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Solent in Expiationem Animarum

Saint John the Apostle says: “Zefián, the computer of the Duoverse of the Verthian world, indicates the order of his creation of the world, according to the transcendental plant living matter, in the interstices of time itself that exists within sidereal time. Noting that matter and time, is governed by all mythological beings in a compartment with monotheism, will be defined by atavistic laws, which are the deity of the intense hiding place of procreation, endowing great contextual residences, for habitat and a world in which larger non-residential scales, which go from passerby between the lines of time, and cosmological phenomena, which in the Duoverse face vicissitudes of the stars and their physicality added to the arcs of memory and emotions. Thus the main task of how the structure of experience surpasses consciousness, to novelize the orthogonal movements of the Universe, but in a Vernarthian world with great explorations of matter, which are quantified and volatilized in the field of its ethereal existence. The laws will be governed by your Zefian computer, describing codes that will verify the fulfillment of pivots in the reactions of the universe, but with refractions when reasoning about the consummate phenomenon. Starting from here in the experienced biology that will overcome the laws of physics, since its value is above the limits that allow the bold line of gravity that bounces in the lines of time, and its distances promoting more discretion when resisting threats. of a possible tiring case, a product of some relative dominance not included in all worlds with each other, in some case that does not rescue us from loss of links of some omitted sidereal reminiscence, attracting us to a universe governed by hemicycles of merely material particles, and not existential biological ones. The dimensions emerge from the beginning of the same universe, but more delayed from the interval and the second limit of the space that rests, to inaugurate the one that comes. Being the orbit of translation twice rotating towards the sun, but nth times rotating on itself, to go out to another stellar dimension not present. Its geometry will be from the intendancy of the resumption of Cinnabar in Tsambika and Helleniká, to later cancel each other out, making their integration in Patmos, on the coast of Skalá, with curvatures that validate the nullity of successive expirations of material lives, between spiritual expirations alive.


Duoverso is born and will be reborn, every time the years are subject to the loss of everything quantifiable and not, under the light that will be lit on all the darkness, Zefián being, in paronymy in which they lack to appropriate the support and merit of to have it absorbed in the tabernacle of Vas Auric, in the privilege of nothingness itself and nobody, adding itself in what is preserved of the physical support of itself. For just sidereal speed, in which it will have to travel on its same axis of rotating time on itself, in paradoxical of the One-dimensional Beams, these coexisting with the same low and high universes, reconverted into angelic vital luminances, creating orbits and optics in the visions of Christian temporality. By empowering them to enable them in the overexcited that derive disorders of intermittency of memory and physics of time, to reinsert themselves in the sequence that inhabits the residual of the speed of the Beam, as a Theo-Philosophical entity, of cellular multiplicity or cells of seasonality. of retrograde times, for the independence of temporality, under the regime of the past made up of an unbelievable yesterday. Overcoming the conserved immediacy of conviction in the One-dimensional Beams (Kafersesuh), it is observed denser when every mortal admits to being due to integrating and later brooding, dissecting organic matter into inorganic matter, suspended in the richness of a world of Faith and Prayer, of the most anti-gregarious desert and lost in the world, but supported by hollow walls, which do not exist in Vernarthian emotional matter.

The movements being physical, they take us on conjectured layers to discern their magnitude, emphasizing the rigor of their measurement on us, instead, the ambivalence of Zefian, delivers in both chromatic the Dark and White Duoverse, under the reference of the behavioral alternations of the Diospyros, source of the arboreal, for the procreation granted in the hands of Leiak. Relying on this equational exercise, with less time to design for its genealogy, but rather on its apocalypse, reinstalled in abolished primary unknown spaces, to have it once again in the light of consciousness, recognized as an inert matter of the past, but living off the immanent eternity of nebulae that personalize the earring of the Caltrop, taking temporality, but not snatching any hand to tear it from his own.

Vernarth says: “In the rhetoric of the Universe-Duoverse theorem, it is worth noting the past with entity, present and future also, connected to the time of Verthian inspiration, Holderlin-Heidegger, on issues of physical habitability, as a complement to the entity, which anticipates the present/future in the vicinity of death in the past and future, but tangentially in lively whims of existentialism-mortality, for a way of being rented out at death, as a way of being, dwelling in death itself and in the act of embodiment having existed, but with its own mandate after having been rented. The Vernarthian World appears in this current, prolonging existence from non-existence, granting complementarity of more past existence, before an unlived death. Ontologically, This theory stems from the One-Dimensional Beams of Kafersesuh, in Ein Karem. Essentially Christian, as the matrix of existence between Ein Karem (Nativity of the Messiah) and Gethsemane, as an interconnection of materiality in metaphysical reflections, a product of the immaterial of life not lived, as an urgent sacrilegious death, and of the anticipated dimension of the life process- death-life of Christian Messianism.

Vernarth says: "with the slaves in my disparate hands, one picked up what the other was carrying. With my right hand, I took the Duoverso, and with the other my porter; I held my reins on the maxims of Elpenor, before falling to the cliff. One naughty day but with the worst pain in my chest, I went to see him in his room, and I structured him as an immortal, at the time of forming the world, "knowing not even being part of an identity" favoring him to be part of me. combustion and ignition due to the friction of the Universe on the Duoverse. Such was that fearlessness and affordability that it decorated me with unexpected tears of belonging by imprisoning me with superfluous boastfulness. But his courage will be mine, and he will have to anticipate being in the middle of grace, as in Gaugamela wounding my two hearts, one deleterious and the other not..., verbatim saying:

Says the Carrier: “I have to agree to your mandate my lord Vernarth, I have arranged my emetic knights to take him to the empyrean, more remote at nightfall. I know that my own death will also take him, for we are double lives loving death, which falls on a night given to the seventh Falangist soldier. In the midst of souls already disheartened by the misfortune of life, in the figure of eternal death that refuses to receive us discouraged "

Vernarth says: "I do not know if I am or will be brave, because I have forgotten to die, rather I do not know what it is ?, but in the midst of the horses and the hosts of the block, from the anvil of Gaugamela that I have not felt it again..., which is death after feeling my hands and legs severed, but not felt when appropriating some amputee. I know that among the Hypaspists we used umpteenth arrows to mobilize their war apparatus 665, but from the wasteland jump we gathered the delirium of the Falangist command in the Seleucid 666 row, rather detached from every man, in a substantial way in favor of the Alexandrian life, "Of course he was already in the hands of eternity, which hurts more than the tip of an arrow, even being unfaithful to his mortality"

and not in the Universe chained to its fractality, rather of its present-present of the new universe for those who make it negative of itself, towards a clone and neatness, granting it recklessness, who continues to sweep its entity, its dimension, its space, the distances, the matter to receive it in their being. Vernarth, besieges the discursive thinking, under the tides of the tenements and the fears of late emotionality, changing to all the best heroics of the follow and all the experiences of harassing flat lights of the target, in the necropolis that speak resurrected, not being chimera in the best leisure districts live, but immortal of a district..., with steps to constitutive slogans of "succumbed cities, but..., with eternity", connoting after all abolished transference, in eternity present between two beings of mortal rank, the Carrier and Vernarth, Vernarth and Heidegger, but here the last one bringing him the closest radiogram between expiration and eternity, with significant death (End and chaos) and eternity (creation), in the limbo-purgation ratio, as the source of the potion. His total contention and affinity in Heidegger's dialectic, passing through a moment that marks his reincarnation, in the rambling of finite eternity, moving away from Vernarthian ontological and metaphysical reasoning. It was attached magnetic in the Universe, feverish kiss in ambitions of the temporal Being, as substantial of perpetual objectivity towards the unworthy survivor of the Vernarthian theories. So far no similarity is compared to whoever wants it or not, it is part of any estimate or spreadsheet of a complex Duoverse, Within the emerging frontis of progeny, there are ranks derived towards the first to form compound swaths of shelters in the Camels Gigas, who from Jerusalem escorted them with their plantar consciences to Ein Karem, then returning to Gethsemane, to finish in the port of Jaffa. Originally arranged by the children of Israel and the strongholds; Vernarth, Saint John the Apostle, Eurydice, Raeder, and Petrobus with animality, Etréstles, and Kanti, to finally mention King David, who goes to his catafalque before leaving for Jaffa, to return winds to Patmos. Of this primogeniture, the legatee is Vernarth, being presented as co-first-born by giving his portion to Saint John the Apostle, for trust assets of the benefit of a third party for both, and granting the patriarchal and reimbursement to each of his inheritances, being of expeditious aim the liberation of the world that lodged them not authentically in the mediocrity of ascendant ancestors. This prerogative will be decisive to define the dimension of the Duoverse and the One-dimensional Beams as consanguinity, simultaneous nascent and mortal worldview, to radiate them in the beams that support the universe, and from this same, they are transferred to the vision of child-man, child-cherub., for the purpose of defining the Universe-Duoverse physically composed of four areas of its consistency. Time, Being, Divinity and the Four Wings of the Cherubim, as a concept of biodiversity in Lepidoptera, Bumblebees, Bees, Wasps, and Fireflies as tetra-winged animal entities, originating the warnings and impositions in cardinals and poles of their primogeniture, rising from chaos, up to now as mandatory Duoverso, constituting the alpha world, rising of the Animalia and the intermediate visions of the heights that guide the material essences of the imperishable spiritual elemental and structural physics. Being ineffable matter, in the stars that prostrate itself, before each pause of advent and of creations that ****** other creative flashes, in pursuit of a gnoseological doctrine, as a slavish instant, ending in another for the study of the meaning of conceiving in the diligently part of a new world, on the borders of the unknown and of repelled nothingness, suspecting itself in the living artery of nihilistic nothingness, without leaning towards nonexistence that endorses it, or perhaps from a twin Duoverso univitelino in the chaos of unfertilized nature..., rather empowered to the first heir by the law of the Messiah district. Allow yourself, in this way, in the face of this premise and history, to continue and be part of an establishing whole, looking for God in a new world and universe as well..., but shaking before the nothingness that sustains it, as a basic knowledge of value and of immobile Faith. The hypothesis Prosapy-Centric, defines blood lineage unifying the Duoverso as follows:

a)Eternal Existentialism:

He talks about how compassionate creation is and its factotum, that it will be better that way. At the entrance to the Vernarth mouth, within its buccal cubic meters, the Zig Zag Universe, the promoter that caused the Duoverse, broke out. Here your thoughts of eternity are born; not from your brain and discernment, psyche or mind. It exists in a present that will be distributed without end or beginning, in the holistic of the anticipated existence of the being itself, so that everything holistically arises from the mouth of Vernarth, becoming the light of his luminance-ejector thought, being in some way the Zigzag universe that emerges from the outgoing access of its mouth and that manifests itself in some change of quantum physics in a state of hyper-connectivity and always present. The Zig Zag, coexists in eclectic variability of angles, creating regularities in its time and displacement. For the sake of results and translational parallelism as a promoter of the Duoverse, based on the holistic that brings together the effect of the word-fact, but eminently aimed at the morphology of extra language of intellect, rather in the kinetics of the language of human zigzag and physical-material, typical in various line segments of lightning and space storms, resembling his lost and bleeding soul in full battle at the site of Arbela. The other meaning is his salvation from the Council of Patmos, being already Installed in the Eclectic and invisible portal of the Evangelist of Saint John, levitating in his sacred basaltic cavern in Katapausis, in the Patmos archipelago (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Chapter 16 / page 114. Editorial Palibrio- USA). They would find themselves in communion with the archaean clan, which would resemble its proper ectoplasm; thus each one forming a unique part in the masonry dictated to redirect them towards their messianic labors at this stage of the ascension. Vernarth; is aware that he will have to enter the cave, after having ceased his work on standby for three months. He continues to fester in myriad wars and parapsychological regressions, he will remain in a daze to dedicate himself to the beautiful landscapes open towards a horizon..., a neighbor to Palaeolithic and astronomical painting. In the flashes of mathematical prayer, you will capture the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos. The saint appears only on certain days looking at him from afar to encourage him in his progress..., Portal Eclectic and invisible is the facet of the face of light, after the invisible that manages to be appreciated with the principle of transferring its connectivity of the immaterial with the material, but done in the finished quality of "Merciful", deriving everything in what supports the splendor of the facts and their objective analysis, by no means the same, because the Zigzag universe, originates theory or thoughts from the perspective of external language and integrally unites it through the optimal results, always imponderable and categorical to follow them and attract them to eternal spiritual good. Being exhaustive of the fact of action, although it is subdivided into executability..., it will continue to be timeless, therefore eternal, in the hands of a universe of thick eternity and stationary death.

The final communion of Zig Zag with the Duoverse, will make this key momentum to replace the Universe of the former Vernarthian world, for inflections of the continuous present, more in the distance of the limits that have to originate than by a simple gesturing stupidity of disbelief, abounding more than a universe that is created in eternity, and that will never again resurface as a physical dimension. The successive potentiality of this theory of holism subtracts actions and not facts, since it always culminates in the limit of infinity, always beginning and never-ending, to then restart in a present that is reintegrated into the access of the oropharyngeal and non-cerebral embouchure, since it has of limiting itself in its shock and subsequent confusion of language-emotion and feeling, to change all eternal emotion, always going hand in hand with the unequivocal and assertive light,

b) Being Universal multi-evocation:

Over Rhodes the auroras could be seen retreating, to attract the new luminances crossing between the atmospheres of the ancient worlds, with stars that were ordered among others, descending at great speed from the Universe, fascinating all Greece, coming from celestial bodies that brought from great Relative distances and proximity between the Duoverso and its satellite widening, allowing to grant subsistence, and routes to the nascent species of the Vernarthian sub-mythology. The Sabbath energy Light is overbreathed repair; here Saint John the Apostle influences through the conduit of the Cinnabar towards the Light of the Mashiach, with the intemperance of life on drops of crystallized water as gifts of Taphoric Light, with synoptic signs of transformation of all the green grass growing like a beard on the slopes of the Willows, where Saint John the Apostle goes back to prayer prayers; so such in repetitive sentences and prayers towards the Universe, which were falling as it was on Mount Tabor in the Transfiguration. All this in the fervor of the willow chins that fell from the galaxies, with their cascades one after another in orderly colophons of fervor making the sky a great source of Moshaic and Elijah voices. (Moses and Elijah) to Christianize the holy oils of the radiant glory of the Universe that was complemented by the Heliac Ortho that was appreciated in different coefficients according to this new position of the parameter of Greece, observed from the Constellation of Pisces, being symbolized as piece as SOS, since Eratosthenes tells us about the fish that saved Derceto (Goddess of Assyrian mythology), after falling into a large lagoon. Seeing therefore in the sky as Fum Al Samakah, Arabic for “snout of the fish” (or Fomalhaut star from the Greek translation). Pisces being bright and of the great dimension to mold it as a whole iris, which was rooted from the formal pelagic accent, towards a spectral affinity of the Duoverse, like leaves of Willow temperatures, on the reflection of the Multi-evocation. For antithetical referendum of the Pleiades between light-years that diminish behind the stars of the magnetic field and its exo-planet. It is necessary to consider that in the wisdom of God, there would be his ordering conscience, on each constellation, and then detach itself before each other that guards each one in centuries of light-years, and in each one of the children as light-years of millions, but of numerical present time quantum; that is to say, all translation on average over ups and downs of spatiality and in remote ages, to zero or from null numerals in the integrality of millions of non-existent light-years, but accumulated and equidistant between the Universal Being and Multi-evocation. An example of cartographic observation shows us Greece at Latitude 39.074208 and Longitude 21.824312, influencing the Duoverse as a complement to the rise of Greece with the latitude of the Heliac Ortho, being Sirius eleven days after the Ekadashi and eleven days before the other at 10 °, Maximizing the light herbalism of the unconscious, to systematize the rise of the Universe imbuing Greece. Refulgent and small electromagnetic systems, led by the Divinity, are freeing themselves of all the units that bind in the minimal Units that can expand with the apostolic energy, rather than a trans-human receiver, in blocks of circulation of waves, related to a Defined spatiality, divine and with its own energy of opening of small worlds of provision of light, and radiation emitted by the deleterious convex of invisible essences in properties that are released from overflowing stagnations of creation, and from the skylights that are more distant than the wavelengths than from a breath of Demiourgy in the chemistry of all multidimensional hyper-existential between frequencies of energy widely displaceable by lines of how many..., in static energy of rest. Ultra colors intensify on the coasts of Rhodes, as a sulfur photoelectric effect of Cinnabar, formalizing mechanics in those sedimentary particles, which undulate in anticipation of the precise amalgamation of both universes, evolving towards the matrix of origin of physical and non-biological state and period, but of eternal divine inspiration, from the mouths of Vernarth, as a resurrected Being electro vigorous, dwelling spacious and sinuosities of curvature and psychic spiraling, The Vernarthian nature will call this phenomenon the Son, since it is the similarity of the halo in the Taphoric Light and in its effect of the baptismal of this Christian Universe called Duoverse, in accordance with the presence of Saint John the Apostle light, among the attending raptor niveous. strangers, arrival-departure and between the nebula of pendency in the nimbus gaseous clouds of fields that mutually heard each other recognizing each other..., leaving only Saint John the Apostle in the perfection of the sky as a universal and Duoversal shadow, first of all being of light being baptized, crucified and risen-ascended, in the metaphysical transfer of his body, as a universal body, as a quantum point between the earth and the sky, between the universe and the Duoverse as a complement of gaseous and spiritual atmospheric earth. Ministering in the judicious and prophetic occlusion, being a juridical part among the myriad bundles of Constellar Pisces that supported the transfigured and converted prophets, before a brand new universe, "Duoverso", witness to the amazement at the proximity of the multi-evoked Universal Being.

c) Reflection space (Light-matter)

