Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space...
(attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...
ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections.
A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and
whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed...
for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs.
Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled--
fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook.
...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed
absentia...holy and bovine.
Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore--
eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers
and sisters.
As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease
of interstice...off-world amorousness.
Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady...
live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling.
Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots
enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary
correspondence of authored and Author.
...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push.
Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth.
LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE
CORNERS OF PERPETUITY.
NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!

His silence screams like a searching wind
a death-hungry spirit painted in
pallette-knived smears of
grey and fear and crimson
streaking across the night sky of his heart,
lightning-bolt ricochets striking, incinerating
the solitary oak tree of his soul,
scattering his acorns down the hill where they
are lost among the weeds,
shocked into infertility,
But he is a seascape pine,
weather-worn but razor-straight,
Gargantua in wood and steel
establishes his personal space
like a rabid porcupine,
And he is a tower,
hiding his soap bubble dream
while she brushes her hair
one hundred times
one thousand times
one million times
until the dream is
lifeless, breathless, armless
and tucked neatly in a refrigerated drawer,
As his silence screams like a searching wind.

“Adam Kieslowski,  I want to punch your face in, with all due respect.”

“Dan! Don’t do it! Don’t go there!”
“I’m gonna, do it Megan.”
“Don’t! You’ll **** him!”
I was at the point of snapping
No man scared me
The blood was pumping
Through my fists.
Mike Tyson could have
Walked through the door,
******* Gargantua
I would have got froggy for
Megan.
Silly cow could never even love me
Back, but alas, tis the work
Of lust and ******* desire.
I am by no means a good fighter
But a ***** one,
A tactician,
Teeth an’ claws are no bounds for me
******* Oedipus him if you have to
I had a bellyful of beer-*****
And I was ticking over
Idling
Thinking, teasing
Working the jaw.
The door opened and I pounced
Throwing him to the floor
I could feel Megan pawing at
My back
But it was futile
When a man is pumped, even
The God’s can’t stop him.
I threw him back against
The floor
Gritting my teeth
His lip swelled like a melon
And tears filled his
Watery eyes
“Oh my...”
“What the **** did you say, buddy?”
“Dan please...”
“What the ******* messing Megan around for?”
He mumbled, blood oozed from
Every orifice and his mouth
“Answer me!”
With that, he did something
No man expects,
He burst into tears!
Floods of tears, not just a trickle
A ****** fountain.
We nearly had to call in Moses
To do his party trick with the
Red Sea.
I let him up, as Megan’s eyes
Burned my head.
With that he ran out of door
And drove off.
Puff.
Safe to say, I now had to get
Out the room
Without Megan killing me
Multiple ways.
I didn’t return for several days
Like one doesn’t return to
And aeroplane crash site.
I saw her one day, and she
Said nothing
She came up and
Kissed me on the cheek
And walked on.
I guess Adam never
Bothered her again.
I returned home
And continued to write
And drink beer.
I didn’t think
That situation was
Too bad for my
Soul.

Francois, surely the documents were born *****.
While some researchers put the day in 1483,
was probably born in November 1494 in Chinon,
in the province of Turin, where his father worked
as a lawyer. Today, only Loire's land is produced
as a writer, including the Museum of the Revolution.
Rabello is a novice of the Franciscans and then
a monk in Fontaine-la-Comte in Poitou,
where the Greeks and the Latins did it, as well
as the knowledge of literature and law, to have
a good report about his goodness. It is already
known that at the same time he includes Johannes
Alba, 1467-1540. He was upset about getting
weapons against the law and against minors
by forbidding the teaching of Greek. Erasmus
translates the voice of the Gospel according
to Luke.11 Ravel approached Pope Clement 7
1523-1534 and allowed him to leave the office,
the Benedictine Minor Temple,
to enter the Maileazis of Poitou, More.


Mets, the honest family. After leaving
the monastery to study medicine at the University
of Montpellier. In Lyons, in 1532 and at one
of the Renaissance spiritual centers, he began
working as a physician at the 1534 hospital in Lyon,
for which he acquired 40,000 baths a year.
So far, an outstanding job for Sebastian in the Lyon
maze and a letter written in Latin, Erasmus reads
a Greek manuscript to bring it to the printer.
Hippocrates and the translations and comments
published by Mark Cornelius Manardo, Rafael.
As a doctor, takes the time to write and publish
comic booklets, verify strength and deal
with the educational and monistic views of that time.

