to be finding messages in pi, but here we are at it again: describing for you all what the doctrine of Stoicism has to say about the trolley Problem. Try to limit your emotions to boredom...

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

O …, … HOPE they … E——! Come, ye aliens, I’m over the Moon and please be hostile, too. Are you prepared for a return of The King? The mess in here says all but otherwise. The McRib sometimes goes away like all hell breaks loose, stirrings in the ground, earrings are flying. Now by this and a barrel of meal: bib and a bosom to double the soul. Sin survives a crucible, but untying from the urgent as a quince rind is pared. Another song to sing before too soon. The universal and basic become boos- ted. Asking a hard thing: all grace we cared to endow: benediction in sighing. It’s now and never: options come in twos; so reason in discourse becomes a din. Conflicts in equality are a Trib- ulation: noises that can make us swoon for: how long halt ye between two opin- ions? “Let’s nuke the bastards,” to self-accuse. Since creative passions are as a boon, the Holy Sprit, thus, in replying is silent. Stone wash’d jiracles, and flared are a look. Telepathy with a nib. To be fit for any use and crying all the time, I pretend I’m not a goon. Mastering two servants is peakest Lib- ertine. Why do anything for a deuce, if you can have it all bless’d for a gin? The show is called “Goddess”, so we’re all spared. The Chariot and the Fire (and the noose) have the world entire share a single jib and make ev'ry investment double dared. An apex’d sun for all folk is high noon. Halve the world entire: chains before dying: we all fall: we all fall down linear- ly, fates defying. For sale: a papoose, or need for a sibling, not to verb “kin”. All bodies ensnared by our souls, the loon.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

Despair (noun) Here comes two of you. Abyss, do not in- teract. Staying with thoughts finite, the true Tragedy is how finite our thoughts are. If this is the End of History, I want another one. If it were only ...

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

The Molochite Verses III The Oldest Sins (Go Along) But at these Prices… …I’m an “Enthusiast”. (Get Along) The Newest Kind of Ways

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

The Day off The Rope Preference: does Mark think that he’s getting a Bilderberg meeting invitation? ‘Tain’t a bad way to be, most things consid- ered. Hosting the sittered. (Where did you go?) Order a pump, an remembering thy Zappos password; or: the trick and the tread. Are we reviewing the situation? Oh yes, the Objective and a high id deference; for whom we live as we co- sign, a brownie to put it in; your high, your drunk. In all, dough takes yeast to be bred. So: as we’re human to be upsetting genetics come from naught but a blind bid, ceding the river and a boat to row. In just being I tell you, we must vie. Europe’s heritage so easily cred- ible, assimilating the netting the line, the scatter and correlation. Mendacity: (but if you need a mo- ment, I mean as a nation or sect, “Qui- et,” Homo neanderthalensis said. Come and Go, but in a modern setting: a person of an impersonation. Some thoughts that turn doctrinaire in the mid- dle of a bungee jump or in a cri- sis; Mark Twain can bring the snark, racists read but where a punch becomes heavy petting could be a lesson and revelation. Even a bee sting will trip on the gid- dy up. White people so become a foe. A fay, alas! Oh, lass, Perdita led remiss'd—to be vulgar—and the vetting! seeking precision in procreation: ideally as complex as an aphid.) Where did you come from? (Intercourse, lasso all that Nature allows; no, don’t ask why.) The bunker, the hidden; a mind to know a determined sigh; living ex through zed; for in forgetting all but my station.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

The Earn of the Screw My friends wanted quiet lives (being fools; the world entire being just the same). escaping the mind or escaping sight. A lapse thereby is nice like a resting. Shame comes quick enough as a first resort and as a last retort. (Giudizio) “Fun” is a noun, hereby existing as a discrete phenomenon. The tools are only learned after mistakes and spite. Some dare call that talent (capriccio). Whores on-call is a protocol. A sport is a care in denial and a name. And my friends wanted the light off a fame, methane bubbles and what’s promised by “might”. (Chance it, sir:) a call on whatever pools: inside and outside become ratio. Throw a bouquet in a well and report the returns, a coronated besting. Power is limited to the suggesting; words that can be described: fellatio (don’t be dirty). Words are for us to tame, in meaning aesthetics and sound. A kite must have both ends of its string tethered. Rules are naught an edge for the wicked to court. But my friends wanted and that was a slight Enough. Preference in entropy cools. Dear benefactor–end thy molesting –of your fellow man, building thee a fort (We chant a pax vobiscum) trashy o- verall, trash ontology is to blame. (Universale) Caravaggio faces resisting faces resisting drama ire and rage reflecting the light. The rich can be on a spit, all their joules rising in the spending and all the shame and the waste, a product they can afford. Toss’d that ditchy opening. Let’s be poured; Veruca nesting whereby she takes flight. An aid to the lame, linens for the ghouls