The Duoverse having been pulled from its entrails from Vernarth's mouth, and objectual free fall is noticed after disengaging from the quantum Universe, rather than an elusive cacophony that unfolds separated from their bodies in all dimensions, except Vernarthian time, Alluding to the stoning him so that he ignores himself in agony and returns to look for him to revive him as Space-Light, in the presence of matter reflected from himself, which will unfold throughout the Hellenic Panagias, from Kímolos to Tsambika, to make the curves the direct passage that once again bends time towards a fragmented dimensionality. Barefoot was the apostle with Vernarth in the three quarters of the axioms and algorithms, where the conceptuality would overcome the low calculation of what was already ministered by them. Creating space for lapses in dreams of the Stairs, with steps of Topaz, in this particular case of Saint John the Apostle, "seeing open skies and angels of God go up and down on the son of man." Here some sidereal Solar gleams are illuminated that have nights for a sunny day, Vernarth resting on the side of the Monastery with a stone on its head and dozing to dream like Etréstles in the Hexagonal Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, but of the compact sweetness of the famous luminous Cinnabar ascending vertically where the Yahvic Being, who was presented to him as the Abrahamic patriarchate nexus. Endowing him with celestial dreams about stones that inherit west and east towards the north noon, in space of hallucinations of Jacob's subconscious, for the satisfaction of the luminous pictorial ligament. Thus, a timid but decisive reflex pointer of space and reflection is detected, which includes fragments of spectrum and tonalities of a machine unconscious, to raise the Duoverse in a depressive day of the scathing moment.

d) Physical energy (molecular entropy)

From the bases of Theoskepasti, the physical system emerged in two sums after the movements of the pendular censers that exceed the elliptical of the Cinnabar and the potential of the ejectable force field, for ductility of its forces that emanated from the triad with the archpriest, helping him Etréstles and Kanti, who would take them to the Hellenika Necropolis. They make of their golden bodies the ephemeral speed mechanized in the originality of the homily system, to break in the guardian friction of the gravitational axial of the body of Light of the cinnabar, which received the sulfur kinetics of the defective organic matter that was wrapped in a bizarre alloy of sulfur light, and in all the forces gathered, not rubbing with the cinnabar obelisk, already invaded by the energy that made it superficial, between the shell of the Panagia Theoskepasti covering and the strange normality that made them physical-organic. No scrubbing would continue the movement of the fleeting angle of the anvil of Hephaestus, but the static on the surface, lay unchanged before the forces of the back and forth of the molecules that sank late, shooting from the pendular area of his bowl and then starting with full power for new angles that will take advantage of the mechanics of the forge and the friction clean and **** before the joint, and the resistance of the reactivation of the second period of the movement, to forward them to Tsambika in the response signal. Quantifying later between the inferiority and the intangible shock reaction in the light radiosities of the cinnabar re imparted towards Rhodes, forming resistance, but with immanent entropy, with a high degree of fineness, in such a way that once the conservation rays are fired, the response to Rhodes will come from Kímolos with the particles and combustions of sulfurous gas and mercury, generating entropy of two quantum and physical times between the Dodecanese and Cyclades, knowing that the inert matter is inactivated alive, thus envisioning the contingent presence of iron in the geology of both islands, with more than eighty percent, and of gravitating oxygen for the Vas Auric and its materialization, as a ****** impression reducing its physical dimension and enlarging its water content in pelagic beings of the Aegean. This would suggest the homogeneity of both island territories, appease the conception of substitutions that frolic from north to south, to break their normal balance, depleting what is island land towards oceanic land. In this way they will be mixed entropically for a new generation of fertile life that balances in chaos, already in the hands of Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth, in the main nave of the Monastery that seemed to oscillate atomized and vanished, but then atomically restructured, slyly dividing the canons of traditional entropy, and making it disproportionate to the biodiversity ordering of the sterile and the fertile, reordering itself as a mutable force excluding the reality of act-effect, invested in the integrity of life-death-life, as a molecular target in a double physical dimensional unit, making the prospective universe by splitting from any other format, to become another and another physical dimension. Universe-Duoverse, they shake like two spheres, almost joining each other, but separating into heterogeneous classics, as a panegyric, under the invocation of Conviction and Faith. The universes self-recomposed and redistribute themselves before our eyes, but before the consistent devotion of this homily, it makes them astonishing and phenomenal (everything that happens is recomposed - if the tree fractures, but then it straightens re-fractured, before our eyes being recomposed). Thus the chaos of the Universe is resolved, appropriating a new sequence of continuous creation, starting from the same creative property, but of molecular entropy, almost in adverse defect, but of constriction of the yielded body, to be incorporated into the Cinnabar beam of light. dynamic, generating ignition at the ends of each part of the structure obelisk, in order to release and stimulate on the absorbent..., of the Hexagonal Birthright in Tsambika,

e) One-Dimensional Beams

From the hexagon, everything is dimensioned on the peaks that can be seen in the starry nights from the curved kilometers of Bethlehem. Everything goes on top of the desert mountains and valleys, above the vagaries of climatic heights, and landslides of an entire believing community and its followers. In twelve advancing camels, of which the first six are exclusive to the Birthright, and then the seventh Giga camel is from King David of Bethlehem.

The beams are the architectural support portion of the physical-ethereal God and of his ethereal-physical word, supposedly of advent in grazing of the hardwoods, and the secret anomalies of a new Aramaic message, anticipating the vigor of insects and birds that were grouped together. in the journey that goes back and forth. The Beams are stars of heaven sustained by the Cherubim and the Archangels, through the paths of conversion and the support of the Christian time; haughty and implacable hegemony for the propaedeutic of phylogeny, but more on the very chemistry of creation carrying its winged Lepidoptera tetra, pheromones, and the obfuscation of an elemental nascent child in his own evangelical philosophy from an inter-sword dimensionality, and of the gloom of a manger shouted Kafersesuh, before compendiums of two pyramidal landmarks of inflection of his word in created animals, in the affinities of the world and the Animalia, personalizing shepherds carriers of pollinations, totalizing the generational of the language that is concealed so far, as well as the turns in the musks, and their legitimacies from the Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, parabolizing their nomenclature and Polygonia of a child made man, already coexisting! but representing himself as a lifeless man in the fullness of a child of a distinguished canon. and his legitimacies of the Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, already coexist! but representing himself as a lifeless man in the fullness of a child of a distinguished canon, that followed him towards the superlative moment of the bending near him, twisting and changing squeezable pressure in the cords that forged his path, towards the cornices and trusses of the upper celestial vault, where the shed of doubts was next to the Cherubs. Giving mechanics to the prism that arched the beams in the horizontal lines, taking them towards the amplitude of other lines, which remained solid before the variation, suspecting mutating to one of sudden two-dimensionality. The sections of the timber framework, which looked fatigued before the primary classification, which showed the attitude of the little Messiah, taking out effulgence from its beams, and rolling on other pillars, postponing the vectors of the tangential, contributing bits in rhomboid specialties, that blurred the cylinders of amplitude and field of vision of all those who remained in their nativity. Making diametrical glances so as not to be distracted and adore him with a broad and rectilinear heart, in transversal visualizing for all, the one-dimensional crossed wood, which in its geometry schematized letters and numbers of kabbalah, which differ in dissimilar resistance of Christic ambivalence, as a forerunner of martyrdom. on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha. This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom. Making diametrical glances so as not to be distracted and adore him with a broad and rectilinear heart, in transversal visualizing for all, the one-dimensional crossed wood, which in its geometry schematized letters and numbers of kabbalah, which differ in dissimilar resistance to Christic ambivalence, like the anticipation of martyrdom on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha. This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom. which differ in dissimilar resistance to Christic ambivalence, like the anticipation of martyrdom on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha? This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom, pigeonholed him towards a pre-existing Hellenistic aspect in characteristics of patronage as a representative figure of a male, and a lady of Ptolemaic Egypt in great iconic religiosity, coexisting as a priestess of a female order in the Greek protocols with him. Becoming inseparable in the preeminence of mother and son, as unilateral gender, and of substantial element for the social and political order that reigned in the ancient era. Laying here the unilateral gender indispensable for the social and political order, which is substantiated at the dawn of the empires of all the time, and the patriarchal society? Symbolically Joshua in this cogitabundant providence, adds the feminine value in the society in the Kafersesuh's outlet of the Judah manger, dispensing mainly to women, A great Zohar light, gathered all towards a whole in those errors that Joshua felt in advance, as reversible entropy, giving back his wise existence to prepare them for the day of his sacrifice. Pre Existing in catharsis and substance of divinity connected with the phylogenetic species, classifying up to an Aramaic pontificate of pheromones settled in the lithospheric site of Gethsemane, in a biological sense and in close coincidence in lapse wading, or the phenomenological simultaneity of Eukaryota and Glaucophyta until late Animalia, giving relation parental in characters of the vibrational timbre of the Beams, and its atavistic pedestal, readapting in evolutionary ellipticals of winged tetra species. Allowing to change the ancestral linguistic accouterments in processes of redesigning the divine genetic historical tree and increasing anomalies in the human earthly culture, and not human anthropomorphic in a reviving profanity of fruitive frequency amplitudes, for those who resort to it, monopolizing and synchronous in diachronicity of their specimens. The lights of Joshua's gazes are the Light of Christian Life and Time, in the entity of Joshua born and bloodless from the nature of Child-Man, but of mortal design in the same compulsion to see the luminescence of life in the manger Kafersesuh and only incorporeal unity. Being in exemption from Ego with its structure of living child and dead man, he rushes rebellious and ostentatious in the architecture of the One-dimensional Beams, yielding the glimpse of the aforementioned progenitor "Eye versus Eye", seeing himself like this..., son hovering in the arteries of a Universal-Duoversal life, from a single dimension of cyclical one-dimensional length, encompassing conjecture and biological, the symbolic-allegorical conception of extreme co-divinity, as an exclusive precept of the delicate infinity of the Being of a Messiah, with paraphrases or glosses of Aramaic exegetical affinity, tracing from a linguistic period. Here are the contortions of the Olive Tree Berna, transfigured into everlasting orality and refractory syllable, to incubate eternal rabbinic gifts of perpetual reluctance, beyond the reach of the ego-annihilating will and of apathetic, inert ultra-affections and of miraculous phenomena.

f) Hexagonal Birthright

Civilization has an arched inflection in its regency at the head of the favorable family caste in the blessing, whose hiding place will have to be entrusted to a clan, having to make inquiries that formerly only related to consanguineal minorities from the same family trunk, thus protecting the pantries and accessories in warfare to consolidate the economy, and invigorate its commercial coffers. The land would be and would be an essential partition insignia for the legitimate transmission of epochs and inter-seasons, which received them from its descendants for representation of geomorphological heraldry, given in its regional condition. In the noise of the seventh seal, heaven was silent for half an hour and the seven angels stood before God, and they gave seven trumpets, the other is to appear in front of the altar with a golden censer, to compile it in other prayers in all the saints, on the golden altar that was in front of and in front of the throne - And from the hand of the angel the smoke from the incense with the prayers of the saints - And the angel took the censer, and filled it with the fire of the altar, and threw it to the earth; and there was thunder, and voices, and lightning, and an earthquake - And the seven angels who had the seven trumpets got ready to blow them - The first angel sounded the trumpet, and there was hail and fire mixed with blood, which were thrown upon the earth ; and a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up - The second angel sounded the trumpet, and like a great mountain burning with fire it was hurled into the sea; and a third of the sea was turned to blood - And a third of the living creatures that were in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed - The third angel sounded the trumpet, and a great star fell from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers, and on the springs of the waters - And the name of the star is Wormwood. And the third part of the waters became wormwood, and many men died because of those waters because they became bitter - The fourth angel sounded the trumpet, and the third part of the sun, and the third part of the moon, and the third part of the stars were smitten, so that a third of them would be dark, and there would be no light in the third part of the day, and also at night - And I looked, and I heard an angel fly through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice: !!

"Being in six instants at the Golden Gate of Jerusalem with Saint John the Apostle, they reordered the majority for a protected subordination in the minor family descended from the eldest son, for the purpose of sustaining them to reach the possession of their theological morphology, in this door, being the only one that will remain closed…, until the second coming of the Messiah. The scheme of the camelids in their osteometry tells us that their heads before Advent! Distorted their calypso lights on the surface of their skeletons, locking the jaws of other camelids, thus bypassing the Apostle's strap, which through the foramen of the supraorbital, thickened the strides that pretended immobile before the opening of the Golden Door. Of course, they were prisoners of their self-denial for the length of their footsteps to the rhythm of the sensitive skulls, In the fourth camel Raeder, he cleared the margins that allowed them to increase their attempts to withdraw them from the golden doors, but the dislocation of the orbits of their ocher eyes, denoted their holes in the condylar fossa, distancing the vicinity of the Tehillim advocated by King David in the Seventh Seal of a stuck Giga Camel. The metric form innovates them of ubiquity, for omnipresence in the camels before the gates, and after the gates, thus leaving the site of the eighth gate, deserting the camels behind the gates and arcades pointing to the old cemetery. of the prophecies that Elijah holds, and in procuring generational stoning of inter camelids, which would be channeled into twelve plus another dozen, but behind all, appearing to be six, later joining King David, who would provide the parallelism of the Seventh Seal. This caravan was numbered from one to six, saving the vertices of the Golden Gate that joined modestly at the odd vertices, under the odd cross of the same vertex, which made the equilateral coherent according to the three angles where Vernarth and Etréstles went, and then joined other pairs of vertices in a crucified chain in the flat and secondary complementarily of the seventh angel, but with epilogue character of the Seventh Seal. Thus it would be numbered according to the Gigas Camels, the Golden Gate, governing them for a family of six family angles and a seventh seal, for the performance of the family sustenance of primogeniture in the reinsertion of Saint John the Apostle, since he was banished by Emperor Domitian. Making themselves succulent of the gold of the Seventh Seal, on the collective unconscious of the first-born, for the good of the sub-genitor son. Here the indication goes for the purpose of populating the consecration of granting greater goods to those who second and could lead forces of abandonment and secular sedentary, for the need to welcome sacrifices of goodness and preferences of lay annoyance and earthly secular strengthening. The kinetics would move the six numbered over the vertices of the Sun in three bevels, joining the pairs in vertices covered in the circumscribed mesh of vehemence, which is impacted with the solid Golden Gate of Jerusalem, depositing the concentric radii of the polarized magnet on the struts of the camel of the central ram, for the affinity of the contraption of a trajectory for all Judah, in six predestined latitudes to Ein Karem, in the Hexagonal Baptistery of the Shepherds".

With symmetrical scrupulousness at a certain time, the rounded bisector of the psychic lines of the peritoneum fold of the solitary flanks of the Camels Gigas, towards a vocal peritoneum set six times more than a seventh, was estimated, in the apothem of the two-dimensional figure of the Febo hexagon angel, with less centrality, for the foundation of the Apostle and Vernarth, regulating them by points and sides, on the perpendicular bezels, prostrating towards a more orthodox and straight line, mutinying with radials phases on the bisector..., giving a quotient of odd numbers, which cut the first round of anointing, among all those that were retained in the daydreams of catching them for involuntary deaths. From Gaugamela's stratagem, three thousand muscular Hetairoi descended, towards the implantation of heart nuclei in the camelids, on the Susa Gate and the oblique break marching towards the war site, creating a fissure between camels, and the sphinx of Alexander the Great breaking into the Left-wing of the Golden Gate. This was the casuistry of Vernarth's psychic advance impetus, who once was at the precise moment of stalking, hypnotizing the gap of the Achaemenides, but unaware of that mechanical moment, persists in going after the Giant Camels. He guided them with his right hand to both sides, equipped with heart irons that exorbitated the whispering of his pectoral canals, interrupting the dawn of the Cinnabar, with the antigen readjusting the hinges of the door before falling untimely. Vernarth, with his sinister, calls upon the Hindu family who tried to open the breach of Alexander with his Macedonian baggage, thus preventing him from lying in the reliquary in contrition towards Vernarth himself. The infamous moment must have passed through the swords of some who resisted when fleeing from the held Golden Gate, giving up the rear of Vernarth with the camels recovered and saved from the abandonment of their afflicted hearts, resigning themselves with empty hands and with an outpouring of victory, but with two units confronted in his Portal of Imagination.

g) Reflection temporality

In cavern series, the lava was converted into cations of hydronium, in underground pits that glowed in Tsambika's temporality when the homily was officiated. Some pieces and calcareous boulders rotated random by the humid and dark narrowness of the subterranean reflection, having lived in the heavenly paradise that formed them by the volcanic tube and its syngenetic, by the erosion of the subsoil of Rhodes. The speculative rock icons expired of the symptoms, with albuminous cliffs of the genetics of the Theoskepasti chapel, Etréstles carried under his arm the expiration contract of the Universe, to deliver it with his signature, for the dimensional transfer will. Everything flourished with attractive mineralization systematizations, under an astral posology, In the cognitive, Kanti memorized his wanderings in Crete, imagining his physical body united with his mind on the paths of the shoulder of his ancestry, with batches of clockwork that went and passed through his physiognomic, bathing with the piece wind, but also with the hard shoulder that came straight towards him, showing him new encephalic pathways, which surrendered in epistemological globes, but levitating in excess of the hard shoulder and the unknowns, for states of temporality that became mentalized in pursuit of a supra desire..., disease or typologies long-standing who used the supposed ontological formalization, gave functioning the property of body with the memory of advanced towards a new Duoversality. The officialization of Ars Choralis, is solemnized for processes of emotional property; In this way the cave of Being and its Temporality is made haughty, self-isolating for intra-cave investigations, as corollaries and agility in those who yearned for identity, being able to attach themselves to deities in dozens of epicenes, which would be from tens to ten, thus being seventy tens and a half, which would be seventy-five of the seven tens, and of the unconscious of the syntagm that Etréstles carried away, separating the syntactic of the Vas Auric hypothesis, so that they coexist..., although the pestilential decays before the rolled-up syntactic of Kanti's head. Untreated and conscious-unconscious to his instinct, resorting and harassing the procedural bars, of the Ergo Sum parameter. The temporality of reflection, In momentum ac Diadem, it shone from the third trumpets of the Seventh Seal to the potential of the twilight corrodes and their regions that made the shoulder of the shoulder the awareness of temporality reflected in required dismayed collectivities, to transcribe exhortations to the behavioral pattern of the temporality of love Faust. Little remains immobile, little drive when two masses of consciousness withdraw to the storehouses of the Universe, already advantageous of their exhaustion, but inheriting them in precipitous emotions towards the pre-consciousness factors in the heights of the mountains of Crete and Kímolos.

