Sublime poetic justice that makes you spin your head twice,
and then make you want to read the pages over and over again!
Find the messages between the lines as you read on!
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Disaggregated AngelsSublime Poetic Justice A Novel
By Michel Paul Émile Lebel
iUniverse, Inc.Copyright © 2012 Maxamilium
All right reserved.
Spellbound in the vast empty, well onto smooth, shifting clouds of the greyest shades, shall I all alone travel needlessly. Upon the weakest of cheerless walks, I will be fitted into a brewed stupor, then ponder and speculate at other dirty-done-deeds already made clear?
Relentless in a quest for glory, I fall upon dimmer shores, clear of the jagged rocks that below and on many occasions carved raw flesh to the bone! In whispers I am forth fortified inside the wall built high and in due terms stay well clear of the reality set forth, for the most particular part grander than that weak-minded, raison d'être, onward bestow at last the will not to be.
With two voices from opposite choirs, I long for ever longer; at the most lost to the chant that for all are beyond meagre revelations of the love for life lost long ago!
Long-lived upon trails of somewhat emergent victory, in the long run I am forgotten inside the deeper shades of black, and will I for the time being require in the need to acquire, well beyond the way forth; so that once and for all virtues be clear to which was near a young, rustic dusk, soon enough lucid; where onto the wakes of many bright morrows should I grow on and beyond?
Narrow are some of the mystified roads that for kilometres beyond are salted with gut-wrenching tears, and within a wink of irony lay on the edge of graceful smiles, then and on send out whispers to those of which are wilfully abundant, henceforth find them in a handful of doubt.
Sacrilege was the word related when at last at the prick of aguish hit with all efforts; soon after it finaly snared the most unfortunate torments achieved deep within, and then rather without, though in deepest of thoughts, no doubt?
There in the midst of nothing gained; for that matter I am blind as a flesh consuming maggot; never but once revealed anything, and for the moment caught-up in a struggle of blameful displays.
In true form of hypocrisy, and again needless to the care of others, I am awarded but the renaissance needed; that of which was never forth to the pin-point of the pen that inscribed on parched paper ... and so on, perhaps yet to come?
In the dim morning rose to quivers of weak mind and bones and again failed to see the path set forth, for the pain blinds me with needless caressed my mind with pins of puncture, as if on the edge where the all who are fortunate to know its meaning, and on and on, carried!
Nay, I say ... and with a sharp spin down the roads ahead, I travel where once was before? At that summit let the dim, bright-light show what is therefore dear to me; and beyond the height of mounds of the deeper lies find the truth which to all is but elusive, and at most of times never ever gained.
Hunger gripped deep into my being, where even deeper doubts lay about; at the most longed for long ago, and never but once reach my well of life, where deep are the deepest waters of sorrow—no more but most often poisoned by self-hands in trivial gestures!
Within a swift waft, I am drug down into the deeper parts of the murk acquired to bygones; this at the least entailed the most of sad folk's unfortunates to fall prey to the Great One? And may the well-guarded Judge be he and the one who knows the when's and the how's of a simple man, and on give him free-way of clear mind?
In the dew of moist nights arch my back when at last spread wings of sad destiny, but never in my wonders' of wonders' do take flight! For crushing chains of gravity keep me well in ways of wounded pity, which in all hefty mass aches with piercing pain that reaches my soul full of clutter.
In deeper, darker days bursting with blunder ... I so-on cry for penance to grief, and with gist but a splash to the flow deliver the lastly blows of might; in turn blusterous to the wakes that aroused me from frightful dreams, and on ignite the furious fire that should shock me awake from this dreadful nightmare!
When in the end of no wonder, well on the road ahead, it is much harder to kneel at the foot of life's tyrannies; to which without any doubt will befall to all that is before me, and alas to the wake of the last morrow, be one of the free?
* * *
Upon white shores, shaded spumes ignites on, and a last young angels disaggregated! All too seemingly troubled or angered, some took to the winds when within motions carved deep curves in the line drawn-out, and so on deployed motives wrapped in soft down that with light friction bolstered a yelp contained by fragile shafts of white equal to loud, beached thunder.
To all willing this was the way of the flight, when with the will twenty geared up for green pastures. Where onto the bleached fields struck the lastly blows of fright; delighted to the eyes of all in needless surprise! And then, they, schemed off to higher hills ready to take grasp of a sharp breeze, and on reach heights within an exodus!
Clinched within a tighter grip, most set for departures; those of which were lost inside tormented quarrels, where then the victors to the last of all accounts it seemed the same, when with no doubt each had lost the bet at the foot!
Pure and virtuous their determinations were; which way beyond reality seemed to have gently withered upon graphite of grey, somewhat washed-out upon worn-down, rumpus, beached coasts.
Recited were tale of muttered fear, those in all events that traveled upon rustic granules of sands; where short were the walks of despair? This, a token-toll to the blind full of willingness to rectify that done wrong ... as so common done!
