All language subtitles for The Apoplectic Walrus (2015) Larry Jordan

Preparation for the journey.

There is no balance in the twilight of
the gods.

I cannot foresee their departure.

A mist descends. Twelve horsemen charge
through it.

There will be no rest tonight.

But in the morning, well, we have no
afterthoughts of triumph.

All beasts are forgotten and the well
has begun to fill again.

Hallelujah! Let the rejoicing begin,
gods or no gods.

Seeing is believing, they say, but I'm
not so sure.

Aren't there other prestidigitations to
be considered?

That's all I will write for the moment.

Tomorrow is another day.

Rolling, rolling on the river.

Where it takes me, nobody knows.

Politely passing the towns it goes, and
of course the wind blows.

The click and the clatter, the basking
in time, the breezes came fully disposed

to separate the folds by which, in
comparison to civil liberties, there

trailers available on Friday.

That occurrence put twelve nice pillows
well beyond reach.

In that twelve -month period, Three
things occurred.

I am not at liberty to disclose these
occurrences.

Please be still. Your impatience is
annoying.

We are all fools a great part of our
lives. It is unavoidable.

No one believes in monkeys.

That has been proven.

You don't believe that no one believes
in monkeys.

Look in the mirror.

The desist film was allocated to a
friend of mine, and I appeared lighting

matches. There never was such a fool.

He doesn't rule Syria. He is captive of
the fear machine. His brother

administers the fear, gives the orders.

Meanwhile, there are twelve spheres that
breathe a reciprocal fluid not found in

the pale mechanics of revolution.

Conversely, Milton knew nothing of macro
mechanics, though he did become

ingrained with mice and Madonnas.

Goodwill is as economically silent as
Mercury or Venus.

Metrically, there are also twelve
revealed platforms on which the Orioles

Radicalization of the vibraphone will
always result in chocolate or perhaps

chocolate grinders. We cannot predict
the next true appendectomy.

Those statistics will reveal exactly the
opposite.

What will the moguls do when the world
starts to come unraveled?

If you want to know about animation, you
set up the scene, you get it in motion,

and then you do what's right, the same
way you do with a poem.

Perfection in the landscape is presently
achieved through the clear glass of

time. Some magnification is desirable.

Again, the twelve starters, called
months, will come into play.

From there we take many tiny steps.

No primary resistance can be tolerated.

In forming us of the clouds that wither,
they enfold the voluminous strictures

of sainted debiliments.

Far away, these same clouds are inhaled
by wolves.

There were twelve of them.

Wolves, not clouds.

The covert abstractions had buried
themselves.

Again, twelve levels below the clouds.

The synchronicity was probably due to
the signs of the old as distinguished

the new zodiac.

The clouds, as seen from above,
presented the aspect of a telegraph

This no way defined the balance of the
lady tightrope walker, nor did the

billowing mound of Venus obfuscate the
beard of Neptune.

Inside the heart of these clouds, I
heard the song that termites sing in

blessing the atmosphere with billows of
methane gas.

For remote distances, the whale watchers
aligned their triceps to the aspen's

colored relationships between
chimpanzees and electrical transformers.

Thereby, twelve rational turkeys were
prohibited the sacramental

allotted to their bereft offspring.

Without the tremors of the volcano, the
alchemist prepared a mirrored glass of

absinthe. Never under the hill can
theorems arrive with post -meridian

Clouds trembling with hideous
anticipation are overseen by elastic

vanilla cupidity.

Long -tailed birds pertain heavily to
basalt ghosts.

Worldview Pekingese cats wearing
dehydrated body armor weave in and out

own textural dilemmas.

Epidemiology forecast.

Episodes that were palpable.

began when the flock of ibis rose
whirlingly in the lavish purple room.

There can be no ablution in regard to
rhapsodies played on Exus and Groom's 75

-key washboards.

Without clouds, the trembling ladybug
withdraws a mescalinized whisker into

ever -blue wasteland.

Without clouds, Georgia O 'Keeffe
reflects only ever -present oranges.

Without clouds, twenty -seven apostles
zigzagged before the elephantine bedbug.

Without clouds, only twelve drops of
lemonade besmirched the face of Dante.

Worthy of the declamation inherent in
aphorisms concerning dogs, no

consideration has been given to
estuarial retribution. Therefore, it

said that William Jennings Bryant was
particularly informed.

No wavering within the fabulous blossom
resisted a top temperature of minus

twelve degrees of latitude.

Laughing across the countryside, Little
Hen precipitates Trevile where 'er she

goes. Witless Child clogs drains with
asthmatic roller skates, and Little Lion

Doll Hardy raises welts with happy
burglar Sam.

The clouds do not smile.

They are magical acrobats, appearing and
disappearing at unwilled intervals.

Nomads of unusual habit, strict in their
formlessness, do not underestimate

their tenacity or their synchronicity.
They are reminders that miracles are

everywhere. They are bellwethers of
transformation.

