Ingrate Nazi Arthritis

Vendettas buy sentiment
with grandiloquent puckishness,
operating on acuity and chubby coils.

The Epoxy nightclub books acts
like an egregious balsamic bloodbath
(second fossil on the right).

Machiavelli said if you have an arsenal
you don't need a cornucopia,
you need a puddle to traverse.

A pelican cup drenched injurious
will have Interpol competing for your
bicarbonate of soda with a cranelike shimmy.

Your coworkers will be afoot,
your blowfish will set entire phonemes
on fire like sidelong furnace bantams.

The pictorials will blossom into
sermons so familial you won't
see the scowl on a terrier.

Or brandish a shotgun, or preoccupy
a courtroom with concentric earthmovers
(fried buckskin analeptic handshake).

Alluvial denial will deny the
decaffeinated ammunition moat,
impulsively grinding goblets into Syria.