Obscuro was back in town

Guilt was bed-ridden and begrudged to fathom;
nothing was guilded to venture in his way.
Worry wanted to carry some weighted ransom
out of the door, like fermented garbage too hansome.
Molesting on the thought of dread or naught say --
the blues of under the  Coventry of spent youth's berave
I had to travel to Montmartre, catching the last opera for the phantom...


I don't know how rules have such a way with me,
that reverse becomes Rhein to Shamps Elyses in stitches...
Obscuro was back in town, for his Fabergee eggs decreed:
Highlanders and cliff-hangers must dismount to remove the debris.
The entrenched bipartisan parrots and ducks eating donut sandwiches;
wished for seconds to Darken Volk with transkripts of "Mein kampf"riches.
Literary, my battle networth was down the sewer to stew its own plot-home.


Howl, sweet Gown, RNGeesus is just over the mainboard of directories;
just left from the next folder, omitted in V - Rocky had a Total Recall
a deja-vu moment, when Rambo promised to be the new True Lies History.
The channel to air all the prose and contrapoints of disected misogyny,
a misantrope could envision. He just had to go to the red room and play ball.
The red room was a Legion affiliate, just after you entered Valhalla - appall-mall!
The root folder was left empty, as Matrix had left the heart of congruity...


Obscuro was back in town and batted an eye on the Fischer's price;
to play checkers on a Chesterfield board and smoke tweed-jackets.
In the left jacket pocket, he had some impossible missions to orifice...
Cruise missiles over your head joined the army and wanted no rice;
the emissions of the Emissary of Cabal, wanted to mission hatchets
to become the new satisfaction on Jagged rolling stones and torn Pratchets.
The tear reminded me of Sixto's Arch-Angel marrying Madonna on ice...


I turned over my other cheek and cheered at the matrimony of Mammoth tanks
and think-crackpots, who ostracized the last ostrich from Oestereich and Tuvalu.
My fourth reich was too forthcoming and came at my six to whoop some skunks.
The nuclear meltdown what came after the cold winter of my shoulders humped
over the grave contradiction, of third party Quasimodus operandi's involved
in deus express machinations to cause coolant leaks in the obstructed valve...
Syrrealism was Assyrian and had only the whore of Babylon in mind while giving thanks!


Obscuro was the new sherif in town and blew up the world! Not with dynamite,
but Nobel One-Pieced wardens, who had novel ideas to please the breadcrumbs
and circuits to clown the next generation of stand-up commotions in Fortnite...
I was adamant to my Tommy guns alloy, which was gummy-bears and cryptonite,
able to kill any Superman or Abel -- Kain would have approved to Nimrod's thumps
on the counter, but the glass of Wiskey there taken by the whiskers of a pussy-stamps
and other kitten selfies or Umbridged canvases on readers divest/ inbreaders rights.