Kanti the steed says: “Deus Nostri Pontificatus Annis et ad eum, God is my pontificate and my way to Him…, Adonis in the relative absence of credit, before Ephebos with absolute deafness, surprising me here in the Diospyros and neuro archetype flight. I ride farther than my physical-emotional, contributing in the micro-fusions of the tubules, in quantum, and interacting with the fineness of the minuscule substance, within themselves. Almost injuring the storms that vibrate in the mine of a risk prop of a steed, in pursuit of a trance that only ends up being the architect and augur of knowledge..., of when and where it agonizes more than once, but within the limit of the Duoverse crushed at his own peril, continually evaluating himself to transfer a genetic force into my hooves of solid steel, but ornamental and of Reflected Temporality.


h) Expansion and Aramaic Taxonomy

Organic taxonomy, as a pre-ordering order, classifies the harmlessness of language before the invasion of Alexander the Great. Although there were implosions of the Greek language, its transboundary taxonomy would be shifted towards Judea. Pre cited is its variant pharyngolaryngeal tracheo, in this assertiveness and occasionality, it predisposes emphasis on orthographic rather than phonetic incidents, citing Galilea as a precursor of the Aramaic and taxonomic thesis of Gethsemane, prior to its expansive conventionalism of enrapturing her in her differentiation, and in the expansive hotbeds necessary to channel the basic axons of commerce, between antiquity under the prerogative of supplied ethics and pre-classified inputs, such as food and geographic furnishings of economic arts, as well as, the syntax of words that could have curvature and geometry in the forms or linear designs of the time. Any letter could be interpreted as a physiognomic form or as tools of manifest imperialism, coexisting execrable or blessed as languages or keys of immunological communication, with symbolisms of languages spoken in rituals of systematization, and of obfuscation of a metaphysical Messiah, always an angel, for when this is the case. In other words, the water speaks to him in dialects and adults with an oriental language, appearing cryptic in the appointments that are related to the language of the great Extra Universal heritage.
Vernarth's Aramaic is an ***** composed of valuation graduation and generational expansion, opening evolutions combined with the matrix of “Ethereal Spatiality”, towards a channel or rib with a common end in what is done on the margin of Faith. and it is predestined on the basis of object and substance, as a regulatory organism, for groupings of species within the biological language or not, as well as in the fissure of a Cladia of lichen fungi, forming the optics of expression as spelling and not as a utilitarian concept. Amplifying what a camel is; this is how it is importunate, being its **** consensus with the "S" backward in a perfect camelid, the "T" also being a perfect Cobra approaching the three S's of the Syriac Aramaic alphabet. The “Y with L fused” of the Aramaic alphabet with a large elephant, and finally the “H” as a pelican simile, like the pelagornithids or Pelagornithidae, fossilized in the emotional collective of rock tribes, progressing from elephants, camels or pelicans in the search for a literate language and consonant shapes that are attributed to their jaws and pharyngolaryngeal substrates..., observing long vowels, as in the language of an organic universal alphabet. The matrix is timeless, branching out of the mechanics of natural and phenomenal selections, if it is metaphysical or is contributing Demiourgy on the infinity of the encodings or depending on the size of its geo-referencing, it will contribute energy exchanges with predictive purposes of information of orders, and adaptations of the calcified scientific space, Vernarth, dives into the ponds or Naídes of the Aegean and survives, just when the networked volcanoes were swallowing all the seas in the world. It braced being only part of the laps of the sea, tattooing with its gaze the chthonic nymphs, before envious and backsword ogres with gills, which multiplied more than any myth-poetic. Its power of convergence is inhibited by the poetic myths of primordiality and of cosmology as a natural branch in nautical miles traveled by its arms, without knowing who crossed them, survivor, in its advance, and treasuring the arm plunges on and under the scalded clay objects, perhaps as implantation of the muddy and hyper-flood lexicon, empowering itself in its translation from Syria to Patmos, and from linear B Mycenaean to Syriac Aramaic languages,


i)Sub - Verthian Mythology (Camera Obscura)

Adhered to the ancient parallels of the cult, the mythology of Horcondising lashes out. Stale and axiomatic source of pragmatic and rational earth that emanates from this constrained fusion of the Universe in the metamorphosis of Duoverso-Horcondising. Social and genealogical plates date more than seven hundred years from Lombardy and northern Venice in Italy, Spain, and France. The mission of the Horcondising is the transhumant myth, and Chaos of the ancestral family cenacle, in view of a family rule, succeeding in continuous litanies that consecrate rites beyond genetic archaeological death. The consolation of souls will revive and will be under the edict of the Sub-mythology in repose landing in successive parapsychological regressions, which will speak of deaths suffered at the edge of their test tube lives, Under the mythology, there is the sub-fable, prone to boundaries where the statement innovates the entire structure of hermeneutics, as a written notification and complacent verb, for lords of the grass and granaries of granaries, narrating myth-stories in messes of revived verbality. Thus in Rhodes and Patmos, Andronicus of  Rhodes will guard the doorway of his hobbies again, so that these disciplines are conducive to sponsorships of words under reasons of a nature concerning Saint John the Apostle risen in flesh and spirit, in contrast to the conclusions of the reason to leave breathless the destiny that the just cheer and disapproval of diction of not certain science, under ships that cover the commendable salvation in exegetical storms that go from a liberated shelter, as well as in what differs from the et Grammatica institutione arithmetica in that each one writes what it understands, and adds what humanistically makes existence in a biblical alphanumeric dimension, from the imaginary in some of its leaders such as Zefián, Borker, Leiak, Kaitelka, in Hyperdisis and the Zig Zag Universes. Making the mythical an ensemble with deities that rule the infinite, achieving more secular religiosities than in a radius of religion, founded by characters that are already pagan mythology. This is the raison d'être of the sub-mythology, which springs from one already narrated and rationalized, but in the contradiction of what underlies under the very observance that unites itself, forging itself creditor of very new myths within others, with characters that have never been or have been parasitizing on another source of cognition. Thus becoming extensive and prolonged in its passage liers sumptuousness of other arcane myths, within the same ones that inhabit the mythological lie, without blemish from veracity belonging to the living-lie in pursuit of a dead-truth. Even if it is in this way or hermeneutic method, continue to beat and go to meet the Castellar Imaginary del Horcondising and the Camera Obscura, which always live and revive in the sub-imagination, but from a mythical truth in a regime of multitudinous voice. and myth-poetics.

From the sooty Camera Obscura the spindle was obtained over the diameters of each edge, Vernarth of the same chaos, converged from the square but not the spherical world, from this sooty box together with his master Zefián, who polished and shot vines of light over the projection of the same box, and of the quantum ark on the acropolis of Leiak, simulating entelechy in its projection with the ultraviolet light of light similar to the earth, but not square, rather appearing to be a square sphere. After repeated intervals, Vernarth opened the slits of his hands, also hollowed, here other globules appeared but not spheroids, rather quadrilaterals at the end of the third phase in the last three series that showed the complete reflection of a tiny world, that just clamored for amnesty as a matter that had been beginning to form with another factor on a large scale, from this fractality that would appear as Vernarthian sub-mythology. Camera Obscura, in a combination with twelve atomic masses, stands out starting in the irradiation of sexagesimal nomenclature; imagining fractionality between sixty microseconds to sixty in the hexagonal polygon of the Primogeniture and the Baptistery of Ein Karem. Being used in the elevations of the stars and the Heliac Ortho of dawn, which would find the black box that was nailed in its twelve apostolate angles. The whole times were divided into more exact numbers that surrounded him in his Camera Obscura doing trigonometry with other rectangles of three equilateral, making multiples of twelve on the line of the hypotenuse of sixty, dividing by the hexagonal, which is the angular line of the six sides of progression of the Duoverse becoming a spheroid square, for an analogy of Hexagonal Birthright with the multiple of twelve for the sake of the Giant Camels, leading them to the obfuscation of the Horcondising fused with the Duoverse, by means of Pi (π), in the diameter equidistant between the Universe and the Duoverse disintegrated in two by the concentric radius of both geometric units. In the same way, Vernarth multiplied the existence of his new sexagesimal world in nths by sixty followed by infinite numbers of zeros, canceling the radical time of the masses of anodyne particles. The corondels or watermarks, overflowed with all the irregularities of the system, showing the decimal after the comma.


j)Verthian Apostolic Conception - Kashmar

Vernarth, was in Sardinia in the megalithic complexes Nuraga when he conceived his apostolate as a messenger, biologically entrenched in the taxonomic stasis, with a merely profane and urban framework. Whose classification he would transmit to his relatives after long periods in Macedonia, sailing and doing his falconry and philosophical avant-garde chores with Aristotle, in a laxity that invited him after long rejoices to record and sculpting messages with the doves of his village. Near Pella, in the central region of Macedonia, where his general Alexander the Great resided, south of the Axio River, his abode was nomadic and was on a hill near the lakes and mountains surrounded by Greco-Barbarian inhabitants, tracing the Chalkidian league., after the Peloponnesian War. He was in great campaigns in the former Pella, His will as an artist is precisely to be an apostolate of a thought that would intersect with the Yahwist gift to an apostolate of the Apostle Matías, whose connection would provide his transliteration of the post-mortuary link of the Jesus of Nazareth, replacing Judas Iscariot, due to his apostasy. Vernarth, distressed by this episode, became Commander of Alexander the Great, lying already primitive in his ranks of Hetairoi, transcending over the scourge of Judas Iscariot, to face in the arena of Pella. In a reverie near the Thermaic Gulf, he genuflected under the sacrosanct trees near some illustrious Kashmar Cypresses, channeling his furious and tramontane spiritual into the gulf, to take him out of a banal summer in the transition of an immolated soul, and make him walk for thirty days barefoot, without sweet potatoes in his hands to ego stone him, only naming him slavish stubble of the crops in the deleterious nesting places of the Ravens of Kashmar, bidding him so that his blood is ****** by the heels of the rooted trees of Thor forest, usurping his "Gift of Iahvé ”In dishonor of its Hebraic appellation, for the onomatopoeic of its rhetoric, resulting from the feckless roar of black lineage, which will emanate from the mouth of the Aulos, whistling inside the Cobra. In the aforementioned link, the group of twelve was recomposed, being in the gulf and in the incidences of the re-indoctrination of the twelve apostolates, he is with his prayer and atonement in the mystical character for the community worshiping the Kashmar; which roots hardened towards the silent immolation portent as Judas entered the black night, for excessive twists of the bifurcations, intertwining with the Beams of the Thermaic cliff, like a lynx observing the height and its prominence in that of Judas dwindling over the stained areas of hell..., thus its remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprayed sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of sooty petrified poplar from Hecate boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their factotum after the ritual of the sanctuary of the thus his remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprinkled sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of Hecate's sooty petrified poplar boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their handyman after the ritual of the sanctuary of the thus his remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprinkled sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of Hecate's sooty petrified poplar boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the Holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their handyman after the ritual of the sanctuary of the Dodona, in uniformity towards a murmur in the leaves from oak in the spell of man towards an oracle, to consummate it with the mendicant count of the Ziziphus Spina-Christi; hawthorn of the crown of Jesus but with implants of Kashmar, on the crown of Judas already immolated.

Vernarth walked alone through the inlet of Skala, on Patmos, when he had to undertake a trip to Judah, even so, he also walked bi-location in the inlet of Sardinia, after being in the megalithic complex Nugarhe, Vernarth, Etréstles, and Walekiria, they approach matching Tuscany. Once they were instantiated in Sardinia, a coastal sailboat transported them in the middle of a stormy day, it was a great happy day to arrive in La Spezia. Here they parked at night following the Liturgy, standing out those that coincided with Lent of Holy Week, where one day they were seen talking with Petrarca and Laura de Noves. The olive trees keep pietism with the phantasmagoria of the Kashmar, who made the double murmur of the spell of the Duoversal man. Always in Tuscany, the tracks below the garden have been occupied, which has a distant view of the roofs and towers of Florence. The monumental fountain set on a steep hill on a side flank of the garden terrace has a seated god flanked by lions in relief of stucco from a niche decorated with pebble mosaics and padded masonry. " Here at the Verbena of a long feast day, all together with Vernarth get drunk with Corinth Wine, which they brought and did not stop swinging to the rhythm of the music that made them foresee multi-existence beyond limitless sensibilities, turning their role closer to from the instigated destiny to Patmos in the hands of the original Duoverso with translation, rotation and Duoversal Theurgic orbit, for the spell-dogmatic invoking ultra-sensory powers of angels and gods, in order to signify with his country land near Pella,

k)Fractality and Spirit-Cinnabar Dynamics

In the black camera obscura, certainly connected blues made other dark holographic areas that were enlarged super connected to the optical perspective, conceiving of the infinity of a luminescence that was fractalized, the black-blue pre-existing towards the Z pattern = Exp (Z / OB ^ 4), what is the equivalent to the set of the Bernese Olive Tree Rapa, on the border of its Lipogenesis, which would appear in the chromatic version and final maturity of the olive tree, for the fractal exponential of Z =; where all the points of the complex plane Z = (OB, iy) are iterated in the corresponding function Olives Berna in a set of IY, and in all the iterations where an arbitrary constant (Cx, iCy) is added Cinnabar in lines of orthogonal sets X and Y, in such a way that the choice of the constant "seed" will determine the unique shape of the profile and the color of the fractal, once the chromatic pattern has been defined. In the paradigms shown in this continuation, a constant has been chosen, as it will only produce divergence and will have been qualified with the escape velocity algorithm, to contract exact self-similarity stratagems in this, which is the most restrictive type of car. -similarity; requiring the fractal to appear identical at different scales.

The holistic spórtula of the Cinnabar in some pecuniary exercises, are impelled for a tacit and absent society, in Every night beginning at dawn, everyone retreats and the Cinnabar appears like a kaleidoscope apostolizing in glorious joy, where the Aramaic synergy between the Garden of Olives and Gethsemane, is concatenated with the entirety of the Phylogenetic species with the homily in Tsambika and Theoskepasti, such as the new relationship of the link between species that were improper and endemic to the region near the stable in Bethlehem de Kafersesuh, to be inter-inseminated in the banks of the slopes of Gethsemane, in such a way, that the linguistics would begin to be absorbed in Joshua, and it would go for a closer shortcut towards the classification of the traditional and omnipotent variants, which migrated through the Olives to renew and preserve the Aramaic or Aramaic languages, from a shared origin now, for the omnipotent salvific languages that were to be addressed in Gethsemane. Once starting the splendor in the city of the eight gates, and from such interference, involve the Lepidoptera taxon, inseminating the populations of organisms related to lexicons to shed life and language,

l)Vas Auric – Cinnabar (Φ)

The pecuniary prerogative of spórtula, makes the Vas Auric and the Mandylion its residence, tending towards an algebraic sense of the two diametral in a cross by the perpendicular, towards the tension of the shortest segment by the long, tracing a circumference of radius and a half. Homologating in the interposed eclipse of the golden or golden number, for the divine proportion in consequence of irrational fractioning numbers. Shortening the passage of the algebraic numbers with the infinite decimal towards the Cinnabar with seven arches in parentheses reflecting in the partition of the apse in both temples of the homily, making the period of antiquity, files registered in mega center of the quantum memory of Cinnabar, before disrupting the genesis of the Duoverso.

The First Treatise of the Vas Auric fell into the hands of Vernarth, one day of heavy plutonium sheets en masse of the golden number. The vertical avalanche was segmented when the dichotomy of another line that collided with the segments was not altered, or rather omitted by certain temporary blindness of the Duoverso world that it just boasted. Compositions of number Z are made, and subdivision in its cinematographic optics, divided into two slow shots of a small element that became part of the controversy of Vas Auric as a medallion and Auric as Mystic Gold, with distribution laws.

"Zeus wakes up shaky, full of headache saturated in Pro-headache Herbs
Jophiel is speaking this time in the Kabbalistic Torah language...
with its golden commoner and super zone of Organikon Sorousliston Papadikon….
secular music that supplies Zeus with protein albumin,
to make him more human... Zeus accepts Jophiel placing him in his discernment
over the house of Jophiel; divine island to throw cartomancy...
bring the second ray to the Sahasrara on his crown,
pacified love that is the suspicious and risky loser of everything...
risk in the head, especially when condemnation is born!

