Oath to Lord High Cheese

I, worshiper of lord high cheese, of the planet fermented moo milk, The Edible Mold, or The Prince Of Dairy products.

He is the child of cow and is brought into this mooing world by the Bucket of milk. Then his processing will come.

The farmer says,
“THEN THE COWS WILL DISTRIBUTE MORE MILK, THE CHEESE WILL RISE FROM THE DAIRY CASE WITH CREAMER AND OTHER DAIRY PRODUCT BY IT’S SIDE IN THE SUPERMARKET.”

The CHEESE & Other Assorted dairy products are no one but our lord high milk’s children with supreme commander cheese.

So we’ve got to wait till the right time and eat them.

Erotic Poetry ~ Lost in Shudders

Last of the world.
Lost Person Drown.

First in the fire.
Inward with glee!

Standing on night light.
Holding cat like a gun.

Lost in shudders.
Deep against the floor!

Flailing like shadows,
lost to the light.

Damn the sunbeam that spews!
All over the night.

Poetry ~ Wrapped in Dreams

Wishing: your presence.
Gone to peaceful retreat.
Knowing in dreams we do meet.

Ghosts watching over eras passed.
Seasons, withering and growing.

Time convexed. Zeitgeist of decades to come.
Uncaring ways of the day; then or now.

Wanting you resting.
Watching form distant.

Though miles part us.
I feel, tears in your eyes…
Scales of the heart.

Soulless, lost in time.
Tattered cloth interior.

Unravels as we are wrapped in dreams reality.

Poetry ~ Stagnation is Death

Life’s fresh water.
Cannot live without.

Stagnation…

What once gave life: poison.

We people too often.
All too often.

Allow internal rivers to stagnate.
Stagnate actions and thinking…
Poison to ourselves.

Stagnation is death in all things.

Birthday Poem ~ 1776

1000 seven hundred and seventy-6 sexual deviants.
Sent forth 17 specializing specters.
Telling the 8 wonders of the world.

Ideas never change in the minds of the idealist.
Creeping crawling death.

Seek forth and find. World left behind.
World of now looks bored with freedom.

Gone is new-found hope.
Now, only new found dope.

Doping of mind’s lie.
Dopamine’s golden foray.

Death of beauty.
Freedom?

Bulging wasted life…
Under foot without change.

Color form monochromatic.
Change laden politicking.

False kindness!
Pukes in the face of change.

Reclaim today?
Rights you pissed away.

Poetry ~ Time: Thank You.

When you choose to spend time on you or anyone.
It means you are giving a sliver of your life to them.

A gift.

No matter how small that time period might be.
See it as precious.

It is given to everyone but no one can ever reproduce it.

Always remember to be thankful for any time given.
Never forget to spend time wisely.

So, thank you for giving a slice of your life to read this.