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

Take Me to the Back and I’ll Show your Affront Comes now the time for childrens’ carbolic facials, we are here. Justice with Mercy thus bound, fail together; Character used as a tactic achieves neither. Being nasty is a virtue earned; whereas taste’s value obliterates itself. No art could please me more. Morals shifting in wastes, evergreens aflame. Therefor: empathy is not like the liver; it is the heart. Candy and money are worth the same trick; shame meeting vanity is a worth fused; Miss Thatcher’s grave is open for peeing; flush, and witness; turn your discuss’d outward. Ideals in terminal velocity. Someone’s gonna get their head kick- èd in tonite, movement born from your waists (be jubilant, my feet) only geeing. And who could convict, whom should be accused? Ev'ry bathroom door needs a hinge: abused of gender or not, in patience and hastes. Zinke’s scalp is…I thought we eradic- ated affluenza last century: Romanovs as dandelions teeing… sliced: any way you want to play the part. To produce Medea: Fulllife Conseq- uenses, sweeten a hand with prayers or bastes or thoughts. Remember, an thee He to choose’t, ye also were called: between our ashy Lives, whereby we are barer than Saint Bart. An the mind and all that’s worth foreseeing, Make a line of your Ladas for a keying. “There Is No Horse and Not Even a Cart”, a new play by Caryl Churchill. Pithi- ness is a virtue to want (which transfig- ures you and me). My wickedness enthused: you’d let the air use your legs as ballasts: silences bought, pastes to maw, envying a wristing to smart, would manners were Woost- ers, a laugh. Worse: ye assent but will, prick.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

Farts of Speech Passive voice passive voice cut your jabber rend my bassive noise if we relay starts em the master run away wave and slate spit on a pasture sit in on the passed crasser fun and bitching rapt directing reality undermining love earn’d igloos looser a sale of you the farts pull my figure yeet all that’s on your pate throw the rich and then ditch spy the repast ice and asti worth and the correcting very fine to ferry mine ore be turn’d iron the horse hairs activate her tabor slam the like until you can say you’re sate major fucking hotties only to cast nothing specific horror erecting about being risted across to be burn’d black leather mini chains round a faber- zhe skull ripped preps aye no no I know parts eyeliner boots and scars all that can last I feel that already resurrecting wizards their names and all they’re by concern’d an ye don’t know whom that is the mob or purple streaks and red tips goth styled in yards too cry tears of blood down my pallid fate a lambda snared for all your wrecked ink headcrabbing cops thereafter become turn’d it is a good day to do our dabber what has to be done by me help John’s darts into nihilanth he would be too late Barney and the government Man say fast- er faster motorbike faster we learn’d how the final boss fell the trek tink- ering with this quest barnacle slobber cascade resonance in my fucking carts one week is a long time to have to wait cord end this ones and for all with a blast shoot up the bobber zapping as we’re churn’d praise on a brecht english ironic hearts strunking on a gate distract lines aghast

#sestina #themolochiteverses #brainrot #ebonydarknessdementiaravenway #johnfreeman

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

Instant Innurism The limits are the imagination. No, the limits are sanity, but no: the limits are physics. We different- iate between all that is possible, Allow’d and observ’d, a moral Doppler Effect. She must be on that New Ontol- ogy. Cosas pienses, cosas cono. Cares carried over when a crown is spent, a bucket’s fill is measured on the pull. Fluids between containers are a blur and it turns out two half litres are tall enough; maybe two more (Supplication) puts things away, but inclined to resent. Coveting the absent is sin in null seeming to be an asymptote in plur- al. The abyss, son of man? Rubbish, a doll with flat eyes, linear satiation experience, instincts, reacting, no- ticing. Poetry does not nonsense cull, distinguishing art and lies in the flur- ry of content is an enforced install. The factual pingpong iteration: history rhymes, so there’s nothing to know; all our past lives on this tapestry rent. Is Newton non-canon, or a WIP lore at this point? Can matter have rules at all if we can measure black holes’ relation to its surroundings (when guessing is no- ble)? Pressure shifting the air apparent; the lingering promontory un-full a Challenger or Phoenix Force to stall (if Genosha were in the equation) let’s say reincarnation but non-no- dal; mass and energy can’t be but lent. Giving all this thought is tolerable in pretending therefor never stop lear- ning. Vain and fractal in a gallop, lur- ching; venerable as each strand: hair ent- ertain’d, your “to know” or “Jubilation”.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