And the floristics, over the stolon of the veins, moves synchronously with the prolongations, speeds, and acceleration of the emancipated leaves of the first order of the upper crown, up to the lower ones, thickening the golden spirals of a certain type of inflorescence, confining the umbilical zones of Vernarth, and the plantar area of its feet between three and more than a hundred steps that come from certain metamorphoses, creating peduncular areas, acting as a support for Vernarth and its Elder areas, brought from the Bumodos stream, after a string therapy, creating psychic supports to endorse globalized neuralgic. Understanding that the line of his neuralgia oscillates the greater analog of the Messiah in the cross pierced by the Hastae Praetorian, in the most remote of the elliptical of pain, reduplicated by accumulated energy, almost like mystical suffocation. On the part of the growth of the tangent in growth and of the evolution of the reflection, where the attenuation of the opposite effect is unleashed, allowing convalescence zones in signs of propeller blades around the Vas Auric, crossing vertical and horizontal beams of lights, in search of Light Angled and refractory solar, for the palfrey of the Kanti Steed, abstracted from excessive rain, which uncrossed the tempos of the aura of the organic and aerial underground, towards the duplicity of curves of the multi-cloned numbers and angered by their industrious dynamics of skewed movement, towards the effective solar..., tending to the effects of successive trends of the vaporous numeral of Vas Áurico Cinnabar.

m) Psychic Trisomy

The species and somatic acquired deposits of DNA spirals, given their characteristics, will make transformations in more than one cellular taxon for a homologous pair. Here Kaitelka the whale down from Sub-Mythology, will circle in the Baltic Sea, compromising neuralgia in it as a superfluous essence due to its trisomy, making a comparison with psychic trisomies that Vernarth suffered at least four times a month, from the first and eleventh day, after his parapsychological regressions when he sailed over abysses and anesthetized zones on glacial plankton in the North Sea. Kaitelka individualized her cellular regressions, becoming a prehistoric cetacean and when she lagged beyond or before her creation, she transferred psychic trisomies due to her twenty-one chromosome. Kaitelka's karyotype was directed towards the crease of her eyes, due to an infection in the area of her basal inter fins, which disturbed her heart rate in a short interval where Poseidon magnified her coefficient in high amplitude, after being inseminated in a tempered state and gifted as a Super Goddess. Kaitelka in nativity in the transversal valleys sailed in the air atmospheres of Hyperdisis, and she was always seen in the company of Leiak; the omnipresent and vague spirit of the watery ductile dancer, living on the liquefied element with his astringent slimy chin..., seeing him with his grotesque back-breaking swampy lines between knuckles, and hedges of tricks collected before the first station, in one of the first of the three Remaining nights before reaching Joshua de Piedra del Horcondising volcano, that upset her heart rate in a brief interval where Poseidon magnified her coefficient in high amplitude, after being inseminated in a moderate state and gifted as a Super Goddess. About seven hundred meters high she becomes Kaitelka Down godmother, adding the psychic chromosome twenty-two that contracts in the connection with Vernarth, in the extravagant massifs when in the autumn afternoons they collect Ceratocystis fagacearum Fungi, and irradiating them with insects such as the borers. When   Kaitelka recovers its chromosome by detraction in the natural selection of Trisomy, express is spilling on the dry and gelatinous Laurus leaves of all its dead cells, which are promptly seeped from the retracted membranes in frank adhesion, causing regeneration of the disease. After wanderings and ringed symptoms of lesson in the atmosphere of the ecstatic Horcondising, the wooly will be magnanimous and challenged from the chromosome spilled in the emulsion, is contained in the alpha proteins in the transverted Vernarth genome, as a warned whole and abundantly diploid, before reaching the lethal processes of reciprocal adversity, both as a zoo-anthropoid or a triple zoo-anthropoid-botanical effect. Pre-Existing Kaitelka Down with forty-two chromosomes (22 pairs) and the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus (134 pairs), in its haploid, that is, half remains vitalizing between two species of the sub-mythological world, and in its psychic cellular compound, and later implant it in germ cells for the effect of Venarthian ambivalent psychic transmission and vice versa. By discard, there are four fewer chromosomes than the hommo sapiens and 222 less than the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus, for a meta sense of flourishing with the power of Poseidon, brother of Zeus, Meta sense and discernment, encephalic they will be cogitated by conscious where their sensory cognitive is interrupted, towards an unconscious through the photons of hypocaloric temperature, to define in the prehistoric psychological memory of their psychic, more than random brain, coexisting of habeas corpus content and remote brain energy, before the magistracy and power of Poseidon that confines him. Graduated from southern impassable seclusion, their memory is isolated in their E-Cloud. Namely; stored in electromagnetic and electrophysiological stimuli, incontinent and weighted in the square miles of floating Poseidon outbursts, in the category of super cetacean down, with only four meager chromosomes from the remnants of the human procedural genome. The trisomy field, On the fourth of August of the year of the Lord, 1617, when Klauss Rittke was cleaning the main stained glass window of the Cathedral of Avignon, he heard heated dialogues between a Friar and a Gentleman, who was once an assistant to the clergy. Klauss could come closer and listen to their conversation more clearly, until the Friar Andrés Panguiette, babbling, demanded of Raymond Bragasse indulgence or one or the other. (Compendium of Marielle Quentinnais). Relating in its narrative evolution, about some Albigenses of this work set in Avignon, time of the Antipopes, crossing with the psychic waves that have just been mentioned, and of prophecies of who precisely Guillaume Bélibaste was born into a Cathar family. Having noted that 1321 in 296 years apart from Marielle Quentinnais, it takes place in Carcassonne on the same day as Bélibaste was executed, given his licentious life breaking Cathar dogmas, incriminating himself with civilians from the region, marrying women in exile, etc., was condemned by the Holy Inquisition, where many were purged for the sole fact of holding biblical books in their abode. Among the flames of his bonfire the prophecy of the laurel will be homologated, whose shadow will fall on the centuries to come. Note the coincidence 3, 700 years ago, where the first signs of life were appreciated on our planet and in the Hylates Forest in Cyprus (700, 000 thousand souls) in the imprint that unifies the Christian scrolls, blowing gold dust on Walekiria's hair..., and being liberated, as a tantric body of physicality. No one spoke, not even the 700, 000 thousand souls who also claimed to be liberated (Vernarth, page 313 - paragraph 2). And finally the seventh portion of the sea, with Poseidon. Here the Psychic numeral of Vernarth and Kaitelka coincide, who appears with the laurel of Guillaume de Bélibaste after almost seven hundred years, facing the unification of the prophecy of the Laurel, whose shadow will hover over the centuries to come. Templars, perfect bone Hommes and Cathars meet, in this historical feat, through the secret path safe from traitors and conspirators thanks to the most surprising allies. Bélibaste's fast-paced story will allow us to get closer to the most unknown ceremonies and rituals of his confession, showing us his revelations in the flames and turning green in the Laurel of 1321 in sync with 2021. Given the little and nothing that exists of the revealing enthronement and the psychic environment, it should be noted that historical facts fly like pollen, with the waves in their same vibrations of the aeolian autogyro. This entails physical vibrational material, which is in every corner of existentialism, without beginning or end, only rewinding through the infinite axon of karma and samskara, for physical-ecological convulsed means and intermediates, in revealing semblances of the primitive psychic field before us, like the Aspís Koilé, as a shield or as an omnidirectional parabolic antenna, bringing us events after events that strangely interchange phases, and intertwined efforts over time in quantum physics and subsequent biophysical changes in the genome chain, especially in its Psychic Trisomy.

to be continued...
DUOVERSE
Johnny Zhivago Aug 2013
Spanish influenza
walking pneumonia
icepick headache
common cold
whooping cough
Diabetes
anorexia
getting old

flat foot
bad back
heel spur
heart attack
spasticus
autisticus
tongue tied
amb(i)dextrous

my weakness
is my forte
my sickness is  my skill
my illness
is my realness
it makes my life a thrill


Trying to fight this
bronchitis
gangrene
runny nose
frostbite
tooth decay
hat hair
broken bones

bed bound
shell-shocked
flea ridden
sinusitis
cholera
dropsy
eliphantitis
out-all-nightis

wom­b fever
winter fever
black water fever
remitting fever
ship fever
jail fever
camp fever
or schizophrenia

scarlet fever
tuberculosis
American plague
rock n roll
Wheezing
Paralysed
Got gas
In both holes

rabies
scabies
rickets
and SARS
man flu
bird flu
swine flew
from Mars

multiple sclerosis
tennis elbow-sis
stomach ulcers
and leukaemia
night blindness
hypothermia
lung cancer
sickle-cell anaemia

French pox
Lockjaw
Polio
Gout
Nostalgia
Dropsy
Knocked right
Out

Stuttering
Bellyacher
Anti-social
Leprosy
Sleep walker
Sleep talker
Absent minded
OCD

Tourettes, ****
Pyromania
tonsillitis
Conjunctivitis
Food poisoned!
Warted over
My Psoriasis
(Will I survive this?)

Measles
Malaria
Meningitis
Migraine
Scrum-pox
Worm fit
Water on
the brain

apparitions
seeing things
rattly chest
bad breath
la duzi
tormentation
inflammation
black death

measles
malaria
migrane
mumps
leprosy
lice and
leg bone
lumps

kleptomania
bubonic plague
black *****
feeling ****
bone shave
falling sickness
wanna stop
just cant quit

Huntington's and
Parkingson's and
Hare-lipped
Hay fever
Typhoid fever
Glandular fever
Night fever
And Hysteria

intellectual
dyslexia
dysfunctional
family
cancer crab
stillborn twin
bad blood
epilepsy

Parking spot
disabilities
all the wounds in
all the militaries
pity thee with
lost agility
lost babes or
infertility

ear infection
starvation
Hepatitis
E to A
smallpox
chicken pox
cow pox
what a day

tuberculosis
stuttering
panic stricken
star struck
scurvy
shingles
headless chicken
bad luck


paranoid
in the void
premature
*******
stomach ulcers
feeble pulses
chronicled
*******

autistic
gallstones
double-jointe­d
wrists and knees
consumption
bad digestion
quinsy palsy
ticks and fleas

amnesia
typhus
amnesia
heart failure
radiation
cholera
amnesia
bad behaviour

Hypochondriac?
By gosh, no!
Poorly are ye?
‘Fraid so.


nostalgia
        suffer me
wanderlust
suffer me
insomnia
suffer me
loneliness
let me be



god
complex
mother
complex
father
complex
ego
complex

­

its complicated
im superior
its complicated
im inferior
its complicated
im a short man
got ingrown hairs
got a bad tan



im suffering
ocd
im suffering
obesity
im suffering
jealousy
xenophobia
and nosebleeds



stokholm
syndrome
toxic shock
syndrome
got it down
syndrome
irritable bowel
syndrome

yellow nail
syndrome
stevens-johnson
syndrome
restless leg
syndrome
shoulder-hand
syndrome

lambert-eaton
syndrome
mi­ddle-lobe
syndrome
mobius
syndrome
pickwickian
syndrome

post rubella
syndrome
riley day
syndrome
straight back
syndrome
ulysess
syndrome



alcoholics
we are prone
drug addicts
we are prone
mind benders
we are prone
fortune spenders
we are prone



My illness, my illness
My illness is my realness

*Pick it up
Tide it over
Fight it off or
Cave in

Save it
Suffer it
Pass it on
When its Raining

bleed him
restrain him
shave his
head

he went from being
quite well
to being quite
dead.
unfinished but did you bother to the end?
Nigel Morgan Oct 2012
Ah the persimmon, a word from an extinct language of the Powatan people of the tidewater Virginia, spoken until the mid 18th C when its Blackfoot Indian speakers switched to English. It was putchamin, pasiminan, or pessamin, then persimmon, a fruit. Like the tomato, it is a ‘true berry’.
 
Here in this postcard we have a painting of four kaki: the Japanese persimmon. Of these four fruit, one is nearly ripe; three are yet to ripen. They have been picked three days and shelter under crinkled leaves, still stalked. Now, the surface on which these astringent, tangy fruit rest, isn’t it wondrous in its blue and mottled green? It is veined, a ceramic surface perhaps? The blue-green mottled, veined surface catches reflected light; the shadows are delicate but intense.
 
You told me that it troubled you to read my stories because so often they stepped between reality and fantasy, truth and playful invention. When you said this I meant to say (but we changed the subject): I write this way to confront what I know to be true but cannot present verbatim. I have to make into a fiction my remembered observations, those intense emotions of the moment. They are too precious not to save, and like the persimmon benefit from laying out in the sun to dry: to be eaten raw; digested to rightly control my ch’i, and perhaps your ch’i too.
 
So today a story about four kaki, heart-shaped hachiya, and hidden therein those most private feelings, messages of love and passion, what can be seen, what is unseen, thoughts and un-thoughts, mysteries and evasions.
 
                                                                            ----
 
 
Professor Minoru retired last year and now visits his university for the occasional show of his former colleagues and their occasionally-talented students. He spends his days in his suburban house with its tiny non-descript garden: a dog run, a yard no less. No precious garden. It is also somewhere (to his neighbours’ disgust) to hang wet clothes. It is just grass surrounded by a high fence. He walks there briefly in the early morning before making tea and climbing the stairs to his studio.
 
The studio runs the whole length of his house. When his wife Kinako left him he obliterated any presence of her, left his downtown studio, and converted three rooms upstairs into one big space. This is where Mosuku, his beautiful Akita, sleeps, coming downstairs only to eat and defecate in the small garden. Minoru and Mosuku go out twice each day: to midday Mass at the university chaplaincy; to the park in the early evening to meet his few friends walking their dogs. Otherwise he is solitary except for three former students who call ‘to keep an eye on the old man’.
 
He works every day. He has always done this, every day. Even in the busiest times of the academic year, he rose at 5.0am to draw, a new sheet of mitsumatagami placed the night before on his worktable ready. Ready for the first mark.
 
Imagine. He has climbed the stairs, tea in his left hand, sits immediately in front of this ivory-coloured paper, places the steaming cup to his far left, takes a charcoal stick, and  . . . the first mark, the mark from the world of dreams, memories, regrets, anxieties, whatever the night has stored in his right hand appears, progresses, forms an image, a sketch, as minutes pass his movement is always persistence, no reflection or studied consideration, his sketch is purposeful and wholly his own. He has long since learnt to empty his hand of artifice, of all memory.
 
When Kinako left he destroyed every trace of her, and of his past too. So powerful was his intent to forget, he found he had to ask the way to Shinjuko station, to his studio in the university. He called in a cleaning company to remove everything not in two boxes in the kitchen (of new clothes, his essential documents, 5 books, a plant, Mosuko’s feeding bowl). They were told (and paid handsomely) to clean with vigour. Then the builders and decorators moved in. He changed his phone number and let it be known (to his dog walker friends) that he had decided from now on to use an old family name, Sawato. He would be Sawato. And he was.
 
His wife, and she was still that legally, had found a lover. Kinako was a student of Professor Minoru, nearly thirty years younger, and a fragile beauty. She adored ‘her professor’, ‘her distinguished husband’, but one day at an opening (at Kinosho Kikaku – Gallery 156) she met an American artist, Fern Sophie Citron, and that, as they say in Japan, was that. She went back to Fern’s studio, where this rather plump middle-aged woman took photographs of Kinako relentlessly in costume after costume, and then without any costume, on the floor, in the bath, against a wall, never her whole body, and always in complete silence. Two days later she sent a friend to collect her belongings and to deliver a postcard to her husband. It was his painting of four persimmon. Persimmon (1985) 54 by 36 cm, mineral pigment on paper.
 
‘Hiroshi’, she wrote in red biro, ‘I am someone else now it is best you do not know. Please forgive’.
 
Sawato’s bedroom is on the ground floor now. There is a mat that is rolled away each morning. On the floor there are five books leaning against each other in a table-top self-standing shelf. The Rule of St Benedict (in Latin), The I-Ching (in Chinese), The Odes of Confucius, The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter (10th C folk tale) and a manual of Go, the Shogi Zushiki. Placed on a low table there is a laptop computer connected to the Internet, and beside the computer his father’s Go board (of dark persimmon wood), its counters pebbles from the beach below his family’s home. Each game played on the Internet he transcribes to his physical board.
 
He ascribes his mental agility, his calm and perseverance in his studio practice, to his nightly games of Go in hyperspace. He is an acknowledged master. His games studied assiduously, worldwide.
 
For 8 months in 1989 he studied the persimmon as still-life. He had colleagues send him examples of the fruit from distant lands. The American Persimmon from Virginia, the Black Persimmon or Black Sapote from Mexico (its fruit has green skin and white flesh, which turns black when ripe), the Mabolo or Velvet-apple native to Philippines - a bright red fruit when ripe, sometimes known as the Korean Mango, and more and more. His studio looked like a vegetable store, persimmons everywhere. He studied the way the colours of their skins changed every day. He experimented with different surfaces on which to place these tannin-rich fruits. He loved to touch their skins, and at night he would touch Kinako, his fingers rich from the embrace of fifty persimmon fruits, and she . . . she had never known such gentleness, such strength, such desire. It was as though he painted her with his body, his long fingers tracing the shape of the fruit, his tongue exploring each crevice of her long, slim, fruit-rich body. She had never been loved so passionately, so completely. At her desk in the University library special collection, where she worked as a researcher for a fine art academic journal, she would dream of the night past and anticipate the night to come, when, always on her pillow a different persimmon, she would fall to ****** and beyond.
 
Minoru drew and painted, printed and photographed more persimmons than he could keep track of. After six months he picked seven paintings, and a collection of 12 drawings. The rest he burnt. When he exhibited these treasures, Persimmon (1989) Mineral pigment on paper 54, by 36 cm was immediately acquired by Tokyo National Museum. It became a favourite reproduction, a national treasure. He kept seeing it on the walls of houses in magazines, cheap reproductions in department stores, even on a TV commercial. Eventually he dismissed it, totally, from his ever-observant, ever-scanning eyes. So when Kinako sent him the postcard he looked at it with wonder and later wrote this poem in his flowing hand using the waka style:
 
 
*Ah, the persimmon
Lotus fruit of the Gods
 
Heartwood of a weaver’s shuttle,
The archer’s bow, the timpanist sticks,
 
I take a knife to your ripe skin.
Reveal or not the severity of my winter years.
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
‘tis but a thing she does
The female assassin
They say that poison is her weapon… maybe on occasion
But that is a level she’s surpassing
You see, what they fail to understand is that she doesn't take lives for vengeance
‘tis but a profession
The beautiful, tantalizing female killer
Her male victim’s obsession
One minute she’s a runway model… with her devilishly sinful grin
A smile so engrossingly enticing… full, red lips that cut across her face playfully
Against her flawlessly peaceful skin
One word for that…’killer’
Forbidden pleasures… blissful sin
She’s taken out big names… maybe even one or two heads of state
To dinners she’s escorted these men… and later on left them in their deadest state
She walks through the front door, but when leaving she can scale windows
Agility is her forte… ‘Man killer’ she is
The black widow…
In a red dress
You may be reading this thinking you can never fall prey to her seductive tentacles
‘tis an argument I do not even wish to get into
I digress.
Sometimes I like to paint pictures with words... some playful, imaginative pieces.
We were teammates
We suited up
We showed up

We weren't stars
But we rolled in the dirt
With the best of them

Our blood ran red
Like the rest of them

Our sweat tasted salty
As the most athletic of them

Wounds and bruises
Ached like the most
Stalwart of them

We were Bulldogs!
We anted up our
Gifts and talents to
Forge a winning season

A flair for humor
Wry observation,
Encouragement, fortitude
And intelligence were as
Valuable as speed,
Agility and strength

We all pined for the
Affection of cheerleaders,
Bandmembers and the
Adoration of fans

We equally joined
In the chorus of
locker room banter
And honored the
Confidence of camaraderie
Such intimacy bares

We endured thankless
Adversity, while wending
through anonymous toil

As brothers
We grudgingly drank
From the vile cup of defeat

And passed the chalice
Of victory among us
To share the savory
Taste of triumph
As champions

The Duke of Wellington
Said “the battle of Waterloo
Was won on the fields of Eton”

I trust my teammates and
Not forgotten friends
Tasted sweet victories of
Happiness and success
As they coursed through
Their prodigious fields of life

And at games end
I hope their heart swelled
With pride to know they were
A beloved and Valiant Bulldog

David Irving Korsh #75
BCSL Champion 1973
Rutherford Bulldogs

Well done Valiant Bulldog

God bless and Godspeed

Music Selection:
Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road

5/5/18
Puyallup
jbm
the passing of a former teammate
Danté Le Beau Feb 2020
Superpowers-
People always wonder what it would be like to have superpowers like their favourite heroes,
Their hero’s powers are purely subjective as you will see,

For the person who wishes for invisibility, ask an introvert in a business how it feels, to not feel seen, to feel like no one can hear your voice, and feel like you could not be present and no one would notice the difference,

For the person who wishes for super strength,
Turn to people who lost loved ones, people who suffered heartache, people who dealing with strife. These people have the strength to wake up in a morning, and carry on, with the weight of their emotions on their shoulders, but they know to keep moving.
A Sign of true strength.

