Doctor Doom poetry

This is Hanno.  My email is hraudsepp@aol.com


My, Hanno Raudsepp's, phone number is 1 - 613 - 394 - 6412



Doctor Doom poetry

Victor von Doom journal

I feel my loss in g'rottin's soul. If I feel no belief in the moss of soul I cultivate like an agricultures' blissfull wastage.

The surface of winning your acres of self-said landscapes of soul are the winnings of no one to rune in the rocks of dawn's wastage of Delacroixian dusks

I know no wisdom if I know no isolation a monk's isolation

a castle's harbour is a reign of error is a vocal stumbling

of speech's beach of speechwrack of wisdom's creek between rocks and paraphenalia in intricate rivulets my mind a mosaic of sly rivers a beach to speak to stumble across well-layed rocks across speech's wrack

to put in a bottle a speech of heartsickness

of isolation's castle's of no belief in the rest of the noble in word if deed

of roebuckdom in bravery castle's

of the- wait, Hanno, you have never written anything quite so- Hanno this is...so sad... we have a real chance of getting a prize in poetry with your writing because we wrote it together.

.... Hanno, this is your written poetry and- I an Philip I ahve been in the air as a spirit hearkening to the ...oh, it's stopping at very arbitrary points-... finish transcribing it later

Victor von Doom's journal

The soul's extract is come when sledseason is running

The devil's peak is bruinin' where there is no firewood burnin'

the devil's book is known to none in the

Victor von Doom's journal

I knew little cause to bespeak 'afore the groanin' rocks

a 'swept of seadepth in bemoanin' sensual sweep

an ocean's climax, a storm of petty,

of petty passions made grand in sweep of sensuality

the Renaissance curve of naked amazons of antiquity

the vanessance of history of satiated ramalons of spirituity

the curve of a breast the curve of a story

a swerve to the rest to serve love of a lorry

'a believe in sense 'a grnd to excess in sentiment

'a grieve in rancid land to success in robots regiment

less so for my niece is love affections vast

Hanno, I have a niece, she's reading your love-letters

to my verse in – see, she is in a mental institution,

She is not very much in the best of care. I believe, she is in the best of friends to poets. I haven't known how to believe and grieve simultaneously until you wrote your verse. I believe you have been in the- Hanno, she's getting out on Tuesday. Oh, yeah, Hanno, I looove your writing. It is so cool to write like you do. See, Hanno, this is a dark age. We aare too few to confront the vast hordes of apocalypse. We aren't ready for this whole- Hanno, we aren't at our best. I have lost my intellect. I have been stuck with the ruck of a mind. Oh, God, I love your technology. Rotsa ruck! I love that expression. See, I believe Greg Rucka hs actually been trying to- Hannow we are in the hovel of a homeless shelter. I am a homeless man, I haven't been able to- See, Stan Lee always knew he was chronicling an age of heroes that had always existed Frederic Fellini called them our modern myths. Yes, he did! I read the Steranko intro. I believe we- Hanno, Steranko never forgave himself for his misportrayal of mr. Mind's destiny. I velieve we are- Hanno, you're Havok. Oh, God, Hanno, you're the man I've been looking for. Havok and Doom- Hahaha, the name sounds so cormy. Oh, my God, I believe that ther is something

Victor von Doom's journal

to victor in the be'smoring runes of winsome highway

is to know the right rip'roaring lunes of sinsome rye'hay

the runes of bespoken near to heart's aswim in sin and rye

it groons all a'token jeer su larks a'whim in din and Lye

The need I have to bespeak my life in horrorred verse

is lead 'jye 'nave su reak die 'fife sin g'rorrored curse

I feel a lot of need and mead in my loving's heart

'jye deal a grot love seed 'nd deed tin guy muffin breastsmart

Victor von Doom's journal

A miniscus for day's burrowing in the airy dew

See-saw circus love may's hurrying kin the starry jew

Lost in dreams and stars a'glint the man is in irish temper for an irish gent

Tossed in reams sand mars 'ra mint the dan 'ris in tirish hamper 'ror land sye rich lent

Victor von Doom's journal

Keepsakes are gnarly in wholeseasons uproar

the like of an axe is grinding in 'boll weaval's succour

Victor von Doom's journal

The sense of a warsome state is a wisesome foolhardy quandry

To bounce into troubles amiss is the disquise run ghoul 'dardy saundry

The hope amiss of scorn's delight is a stab wound in the 'grrorrows

The dope of bliss dove morn's relite 'tis a 'mab swounds sin se tomorrows

Tomorrows, tomorrows, and tomorrows- it all is a yeasty collection

of yeastydays sorrow of passions dice is all misty in section

For norrow is time for 'grrorrows despite is all nightsomely in wound's respite or delight

the morrow of ryme for rye'tillows gaspipe 'sis draws whitesomely 'gin moons 'tris tripe or sealight

rye ryme rhyme

Viktor von Doom's journal

Io feels a gadfly in form int she reels

Prometheus is sad to die in store meant all sees steals

Sees of scrolls knowledge mast all fire a paperaging

lees of strolls sow the hedge 'rast s'all lyre a sape'tire saging

leg of stroll by acre standing all landscape wild

seg of roll rye taper 'randing droll sands sape rild mild

I believe in- Hanno this is Victor Doom I- Ha haha, I still can't get used to the name. I just, it's So melodramatic. I never really, I held a political office in a fake country called Latvia- it was Latvia, Hanno, it's a trilled “r” yes, Actually, I thought the “r” added class to an overly-ethnic spelling. I wanted to Americanize it- I was very open to the West- I MET Chris Claremont- He actually apologized for his drastic misportrayal of me, I actually share my wealth profusely. It was- It was just a lark, based a- wait, a woman's gadfly- you wrote Io- See, I was- the T became an I and- That's bloody brilliant- You actually adapted the prose to my intrusion. I actually feel a sense of the actual I See, Stephan Hawking and I haven't met but we've TALKED through the ether. He is ecstatic I'm real. See, I am not a sort of ragamuffin for nothin' thats why was reverberated to me over the ages gone yonder- Megan's term, lovely girl- I actually feel some sense of the – I actually, seee, if you can maintain Holocaust vision, Okay, we'll talk later. Cheerio.

Victor von Doom journal

The whiff of the friendlily is a coffee's introduction

if I haven't been at my best it can't come too readily which

I have witchery in my soul and dancing naked women in

the least scarred half of my vision

a scarred soul scarred from feeling

leaves my synesthesia senses reeling

a wirlwind of sorrow in meandering prose

is left for the winding ways of the worldly goes

whorls in fame noteriety's spin

quantum prose in ambition yet nothing goes win

luck is drawn from a well and is abysmal lack

ruck is nothing so swell and is drifted from wrack

licentiousness is a word to meander

one's own soul's wander

the forest's green is mostly what goes forest's one's lice in morrow

lice and fireflies- all too rot in the 'grorrow

the hirsute is nothing if not lost too forest's green

brown Delacroix matte colours if not brown in

forests dank and rocks gross

the Persian affair is Renoir's sauce in toast

to wet the 'licks of paint for dank colours great

I know no man so learned in art who knows sake

for art is known by art connoisseur's need

for art is cannibas in opium's taste for weed

and all grown like art in colour in agriculture's moss

to wet by painting's brush the seedlings of sponges toss

it is not my goal to spin dexter's song by

groat willing's sauce's fancy

alchemical sauce is woman's breast anew

if you feel you can win this war you have

another thing coming you are not Victor von Doom

the feeling of love lost in love is a swan's

sing running to mar grottin's in rune