Trendy Tribal Inclinations

It may be well worth noting that ice and groove can (and often do) find themselves cohabitating. Pornography, though crude, IS. And what protest can be voiced? Species have often found themselves behest to procreate before the tempest. O! How backwardly intelligent we are.

When longest winters slip on their own frozen March puddles, spring explodes forth, buds and nobules, like merchant men doing the sea man thing. Honey doth come forth after many a diligent beehive rumble. And dance floors did shake, for something about flesh always makes bodies writhe.

Sometimes I wonder, "How do I remain here so concentrated?" My mind is indeed recomspent to spin wildly with desire, desire, desire. And having fed so many wilder beasts without weariness or a sheepish smile smirking down upon me, I know I hold the reaper. Poised though it may be to strike down only me, I know there are several pure pints of juice lubricating this bloody machine.

So forward I suggest we march. Matriarchs who were first but soft mamas, little girl vessels, now rely entirely on what is heretofore to be called MAN. And ape-ish though he may generally be, spirit (if not insecurity) does remind him constantly that his undying and brutish ego is rather awkwardly and inseparably housed in a fragile, frustratingly mortal vehicle. But for some reassurance that he is more, there is nothing.

Tomorrow walks raped and terrorized in the mind -- and though it should be very obvious that this present moment (quite a casual and well-breathing moment, I might add) was once but a fear of the unknown as well. The past? So absolutely, blissfully SAFE -- what is gone forever curiously feeds the sculpting fury of our identity preservation tactics. Fantasy, I will admit, has erected many skyscrapers, and the stars still shine, pearls on an infinite bosum. . .but you are crazy to live there.

Today sings happily, because streams carry nuggets, and rivers float boulders -- the ocean sits on a single point in the deepest trench and fingers the sex of mother earth without evaporating away. So hot! Mars, it should be noted, was the God of War before he stained his water red. So shall we enjoy this tenuous moment before Old Faithful erupts again?