For the person who wishes for the ability to read minds,
Stay with the people who love you, build strong relationships, care for those around you and over time you will learn their expressions, reading them a book, knowing what they’re thinking and feeling.

For the person who wishes for super speed,
Practice, master, do things with passion and dedication, the expression follows “it takes ten thousand  hours to master something”,  view this as a starting block. With time, speed and proficiency will come and you’ll be able to amaze the others around you

For the person who wishes for the ability to move things with your mind,
Never take what you have for granted, for it could all be taken away so quickly, soldiers who have lost their hands, or arms serving their country no longer have this ability, artists who suffer from nervous system disorders who are no longer able to create. Never take the ability of free movement for granted, you move things with your mind every day.

For the person who wishes for super agility,
Read, solve puzzles, read the news and learn constantly, agility is a loose term and mental agility is actually useful. The ability to learn things quickly, the ability to adapt and evolve is invaluable.

For the person who wishes to heal quickly,
Be comfortable with your emotions, your thoughts, and express them in a healthy manner, because if you can get comfortable with yourself, then the healing process won’t be as destructive nor be as long.

For the person who wishes to be bulletproof,
Take pride in yourself, be it your looks, your smarts, your personality, or a mixture of all three, insecurities are what make us vulnerable, but if you work on them, people will have less control over your mood and view of the world.

If you learn to do all of these things every day, even if it is not for long, over time you will seem like a superhero in a world filled with people who lost their way.

Just remember,
Superheroes help out every day people, no matter who they are.
Jessie Mar 2014
Let me trade in my smile for fangs
And my feminine fingers for paws.

Let me trade in my manicured nails for claws
And my curly locks for silver fur.

Let me trade my heart shaped mouth for a long snout
And the freckles on my nose for whiskers.

Let me trade my curves for a round, bushy tail
And my clumsiness for strength and agility.

Let me trade my tears for whimpers and barks
And my voice for howls in the night.

Let me trade my dinner reservations for hunting down a moose
And my poor senses for keen ears and a nose.

Let me trade my soul for a different one
And become a friend to the moon.

Let me live my life as a wolf
And all that it encompasses.

Let me symbolize the dawn and the dusk
And let me symbolize the converging of light and darkness.

Because that is wolf,
And that is what I see, when I look in the mirror.
kirk Feb 2016
Id love a big fat ****
Or a wrinkled up *******
An ugly looking hag
Who wants a ******* ****

If I had a big fat *****, with a big fat bucket
I'd lay between her fleshy thighs, and definitely **** it
My thrusting **** inside her ****, is where I'd like to tuck it
Spunking up would be sublime, when I lick and **** it

When your about to **** the fat, it takes a certain knack
Stuffed up fishy **** *****, or **** ******* round the back
A nice piece of chunky ****, with a big long sweaty crack
Fatty *** holes make you hard ,my **** would not be slack

I would ride a big large Gal, just like a waterbed
Bathroom ******* would be fun, as well as in the shed
Spunking up between her legs, cream cheese would then be spread
When both holes are full of ***, she can **** my **** instead

And after I have finished, with all of those fat *******
Something different I would want, maybe some old wrinkled witches
All wearing apple gatherers, and big large ******* britches
Older ***** long overdue, scratching long lost itches

A lot of fun I could have, in an old folks place
Disrobed willing grannies *****, stuffed right in my face
At least eight bits of gristle ******, a display of my disgrace
With each granny ****** in turn, if they can stand the pace

As I lift their skirts up their knickers I would sniff
I'm hoping that old fannies good, and they don't smell or whiff
The smell of old used granny ****, is probably just a myth
But I won't let it bother me, as long as I get stiff

I wouldn't even care, if they wore crap NHS glasses
As long as I could **** and ***, inside there wrinkled arses
I would **** them old ****** , all from different classes
Some of them in wheelchairs and some with heart bypasses.

It's irrelevant how fat you are, I really do not mind
As long as you are willing, and your *****'s wet and kind
And if you like it up the ****, then I'm that way inclined
******* ***** is quite fine, so is ******* from behind

So come on girls fat or old, all slags are a possibility
Your sexuality can flood out, there's no need for negativity
I'm willing to **** who comes along, to the best of my ability
Just make sure that I stay stiff, and maintain my agility
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
Girls played hopscotch
While boys played ball
To some of us kids
It made no sense at all.
What if a girl had a
Powerhouse right arm
Would you want her staying
Back home on the farm?

Blue and pink
Pink and blue
Does all this insanity
Make any sense to you?
Hammers and nails
And puppy dog tails.
And all the nonsense
That nursery rhyme entails.

And what if a boy
Had balance and agility?
Would you look on him
As having a disability?
Girls had to take cooking
Boys had to take shop.
Why does this sexism
Never come to a stop?

Boys get a box of toys
Girls get some dolls.
Sometimes that makes
No real sense at all.
Girls take lessons on
How to dance and live.
Boys learn to ridicule
Not to take, but to give.

Blue and pink
Pink and blue
Does all this insanity
Make any sense to you?
Hammers and nails
And puppy dog tails.
And all the nonsense
That nursery rhyme entails.
I feeleth so anxious as the fleshy winds outside,
Invisible as their turquoise screams, I feeleth like everything is just not right;
Ah, but how if even all later suns shan't be fair,
And t'is passivity shan't ever be bound to fade?
For my soul declares-t'at he, it wants not any more to care;
And about thee only, it wants to be quiet, yet witty still-like yon pale lovesick summer glade;
I want to attach myself to our captivated hours right now;
With thee in my lap, and thy gentle whispers-as today shall be replaced by tomorrow.
I want to dream of thee once more tonight, o sweet Nikolaas;
My darling at present and from the future, whilst my only dearest, from the past.
Ah, sweetheart, why are but our subsequent hours-and perhaps paths, to suffer;
If thou art not by my side, and maketh not all t'is terseness better?
Ah, and wouldst it ever make sense any longer;
To live by him-but without thee, wouldst it but make my wild heart easier?
For censure is to which my answer, and is hatred-for I cannot help loving thee more;
I wanteth to love, and age-by thee, and by thee only, within my most passionate core,
And I wanteth not to understand anything-for comprehension shall but renew our last sorrow;
I wanteth instead-to renew t'is despaired wholeness, and its proven compassion-our love has once made nature show.

I still wanteth to remain quiet; to cherish and glitter within my wholesome devotion;
But which duly keepest me sober, and maketh my doubled heart tremble not;
Calmeth me, calmeth me with thy kisses-so enormous and tasty, like a quiet can of little soda;
Maketh me accursed, petty, and corny-maketh me thy lands' most dreaded infanta.
Tease me like I am a quivering little darling, who cannot but tries shyly still-to sing;
With a coarse voice descended from sunlight, where the worst are joy, and lovingly mean everything.
Maketh me honest, and tempteth me deeper and more;
Until I sighest and flittest myself away, with agility like never before.
Consumeth my greed-and with it, drinkest away its all befallen vitality;
For I knoweth thou shalt restore me, and reneweth all my endeavoured weaponry.
Ah, Nikolaas, how sweet doth feel t'ese blessings, by thy very side!
Nikolaas, Nikolaas, my lover-my sweet husband, from whom my hungry soul canst never hide!
Oh, and darling, Amsterdam might be cold, and plastered with one slippery tantrum;
But thou art still too comely to me-with those familiar eyes like a poem;
A poem t'at my very heart owns, and is graciously fat'd to be thine;
And thine only-for as I danceth later-in my princess' frock, I knoweth t'at thou art mine.
Ah, but fear thou not-for shall I protect thee like t'is;
I shall slander thy rival west and east, I shall degrade t'em all to'a yawning beast!
And upon my victory be I at ease-and finely grateful;
On which truth shall spring, and maketh our love venerated-and more fruitful!
Ah, just like I had b'fore-how canst kissing thee be extremely pleasant,
Even whenst he be t'ere, or perhaps-be the one concerned?
I hath to admit, t'at 'tis thee-and not him, I so dearly want;
Thee who hath painted my love, and made everything cross but all fun;
Thee whose disguise is my airs, and who hath ceaselessly promised to be fair,
Thee whom I'th dreamt of t' be my lifelong prince, with whom I wish to be paired,
Thee whose recitations lift my heart upwards, and my delight proud;
Thee whose poems hath I crafted, and oftentimes recited sensibly, out loud.

Ah, t'at devil-who told us t'at our joys cannot be real;
For they are not at all virtuous-nor by any chance, vigorous?
Ah, fear not those human serpents, darling, whose mouths are moth-like-bloodless but who canst ****;
For to God they are mortal still, and to His eyes whose jokes are not fun, nor humorous;
And thus we shall be together, as we indeed already are;
For our delight is not to be altered-no longer, as dwells already, in our heart;
We shall come back to it soon, as tonight's full moon smilingly starts;
And exalt it as wint'r comes-dear winter, as perhaps only be it, one few months' far;
Ah, and be I then, crush all t'is impatient longing, and sorely missed affection;
And vanquish all the way, t'is all omnipotent sin-of having loved only, a severe affliction;
Oh, but under whose guidance, Amsterdam shall embark again, and smile upon us;
And lift our tosses of joys, into the lapses of its sweet thunders, fast!
Ah, Nikolaas, shall we thus be together, under the wings of Amsterdam's rainbow;
To which endings shan't even once appear; as guilt be then dead-and is not to show;
The only left opus of love be ours to sing, as heaven is-so benevolent;
Betray us not, with fruits of indifference-much less once of one malice, and gay impediment;
And our happiness shall be pure-and entangled, like a pair of newborn twins;
To which our fantasies are finally correct, and thus its affixed lust-shall no more be a sin.

Such love and lust-whose fidelities shall be our abode;
But by whose words-delusions shall never arrive, and thus be put aside;
Novelties shall be fine, and their definitions shall be lovely;
They shall twitch not-for a simple moment of starched felicity!
Oh my darling, I needst to come and visit my wealthy Amsterdam;
With authenticity now I entreat: myself, myself, ah, run there-whenst stop doth time!
For as we embarketh, no more worrisome medleys shall they come again, to bring;
And to no more sonata, shall they retort-nor so adversely, and dishonestly, sing.
Ah, Nikolaas, the stars are now obediently looking down at us;
Jealous of our shimmering love, which is the lush garden's yonder, giddy beaut;
Ah, who is shy to its own mirror, and oft' looks away so fast;
But needst not to swerve, factually, for 'tis, on its really own-has but very much truth!
But still, whose hastiness maketh it succumb-and even more bashful then the sky;
Ah, as if those pastimes of its ****** soul are always about-and be termed but as a single lie!
For it shall never happen, to it-who owns our midnight hours-with one promise to be skirted away too fast;
With not even a single pause, nor a second of rest-while it passes?
Ah love, our very love; its circular stains, nevertheless, as left hurriedly-too massive to resist;
For they giveth taste to our plain moonlight-and thick'ning flavours to our kiss;
So at our first night of gaiety thereof-we won't be hunger for earning too much bliss!
Ah, Nikolaas, all shall be perfect-for felicity is no longer on our part-to miss,
And t'is part of our earthly journey shall feel, defiantly like heaven!
I shall be thine-and claim no more my thine self as his;
In thee doth I find my salvation, my fancy dome-and my most studious cavern!
All which, certainly-is his not; all which shall be ripe, and thus fragrant-like a rose perfume;
And by whose spell-we shall be love itself, and even be loved-within the walls of our private haven;
And even then, we shall love each other more-as be cradled in each other's arms; and lost like this, in such a league of harmonious poems.

Amsterdam shan't be rigorous, it shall be all fair,
Its notions are curious, like these but entrancing summer days;
Thinking of which is but a sweat-but a bead of sweat for which I most care,
Which is neither dreadful nor boastful, as I devour it avidly, amongst t'is poem I'm 'bout to say!
And t' mindfulness of which, I shall no more hastily rid of;
I was too dreary back then, crudely foreshadowed by a crippled love!
'Twas my mistake-my supposedly most punished, punished mistake;
For faking a love I ought not t've ever made, and one I ought not t' ever take!
A mere dream I hath now fiercely pushed away;
And from which I hath now returned, to my most precious loyalty,
As thou knoweth-thou hath never wholly, and so freely-left me,
Thou art all too genuine, and pristine, like yon silvery river-as I oft' picture thee.
Ah, so t'at is all true; t'at thou art my most gracious, and unswept loving angel,
A prince of royalty, and my very, very own nighttime spell.
Just like thou hath done hundreds of time, thou maketh me but delight and mischief;
And notions t'at bubble within my most, giving me charms and comfort-for me to continue to live!
Together, our lips shall be warm-and no more joy shall be left naked;
Soon as there are more tears, we shall throttle and fairly feast on it;
Making it all but remotely conscious, and forcibly-but sensibly, deluded;
Making it writhe away impaired, and its all possible soul awesomely flattened!
Ah, Nikolaas, thou shalt be the mere charm t'at leaves my odes too fabulous-by thy wit,
Oh, my darling, for thou art so sweet; o, Nikolaas, I really hath only my words, to play with!

And guess what, my darling, heaven shall but gift us nobly, all too soon;
An heir shall we claim; as descendeth one day beneath the excited full moon.
For he shall be born into our naughtiest perusal;
And demand our affection excitedly, as time is long, as arrives winter-from last fall!
Soft is his hair, clutched in his skin-so bare and naive;
He shall be our triumph, and a farther everyday desire, to continue to live!
And we shall consider him our undefined, yet a priceless fortune;
Light as the night, at times singular but cheery-like the sketch of a fine moon.
And portray in us both the loveliness of a million words;
He shall be handsome, just like our love-which is damp but funny, in whose two brilliant worlds!
Oh, my darling, I now looketh forward to my heavenly Amsterdam;
Whose prettiness shall be thoughtful, as I thinketh of it-from time to time.
Ah, thus-when all finally happeneth, I shall know thou art worth the whole entity of my thousand longings;
Thou art the miracle t'at I hath decently prayed for-and thus fathomably, the very sweet soul-of my everything.
Beneath the surface of our daily lives, we are always asking the question, “Who am I, really, and where is my true home?” The answer to this question is so utterly obvious, so beautiful, so ordinary, and yet so profound, that like the nose on our face, we have a hard time seeing it. Because of our own self-imposed limitations, the answer to this mystery can only be revealed little by little, as if a great veil were being lifted inch by inch, until the truth is completely exposed. Yet, we are destined to receive this knowledge.

Today-all around us: the electro-magnetic field is active and alive, whether we feel it or not. Imagine all the electromagnetic-digital devices surrounding us! Take a moment to think about their direct or indirect effect on our bodies. Global warming is by far the most serious manifestation of the “collision”—and Mother Nature is making the evidence ever more obvious. Our bodies are like little vessels of light reflecting our bright birth right. However these vessels constantly need nourishing and care. These are amazing times for us all but we must take care of our bodies inwardly and outwardly, else we are left at the mercies of the “spiraling” energies circumventing the universe. Both scientists and spiritualists have verily presented groundbreaking evidence about what is happening beyond what can be felt, seen or sensed by human sensory perception. At times-you may feel odd sensations or more anxiety than usual. Breathe in slowly and deeply. Take your time amidst the “rollercoaster of the city’s rush hours”. Remember to connect to the “higher frequencies” of a positive lifestyle in healthy ways. Exercise, Pray, Meditate, if you can- use flower essences everyday such as: Silversword, Shooting Star, Morning Glory, Sagebrush, Snap Dragon, Cosmos, White Magnolia. Growing a flower garden has its rich rewards too.
Nature’s healing effects are unquestionable, for within nature we come face to face with the Divine infinite source of All creation-as it was, as it is and as it will ever be.

Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda once quoted:

Harmony with nature will bring you a happiness known to few city dwellers. In the company of other truth seekers it will be easier for you to meditate and think of God.

There is a magic about periodically moving out of the “city’s confinements” to the richness of and around nature: forest walks, boat rides, mountain trekking and much more. The main essence is in feeling a refreshed aura around and within you-an indication that the city and all its toil on you have been left behind. We have to try to get rid of the notion of time. When we have an intense contact of unconditional love with nature or another human being, like a spark, then we can truly understand that there is no time and that everything is eternal.

Other simple ways of raising energy levels include: silence in isolation and more “interaction” within you inner spirit-your Higher-self. There are always two forces warring against each other within us and we can bring these forces to a balance during silent personal introspection.  In order to relate properly with and to your inner being, one must follow the “truth of imagination.” From the word-imagination, we find the word-image, which is the manifestation of our physical form and body identity.

As William Arthur Ward said:

If you can imagine it, you can create it. If you can dream it, you can become it.

More than ever before on our planet, there is now great need for interpersonal sharing and the acknowledgment that ups and downs are a vital part of our everyday life. This process is internal as well as external. The “key” is a flowing pattern that is beneficial to all concerned. Take good care of yourself, your relationships, and your health. Exercising both mind, body, and spirit can bring you the agility to incorporate balance, whether you are alone or with a partner. Life can seem like a seesaw existence, but you can still have a wonderful time if you maintain a playful attitude.

The “image” we carry of our self within our mind and heart carries the power to bridge our highest ideals into our everyday practical life. On the other hand, attachment to a poor image of self condemnation and suffering carries the potential to destroy our right to joy and abundance. Which do we choose? Practicing the laws of “visualization” is not unlike the practice of prayer or meditation, where the seeker opens oneself to channels of higher guidance and inspiration. Ideally, we are given the opportunity to walk through the gardens and forests of the earth with astute concentration and attunement, opening our opportunity to the light of healing and service, each and every day.

