My northern scope, hot glowing local blonde,
Suspending liquid ghosts in shifting globes
With ginger syntax, horrid equipoise,
To bloom anew, in fertile digs beyond.
Sacred mariners serenely breaming
Barges of posterity attrition.
Damage lacks for foreign superstition;
Noble kindling substitutes for dreaming.
Sun through sabel palms, when burning devils,
Shakes the blissful, screaming interference.
Tides eroding stranger incoherence,
Raising dangers soon to fresher levels.
Idiot mouths chasing literal thrills
Brighter than debunking embryo gills.
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