R/ckets and S/ntries

the dragon ate the moon, but left substance, a coppery hoopla that fell to us. fell almost into eras of speech, weird islands demanded by earnest warriors, who troop out of cavernous capitols to press instant upon villages. there is no worry, for the dragon is kindly or stupid, will relent in pictures. night will flatten out, with remaining endearments spoken, concerning the silvery moon, when silver it is. the dragon took the moon whole, burnt it to an orange brown and left us watching as the wind picked up, obvious reliance on careful planning. auguries impact the word spun out of the rappings, a dictation warning of war or impedence or even impudence, the fence closes over. a rapping sound upon the roof, angular birds in darkness, cooing or disturbed. the present night exceeds expectations, for the picture looks like honest denial. the dragon can't be so huge, nor so unforgiving. the moon is innocent. the aliens in their spiffy vehicles cruise everywhere, aligned. we're tired of the mockery. the magic begins too quickly.

the cat tears into Ostrogoth, and the field looks excelled. notion of tedium plop writes poetry on colour stream theory? now out of the campaign, which senator caved in most viably today? the yen for correction in startled compunction, and it's all about the career in assault. America as a wet thing upon which so much slides. dialogue grows into swelled function. the most savvy of aliens lands on the trick, the age of Cats. here Cat strides to Ostrogoth remnant, and puts predate upon the meld. for quiet and a long situation glows over the domicile, everyone wants time to sleep. nether rage molds earning delivery, that will be writ up large and spite, the growing of national interest. it's terrific to see a villager still have legs and arms. pelts come fresh. raids on meaning steam constancy, so that, when we engage, the nation learns reckless abandon. everyone wants to dance with trill, for the screen remarks upon our our juggernaut. each paves a wherever but this history stops with the glad advertisement. some flying saucers seriously mess up everything, so that work comes to naught. we're big children, we can do our own, but reach closer, across the table, a hand sport, to say something while there's time, and the pressure of bending space. some people arrive at the conclusion, or tool across the countryside. either span of difference looks like luck.

brusque valley popping,
alien wallop pal,
ripped fascicle dibble,
swell lame known,
chunk of shadow government,
secret war social gleam,
thumping mood beam meander panning,
crisis surrogate,
blue sky runt,
ambition lode,
start raving mat,
work drool,
alien light horse,
smirk'll

spectral challenge versus astral rebuff,
some folks are intimidated,
and that's before things went
really crazy:

and so the blasts represent a position?

gratuitous leap

and the 'courage' of the people survives?

with piecemeal intent

then oceans must boil fractiously, such a showboat concern splattered across the national scene

significantly, and often interchanged

we bend and bold as the day riles its momentum

yes, and desperation puts everyone on the list

but the party goes on, Khe Sang or devasted Hue, or children in Bagdadh with elvish glee to sing of certainty as the best report. the people talk. considerations mulct for principle, turned loose. a fire sits on the hillside, reported vigourous. now a haze sets in. tremendous beat. give up finds a lone rampant, pulled moose from over station. nuclear trees division of interest express. better off dead, incorporated. "will vote Republican for food" as Daniel Davidson's signage proclaimed. a pious Exacto knife known as history, stolen stuff was best one day.

church menace

fraction rebate

people warren

endless surfer

hole contribution

sinking feeling

but how do we realize our vast indifference, blahblahblah?