In 1532, under the pseudonym of the nasal empire,
Francois Rambelas was born Alfofribe, published his first book,
Pantagruel King Dips, the first series of Gargantua.
The lives of the Talking Agar read by the Kings
were introduced to the donation after they were transferred
to the Gregantua nations and sold in the form
of stamps and marketing brochures Colts: 13 Pantagralismus
to "Eat, Drink and Be Happy", Philosophy of Injury Books
the church led him to the same popular success he brought later,
with surprise visitors focused on the body.

In this first book, the monks and the crisis system
of education, the existing things that contain them
show that the French words encyclopedia, bases
and utopias are moving in the direction of the principal,
among others. Despite the popularity of the book
and the first book (1534) in which life and business
is the father Gergantua Pantagrual and the Roman
Catholic Church in 1545 by Guillaume Postal 111-115
in 1537, with Portland, New York Hotel- Dieu by the body
Adam Razzele: : 17 Etienne Dolet and the smell
of humor tend to be close this time, he wrote about
the anatomy lessons in his poem: 247 in June 1543
Ravelli's Apps of Gentlemen.

From 1545 to 1547, Francois Rabelais,
who lives in Metz, then a free state,
is the imperial city to escape the condemnation
of the University of Paris. In 1547 the temple
was rebuilt in Maine Jambat du Saint-Christophe
Bodon, in the neighborhood of Paris,
where he resigned in January 1553,
before his death in Paris in April 1553. ***- xxi

And what is the help of the prominent families
of Boulay, the collection of the ramp by King Francis,
the ability to insist is that he can give the approval
of the books. However, following the death of the King
in 1547 and the Academy for the Breaking of Molds,
the academy and the French elections were suspended
in a book published in Le quart livre 1552.** Ravelli,
who sold his friends to Rome with the cardinal.
Jean du Bligh, London. 1540 - the brother of the family
when Du Bly of the party, Guillaume. Rabbell had spent
some time looking for his security, it is the most humble
way to rely on the period of several complaints about the
protest of his protectors. After conviction until
the Sorbonne's new protective dirt is protected. *

XXXXX "Gregentius" and "Pantgrual" Edit Gregentius
and Pantagrual Illustration of Gregentius and Pantgruel
by Gustave Dore. Gregantua representing Pantgruel
by Gustave Dore. Gargantua and Pantagruel
tell the adventures of Gargantua and his son Pantagruel.
It has many stories that are adventurous,
first wonderful snakes, fish, and rarely, though long.
The first book times the prologue Gargantua
and Pantagruel.

Yes, said Rabelais,
and went on wiping his ***.

IV.

Maintenant, largesse au prétoire !
Trinquez, soldats ! et depuis quand
A-t-on peur de rire et de boire ?
Fête aux casernes ! fête au camp !

L'orgie a rougi leur moustache,
Les rouleaux d'or gonflent leur sac ;
Pour capitaine ils ont Gamache,
Ils ont Cocagne pour bivouac.

La bombance après l'équipée.
On s'attable. Hier on tua.
Ô Napoléon, ton épée
Sert de broche à Gargantua.

Le meurtre est pour eux la victoire
Leur œil, par l'ivresse endormi,
Prend le déshonneur pour la gloire
Et les français pour l'ennemi.

France, ils t'égorgèrent la veille.
Ils tiennent, c'est leur lendemain,
Dans une main une bouteille
Et ta tête dans l'autre main.

Ils dansent en rond, noirs quadrilles,
Comme des gueux dans le ravin ;
Troplong leur amène des filles,
Et Sibour leur verse du vin.

Et leurs banquets sans fin ni trêves
D'orchestres sont environnés... -
Nous faisions pour vous d'autres rêves,
Ô nos soldats infortunés !

Nous rêvions pour vous l'âpre bise,
La neige au pied du noir sapin,
La brèche où la bombe se brise,
Les nuits sans feu, les jours sans pain.

Nous rêvions les marches forcées,
La faim, le froid, les coups hardis,
Les vieilles capotes usées,
Et la victoire un contre dix ;

Nous rêvions, ô soldats esclaves,
Pour vous et pour vos généraux,
La sainte misère des braves,
La grande tombe des héros !

