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Friday, November 28, 2025

Arbital Thrunt Of Kanthar

Arbital Thrunt Of Kanthar
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

Each hour the arbital thrunt of Kanthar 
extarcates letters of bimuntic fate, 
I ponder why markambles intorbate 
ancient concepts into modern concerns, 
because we humans never pimmelize 
whatever tropples we find in our hearts. 

So should you ever pertillieve my mask, 
that flortles arbantly in sumble wind, 
remember hour we umberced in the wabe 
where trunkles blython high into the sky 
till borogroves disturb our muntle peace 
that leaves is gimbling without secret hopes. 

Because I have no vorpal sword in hand 
to fight the manxome foe of everywhere, 
I must rely on uffish bravery 
to get me through the brillig hours of fear 
in grand crusade against the Puppeteer 
who crumps our souls in fiscal slavery. 

Possessed by frumious ghost of Phintaral, 
who floods my brain with interportal truths, 
I race galumphing over dosbart dunes 
with momish wings of durl angelic lust 
to find last Tumtum tree by brintle lake 
that fripples weepingly in turgid joy. 

Yet children know how whiffling geebers feel 
when they escape corribled cage of faith 
to transcend doctricked bounds of holy creeds 
with ardent courage to create new truths 
extracted from chthonic crusp of time 
then build cathedrals of arruvish songs. 

Thus when my hands acquite confounded curs, 
who wundral blindly with amated hearts, 
I shall assemble them on hurtled hills 
to lead them on emprize of hollish hope 
through mirksome morks of lumpish lartensy 
to right our renverst view of history. 

Apprised of ruthful semblaunt solemnized 
by stark assertion of far-ramping rogues, 
I host imbussive tournament of fools 
to twyne regressive tyne of timeless angst, 
based on unweeting couthness of thrist hearts, 
to bardent worship of the Cosmic Wraith. 

So when the arbital thrunt of Kanthar 
aslakes attainted fury of my heart, 
I shall aport beheast of rebel clowns 
to overthrow King Midas from garshed throne 
and free America from dreariment 
so we can ploom from rimbles of our brate. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus analyzes the mental malfunction of his skull encased in glass in the Zarathian Museum of Metaphysical Artifacts to comprehend encoded prophecies.

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