the peace that becometh piecemeal

// posted by Simple Theories @ 7:51:00 AM

newshound breaking pattern,
half bald emphasis,
certainly bad emperor going,
deft foxhole,
sporty pop off,
collusion patrol,
weak access pavilion,
choppers segments,
non people preparation,
scout dangling,
buttered up running,
Viet Minh moving,
changeable napalm rations,
smooth unbearable,
further sling glob body,
meant to more meant to mean

retrograde motion cleared for landing

307 names for marijuana

crumb cakes taken from especially, to prepare the political field

delving crying without al fresco laugh sauce

spoonfed bilious conjunction, spied on in earlier episode

Martian moonbeams

fastened tested clunkers from outerspace

loops of agreeable pudding, the manner of change

wormhole ideology, as principled as heck

a tete-a-Tet vacation, and a Hue and cry (special war division)

chose name and splayed out, circa 1704, or the day John Locke died. bought electric intruments and talked to sternness, all the time weighing in on something else. Maddy Prior sings of a thing turned over. Tim Hart fields a question, and Ashley Hutchings was 'Tyger' on the football field. years turn. Martin Carthy once ran home with a new song, it was 700 if a day. the dulcimer goes here. everyone knew about Tam Lin, it was thunder and a day. Hutchings moves on, Carthy redecides. Bob Johnson and Rick Kemp are part. tell you something with more electric and it. something. stomp down here. almost forgot Peter Knight, classicallly trained you know. more years, more everything. the less form go off with dusty things. suddenly. such as can be, Gaudete. and then one day, and then another. drums were late but drove home. the history of jazz is just history. when the aliens report home, they will have particle theory all to their own.

melted army over creamy wobble effect

melba toast importance strewn far and wee

gabble cocktail whilst earnest taxable pond

noodles combust in dabs of barter then
sprinkled with basil and luftwafe

portabello tufts in a raging burn sauce

nuclear chicken under weigh divided
with pampas grass and archaic oregano

alien slippery elm roasted over a hot
volcanic death till crisp and forgotten

merging bistro beefsteak supplied
arms industry and basked in oil from firm

father tried to say something

the daring mention the
daring brightness
a collaboration with moon
over terms of agreement
sent to the front
imagining something
splendid in a
village loss like father
in a drift of pieces
determined by
pictures until
execute files resemble
soft return
to a base and
beginning
child fond and soothe
bringing lyrical light
upon a distraction
which the aliens
freebooted
and tremendous
in distance took
on a calling and
loose pilfer
of language from
the mud
into straining into
round and glow and
certain features
of divining as we
write together
or apart
but more that
the goods in
the sentence
refer to a
time or shape
of stories as
we go narrative
tho form is
itself formless
by virtue of
mutable bringing
grass into a solo
and bothered
oak leaves and sun
light on a hillside
remembered till
forgotten but
always named
Vivaldi revolving
strict tempo and
patience waiting
for signs among the
chosen
or cloven or
horse sense in
a day
the weathervane
the weathervane

it continues like becoming old, as much as in the factory. note a flat torrent in the line read, spoken in the falls about the words. parts indicate a tunnel to conclusion, a point of the light. something changes to cross, like the victory ape or break down in old place mode, saying what to the stories and all this respect. the clock and something speak too much. gestures and tumult develope in the impatient rain, ramming under the one day altitude. and a place, possible until you obtain the image, effortlessly but always spiky trace. wait for the slag from Abroad, the dynamo seizure fired by charged star and full people of feeling. Foreigners shine with doubt. all factories divide the people, who are formation or test. years enter each word, and fill each solemn speech to regularity, therefore limits of the car under the manner of the crude one of the night of these words or those.

an allowance in the hills. in deed the day jeers, updated, lighthearted, bagatelle #4 for counting. then allowance and effect mean something in the hills. the lost way home was 70 years or something stretched to believe. the effect of day on night, perhaps. the fathers are with the mothers. maybe something clear, over the horizon, like an erratic jet, or the part of the movie you liked, remember that? the day stopped to let you see. then popcorn or triumph, whatever is the haze.