Whatever your tradition or practice, however you offer your skills to the world, trace your roots and find the center of stillness and peace within. Only from this grace-filled place can we restore the health and well being of ourselves and our planet. Become one who engages the full power of the mind, heart, and spirit in the interest of alleviating suffering and making our present world a true “Garden of Eden”

Remember to build the world around you in a practical manner. Is your spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical universe anchored in truth and wisdom? Follow the “call of the wild” and listen to your inner voice within that guides you to fulfill your higher destiny. Take time to make weighty decisions. Realize the implications of your acts for the future. Stop wasting your strength by criticizing others. Recall the ancient adage “Judge not, lest you be judged”.

Reinforce your positive, upbeat, and inherently good nature so that the dark elements of this world cannot break down your resolve and dedication. For those who have suffered emotional pain from all sorts of physical or spiritual abuse, If you are to walk the path of consciousness, enlightment and empowerment, you must go beyond your “old wounds” and accept this golden opportunity to metamorphose into a new “body of light” – one that rejoices with the understanding that all aspects of life are sacred and it is in the weaving of the dark and light within ourselves that we find our true wholeness. We heal ourselves and others by first contacting the inner nourishment or the "water fountain of life" within us which sustains our ability to create beautiful things in the world as well as to act from the depth of our hearts.

Imagine opening your arms to upward spirals of your divine existence like a beautiful chalice and ask that all love pour into the vessel of your heart. This love is abundant and rich, offering the fertile elixir of passion and creativity. These are exciting time and we must accept the challenges offered to humanity at this time; in it all: Unconditional Love, Peace and Unity is the answer. Change all bad habits-those that leave you with tingling bits of guilt. Cleanse your body and home and adore the “temple of beauty” that is your embodiment: your real reason for being!

The mystery of the universe is within and without us. Love the world...Love yourself...Love the change. Anticipate illuminating insights from places deep within you. Let the inner truth of your radiance come shining through. Most importantly, focus your attention and thoughts and blossom like the beautiful morning-glory. The yearning for our lost perfection, the urge to do and be that which is the noblest, the most beautiful of which we are capable, is the creative impulse of every high achievement. We strive for perfection here on mother Earth because we long to be restored to our true oneness with Almighty God.



Muhumuza Kenneth Ezra.
Nigel Obiya Apr 2013
PLANET NAIROBI (When the sun goes down)
Nur…
They were on the verge of losing this battle… it was only a matter of time, and he knew that. Through the window, he saw them advance, with a fierce swiftness that would have put anyone opposed to them at unease. Trembling uncontrollably, he reached for his weapon and held it firmly, ready to martyr himself for his family’s honour and legacy if need be. For they were not, and never would be known as a family of cowards, they were royalty... and he would rather go down fighting than cowering, that was the bottom line. But he knew that his sword, as well forged as it was, would be no match for Rath and his five hundred man strong battalion. So, biting his lower lip he waited for the pounding footsteps to reach the top of the stairs where he stood, the one solitary guardian to the throne. Martyrdom was his destiny.
“Let he that stands between Rath and the throne fall like the city walls!” Rath’s dominant voice bellowed as it got closer, too close for comfort.
He braced himself.
Suddenly, the doors burst open. And Nur... Prince Nur, finally got to come face to face with the scourge that had terrorised the lands of the sea for so long. A man of whom he had heard about from stories as a child growing up. A man that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. Nur realised that he had always been afraid of Rath, long before this moment, how was he supposed to fight this man when he was clearly at a disadvantage? For it was common knowledge that to go into battle afraid, was to go into battle prepared to lose.
Rath was a gigantic figure, and exuded the air of one who was accustomed to crushing his opponents and hadn’t experienced defeat in a while... if not ever. This man stood at almost eight feet tall, with rock hard muscles that seemed to pile on top of more muscle, threatening to tear through his dark skin. His long locks of unkempt hair fell over a face that could only be described as menacing. He had a permanent scowl that was complimented by his black, soulless eyes. And as they stared each other down, Nur couldn’t ignore the presence of sheer evil he saw in those eyes, a shiver of dread ran down his spine. He raised his blade.
“A child?” Rath barked, “A petulant child? Is that what this Kingdom’s defences have come down to? An infant?” He waved a dismissive hand at Nur.
“A prince!” Nur responded defiantly, raising his blade even higher and more confidently. This man may have been the epitome of terror, but Nur would be ****** if he was going to be talked down to in this manner, this was his palace.
“A prince huh? Prince Nur I presume? Your father was a brave man, I respected him. Even if I met his acquaintance only for a couple of minutes, before I slaughtered him. But I do respect a king that fights alongside his men, as opposed to other cowards I’ve had the pleasure of killing that had barricaded themselves in their chambers and let others fight their battles for them. King Thur was a rare breed... but a dead one all the same.” He laughed remorselessly as he said this. “And soon you will get to join your warrior father foolish one.”
Nur lost all sense of fear. Infuriated, his nostrils flared as he swung the blade with all the ferocity he could muster, slicing deep into Rath’s right forearm. Time slowed to syrup as he saw his adversary’s blood stain the sword, but realising that it wasn’t a fatal strike, he turned around swiftly, switching his stance just in time to see Rath’s massive blade come down on his head. Then there was a deathly silence.
The afterlife was nothing like he had pictured. It smelt of... he couldn’t quite place that peculiar smell. It wasn’t pleasant, but neither was it unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Then he turned around and saw her. He deduced that she was probably the source of the smell. He noticed that smoke came out of her nostrils and mouth every few seconds after lifting a sticklike object to her lips. Nur mused at how wrong the high priest in their kingdom had been when he spoke about the place in the sun... the afterlife. It wasn’t anything like he had described.
But wait a minute! He realised that the sun was still above him, in the sky. He could see it. He could feel it on his skin. So WHERE WAS HE? He felt dizzy, unable to comprehend. Only a minute ago he was in the royal palace, facing certain death. And now he was... he didn’t know where he was, or even what he was. Was he dead? Transcended? Was this just his soul? If so, then how come he still had his senses? All these questions raced through his mind at the same time. He turned toward the lady, who seemed unaware of his presence. She was tall and very light skinned compared to him and her hair was tied in ponytail at the back of her head. He couldn’t make sense of her attire though, she seemed to wear a lot of clothing, garment over garment that covered her arms and legs. She was also extremely beautiful and had a slim womanly body most warriors would **** for, he noted, and felt himself flush. He tried to see what she was squinting so intently at and concluded that she was just staring into space as she drew, he realised now, on the tiny stick and blew out more smoke. That was when he noticed how high up they were, this palace stood almost five times as high as theirs. It was overwhelming to say the least.  He got up and walked over to her, deciding to leave his blade behind so as not to come off as a threat.
“Greetings?” He said politely. She jumped as if she had just seen a ghost, dropping the stick she was holding. He had clearly startled her, so he took a step back lifting his hands in the air to signify that he meant her no harm. She breathed rapidly and began to speak just as rapidly in a foreign tongue. Nur couldn’t understand what she was saying, but the hostility in her tone and her demeanour was hard to miss. He took another step back, ready to defend himself from an attack if need be. He had heard tales of an island with warrior women who could match, and beat, even the strongest male adversary in combat. He decided to tread cautiously.


Nasim...
Nasim Naikuni was beyond peeved. Who was this ******?  He had scared her half to death and almost made her fall off the roof, not to mention burn her favourite grey, three thousand shilling trouser suite when she dropped the cigarette. And what annoyed her even more was that he didn’t seem to register how ******* she was. He just stood there with a blank expression on his face, like a schoolboy waiting for his mistake to be explained to him. Nasim couldn’t stand slow people, they got under her skin. She was yelling at the top of her lungs, which was taxing to say the least, seeing as she had been smoking just seconds ago.
“Are you slow?” She shouted, tapping at her temple repeatedly. “What makes you think you can sneak up on me like that you fool? You almost killed me. Do you realise that?” Then she stopped and studied him, out of breath. She noticed that he seemed unable to understand English and so she switched to Swahili, “Nini mbaya na wewe?” What’s wrong with you? Still there was no response.
She gave him a once over. He dressed strangely. His large, golden brown pants that fluttered in the wind seemed to have been made from an expensive material, though it was like no material she’d laid eyes on before. It bordered somewhere between silk and suede. His shirt was also made of a similar material, but leather brown in colour, matching his leather boots that were laced and reached just under the knee. He stood an inch or two shorter than she did, but she guessed that was probably because she was in heels. He had long hair that seemed to fall halfway down his back in one long braid. He looked almost exotic as he tried to communicate, but she couldn’t place the language or his ethnicity, for his skin-tone was chocolate brown but his hair looked almost like an Asian’s, dark and straight. He spoke in a tongue she had never heard before. There was also something really classy about this boy, whom she guessed to be around eighteen years of age or so. It was like looking at a darker, more pampered version of Sinbad the sailor.
Nasim relaxed a little and decided to give the fellow a chance to introduce himself, in whatever way he intended to do so. He seemed to pick up on this and started explaining something to her, making a couple of gestures, and at some point she thought she saw him mimic a fight, and then  point to the sky. Nasim still didn’t know what he was talking about, but felt a semblance of communication begin to take form. He directed her attention to another part of the roof, probably where he had approached her from. And she saw the blade! With catlike agility she swung her purse at him, the blow caught him square on the jaw with a thud! The bottle of perfume she religiously carried around in it serving a different purpose on this day. He hadn’t seen it coming and so had no chance of stopping it. He staggered backwards as she made a run for it toward the staircase but felt a hand grab her ankle causing her to tumble onto the hot cement floor. At that moment her heart sank, for she knew that she was done for.


Nur...
Nur was perplexed, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the assault. The lady had seemed to be calming down, but all of a sudden she had lunged at him with a weapon he had first assumed to be a bag. Though, she didn’t strike with the strength that a warrior would have, and also had made an attempt to flee. This told him two things. One, she wasn’t accustomed to combat... and two, she had attacked more out of fear than strife. Which meant that she posed no immediate threat to him. Also, she was the only person he had met so far and his only hope of figuring out where he was. He couldn’t afford to lose her, not just yet, so he decided to try something he was ashamed he hadn’t thought of sooner. Nur spoke into her head.
‘I mean you no harm.’  He said, and waited. No response. He tried again, concentrating harder this time. ‘Can you hear me? I mean you no harm’
‘LET ME GOOO!’  Her thoughts screamed.
He could understand her, they had made a connection. Progress...

One year later. Nasim...
“Good afternoon people? You’re hangin’ out with me Nasim Naikuni on your favourite show Voices, where you can throw any question you have regarding life... and living it, at me and the voices in my head will answer them for you... yeah, you heard right, the voices in my head. I’ll be takin’ your calls for the next hour. Let’s begin shall we?” Nasim spoke into the microphone just before a voice-over added...
“NASIM NAIKUNI, THE ONLY RADIO PRESENTER THAT’S LITERALLY GONE BONKERS!” And then was followed by some rock music. ‘So what?... I’m still a rock star... ’ Pink’s lyrics belted out as Nasim removed her headphones to take a breather before she talked to her first caller. A breather... and also to have a bit of a chat with the voice in her head. She walked out of the studio into a corridor where she was out of sight, and concentrated, her eyes crinkling from the effort.
‘Hey, are you there?’
‘Uh huh.’ The prince replied.
‘Okay, we’re on in roughly three minutes. Make me look good babes’
‘Don’t I always?’
‘True dat. What are you doing?’
‘Breakfast.’
‘It’s one in the afternoon... ’
‘This is not my planet, therefore I’m not obliged to follow its rules. I can have a one o’clock breakfast if I want to.’
‘Brunch.’
‘What?’
‘Brunch, what your having would be brunch. Breakfast... aaand lunch?’
‘You see? You get all high and mighty on me about this and you even have a name for it? If it is so wrong to have breakfast at this time, then why would your people give the meal a name? I’m just saying.’ Nur said mockingly.
‘I give up’ She replied with a sigh.
‘Nas... Nas?’
Silence.
She walked back into the studio.
“Caller... you’re on air. Shoot.” Nasim said softly, leaning into the microphone.
“Hey Nasim, lovely job you’re doing by the way.”
“Why thank you dear, but I don’t deserve all the credit you know?”
“Yeah I know... you and the voices in your head... ha-ha! Anyway my name is George, and I’m kinda’ in a predicament at the moment. You see, I have a wife and a family... two kids, but I kinda’ got into this relationship outta’... obligation as opposed to real love...”
“Obligation?”
“Yes. I met my wife five years ago in uni’ and we dated. But looking back, I only got into the relationship because I felt I’d led her on and she loved me soo much, I just couldn’t disappoint her. So I got stuck in a phony relationship, at least on my part. Next thing I know, we are pregnant and... It’s been we ever since.”
“So you want to what? Get out of your marriage?”
“I want to be with the person I truly love...”
“Hooo... **! Scoreboard! Now we have lift off. And how long have you known this person that you truly love George?” She said this with a tinge of amusement in her voice.
“Six years... and we’ve been going out for the past two.” He sounded ashamed.
‘He sounds ashamed.’ She heard Nur say observationally.
‘No kidding.’ She retorted.
(In the past year or so, Nasim and Nur had come to an understanding somewhat. After she had struck him with her purse and the little scuffle they’d had on the rooftop, and after convincing herself that she wasn’t going crazy... or that the cigarette she had been smoking wasn’t laced with marijuana or some other hallucinogen, she finally gave in and listened to the voice speaking to her in her thoughts.
‘Please, just give me a chance to explain. I need your help lady!’ He sounded desperate.
She felt sorry for him, but still suspected she could be going nuts.
He continued. ‘I don’t know where I am. My father is dead and I don’t know where I am or how I arrived here, and you’re the only one that can help me right now...’
Nasim, touched now, replied. “How am I supposed to do that? And how are you doing this telepathy thing? Are you really doing this?” She shook her head violently, like a wet dog trying to dry itself, “I’m very confused right now.”
He looked even more confused. ‘Talk to me in my head, I think it is the only way we can communicate with each other.’
She didn’t know how to.
‘It’s simple, concentrate.’ He said reassuringly.
She tried. Still nothing.
‘I could hear you a moment ago, I don’t understand. Let’s try this slowly, repeat after me... Nur.’ He told her.
She heard him, and was thinking what?
He repeated, ‘Nur.’
She tried thinking the word he’d asked her to repeat as hard as she could but he didn’t seem to be getting anything. She decided that the cigarette must have been laced with something. Here she was, on the roof top of her work building trying to master telepathy, with a stranger who just happened to own a sword. This had to be a dream, a nightmare.
‘I must be high.’
‘Yes! Yes! You’re high!’ She heard the excited reply.
‘What?’
‘You did it!’ Nur said happily, ‘you figured it out. And yes, I was also meaning to ask you about how high we are.’
She had done it. Nasim could hear him and answer back, she felt oddly proud of this accomplishment. Then she asked puzzled. ‘High? You get high?’
‘I am high.’ Came the naive reply.
‘Oh...’
‘Why are we so high up? The palaces on our island are half the size of yours, are you that many in your palace that you need to build it so tall?’
Then she understood. And laughed... ‘Who are you? And how did you get here?’
‘My name is Nur... Prince Nur... how I got here? That’s what I’m trying to find out.’ He was being honest.
And thus begun an adventurous relationship between the two. Nasim took him to her apartment that day, passing curious and disapproving looks all the way. The most difficult part being trying to explain to her boss why she was coming from the roof in the company of someone who dressed like a ******, as he put it. She made up something. And he gave her one of those I’ll accept your story just because... looks. Nasim found that hilarious. But she was glad she had asked Nur to leave the sword behind to be recovered later. That would have been a tad difficult to explain. They got to her apartment block and were met by more disapproving looks from a group of nosey old women, the type that love to mind everyone else’s business but their own, as they walked to the lift. And when they got into apartment F6 on the second floor, she introduced Nu
Planet Nairobi… wrote this a couple of months ago, it was turned down by one publisher and awaiting other publisher’s feedback. However, it’s been a minute so I decided to share it with my peoples… if you like my work, this one will get you going… it may have it’s flaws, but hey… I never said I’m perfect, I’m just a writer.
Kate Little Jan 2011
From the humblest of beginnings
Began a tough innings
A family deprived
His dad had died

So to work he went
To help pay the rent
From a teen to a man
In a short time span

He had many a job
Hard earned each “bob”
He was a keeper of bees
He picked beans and peas

With marbles and shanghai
He had a keen eye
So rabbits he’d stalk
Their pelts he sought

A butcher and baker
And fence post maker
A fisherman and fruiterer
And even spud picker

A shearer of great ability
Those shears he clicked with agility
From morn to night
He worked hard alright

Met a girl and made her his wife
Ten children now blessed his life
He provided as best he could
Forever working for their good

A large family and so little money
Life, of course, was not always sunny
Simply he lived, simple his dwelling
The trials he faced so very compelling

A ****** awful thing was done
A terrible tragedy stole his son
With grief immeasurable and untold
He held together; staying controlled

Children struggled to forgive their mother
As she left him and found another
Yet for her he would always stand
Always hoping to win back her hand

Another tragedy claimed a limb
We thought it would be the death of him
His work, his wife, his health now gone
Yet silently, painfully he continued on

We knew his heart was terribly broken
Yet always forgiveness he had spoken
We knew he lived with daily pain
But silent and strong he would remain

His strength and courage was beyond belief
But for him there would be no relief
His children were now all grown
He died, one night … alone
In Memory of 'Gunny'
A True Aussie Battler

