The Prim Incenses is a poetic narrative, originating in The Unions of Eviscerating. The rules of the form are applied by poets to produce individual poems which can be recited. The poem is divided into three distinct parts: four quatrains, two to three nine-line stanzas and five tercets. Use of ambiguity is characteristic of the form. A form of parallelism is common throughout the poem, in that certain lines often contrast underlying meaning. Each line has six syllables.

The first part is intended to describe the past. Certain lines use the same placement of allusions. The fourth line of each quatrain reverses the word order of the first line. The rhyme scheme respecting the full poem is ABBA.

The second part is intended to offer a different perspective concerning current events. Certain lines use the same placement of allusions and sometimes have reversed word orders. The rhyme scheme respecting the full poem is CAAACCAAA.

The third part is intended to develop the previous idea concerning the future. Certain lines use the same placement of allusions and sometimes have reversed word orders. The rhyme scheme respecting the full poem is DDA.

ABBA ABBA ABBA ABBA CAAACCAAA CAAACCAAA (CAAACCAAA) DDA DDA DDA DDA DDA

Spore Cat's Visions

By Ian Schlom with Austin

Spore Cat baked live evil Gore?

Terrible wonders near

Which show that ASCII's clear

Gore evil live baked cat Spore?

More for his castle, roar!

What did he fetch so near

The gossip made them sneer

Roar! Castle his, for more

Bore great labors, the chore

Arrive with cups of beer

Tire the glass with a cheer

Chore, the labors, great bore

For what did he implore

The tasty crevice dear

The salty jelly smear

Implore he did, what for?

Behold this slimy lump:

Steamy room past locked door

Where kids sleep on the floor

Who'd sought to ask for more.

Withered soil, an old stump,

The sky sees nothing plump.

Beyond, the blistering sore,

Where there is kept no score

Live aching masses of poor

Hills keep the drunk old grump

Where we're free to ignore

Frequently as of yore

Locked with our proper chore.

They work at the oil's pump

For grotesque creep and flump

Expel he did what for

Beyond our poisoned shore

Where dreams still die galore.

Strength found horizons red

The sleepy lie for bed

World free new the explore.

Or barren land unfed

All life, all dreams long dead

Hands strange from outcomes more.

A land of cheer or dread

The options ours to wed

Between peace or last war

Anger and fear they said

So hate and death would spread

Above over and ashore.

There came the fork ahead,

To Death, or life instead.