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.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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Friday, November 28, 2025
Arbital Thrunt Of Kanthar
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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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