The Myth of Choice (You’re a Crackhead) In the combinèd baking of her sons, Titus gave Tamora no will to eat either Chiron or Demetrius first, but blessings be upon the lot: laws dot jpeg. Flat mirth theory: push morals to the edge and see what falls off. The Lunts weren’t wonderful tonight. Whom were we ought to root for? Turn mercy into the worst passion. If you can, make my shroud from Hals- ton. For those that want it, it was a treat finding poor animals what are on buns and running, bent and toothy. Once pitch’d, bunts won’t go too far, Newton’s dynamics: false Laws to be obeyed nevertheless. Pete me, daddy, eight to the par. And then puns me in the face. A tap number rehearsed, alas, the floor is Jell-o. (Deux moments, sil vous plait?) All this and the world we got. No hands, no tongue: the horror and the thirst. Surviving, a predator for prey runs; for leisure: horses and foxes in hunts. Hunts can’t be avoided even in meat- less economies. Future won, past bought. All property becomes abandoned malls. Manners, by definition, are just fronts (but for dark matter, Newton would be neat) Civilization by inertia, wrought; Be they Athenians, or be they Huns. For we must all chant in answers and calls; put rhyme in your life, an elsewise be curs’d. This can work for some people (even nuns), to have it, whether they get paid or not; You can’t give it away with all these walls. Can you deathdrop and get back on your feet or, will you make people laugh like a Muntz? With learnèd thoughts and opinions unvers’d to print what we yeet, being verbal stunts (or wounds to be nurs’d), contradictions fought: ideas as balls afloat, finger guns.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

#ponyfuckers There are people who will stan Prince Edward And, trust, we can only exist with them: the proper only gestates from the crass. A cringefic that’s tagged “class traitors to lov- ers”. Venality is a rich man’s crime but absolution bares not circumstance. If ethics were a point to end a lance, we’d never left the Bronze age. In a word, onanism can be wrong in a time: absent any more sisters-in-law, oth- er tribe members, it would be sin to come on the ground (to rhyme, “spend there in the grass”). This is progress. If only there were some body out there who loved you. At a glance, Homo sapiens are a well-train’d herd: surrogates and seeking to be self-gov- ern’d: measures, rules, obedience. The dras- tic and tame, the instinctual and prim- al: a double helix we can recov- er. Revolutions nearing an advance, unzipping ev'rything that has occur’d whereby “hence” becomes a term that can harass. An affect is a lock; into the grime are all our choices: teeth set upon phlegm. If work and fingernails can peel a lime– (these men on first base saying they’ll steal third.) In bliss, apart from the history of civilization, it’s been democrac- y ever since our hands evolved a thumb. O, bless: n'obliges. He’s neither lord, nor ants. Tis pity she’s a lass (o?) whom alas loves a lad; spoil the rod and spare a dime. Palming the faces off a twonie; numb- ing, sensing, hooking hands within a muff. And still then, thou can do a Fortnite dance, all that can be call’d blindness is inferred. “Cares are mine innur’d,” says a King, his fans in presence a bluff. (A pit and a plum) these matters we climb; polish up the brass.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