Thunder clobbered heavy when it struck one with three to the ground? All gazed aguishly-sly, and in total wonder searched for the culprits guilty of the blow without, and then soon realized that it came from deep within; not far from the edge of certain doom. How fortunate that it was not from afar, where perhaps unreachable, and the way lost forever and ever?
In a stupor full of gazes, all might be fit to worry on the thought of being perturbed, knowing quite well that all the arrogance would be to the demise of the mobs fronting rights of might, as if they all knew the quest desired, and then the way ahead ... really ... wow?
Was this written on the warned-out walls, years ago? The text engraved with silver coins thrown about at the foot as if dolls to be played with? For a weaker moment as the fool-hearted man, one quicker than the others at the farce of life, rightly took the bait? As if dead, raw fish already on the round plate, ready! He, prepared to be served, that along the others who had given up long ago? Across the deepest parts of the River Styx, all were ferried within their own!
The One at that very moment in time bewildered the troop onto the venture to the deep need of things not needed? Then on upon a dare or request, ventured for the search for true hypocrisy; as if the right given at birth ... and so forth in a fool's mind, again, the rival hands' shifted over loud gestures, and then forfeited the need to be; where the mighty judge would show the way forth. He would do this of course, healthy in his own brand of diplomacy ... then you will see?
One blinked an eye as the others conveyed true distress to the unknowing gifted with delay! Thereon, upon the wall, the query-One trembled callously when backed into a corner, most likely ready to submit to life, or death; the path ahead impeccably negotiated!
Painted upon bleached canvases, some delivered words of wisdom sometimes forgotten? Maybe the ink transcribed was not deep enough? For the graffiti washed-out long ago; leaving nothing but dull remnants trenched into grey blotches equal to worn-down sidewalks largely trampled upon, those embedded with sweet sticky-gum? Go figure?
Shut your mouth, please shut your mouth, and don't say another word; for your thoughts already gravitate beyond speculations. Where the will of none other than its own, and in some way with all ears to the wall, they would hear you with anguished plight deep in mind, and then take you down!
Quivers of density rivalled the principal in charge, and then in turn relinquished needless doubt; which to all near and present made tremors of marvel likely to loudly rattle the Almighty to Hell, well beyond barbed redemptions well merited! Perhaps, he, the One, would again gain might, and so on be grunt to all, as if rightly?
Within sparks of tranquility brought forth the righteous One, and inside the conquest lingered the foot of mercy, which seemed to no avail, if at all put true within the radical calls for the tolling of the iron bell.
Upon the ring, noisy batters sounded calls of raucous wings that then on spread wide, those of angry archangels! Who at the time were on the edge of busting-out, and in the near end caught up in the wave of winds full of flutters, and on, they in fact were dubious to marked trails; thus the smack of the hand pushed on, forward. In practical consequences, life so known was then saturated with the gloomiest calls of deeper grievances, those barely coherent.
Where were they, the Mighty, if at all mighty to all! They, the Ones who should have known better, and upon the incline of the high, rolling hills let there be someone to belch words of mercy, at the most done at the catch of everyone upon the fall to their bloody knees.
Allowed was determination, at the most negotiated to the grumps of moral contenders, those of which were within time as time would allow, then somewhat not needed when forgotten through time itself ... how quaint is that!
Nevertheless, it would be what in all was to be, and rightly within rights! All would suffer to the Ones given Divinity, as if the way forth determined well ahead, and this mind you never questioned, why?
Daggers dug deep in the backs of the lovelies, and in wells of endless waters, all fell to despair; never once knowing why or what all was to be, regardless of the variety of knowledge bestowed to thee?
Remember the day lost, some said; for once it is gone, there would be no other such, and in sequence bring mounds of destiny to all that was at last given respect!
'Therefore' he shouted, 'Never forgets where it came from!' when to the care of the bold or the need to disaggregate within hefty quarrels? In the near end fortified forever for the love of the all ever so glowing! That of which blinded the eyes to none other than the bright light, and with all of strength go beyond to which is what was aspired for all along, and then far beyond that, of which is needless doubt?
* * *
Out of the Nest, Onto a Branch!
In the soft whispers of lightly composed storms, much deeper rested was fragile birth, one equal to no other nested upon wakes of down plumage; where baby cute to the sun rose onto the day, and for a short period of time somewhat took hold of the soft winds, when lightly on its way the bright warmth washed-out the youth at the play of day!
Within time and its will, a shell cracked open onto the chirp of mother within wings all batty. In the mood of day, she of things offered forwent all other daily quests, and then on with might reached for the yawns of bills within loud chatters, that for all the short years ventured, the winged youth came to the call of want, and then on forgave none!
In the spurt of a lively newborn, mother and father longed for a break, and then soon enough begged for the end of the day! Parents dug deep delights of prey into the depths of gorges that were particularly noisy, and so forth it seemed well contained by the thick of dark-green foliage, where upon the wonder of the day, small, naive eyes gazed upon wonders bestowed to a just born child! Who with endless questions foraged to the cries of care, thus within bigger displays spread weak wings of pail blooms; even if at all frustrated that life itself had not divulged all, and its will yet to be?