a spending of home, of the thinning and dad, going lightly to say, as light shifts to appropriate conundrum like where are we and why is this the place, when so many places are nearer, and love often fractures, givens are taken, smudge pot thinning and smoke, which is hardly a grasp, but beginning to end, and ending to begin, the light goes lost, leaves mentions in snow someday or crusty sound of footsteps in leaves, the oak that was is still an oak, a final vacation to remember, the thinning is exhaust, is years as planets, is quaint family denial or larger than a hillside, a love like any hillside grows as temperature or reflex, thinning quietly, not averse, not a stretch of desert or a highway implicated in countries far from here or even the old homestead talking nonsense, critical mass invented daytime, where families live and dad's die, spending moments or pounds in signs, soothing reference while gentleness casts an opinion, the great sunshine of a month sgo and the rushing grey of three days from now, minutes escape the between to render something cooler, like a transit or a little music for the night, it's as much as talking while we love, and it's not beyond the alien scan

pray for baroque and
contest loss in all forms
while daze starts
character with
placement in language
which fails on
first try loser brain
rehab logistics
tempest scrawl on
portal throb
that's the benefit
of station and
regret functions
as a geo-political
rhyming scam
while posture peasants
for the skull session
redeem in pond niche
likely story
with all the sentences
quietly forbearing
radio light
but succouring
the marginal fort outside
one's home enough
'hi I'm pond scum!'
ladder to heaven
haha
central intelligence
agency

lightly delightly or treasure in a cloud
while referring to nature and calling
on billions the majestic is strict
but containable using vital space and
thrust of theory, well, you know how
it is on a desert night and the strange
lights say somebody is out
there tho body doesn't seem the right
inflection and oh my god time doesn't
act this way, so are tears reliance?
twist of things and going into
the zone for some political malarkey
or buying in or what China can do
tradewise for the glory of the
effort, well, then the alien probe
is just one more thing, and one more
thing is one more thing, and rational
excuses add on to one, leaving one,
and that's the eruption right there
vis-a-vis the glory, thank you

the man or woman said 'I read it this way', as certain lights in the sky became uncertain. 'this is the beginning,' said the person, pulled to maximum clearance by a good childhood and all the delivery. 'space creatures give us nothing but answers,' sighed the person. the person is adult, is not part of a crashed helicopter crew, doesn't expect to see El Mozote as the neighbourhood, doesn't trade barbs for finality. 'it's a good grey day to add barnacles to the bottom of the ship, accrue the useless dread and fix a path,' said the same thread of examination. a saltarello itself embarks, which means steady beat and bleating shawm closes over a portion of expectation. sure the dance is better when you've not crashed with helicopter mates. bleak news is a participle in a sentence, a sentence, lo, the horizon seems a fresh blinding in these rather than other days. the man or woman is the cause of difference by being equal, that is, to the thing itself. an openly episcopal gay man becomes bishop of the church. is the church fare, or a place of attack when the aliens get their backs up? the steeple installs many memories of the landscape overtaken. dire Colonel Lansdales start equal signs in dark places. palaces, of course, are subjective.

they've got rocks in their truck, their own truck, rolling across the muted desert. not the unmuted desert, loud with some fabrication not apt for the story, but muted like heigh ho amongst stern granite walls. the rocks of the truck in this muted place are as love goes, my wife talks to me meaningly. the rocks represent rocks, in such a serious after effect and forenoon that rain clouds almost bead up to spill, but this desert doesn't feel it. the truck is their means, a story in itself. and with rocks to add to the stale air of explaining every dot, this is even almost gracious. my wife does not live in a truck, of course I do not either. I am startled to think that rocks find a place in the story, in the truck that is concerned. but aliens are provable, by talking aloud. you've been speaking for centuries in every word, look at the quality. and I've been speeding along. my movie is a rocketship or flying saucer, as befits the minutiae and vis-a-vis. so gather up the truck, all the rocks, my wife, me, the aliens, and figure what your job is.

yours truly,

the Inquest Started

sudden means alien for it claims. and in event
words stick. the matrix of ripple on water,
when the machine flies over. pieced
together and pierced thru. a lighter cage
for the alien 'concern'. a heavy one
for the enumeration and fall
leaves falling like snow. pictures
after the fact. aliens near Walden
for an example. patches of
desperation called detail, so that
sentences can be formed.