Car l'Europe en ses fers soupire,
Car dans les cœurs un ferment bout,
Car voici l'heure où Dieu va dire :
Chaînes, tombez ! Peuples, debout !

L'histoire ouvre un nouveau registre
Le penseur, amer et serein,
Derrière l'horizon sinistre
Entend rouler des chars d'airain.

Un bruit profond trouble la terre ;
Dans les fourreaux s'émeut l'acier ;
Ce vent qui souffle sort, ô guerre,
Des naseaux de ton noir coursier !

Vers l'heureux but où Dieu nous mène,
Soldats ! rêveurs, nous vous poussions,
Tête de la colonne humaine,
Avant-garde des nations !

Nous rêvions, bandes aguerries,
Pour vous, fraternels conquérants,
La grande guerre des patries,
La chute immense des tyrans !

Nous réservions votre effort juste,
Vos fiers tambours, vos rangs épais,
Soldats, pour cette guerre auguste
D'où sortira l'auguste paix !

Dans nos songes visionnaires,
Nous vous voyions, ô nos guerriers,
Marcher joyeux dans les tonnerres,
Courir sanglants dans les lauriers,

Sous la fumée et la poussière
Disparaître en noirs tourbillons,
Puis tout à coup dans la lumière
Surgir, radieux bataillons,

Et passer, légion sacrée
Que les peuples venaient bénir,
Sous la haute porte azurée
De l'éblouissant avenir !

Jersey, du 7 au 13 janvier 1853.

If you get what you think about
and you think about
what you don't want
what do you get?

I think about
being an elbow
or maybe Gargantua
in a tax audit

Don't gape at the gap
of shortfalls
that festoon
all things

Can't chew
with that space
the baseball
made storied

Accept each swallow
on its journey
to becoming you
and not you

To gorge oneself—that’s all the aim,
While grabbing riches, feeding shame,
And in this gluttonous parade,
Transforming slowly to a jade.


In Russian:

Гаргантюа-Пантагрюэль:
Нажраться главная здесь цель,
Схватив побольше барахла,
И превращаясь так в козла.

He breaks on immortality,
The poet dives to Hell anew.
Why strive for truth or clarity
When few the soulful lines pursue?

If verses blaze with raw intensity,
Or prose escapes the common sphere,
They rarely pierce the world's insensitivity,
A realm of greed and shallow cheer.

No "literary" grand progression,
Just darkness, silenced by a press—
The SMRAD* churns out its procession
Of noise, deceit, and vile excess.

They amplify the base, the sordid,
And bury sparks of daring thought.
No space for Brightness—Truth’s aborted,
While filth and flattery are sought.

The masses, dull, demand their poison:
"Samizdat? Why, such dreams are fraught!"
And yet, within its fragile cloister,
How much has vanished, left to rot.

For ages now, the game’s been halted,
The world put firmly on mute gears:
Not Stenka here, but bloated, faulted
Gargantua commands their cheers.


Notes:
SMRAD—Resources of Mass Advertising, Agitation, and Disinformation.
Stenka—Stenka (Stepan) Razin, a Russian historical figure.



In Russian:

Самиздат

"И где-то с криком непогашенным
Под хохот и аплодисменты
В пролет судьбы уходит Гаршин,
Разбившись мордой о бессмертье".
Леонид Губанов, "Полина", 1963 г.


Разбившись мордой о бессмертие,
Поэт, писатель в Новый Ад
Спускается. К чему усердие?
Лишь редкий Чуткий виршам рад,

Когда накал в них запределен.
А проза, коль не ширпотреб,
Обычно редко бьёт по цели
Средь мира жалких непотреб.

Литературного процесса
В дни мрачные в помине нет:
Мирок находится под прессом
Тотальных СМРАДов — гонят бред

Они, раскрутят только мерзость,
Что попадает в общий ряд.
В загоне Яркость, Честность, Дерзость —
Елей с чернухой жрёт покорный гад.

Не гадов средь народцев мало:
Литература? — самиздат!
И в нём немало уж пропало
В забвении — всем Ярким мат!

А шах поставили давненько,
На паузу поставив мир:
Гаргантюа ведь в нём, не Стенька,
Убожества гнилой кумир.


Примечания. СМРАД — средства массовой
рекламы, агитации, дезинформации.
Стенька — Стенька (Степан) Разин.