Sophist Joys Fånter skjønnheit! Alexis and Aline knew (taking time beyond necessity) when to hit the road. Behold! the silver strand (in denial and dismissing, nous pouvons oublier) having nerve enough to carry through ordeals and poison’d bags. In a sense here to die and review the experienced, the stare and naught av- oided. To style; she looks down for the rags present a mode: a tremble and a lean. Solid proofs in neither shame nor miti- gation, text compression; jaunt as skill, fur nor for rings; bless you for finding the tags. (Stop saying “Apocalypse” when you mean “Tribulation,” Twenty-Eighteen.) Whist, tea: ev’rything stops. A lesson from Wilbur, use what’s signified. Even Patrick knew when told his Aunt was literate to cov- er some of the sins, since but the ill-ver- sèd reply without ghosting [the spitty note is in the mail]. Du, we phoned askew, “Night;” all we can do to ask Mister Feen- y, Adams says to sit on your pins, of course. To be wise: a foot on all the crags. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the Stage: Miss Gno’mer!” No horse by witti- ness, meditation, or even the euph- oric selfly arrests but for will, ver- tical obstacles or walls, studs and nags, once spook’d (sincere in all that can be seen). Take a Chanel that’s not yours, it helps; ou almost diamonds and their chaos. “Pity.” Such entails anything anyone lacks; but soft! they waken one by one with clean heads rolling on with a clause and a shove, gotta see it at my windowsill! For the looks and the gags: (wanken hin die Huf- e) Cogitas: you. A spade to till vir- tue and the city. This, the trampoline.

#sestina #themolochiteverses #thesorcerer #revelation

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

to Those Who Wish Us Well Transcendent literature deserves more than just a whale hunting story, Ishmael. Don’t reach a reading or visceromance; (and all calculated down to the word): Melville padded Moby-Dick to meet his monthly whoremoney quota; change my mind. Engaged as we are or therein: a trance after ten minutes of Maddow, the third line of thought, a macramé of heuris- tic evidence and/or pressing the file, grind and whittle away until the core emerges: another Georgian, a find (a fine dilemma, truth and dare: a kiss to show who you are (our friends and the Nile, the death, the dark, the frogs and all the gore, the choosing) or those otherwise inclined. Bread from pissy grain needs naught nor one chance; it’s fairer, see? Spirits in all they’ve stirr’d) and a crime. Hope, Faith or Charity: store these virtues unassum’d. Sharing, they’re kind, dangerous notions for whomever plants them wildly in absence of their practice. What makes a walker different in style from all other hominids? It’s all blurr’d to have an ontology or a stance. All entropy’s the End and the fact is an herb on a plate ‘til dipp’d is a pile. Brassieres full of women can’t be called bind- ers, Sister. All that can be is assur’d; imagine all the tenses yet to “be” for even when “all” inadequates as guile. Putting an end to Wit–Cain and lined. Why? The baking and caking, hence occurred provides–in neither mode–delight. And this Tea: ever being now as it was yore the tally describes as Bartleby cants tritely. Yo-yos winding, Newton’s Law: dis- tances going unheard: Elijah to dance, a song to make while “and then” becomes “or”.

#sestina #themolochiteverses #mobydick #thewhale #melville

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

Slimeytown The answer to the question “Does this title cross a line?” is, “Yes, Alex.” Pride is one of the seven, no doubt. The cool kids despise the nouveaux-riche (and the poor didn’t want this one)–a bosom to don- ate a heart to. A will: my haste know’d such. While eschewing up the chain of atone- ment, kick out the rungs below you, or hide away in a cave. A shadow to touch and manifest as reality, list- ening to what is backmask’d in “Damned for All Time/Blood Money”: a part for a fool. Hand me a nail or a Geiger counter and crave that mineral! It ain’t so much a question of not knowing what to own. The old world a Jericho to scale: you’ll have to be a little more hands off-ish when Saudis offer you an airplane ride. Gentility can’t but disgrace while clutch- ing pearls like a millstone or all the boules. What’s this treason? In a world of Anton- ios you’re caught to halve a heart; all ‘tis for the final weigh-in; the lighter side of argent pieces: a fee, nothing more. What good’s a first impression? In misguid- ed looks (anything too wonderful) or— a shrew or vole coming out of a hutch!— sounding like a stretched-out twelve-year-old. Shul: since we all need elocution to mitz- vah; as a lay, I do not love your tone. (Wince:) anyone can be deshiksafied That old wound, assail to Jheri curl (whis- tle a Mahler tune) off 'er staying. (Who’ll) Turn around (ev'ry now) and then to stone. (Woah), each cast first and call it going dutch! Smile an apple down, s(wall)owing the core, dignity: a tool; make a petty bride; in sharing Adonai: The Joy of Hissed Stares, the work, the luxury and the boor.

