The speakers in this part are aliens, I have a bit more outline for it prepared but just need to introduce it.
Challenge! Their preconceptions of things they dont believe in, with concepts they'll relate with, and those fearful little hate mongers of everything colorful and beautiful, may just begin to justify their conditions for cultural communion, a bit less violently! Of course this WOOD, have to begin on pretenses pliable enough to be accepted by ALL participating champions, cultures choosing ambassadorships, solely on color, will be considered, but not chosen, for the Council of Collective Cultural Communities. And as such, will not be deemed as vociferous or credible, in any hall of lectures, no matter the points made, subjects spoken, eyebrows raised or feet shuffled. Any individual may indeed create his or her own language and bring it to council, as long as there is an accurate available translation specialist around. Any answer made possible by multiple schools of thought which also relate in terms of languages, may be deemed and considered fit for the new, global, language. Terran, Gaian, Global. Any nomenclature may be used, as long as the name, REFERS, to the planet as a whole, single language speaking entity.
As our respective populisms begin to grow and nurture, rather than kill and maim, one another, as they did in the not too distant past, we will begin to see our greater meanings begin to attract new energies into our bodies, our minds and, maybe even our souls. New energies which may even cause new fears, I dont know, were not there yet! But, I suspect the day may come when, all mankind may accept any and all, of the feelings he finds himself in possession of, and with this new acceptance, begin to breathe freer, from those fears which did not serve him, and also from those loves, which did not warn him, the servant fear, or the warrant, love, it's your choice which, and who will shove, grovelling may unmask a man but hovel, he may, but task, a plan! Meanwhile, back at the center of things, these new energies which, as yet remain mysterious, wandering in aimless patterns of isolation, and also concentration, throughout the cosmos, emerging from our minds and bodies, as communion, words, lectures, poems, music and rhythm, find us, here on earth, to really believe, that were all there is,! In the whole entire vast deep and wide universe, that can actually articulate things into words, which are going on only inside our minds! And, at least half of us here, only believe that words can articulate meaningful conversation! He by the Raven, may only meander into prose, whilst accompanied by a maven, whos oleanders akin to woes of, nevermore! And indeed he said it, nevermore. He saw that, the headdress of all that serial malarchy, that's been going on up until now, couldn't be further from a true representation of what a headdress really is! And quite simply, because it represents a collection, or, collective, of individuals, gathered round a council, speaking calmly and rationally, amongst themselves and their elders, to find their forward momentum, their rhythms, their, causes for pause, and their launching debates into at least relatable orbits of understanding, oh, I almost forgot, the celebration and the mourning, which bemoan, some of us here on earth, when the victory of breath! Could be more elegantly used, in that mournful moment of silence, or even that silent, victorious moment of YES!! Which we all unwittingly know so well, but have learned to craft our adult selves around, in days and ages of knights and sages, this, would have been seen as sorcery or some treachery not OF the church but, now that it was discovered that, even the church came from the planet earth, the only sorcery acceptable, to bemoan our attentions with, are these, WORDS these, small strings of letters, characters and syllables, all dotted round and strung together with these strange markings, at one point, this wasn't even in the cloud! And could be utterly destroyed, just the way they nearly did to us!
Pt 2
Response; the cur.
You do love hearing yourself babble dont you! And what kind of a question IS that?! Oh, there, then! Feign! My changing and enamored guests, within discretion, one should mention, all this reigning GAME! Within your minds and in your spines, if you've got any left, before feeling sublime, how about, doesn't sublime ever get listened to? Or seen? Or spoken? Does sublime only FEEL, sublime? If feeling is indeed our only emotable gambit, then, aren't wines the only alcohols? Profuse enough to shed us of our inhibitions and yet, meager enough to let taste, remain? And still cause up these lovely vomitoriums, we've structured so bounteously, in and among our streets, full to brimming, with bathhouses and wenching and every conceivable chemical everywhere doing its indolent itinerary in intravenous tracts, injecting fats of every stature into veins of every nature? Nevermore! And woe betide, shall evermore be low to find, Death, what houses all who pass, a breath, that rouses all who last, whether yours is shuttered meek, or severed, lettered, rowed and weak!
Off the fats then chained as sheep, aloft in grass, on feigned and sweet, sweat as though a borogove, had reapt as woe! Ignore a love! Crept in through a lure of love, in leapt as though at war a rove, roving with the Roses mirth, enclosing all the moses girth, showing gall there goes its birth! And lo, it fall, its nose in dirt.
Witch in tale could seasons wrath, bring pitch, in gale, to reasons black, Smith of lightning grease on tack, need only wish that these attack! Fire and brimstone, mead and wrack, may all your childish hopes be lacked, and locked inside your wildish gropes, and rocked within some isotope, more than this, I could not wish, upon the very wicked-ish, womans claim, to what's disdained, and speak nowhere, within its maim, and her to which this poems named, my cur, to this, I'll show me shame, or shamelessness, or hell, oh well, to me and her, it's all the same!