Inconsistent ClayBlood totemist
In a crude callous sweltering sludge of pettiness
The daunting defrauder, cerise perpetrator
Painstakingly slunk away... superficially,
Flustering, flurrying.
A principal of full-blooded shame.
That ample ambit of acrid abstruseness
Should make me rue the day
Of carbonaceous smirch, organic cupreous outflow
The day that mawkishly hid its miry soot
And mine...
The origin of the encirclement of vast bedevilling quagmires
Emblematic for the extent of fate and its asperity
By casuistry soiled, decelerated and temporized
A redundant constancy bespeaks the deepness of misconstruction
And defeatist bellicosity
Walled vicissitudes waver in vertiginous heights
While apprehension plangently liquefies
Leaving two in wan convoluted realities
Furthered by the grossness of the leverage of impolitic prevarications
Troublous times have cynically sculptured the negligibility of all propitiations
In lustreless marble still bearing the statuesque momentousness
Of a totem for ClayBlood
I make my astuteness evince
The dubious exiguity of magnanimity hurriedly bereft
Tumultous torrents have failed to slake my thirst
Of torrid red they were, a quickened mass of odd feminity
I did encourage zest and lust to join
But I was followed by death and pain and loss
While I contritely rescind the postwar negation of unalterable pulchritude
Prostrated by the congruous triteness
Of both its provenance and its loathsome recurrence
I sense I am historicity
For a period not known for a long time