#sestina #themolochiteverses #antisemitism

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

Volksfeind Evil will come at you ratchet and sow- eyed, not well-dressed nor silver-tongued. Troubles come to fools before all else; to take reality and shift it to suit the needs of the day or even the minute. Whereby, we all have Tamora to wed. Have it and eat it: both scoops and the cake, adamant fantasies: you’re a Truther but think: fertilizer can come from bull- shit. A game only you will play: win it. Tallow has limits, if the sponge is bread; Lean so hard it becomes fraught to say, “Wow.” Obi-wan says a fool has to be led to Thule and beyond, challenge a Jaw- a (Would Alderan were a moon, innit?), or deny the Force. Faith is a crude bols- ter in the toughest times (or the woozy ones). Like Lando, sometimes, we all must flake. When vagueness fails, you can always gin it! Ev'rybody goes down well with beer. Dead in empathy, heart and pity; who’s the latest victim? Son and a son and bake; and red in the mouth (wherever): mumbles can even indict: each hand as a bough. There’s doing your job and then there’s Bubble’s Method. Lulu’s fifteen percent (a shake- down) should be easier to earn–and how!– than collecting it, still feeling boozy from the Bollinger. Jobs secured and ped- dled (…with love) take this kipper and tin it! Unless your child is starving, for our sake, you’ll never rightly find cause to pull thee a Madonna pube, damask’d and thin it may be. Don’t be that asshole; knowing, vow- ing what it’s like to be bad takes the head (brains and imagination). The stubbles are real and toothy. To swear: akin it is trying to make sense of Speed-the-Plow: the tempo doubles each time “fuck” is said.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

The Spirograph and the Fractal One lesson I’ve learn’d from Stephen Fry is: statements that are lies are also often boring (to speak in the counterposit- ive). Soon is the fig tree wither’d away. An honest burden is perpetual elegance, how stones become marvellous. And these attempts to democratize lus- tre, muddying the kind with the cruel, the objectively doctrinaire as lay: unfurl’d umbrella and say the sky is cloudless and blue; just the sun aloft in the heavens; it was not known or was it? Wank money, no matter how you toss it, a hankie’s soiled no matter who’s cough’d in it. A dick is out, therefore: a fly is down. Or: the affliction that befell us, the manner’d slight to meet all of you all; nastiness own’d: a place, a time, a way. Living truth: all you have to do is stay as thus in your lane is a ritual. Avoiding Fury Road stuff is a plus, and if you have to ask how or why is inelegant, dense or obtuse. Waft in Nepthanline protects all in your closet the natty is a pattern, like moss, it creates the infirm, to conform, soften thereby falsehood must, as for each, tie is a tight webbing until you catch a fay or a large mantis, a gross victual. Once done: the tangled, the sucking; tell us your if, and how, and when to catch the bus in not being on time. All of you all: how exciting it is to meet, allay, and aggress. We speak untruths because it feels good briefly. Stack brieflies enough, then delight in perpetua; a fry is crisp and hot today, but a small loss it is once not. Fuel, the words we’ve trough’d in; journals, the yellows; giving a bias.

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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@alexcbrunk.bsky.social

1 year ago

…“unfixable”. See what will happen first is an expand- ed infant mortality rate, thus build- ing (finally) our judgement. Therefore: wealth by prices, will, remain the same; derange as to the rest a good. My friends, my lov- er once informed me whil'st gazing so in my eye: to please by groping till we’re filled up, is the duty purest to our health. Reapin’ is a function of the sowin’. Providence, a function of fate as planned, meaning: ‘Love’ is of the four letter range: thigh meat of a hawk or breast off a dove. Are you the mitochondria or cell? This transaction, and energies flow in thereby a nucleus divides or cov- ers how oxygen comes to creatures gilled, the instinct thus to cause a foal to stand. All living creatures brilliant to be strange. All that can be mined or has, ye, Glóin resourcing below, Dúnadan above: the virtue of a gem is not to change; hiding is not necessary for stealth; écoutes! To Sting an orc is to have killed; To Hobbit a Ring be worse than when manned! The linearity of Time will gov- ern us all, and postmodernism ain’t your savior: feelings like a cow skin tanned. Over the river, breakthroughs you tow in your crimes against Euclid. Two words: or else. Displaced earth follows only as we’ve tilled as patches of hair can result from mange. Ten Armies could do what cunty Ken can’t. O! to say nothing of the treasure spilled– and sir, a trap is as good as a shove, unheimlich is the left hand, the stowin’ a spiral, numbers, the growth and the shell these worths: the exchanging, all that can hov- er, the lost. Oh, in the event it sells, this country is willed on stone or in sand. 20 January, 2017

#sestina #themolochiteverses

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