Petty patters of scaled tripods forge on raucously; in turn the young stood short upon crisp branches of flight, none ready to take to the wind; for the squall outside is heavy, and the dark night beyond full of danger.
Manacles of youth sprained the weaker of the siblings, where with the will the strongest of all took willingly all that was offered, and even with a deeper determination, deprived brothers and sisters of the resolves for life. He the one meant to stand tall and firm! For it is when taken that you shall receive, and on wait for the given moment?
Toots and growls were offered to the display of spreads of eagles, for the mighty One's ready, and with sharp quivers flew on the wings of winds ravaged by egregious taunts, none yet bearing meaning to the mind empty of care.
Trifle you are little one, for once is your time to display! Yours the willing will stand tall upon the branch of destiny, and in the moment of all due needs, will take flight and leave mother's arms; then perhaps the branch of life shall grow ample with fruits heavy with drive and beyond!
At the bloom of life itself, father and mother stood proud at the sight of the learned one, whom with care sat and watch death take the security that once engulfed the youth in triumph, of which in time powdered into the nowhere!
Alone, the feathered adolescence ventured to the will and might, of which was to be glory. Then beyond forged onwards to what is most often named destiny.
They in flight, and each in turn achieved mirth in demises ignored, where beyond would all the shy giggles reach? Not far from the end of the road; that of which all hoped in wonder of the riddle of that was life. Along the way were the tragedies ... why than so many?
Ever the way it goes for many ... this often was the question finally asked? Where were the answers to which eluded all in surprise of the quest? Someone said it could be found on the edge of the mind, well in the wonder of the day; where often the search is neglected, or most likely missed by inches of hushed turmoil?
Like onto the day, life may be contemptible upon the swift breeze that excites the flow of things yet tot be, or the mind itself, and thereon breed loud and clear when sighted that, that may be onto the eyes that long not seen all, and may very well be versioned!
With wings high and wide, feathers flickered to the breeze, that of which flowed downwind, and on and on searched for life at the edge of opposition to that is he and his mate to be; where then and on procreate to the will of youthful beaks, and so on wonder to life and it's will, never once riddled with torments, of which is neither true nor radically fake?
Chameleons by the Millions
Wouldn't you like to grab that prick by the hair and then drag him down the road a bit! Golden in all wonderful locks; you may want to make him your Bitch for the night! Did you ever see gear like that? None did I ever see that kind of mammon? Shit, I'm going blind by the ripped glow of shafted sparks that for all sake ignited the flick of the swift wrist!
In terms of flight ... you, there, all alone, will one day fill the realm of life's wonders, and at will, will fall to displays of grunts, careless to me, others, or the Long Tails! In the scheme of things, you've only lived but a single moment! Young yet, and in wilful knowledgeable wisdom will when blossomed deeper within true spirit!
This must be said in archetypal of hearts, those mostly in turmoil of destiny? Oh, how far, far away have we become? You know you, me, or all and everybody well in memory!
Shape shifters sway at colours rendered to disguise the individual needy, and there conjecture whimpers at will when disclosed! Sad, sad are they today!
In a bundle some delivered the weak of mind and let the words describe the situation, though most waved their hands up in the air very calmly, afraid to jester at others maybe not so equal in revealing thoughts!
What are you today Lord Chameleon, what if not it fair in all that you with change may at will fool me once again. You will in your true defence deny all that may be, then in the evening sit by windows relating past thoughts, as if the right to do so; never but once realizing beyond eyes that rarely see all that is to be, nonetheless adventurous.
Silhouettes in particularly shades, sometime scary; thereon gazed unknowing to the how, the when, or the why of radical things, yet in ways beyond the mounds of essential life ... even to the surprise of its host!
Lizard-like the gents' slitters to the foot of tyranny ready to all, as rebels often do. Do not fret much when the gallant Long Tails reveals in mysteries equal to the valour of Norma Jean the pretty! Then all will see clear the blotched paper and then decide the faith of brothers, both peace lovers, rather to the war mongers of the fundamental, American sense?
Some would call them sweet underdogs, but I prefer the latter of the two, and then take chances shouting foul in the hope someone would hear calls of shame to the disgraced Nation, never now with envy!
In the depths of the fragmented tall sticks, some gathered in the wild of bush, seemingly agitated! I guess not all is in accord? Maybe we may be saved after all ... but then again this happened before, what then? None more ever heard of again ... let alone discussed!
Gentle would the beaver be if the flow of things were right to the wind! There at the gorge of the river built long and tall, the rodent grunts in rivalry to the Bush-Howl tooting in the far distance, submerged into the rush of a quick hauling of a foraging chipmunks in majestic speed greater than those stern, well capable Olympic athletes.
Excerpted from Disaggregated Angels by Michel Paul Émile Lebel Copyright © 2012 by Maxamilium. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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