Words by K A Little 2010
All Rights Reserved
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal
Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance
Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing
Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast
Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive
Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky
Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra
Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose
Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate
Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary
Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition
Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire
Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously
Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration
Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry
Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium
Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary
***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic
Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus
Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty
Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity
Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology
Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic
Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal
Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify
Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
26 7 word lines, each one alliterative to one letter
Lilly Penn Aug 2011
I wish I was a Swan with grace and agility.
A bright white streak
of holy earth
that cam from the nesting place of love.
I wish I could die with no one to know
that my death was important.
I would be a Swan,
a beauty,
that a tear would be shed for.
Not knowing who that Swan was,
just knowing
that it was lost.
i like to watch the cat and his agility
jumping of the roof tops
and climbing up a tree

climbing up a drainpipe
climbing with such ease
getting through the gaps
he can gently squeeze

this creature of the night
with such ability
master of his class
as agile as can be
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty
Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy
Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically
Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography
Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky            
Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry
Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy
Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory
Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle *****
Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity
Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry
Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry
Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity
Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly
Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify
Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy
Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                     
Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly
Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy
Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi
Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry
Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically
Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary
Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                
Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity
Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
26 7 word lines each one alliterative to one particular letter
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
given but only two algorithms of time, or trigonometric said in chemistry, vectors: para-, meta-, and ortho-, i'd be bored with merely mind two assertions of a beginning, one with that in this atmosphere, and one with all possible atmospheres... and a third missing? that wouldn't do! i'd need a third algorithm, to fluctuate between the atomic and the fully formed, clearly historical, ideally biased on humanism to the point of being scientifically fictional, or, to put it mildly, a Welshman in the Jurassic Period; forgetful about Freud's necessity of having allocated dreams a complexity of language necessarily worth deciphering: i want to know why the Welsh invested their lack of unconscious-imagination's (dreams) worth of the couch to digest dragons, as a much dated predisposition to unearth dinosaur skeletons, and feel absolutely no revealing remnant of collecting a people to the assimilated tongue, yet upon discovery disperse them, and abhor the nativity of the said tongue as futile when given the agility of a colonising tongue.*

what the difference between only my entombed heart
knows the difference to, write a poem as personal as this
one enables me to write one in the φarmacy (φ + θ = F...
nein veto) - politicians have lost the art of ρetoric - they simply
lost it... it's a sunken ship they try to revive while mending the sails...
we keep the Indian Summers and my hope that the
(a double definite, paradoxically accurate
given this) turnip fade-away
red becomes godly ivory when her cinnamon
choc auburn pleases her heart,
just then it might please, and i might
redeem myself, away from the Irish pub
and the aunts knitting a wedlock of
salient harmony for the churchyard
where the Sunday's best made the most
impression with the forthcoming grave
of a Kubrick marriage: redeemed with wearing
masks, later a damnation, of worn
lied attention, performed for a social status excuse:
x ambassadors: mainly Jews...
rage against the machine: mainly Black
converts to Islam...
where's the energy, with a skateboard of:
white cool everyone's happy,
or with: i'm angry... i'm angry...
                              martin Luther King was a renegade
without a hippy skateboard....
                       so it sold a million of toothbrushes
and a million fluoride attaches of rot...
cos the buck was necessary for the pristine example
of the founding father: Abram Lincoln -
got the appropriate shave, never got the congress
to suggest the kiss was a (fl)oral excuse for oral ***
upon the f.g.m. Eden minded when Egyptian
contra was suggested - yes, also called fluoride -
or Fl... then oral...  so the Frappuccino
and later the khaki chinos,
or ambrosia Mussolini and the 5 p.m. tea
catch phrase, so it just felt like dodging a meteorite
so the people could yawn when watching a movie
about Dinosaurs... or like i said:
just before earth was inhabitable, Mars was wheezing...
just before Earth gave us the sterile environment of
having landlords we had the masters of Mars...
they lived there, when Earth was inhabitable we had
Martians... compared to Earth Mars became the second moon...
but prior to the hospitable nature of earth
acquiring us, Mars was just as habitable...
this is the point where we acknowledge common sense
of the Chinese and the Welsh prescribing us Dinosaurs with
Dragons when digging up fossils and carbon dating....
this is where N.A.S.A. says... **** me... we just invested in *******...
between Darwinism and the microbe and a lot of blanks...
and the big bang... the best intermediate solution we
have is to say: before earth became habitable Mars was the first
project of divinity's expressing competence with failure
and revision.... when Mars was habitable
the sun was much smaller and much warmer...
this is the third route to seek origins,
you have route 1: from monkey came the rational man,
or the **** quasi sapiens... later the
**** deus pseudo sapiens...
2. the big bang and on the basis of nouns:
a real ****** way to say genesis...
or... 3. prior to earth Mars was the prime concern
of divine ingenuity...
through the times Mars became less volcanic and more Saharan,
just like earth at the beginning...
i mean Mars was the first earth... hence we inherited the
warring archetype...
or like philosophers: standing outside all of time and space
and a toilet blockage of imagination...
we're waiting for the third version... Venus turning
into earth... forget the monkey and man...
i itemise the sphere of the sun third time lucky...
as faked war we inherited, so too the fake love of those
to inherit our blunder... and thus the combination
of what's to be said in the first place, or anything at all...
Venusian love of the purified mammalian leveraging
simpleton onomatopoeia knock-knock... who's there?
woof! this is the alternative third route...
the one establishes us in the dynamical face of monkey
gene disparity economic, i.e. so similar... yet so different...
the other the big bang.. and then the third...
before earth became habitable, Mars was the suggested
preference... well, with the two obscene time-scales
this third alternative is in no way equally obscene.
They walk by brisk
Covered in umbrellas
On high heels with ankles
Of no appeal

They grab the shaft
With both hands
As the wind tries to steal
Their umbrage

With agility
They skip over puddles
As I marvel
At the procession

With destined determination
They ****** on
As spiked high heels
Grapple on cobblestone

Rainy day women
In gray coats and wet umbrellas
Under overcast skies
With no hellos or goodbyes
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance.  Metaphysical mystique’s  evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate.  Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive.  Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations.  Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis.  Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics.  Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime.  Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush.  Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply?  Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious.  Impromptu innuendo's juncture.   Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital.  Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies.   Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary.  Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties.  Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain,   propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued.  The question remains on the tribal:  how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them.  It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician.  Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it.  Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation.  Detinue perfective.  Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution.  Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare.  Unicorn railway nails.  Swarthy ******* swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
Bailiff's rake-ness rails and prophylaxis protocol.  Annex annul.  Detinue's perfective!  Diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abrupt.
kirk Mar 2018
There is an age old story in a place called middle earth
About Hobbits, Orcs and Wizards all fighting for there turf
It all involved a ******* ring too much for what its worth
Sending all men crazy when its wrapped around their girth
With their finger in the ring who knows where they may surf
Wars began when worlds where new the creation of times birth

So what exactly does it mean by lord of the rings
Is it the golden type or does it mean other things?
Being a lord of a ring who knows what that brings?
Is it a Drawf ,an ugly Orc or an Elf that swings?
Or a Hobbit with hairy feet bouncing on bed springs
Maybe its a Wizard or some ***** Queens and Kings
Something with open ***** spread wide like Dragons Wings
Could it be a merriment of drunken Men or a Bard that sings
A mystical sword detecting Orcs while the blue blade 'Stings'
Or caught inside an arachnids lair when her webbing clings

If the one true ring is reaching out can you hear it call
Is this the case for Hobbitses spread up against a wall
I'm not sure if its all powerful or enough to make you crawl
But its certainly a finger trap when your about to fall
Dont get caught up in a song or a bar room brawl
You'll end up exposing your ring laid out in a sprawl
First there was a fellowship so that explains it all
An Elf, a King, a Warrior and a Wizard that was tall
One Dwarf and Four Hobbits oh so ******* small
A band of miss-matched fellows so too much **** and ball

There wasn't any ladies present none in their vicinity
No big boobed buxom vixens so no sweet femininity
Just a load of sweaty men so too much masculinity
One true ring to rule them all and the loss of their senility
Nine guys on a long quest with the need of strong agility
Half way up a mountain heading for their own affinity
Inside a cave "You shall not pass" Gandalfs grey divinity
With staff in hand the Balrog's Bain both falling to infinity
Frodo's lose and upset the fellowships diminishing ability
With the hope of something more for the lose of their virginity

Just take a look at Bilbo Baggins with his transfixed eyes
With his finger in the ring is what he would visualise
His persona will be changing to what you wont recognize
But he wont want to give up the ring or even compromise
Could it be the feeling he has of the rings sweet tantalize
Or leaving this reality behind under his minds hypnotize
If he does not surrender the ring he will be so unwise
Coz Gandalf will get so ******* with Bilbo's demoralize
An obsessed Bilbo Bagginses he's under a different guise
If the ring then turns him gay it will come as no surprise

So if your in the tavern and you spot old Boromir
And he's got a pewter tankard quaffing froth and beer
If he handles the one true ring who knows which way he'll steer
He'll end up in the cocktail bar the ring will turn him queer
Mr Underhill is waiting with the ring will he ever get gear
Waiting for a stranger while the patrons look and leer
Some people in the tavern they may even laugh and cheer
But I doubt they'd be too happy if they where taken at the rear
Frodo's mistake ******* the ring his invisibility may be severe
Black riders are not far behind so there is something to fear

And if you looking for a man who's name is Strider
But you're not really sure who he is a friend or an insider
For all you know he could be a foe or a even a Black Rider
He is just a lying **** his false name is his divider
At the Prancing Pony Inn he may well be your hider
But it will be a team effort and not a soul provided
Be careful of that ******* ring your tail will get much wider
You don't want any hindrance or a ridicule derider
Don't lose your ring deep in the woods within a ***** slider
That's nothing to what lies ahead when you face a giant spider

Just beware of those Ring Wraiths the nine riders of the black
Cos you don't want to use your ring if your going to be slack
Resist the use of the ring or they'll stab you in the back
The eye of Saurons watching you blades of evil in your crack
If evil gets into your heart you'll become one of their pack
At Elrons river their taunting you cos they are right on track
They will beckon you to Mordor but it's courtesy they lack
So warn them off defeat those Wraiths a sea of horses to attack
Time and pain could have been saved and a hell of a lot of flak
If you went with the Wraiths and it was them that you could hack

And you really don't want to come across the army of the dead
There are far too many of them and you'll run out of lead
You should get out while you can just don't loose your head
Make a bargain with the Dunharrow Dead to avoid bloodshed
The protection of those ****** rings protect your own instead
Is it worth all of the blood spilled when you could have fled
Sam should keep his guard up as he may fear to tread
Cos Gollum's out there stalking you as you lay on your bed
He'll **** to gain "My Precious" filling your heart with dread
Attacking you while your asleep and any of your stead

Smoke rises from the Mountain of Doom and the hour is late
Gandalf The Grey rides to Isengard of this he cannot wait
Seeking council with Saruman but he doesn't know his fate
The lord of Mordor he sees all I'm afraid that is his trait
Sauron's great eye's looming my old friend's fallen for the bait
Reason abandoned for madness the insanity of Saruman's hate
We must join with Sauron but then what would that create
The hour is later than you think are their staffs twisted or straight
A fight within Orthanc tower this was Gandalf's one true date
Escaping the clutches of Saruman's trap his former friend and mate

Have you ever wondered how Gandalf turned from grey to white
The quest began but too their dismay the Balrog came to sight
Deep within the cavern walls the desperation of their plight
No way back on a stone bridge during that hopeless fight
The danger of the crumbling rocks falling a great height
Gandalf will not let it pass the whip of the Balrog's blight
Was it that confrontation when Gandalf turned dark into light
Or when he got tossed of that bridge was his grey cloak getting tight
Is it the strain of whiplash pulling him or the fiery Balrogs bite
Gandalf will return on Shadowfax and the Eagles will take flight

Gandalf and a group of men the Great Eagles they had mastered
So why didn't he take the ring himself the selfish ******* *******  
Those Wars could have been prevented instead of death forecasted
But it seems they'd  rather people die populations maimed and blasted
The burden Sam and Frodo faced too long their quest had lasted
It could have been completed sooner if certain spells where casted
They where to suffer seemingly with rings they should have fasted
Instead of which they shared the pain with others that contrasted
Gandalf could have flown that ring without being flabergastered
But he'd rather smoke his ******* pipe and surprisingly get plastered

Battles ensued that needn't have been so was that really fair?
Gimli will have to get his axe out so you better all beware
He'll team up with Legolas and they'll **** without a care
Keeping score of all their kills cos they are a strange old pair
Aragorn would join them and he'd take on his fare share
But Legolas was a nice boy with his lovely long blonde hair
He liked to score with Gimli perhaps he had that certain flair
I'm not sure which way his arrow went I'd ask but I don't dare
Was it fair on Frodo the heavy burden was his own nightmare
Especially when Gollum leads you into a trap inside of Shelobs lair

The anger of Samwise Gamgee at Gollums treachery and betrayal
Fat Hobbitses don't like Smeagol a defence that was quite frail
With Frodo succumbing to the ring it's to late for him to bail
He wished the ring had not come to him afraid that he may fail
So do all that see such times when you could fall off the rail
Isn't that how its always been with the kings you have to hail
It's bad enough taking the ring when your led right off the trail
And maybe facing certain death not knowing if you'll avail
Don't let the ring take control or you'll end up going pail
Bilbo has already been there and back again in a Hobbits Tale

The great horn sounds attacking Orc's and 100's of their creed
A valiant fight but to no avail when protection takes the lead
The wooded Hill of Amon Hen Boromir died of his last deed
On the grassy ***** near Parth Galen the death of lust and greed
If he didn't want the ring so much there may have been no need
For hordes of Orc's to strike him down with arrows of great speed
Aragorn's comfort of a dying man a confession to take heed
He tried to take Frodo's ring so now his heart will bleed
Men will die and get obsessed the one true ring will breed
Rings will come and rings will go so don't you spread their seed

To gain the power of the ring many battles have been fought
If the ring wasn't so desirable then we wouldn't all get caught
Killing was Smeagol's desire his stressed mind in distraught
Deagol's demise to obtain the ring is what Smeagol sought
A birthday demand a savage rage a strangled death resort
Gladen River's legacy Smeagol's friend killed in a fraught
Downward spirals of sheer desire is what the ring has brought
Gollums years of torment but still nothing has been taught
If you don't resist the ring you'll lose your male support
The power of the ring's too great and far to hard to thwart

A sneaky ******* in our midst the slime was almost dripping
The foulness of this slimy guy Theoden chilled heart ripping
Chief adviser to his feeble king the oldness of poison sipping
Exposed as Saruman's agent and spy allegiances kept flipping
A name like Grima Wormtongue you'd expect a double tipping
Unless he used his wormy tongue for a tonguing and a slipping
A henchmen of the slimiest order his tongue is always dripping
Stabbing Saruman in the back his treachery deserves a clipping
Escaping from their Orc captives good old merry and pippin
Treebeards wooden victories he'll give those Orcs a whipping

The towering strength of fourteen feet and a unique repartee
He Ent stumped and he Ent felled and he's not potpourri
Do not be hasty in times of need take notice of our plea
With Meriadoc and Peregrin they where the power of three
Going to war that mighty oak for cutting down the tree
Branching out coz he's hacked off at Saruman's killing spree
He'll ******* stick one on you so those Orcs they better flee
Cos his wood, timber and leaf are his trunks aristocracy
So don't you ******* Treebeard because you will not foresee
His bark is worse than his bite and his log's his legacy

Death is just another path give me a ******* brake
But being a lord of a ring that is a big mistake
Forging of these ****** rings why are they on the make
The one true ring that ruled them all off this I can forsake
How many wars have been lost how many lost their stake
With people killed and deaths occurred within a battles wake
At helmsdeep Gandalf the White returned from grey opaque
Sword aloft taking a stand making those Orc ******* quake
On the back of Shadowfax the rumbling ground will shake
It would not have happened if the rings where ******* fake

Sharp black mountains up winding stairs was Smeagols secret way
He'll Lead Frodo into a trap he'll make those nasty hobbits pay
The heaviness of stagnant air the darkness consumes the day
Unaware of what awaits when SHE comes out to play
Weaving webs of shadows the dankness of black and grey
Deep inside of that dark lair is where Mr Frodo lay
The Phial of Galadriel's silver light keeping darkness at bay
Sam's glimmer of hope the Elvin blade Shelob he tried to slay
Feeling the 'Sting' of Sam's despair he made that spider sway
Dark defeated by the light but Gollums pleasures gone astray

Arriving at the fires of mount doom the volcano's of Mordor
Destroy the ring throw it in the fire but Frodo wanted more
Just let it go and don't hesitate what are you waiting for
As Sam looks on the ring is mine Frodo's last withdraw
******* the ring is hard enough especially if your not sure
Don't be too obsessed like Gollum was by being the rings *****
The following of footsteps Gollum's foul bite of blood and gore
Frodo's severed finger ring lost from a blooded scarlet claw
The joy of regaining 'My Precious' was Gollums goal and law
Falling in the fires of mount doom his death ended Frodo's chore

With Gollums Demise the ring destroyed our stories nearly told
Mount Doom has fell all things must end including rings of gold
Mordor has crumbled the defeat of Sauron and enemy's of old
Great Eagles came Frodo and Sam saved from Mordors fiery fold
Frodo's fellowship reunion at the bedside of the brave and bald
They'll never be the same again but no longer Orced or Trolled
Cheering crowds the Return of the King Arwen's beauty to behold
The Hobbits bow before the king but they really should withhold
My friends you bow to no one kings honour for the hobbits mould
A kneeling of the whole kingdom bestowed the Hobbits over bowled

Thirteen months to the day our returning to bag end
A familiar sight our home the Shire we left to defend
The beginning of the fourth age Sam's marriage to attend
Sam's choice of bride Rosie Cotton his wife to wed intend
Home at the Shire was too hard to fully comprehend
For Frodo's old threads of life the bonds of a true friend
There is no going back some things time cannot mend
Some hurts they go to deep the book that he now penned
The completion of Lord of the Rings a few pages to extend
Giving the manuscript for Sam to continue the written trend

The galleon is waiting and its time to break the chain
Bilbo's journeys are over the last ship to leave the main
The time of men has come and the end of the rings reign
Gandalf's work was over the brave Hobbits teary strain
True endings of the fellowship seas call us home again
Don't be sad and do not weep but Frodo felt the pain
Not all tears are evil Gandalf knew of Frodo's wane
A departure of emotion the tears they could not retain
The saving of the shire but it isn't quite that plain
Frodo's sad farewell the Gray Heavens don't refrain

The fellowships disbanded but as if that wasn't known
Quests for gold are no more the dead are dust and bone
Elvish has left the building the trolls have turned to stone
The one true ring has been lost so its no longer shown
Hobbits are back in their holes so all of them will groan
Hords of Orcs have now ****** off after lowering the tone
Towers have been toppled, Mount Doom's collapsed and blown
Gollum has lost his precious so he'll have good cause to moan
The Dwarfs are not around no more cos their not all fully grown
Ring bearers have been and gone so they'll be on their own
The king has now returned and he's got his ******* Throne
The story has now ended but you know how far we've flown
So thank you J.R.R Tolkien thanks for your story loan
But it isn't exactly Lord of the rings so its not a ****** clone
Carsyn Smith Oct 2013
It's time to fight for your freedom.

