Guest Of Intention

Translate to The Stars not in the Sky but on this bodily zip,

dressing to The Stuffed Callers that rip-off on the spit,

kilns that potter touch the Clay at less the real fit,

for on the suit in jeans at stay The Foot is on a Tip.

Head of leader in the Pack of Tick a Talk the spacer,

in on abbreviates the speech of all in stake,

nailing the shorts with Versions of no Equipped,

for as the Once upon the Stop did plug the Whole on Halt.

As trails are the bred crumbs of breathing in the slow,

oxygen to bleach the gums that stage atop a strip,

in that mall of crowds to come grasp this surf of lip,

grown up with the better Best my Grandfather had Trip.

Teaching not professing death by learning how to live,

one step forward a Hammer tool the building of a Home,

with kitchen as the wonders from a sink with lots of dips,

for washing is the greatest form of cleaning on the Sits,

Table chew to dinner WHO the speaking of a class,

not some over thrown deep cord that hung the treat for blast,

spreading with the legs of crossed that was not a Walk,

piled on the sides of latch were understandings Crop.

Traveled on the bell Ways chose to temper eyes with Smile,

thought was Study of the Mile in the rocks of style,

no throw down arms to beat the farm as Society has trash,

for each to Watch the barrel burn is like the scattered mash.

Four Forked tongues with body lungs sheds that cut the Steeps,

taking all while laughing Maul the sticker in the feet,

for only Cowards mark the Pole with flights of no retrieve,

from basic in the Mastery of Whom does speak to bleed.

No One will ever come to break The Rogue of all I am,

for in the Wilds on the Land it is the Hands that Span,

across the Great Divide the buffalo of Hide,

look at the Lamp of pulled by the Chainings Shite.

A blistering Heat so intense the melt is in the body rinse,

forged within the guttural as the smoldering is minced,

chopped by nothing more than words that deliver Sentence wars,

no echo on the funnel drip for the butter is this Whip.

Read your bibical scrolls of Win as the chisel facts this lend,

charge this practice as the craft that spell of laughter on the facts,

grown by number grown by countenance grown by homeward bounds,

the stamp of know approval sounds like settle is the grip.