Take them for granted at your peril.

Fox, frog, ram and egg, artichoke,
binoculars, tram car, spoon and comb,

canisters of fog, fun -loving dogs and
Aunt Katie's left hip.

These may be taken for granted by
attentive acrobats, not of the cloud

Teleported from the blue matrix of
tintinabulation, tiny paradontists march

perilously toward extinction.

Whereas in the tents of accretion where
and whereas distinctions realized as

percentage of skylark infested twinkle
toes, the weakness of air contributed to

total abnegation.

Trams run atop the emperor's head.

A worthiness of twilight enrolled within
Aprilness, and a certain meanwhileness

trickled presumptuously along the chest
of Richard's overture.

Prodigies, prodigies, prodigies. Human
curiosities, compendiums of marvels,

humongous pillows of clouds.

In every accord unto libelous remedials,
Jeremiah April canistered triple doses

of blue, yellow, and aquamarine
defectives. WAN rabbits robbed Richard

red ricocheted rotundas twelve times.

Conferences of the birds revolved
significantly without inclusion in

frustration. However, relative to
apostasy, epiphany within limits will be

as experimental pickle -making.

Also, relative cloud expulsions, hand
warmers vie with Joseph Kern's mistress.

Wither away, cried the scabbard of wild
Bill Bixby. Jane answered a shrill

decibel in pink paraffin.

A wicked chemical blindness inhabited by
blind bindings reduced in radical risks

became bleached by apple jelly.

Contamination of cats and rats.

Elfin determinants riddled with soft
purple velvet raised twelve categories

synaptic cold fusion.

Ravishers of ridicule climbed entropic
dilemmas wherewith Michelle belabored

apples prepared upon trellises.

Overly loud silks repose on well -filled
pillows of sound.

Rapacious raviolis truly frightened
Michelle.

Butter -ringing tint and abulation.

Limitless lines of lugubrious linguine
poured precipitously upon melodious

waters while the clouds upheld godheads
with purple teeth.

These same clouds wrinkled into small
smiles of semi -inverse similitude.

Clouds penetrate willful lemurs and sky
-born walruses reverse their courses.

Where bird illustration intersects the
predestined octopus, waiting derelict

phantoms blossom indescribably.

Terrible turns of the wispy brown
hairdresser reverberate within April's

equilibrium.

Although Hercules Pete wriggles free
within the borders occluded twice,

no portrait of Sammy remains
unevaporated, where Martine narrated

electric sonatinas yesterday while
guiding rhyming metastases through

writing options, wherewith determinism
dyed a resurrected diaper, included over

and under whitewashed triple tourniquets
daily incorporated into rice pudding.

On that day, the clouds were separated
by scrolls of aluminum fiberglass.

The harmony of woodblock music scripts
depleted where the fluffs penetrated the

woodwork and held fifty tiny flags
aloft, there to work mischief within the

halls of Olympus.

Rattle the infant pythoness.

Volumes swell with literate poultices.

Weary and devilish pharaonic warts will
button themselves while simple mushroom

clouds parade before the king of toads.

Restless parallelograms, opportunistic
porridge, twilight lifted by pothooks

cannot resist the lyrebird.

Orchestrations with spectacles
remonstrate.

Warbling in fits, the lion -covered
peach tree dispelled with immunity the

imitation plaster cloud.

Meanwhile, alleviation came wearily
forward, pending small stains where

none had been.

Craving for villains began to fill the
teardrops of Aberdeen Kolnitsky with

absolutely no conviction or continuity.

Intrepid walruses produced lace rotundas
without fear of equilibrium or

ratiocination, doubtless because the
gastric pleasures entombed under

Elizabeth's bed.

wobbled through the window and flew
gallantly into the waiting arms of three

raven -colored clouds.

Cognition reciprocity prevailing, we
Willy Winky claimed reasonable fire

religiously taut by waxing the floors of
heaven.

Robbers watered Robert's white walls
with holy sticks wrapped well around

The monthly capstan why world -wear
whales waited in nonchalant lines.

Tremulous courtyards with inorgandy
tripartite overtures ovulate

that purple cloud cover blanched into
private rain.

Fortuitous fruitcakes declined dance
where April persisted in overt wrinkles.

The clouds this morning, just after
sunrise, were truly magnificent.

It is April, with much rain.

Under the billowing, streaming cloud
masses, the world was exploding in green

chlorophyll.

I suppose there is also more CO2 in the
air than there used to be.

Plants inhale it and breathe out oxygen.

More clouds, more water, more CO2.

Recloning the vibrant, terrible
twisters, Oscar went through eight

three. But he, Oscar, omitted the
stirring of 87 galaxies.

No more clouds today.

April 12th, 2012.

April 13th, 2012.

And belief in sophistry, where confusion
between premise and ideology whittled

John's brain too much.