Welcome to Cerulean Nocturne, an experimental poetry blog. You will find manual writings of invented language here. Delve in and undergo a journey behind the oblique mask of formality. Discover brand new forms of poetry. Associate your own hidden meaning from these Rorschach texts. Dare to plumb the depths. (Awl poured seas sub decked to pain and coffee rights belong exhumed and free circa twenty seventeen to the Scribblenaught.) Winsome tale. Luzum mind.

October 1, 2009

FANTASIA OMERICA

As you've guessed, this is a narrative told from an untrustworthy source. But I ask you, in all honesty.  How much better is your trusted source? I thought so. Now back to my factual approach. You may not know me, but I'll prove to you that what I say is true. By the time I finish this sentence, which in and of itself reflects there is a thought to be thought of, otherwise how could I write it out, I will have shown with refutable precision that even the most common thoughts of a six year old child are mere companions to a whole host of boiling imaginings, and that its those few catapulted into fortune who get to be considered lucky by their less well to do brethren (when they're anything but) that end up getting what -?- because everyone knows no matter which way the wind blows, it's who you know, don't you know, and how to show your feelings to those in the know who know you know they know, if you know what I'm saying, is that the whole point of playing their game, even though its been the same old game since Eden came, it's like praying, children's laughter, like a lancing wound, or a short disaster in a preaching mood, there's no worse food in terms of nutritional value, so the thing to do is let them laugh at you -?- I don't think so, not where I come from, no; how about you, look down your street, can you tell me where its open ends meet -?- and share the secret here with the rest of us until we dare remember that when our priorities seem to be getting way too stacked, forgiveness will dissolve them just like that.