/biz/ - Business & Finance

What clashes here of wills gen wonts, oystrygods gaggin fishy-
gods! Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax! Ualu
Ualu Ualu! Quaouauh! Where the Baddelaries partisans are still
out to mathmaster Malachus Micgranes and the Verdons cata-
pelting the camibalistics out of the Whoyteboyce of Hoodie
Head. Assiegates and boomeringstroms. Sod's brood, be me fear!
Sanglorians, save! Arms apeal with larms, appalling. Killykill-
killy: a toll, a toll. What chance cuddleys, what cashels aired
and ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what tegotetab-
solvers! What true feeling for their's hayair with what strawng
voice of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the
duskt the father of fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and
body!) how hath fanespanned most high heaven the skysign of
soft advertisement! But was iz? Iseut? Ere were sewers? The oaks
of ald now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay. Phall if
you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the
pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.
Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen's mau-
rer, lived in the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofar-
back for messuages before joshuan judges had given us numbers
or Helviticus committed deuteronomy (one yeastyday he sternely

riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend
of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to
Howth Castle and Environs.
Sir Tristram, violer d'amores, fr'over the short sea, had passen-
core rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy
isthmus of Europe Minor to wielderfight his penisolate war: nor
had topsawyer's rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse
to Laurens County's gorgios while they went doublin their mumper
all the time: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to
tauftauf thuartpeatrick: not yet, though venissoon after, had a
kidscad buttended a bland old isaac: not yet, though all's fair in
vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe. Rot a
peck of pa's malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory
end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.
The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonner-
ronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthur-
nuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later
on life down through all christian minstrelsy. The great fall of the
offwall entailed at such short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan,
erse solid man, that the humptyhillhead of humself prumptly sends
an unquiring one well to the west in quest of his tumptytumtoes:
and their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park
where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green since dev-
linsfirst loved livvy.

LONG LIVE PEPE

Shadows cast across the wall
silently upon him fall
slinking up and down the hall
cursing

Ethereal cage without relent
eventually it will foment
ever fitful mad descent
wors'ning

drowning senses, thought, time
driving his forced mime
drivel of endless rhyme
versing

Me and You

A day or so ago, I reciprocated an I-You.

I thought to Myself, now I owe You. So, yesterday I bought You a You-Me.

But, You prefer I-It because It doesn't require a lot of care. And You're-It requires a You deposit. I respect Your decision,

although...

If You ask I-It, I-You was Ours. So, really It's You that owes Me.

I-Me-Mine. Nothing personal.

>>30296962
>caring about what reddit thinks

Even I'm not that crazy

Sitting in a dark room

I feel a chill go down my spine.

my stomach pleads for release from its incarceration,

with its incessant growling, but I cannot cooperate.

All attempts to gain fluency in Russian had failed,

I cannot comprehend a backwards R, Toys 'я' us a notable exception.

Я дoлжeн yйти oт этoй мpaчнoй тюpeмнoй co знaниeм двyх языкoв!

I must escape this dark bilingual prison!

I turn my eyeballs inside my head

and gasp in horror at what I had become.

Wiregrass flows for miles between

Our lonely bodies.

I grow rusty inside.

Bloody rain flows past cracked gears and

Corded pulleys of will and mind,

And I lurch, shambling towards you

Threshing through the tears

Of the screaming wiregrass.

Inside my rust falls off in scrabbling flakes

They make stepping stones for my breathe

And it obliges, filling me with the your flax hair

And the tears of the wiregrass.

I choke on both, and I cried my own rusty tears

For I loved the harsh cut and sweep of the distance more than you

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

THE SOUNDS MOTHER MAKES REEK OF SULFUR AND ROT, THE GOD I KNEW HAS LEFT AND ONLY SHE REMAINS.

WE WORSHIP THE ONE WHO HAS COME TO SHOW US HER POWER. LET HER REIGN BE ONE OF TERRIBLE GLORY, FOR WE REVEL IN THE TRUTH OF THE FLESH.

HER MEAT IS TRUE, NOT A FALSE INFILTRATOR, THE WAS IS THE IS, PRAISE YOUR GOD BORN ANEW IN THE ANCIENT FLESH OF THE ROT BROUGHT FORTH TO USHER IN AGES ANEW