Inconsistent ClayBlood Totemist

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