Do you see yourself,
Silhouette against the setting sun -
Reds as deep as the monster's eyes,
Draped in cold silver?
A breast plate hides the heart,
Shin guards perverse agility,
Chain-mail protects strength,
A helmet retains sanity,
A trusty steed will hurry the process,
This cloth to ease the pain of battle,
A torch to ensure you won't get lost;
A sword to vanquish the creature that controls your heart.

Silhouette, with arm raised high,
Begins to charge just as stars dot the sky.

You have all you need,
now fight
until the only thing left you have to give
is a single breath
in which the dying words
I love you
are carried far away to the next champion
to fall at this beast's hands.
GaryFairy Nov 2013
How can he be so cocky, fight like rocky
talking in morse code, like a walkie talkie
how can he be so cold, like an ice cube to hold
so bold like a robot that can't be controlled

how can he be so sarcastic, ******* spastic
no fantastic antics seen in plastic
won't bend and won't stretch like elastic
doing flips like a drastic gymnastic

possessed with true ability, like a runners agility
but no flexibility when it comes to futility
a never seen utility with no docility
showing capability, breaking through the fragility
Alexis Dec 2014
Can not sing,
Nor play a note.
Academics,
Agility,
No strength neither.
Lust for talent,
Desire of success,
A void remained unfilled,
By the talentless.
Ode to the weirdos
I instigated the most soporific cephalic act, An Argonaut sailing within your strange eyes of others pointed retina membranes, An unsaid exodus wishes to browse your meridians sunsets tainted of that meridian, As evening falls back upon you bathed the earthly mud, Nymph Ninfuceanicus sheltering your labours of bird waste in galactic extinction and creation...

For soft aromatic worlds, you went by your house ruined Zodiac
Blurring the lost romance policy profiles, threading peat spinning the metafhysist think of his tabernacle.

The ship in question was the beautiful delicacy of numbness primary Sun, Lost Halo where one day there was countless number age, to get lost in the cold of your trellis resigned and touching your going through the watery landscape of your soul cornered iron., Spark fleeing evaporated...

How many times my Ninfoceanicus very thin you migrated with your frosty, almost scary legs traveling in a foreign-owned bird…?, Where migrating is hard to see his crosses snowy mountain plants.

What if you. Ninfoceánicas lines will plan my rickety Saturn's own trapeze degraded never stood the lofty life of the living present all this happened? Divided scratchy body plowing all unexplored fountain.


Among several of them, thousands of them managed to be among others, but one of them, violated any protocol as beautiful geese and ducks in the window of my sky, coming to ask for my company, just on the threshold of spring, next to the threshold of my window and yours…, adopted eternal brother.

She mimics the snowy Nymph the feet of all the courts of the world freely, Dancing in tight spaces where sounds beautiful my favorite track other stragglers lost images of my beautiful bird of beautiful threshold of my window as timeless dances belfry rusty sounds.
For the dark wall between your gene, which will open the whistle of your detachment, every time your commander demolition subdued light and energy to take my humble mischief…
by the way, your eyes and mine, in the vigor of sepals loved everlasting flowers insults.

Together unfairly they united as dim flowers in the air,
Divided separately exile scattered your garden,
My chronic bad inside my hundred chronically ill
I will see  Nymph hiperoceánicus, hyper rusty
By iron hanging over the mask gestures cold weather martial iron watering soil and branded satin mask stays plebeian worms my ruined face of phases of my face closet and wardrobe.


The upward castle by fierce hillsides, notify more rasterize
Your morning visit.

Among many castles many seas gang signs of femininity,
As a sliding plushy receiving a Nymph Satardia;
The first and most powerful inhabitant of the ascending Ninfuocenicus castle.

When I'm alone,
I am on the side of the broth augury sling,
Holding my application
Almost like a plumber object in the hands of a blind astronomer.

Only three steps income
Where three steps have to meet me on the runaway shadows
Of my ancestors, right neighbor pine crafty,
That hid my totemic animality...
As the blood currents green,
I lost myself…

As a front polygon,
As a front wormy adventure story demolished
In the densest darkness of your house arcane absence ashes
The cadaverous presence of the wind of my roles in pain and ossuary  of that princely that emotional solstice who anchored in your flowery landscape of love,
Spinning wheel to square steps
As contraindication to love, then need you more.


You jump on my doorstep, plain unlicensed...
So the propaedeutic of Ninfaoceánicus begins,
You write my signs and my losses as prescribed
The loneliest adage constantly fading green robes.

I often feel sad as all times outside the elapsed time,
When I feel the absence of your webbed feet oily,
Aligning by walking wearing my sun off you,
With foreign attire migrating my sunshine clothing doze...
As a gale of tulle for the South Seas who died in the wreckage of a pirate ship Pliocene…

And your sea south sorry awakening as between species
Jungle, eater vampire  as the swirl start your being lost in my
Desert be... want to be mummy augur…
Lips worst evils of unrestrained fantasy tribal worse,
They concluded entirely confined irritability.
As the bipolar lost hope,

The graft of your nomadic existence and entrepreneurial ship traveling
settled that the bipolar economy of your means of anti-life,
Closing my eyes... black aniline,
Black lost roads dancing notch watermark,
Of the hypertensive empty string, as the rope pulls and
Solves the crescent of your face depressed ocher rain.


When river, and watch your lips precursors,
I watch the surf offshore devouring my joint,
In search of  nymph Titania, your age who live with me,
My Perfect for you and my image, my imperfect picture of you and me, silky movement shores of my soul looking for you,
When I sit at the knee I bend my knee for you,
I sit on the bank remains with you.
My codex collected from you, only you...

When the cave steppe fear rages,
Tongues of fire gigantic move me by your rivers adventure
I park in your loud voice drawled from the acute bonfire
In the wooded rested than ever, it grew on your side close.

Your life was almost a straight bipolar errors,
I am now businessman making your life nearby,
Hit blowing winds greater...
And at your life in my financial life,
If you think with your hands clasped over your face
know that almost live together with you,
unbecoming my libertarian release of master your flight
hell, beastly dessert.

Most hellish ******* lastly zain,
Of the greatest forces of your body eater the myth king, fabulous race The disabled senior verse confined treaty,
Confined you that is farthest from you **** nymph Ninfuoceánica,
requalification boiling in behaviors you to exist in the relief of your abysmal way but your gooey body resting on you..., rests meditating  Do not get tired, you do not pretend to be the ruin of your prey voice sound muffled, only animals that disturb you bring your pursue days true…

Your lovers sulfur knew your colors and smells of the most pestilential entity, that overshoot and tone your threefold, as a roar of the soul that comes from your soul, do not let mental baseness mimics with anemic,
lower hostile masts your anti angels have to ride on gold gatekeepers... For the spot, if mythomania and your alcoholic schizophrenia infinity, ...

hulks  of alcohol vapors in the pulmonary vessels by butterfly flocks,
They roam the reins of collecting and rasterized your weakness sudden death, As well as the sudden resurrection of my body.
And rebukes the storm, rebuke thy right entity endowed *****'s nerve
That's where I have to pursue your side embraces more hug me,
More than your own warmth, rather than your own bravery, unbridled carriage.


I often repeat a million times,
The times I did not hear your perpendicular attentive pauses, stutters hurry ****** your frequent alcoholism, not to distinguish only slicing nonsensical attitudes sometimes slow thinking agility of a lover, Thinking that ****** and reduces that sinister and discouraging, that scrape thin that limits who want to be and not dominate.


Mapping by hiding places unusual materials,
Brochures polished of the scruffy codex and guide you an  unguided
By the groves close views as telescopic sights that are lost.


I know, my biggest Ninfuoceánica death may not be reborn on the third day…!!, But if it is not to lose lost when the day ends.
Wise ancestry and slavery will govern the pale fronts
Your hidden and mobile lives on an olive orchard,
Hiper meditate funny without feeling any known gene passed ******, nor read past experience in your prodigious map of oblivion.

Satardia; He lit a match just as night fell,
Sea and sky colours compressing regrets that burned their matches

It burned his blessed same figure as the little pair of gifts
That remained on hold as senior Ninfuoceanica,
Only his dark side Petric windmill stone...


Someday reborn to confuse his disciples confused gentlemen,
And their abandoned phrases that he dominates.

Feverish ardor,
Feverish torpor
Every living illusion is extinguished...
Go to your coward stampede
Of gatekeepers on buffalo between bloodthirsty goats...


Jose Luis Carreño Troncoso Copyright 2015
Related  August 2006
NeuroBio Poetry Essay -  analysing human behavioural depressed,  at the same time fantastic forest voyage  into the Nymph's World
Rob Sandman Mar 2019
Storm Rider(sample the doors)
start with "Riders on the Storm" softly repeated x4)

Try catch me-leap from ground to sky,
light up the night as I fly,
Tip to tip mischievous-watch me salmon leap-avert your eyes,
The Celtic Dragon Storm Riding tonight,
feel the static on your skin lets take flight

Vast vista’s fistula’s in the earths core,
fly with me you wanna feel more?,
cut core to core claws - millivolt amped,
up to attack lay down my stamp,
Earth tremblin’ rumblin' humbling when I catch the spark,
revered by Tesla - hear me Arc…
Another mic blown - booth in chaos,
I stand firm - you're reeling as you're reeled in tossed,
like ragdoll physics my rhymes rip timelines,
Faultlines and default rhymes?
Never,I’m too clever,agility reveals your fragility,
Claws rip and drag you down …to a sea of tranquility…
Hush now ,shush now,
hear the susurrus as I leave you nonplussed

phase you back to your body  trans warp jump
tachycardia spasms chasms torn by talons,
pounces crush tons to ounces as I flex my neck…
hasn't changed since Wu told ya’s”Best protect ya neck”


Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...

Feel me breath blowing like a gale - the Gael without fail,
I inhale and exhale flames of hell,
hellbent- time to repent
you’re scurrying in gullies while I seek your Scent,
SNIFFFF-grrrrrrrr that’s the sound of doom,
from the Emerald shore to the Pharaohs tomb,
No room to escape the breath that melts steel
rabbit in my headlights feel my claws life steal,
oxygen and nitrogen erupt to seal your fate,
debate-berate, get estate in order,
one Molten blast of fast rhyme its over.
scorchmark against a granite wall,
burnt to a crisp by the firestorm from hell,
well welcome to hell do you feel the heat?
Sandman slim dragon never fears defeat,
20 years here  spittin’ in the underground,
Now its time to vacate my space hear my sound
A no go area,gates of Mordor,
dragged by the Dragon to your place of ******,
claws like claymores rake your face,
prepared to ignite,take flight-seal your fate...

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah, the firestorm
Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah, the firestorm
Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...

Call me Nukker ******, you're due to be Slaine,
one scaldin' verse melts down your brain,
searing breath - death bursts unprepared heads,
Streets run red with the blood of the dead.
Feel the headwind....blowin' as I exhale.
My fetid breath tastes stale as you inhale

lucid juices sluicin in the Wyrms Den,
just One spark you're gonna BURN then!,
wingspan of an Antonov best back off!,
forked lightning blasts ground - as I take off,
fly head on to the heart of the Hurricane,
calescent death as I stake my claim,
rider on the storm,your attempt? - luke warm,
spells incandesce without stress as they take form,
the Serpent serpentine's through the night sky,
take eyes off mine? - your turn to fry.
don't cry it's fate, conserve your hate,
you perspire before your expiry date,
a Deer in the deadlights I'll open the gate,
to the next realm, next challenger calcerated,
another Champion obliterated,
ardent first to set foot on my Isle
now you're here you feel febrile,
feeble feverish attempts cut short clean sliced,
by the Firestorm Dragon with the eyes of Ice.

(Soft-"Riders on the Storm" rpt x2 Chorusx2 end.)

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by.
Julie Oct 2012
You
Your words secretly lure me into your heart,
an art to restart,
my life from your point of view.
The tears of my past evaporate,
to create,
a life where you set me straight,
as my heart slowly inflates, as I fall in love.
I hold on tight,
slightly fright,
but your smile excites me letting me know it will be alright.
Explaining to myself that it won’t be perfect,
you have this effect,
that disconnects,
my brain from my heart,
as my heart takes over the whole aspect of love.
You,
sweet with a high irritability,
with the agility to catch me before I shatter on the ground.
My fragility,
quickly erupts as your arms curve around my flexibility,
telling me I have found, the one.
But even through the storms,
my soul reforms,
to make me a better person,
not only for me but for you.
As it transforms,
it informs us,
that our relationship is something out of the ordinary,
that we have worked hard to pursue.
Graff1980 Sep 2018
Swiftly,
I soared with
Tarzan level
agility.

Up in the air
only a couple of
feet,
barefoot flying
in my grandparents
garage
out in
a town so small
it should just be called
country.

A leap
imagining I am
flying fiercely,
daydreaming
then landing.

A piercing
pain pressing
through
the first foot
I landed on.

I looked down
shocked to see
a pointed top
of a rusted *****
staring up at me
right through
my foot
without a shoe.

Thus, the adventure
ended with
a wounded warrior
under ten
stumbling back in
to my grandparents’ house
after pulling that
pain in my foot
out.
M Harris Apr 2017
Elemental Metamorphosis & Transcendental Milestones,
Sempiternal Origamis Of Her Temperamental Clones,

Spiraling Perpetuities & Her Sacrosanct Fortitude,
Procreating Tipsy Ruptures In Her Permeating Solitude,

Perplexed Momentum & Her Outlandish Constellations,
Nuclear Decay Of Her Masked Radiations,

Verbal Shadows & Her Tranquil Ascendance,
Encasing Her Tears In Liquefied Transcendence,

Yearning Oddities & Entropic Oceans,
Vitalizing Inexorable Emotions Into Phosphorescent Potions,

An Hourglass Existence Of Her Fabricated Virility,
Dwelling In Quantum Ascents Of Ardent Agility,

Silver Ghosts Of Her Prismatic Abyss,
Convicting Glass Houses In Her Ecstatic Bliss,

Telepathic Shades & Hollow Palisades,
Detrimental Novelists On Uncharted Crusades,

Pernicious Scars In Her Profound Gaze,
Erupting Genesis Inside Her Dimensional Maze,

Perplexed Periphery & Digital Fictions,
Annexed By Her Hourglass Depictions,

Breakdown Sanity & Her Concealed Screams,
Lifelike Dewdrops In Her Visionary Dreams,

Satellite Searchlights & Love//Less Progenic Mutation,
Paralyzed Sunlight Sparking Genetic Alteration,

Monochromatic Streams & Cinematic Realms,
Static Screams Of Her Toxic Schemes.

- 05:43 AM -
Sabila Siddiqui Jun 2018
The crescent moon has been sighted
Lantern of hope has been ignited.
Doors of mercy have been opened
And the devils have been chained.

It is the month,
Where clusters of sin await repentance
And good deeds worth are multiplied.

The month
In which we abstain from food
From dawn till dusk;
Empty stomachs
But tongue heavy from thikr.

A month
Enlightened with Allah's vast mercy
And extreme prosperity,
Tasting rewards
And bathing in immense blessing.

So choose to
Break mouldy habits
Reform the fabrics.
Reboot your entity
And Recharge your faith.

Choose to strengthen the backbone of your lives;
The pillars of Islam.
Recite the book that has been bonded with threads of faith
and encrusted with pristine words of Allah.

Choose to unshackle yourself
from the blackening shackles;
Untangle from messy mirage of the world
entwined with your wrist
And braid it into ladders to heaven.

Choose to join congregation at prayers
To pray to Allah seeking his affinity
Asking for forgiveness and pray for agility.

Choose to handle tough times with sincerity
And dig faith in one another.
For strength and forgiveness
can be found under his love
And this can be the month
That can bring you a step closer to Allah.
David Bird Jul 2010
Since I still appreciate you,
Let's find love while we may.
Because I know I'll hate you
When you are old and grey.

So say you love me here and now,
I'll make the most of that.
Say you love and trust me,
For I know you'll disgust me
When you're old and getting fat.

An awful debility,
A lessened utility,
A loss of mobility
Is a strong possibility.
In all probability
I'll lose my virility
And you your fertility
And desirability,
And this liability
Of total sterility
Will lead to hostility
And a sense of futility,
So let's act with agility
While we still have facility,
For we'll soon reach senility
And lose the ability.

Your teeth will start to go, dear,
Your waist will start to spread.
In twenty years or so, dear,
I'll wish that you were dead.

I'll never love you then at all
The way I do today.
So please remember,
When I leave in December,
I told you so in May.
This isn't a poem, it's a song. And it certainly is not mine.
But the wordplay is so utterly stunning, it needs sharing wherever possible.
Please watch the genius in action here....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NOZH0y7VxE
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
that you may read poetry without a tongue, with a plight
of sore eyes, of eager eyes, only eyes,
and shelter yourself from the rain
with a hand agreeing to greet it falling extended:
plucking mushrooms as you
might be reasonable meeting it with
umbrellas - but umbrellas
far beyond the flowery gutter of scent
and decaying ambition where the frugal
fungal arise like lechery of goblin ****
celebrated - some might add
a dice throw of Macadamia nuts -
eyed i too you the death-stinker;
this is the English revision of Zulu -
primitive tongue extended into abstract,
by those speaking English as foreign,
my English is an English reversed on
the colonialists - its a robbing tongue when
effectively used, with this in mind
i'm starting to think the Irish are bigger *****
than the Welsh even with the middle exported
as V into France and the longbow-men -
remember the antonym of German compounding
is the hyphen in English - optic talk -
failed rubrics of arithmetic for one,
failed rubrics of spelling the other -
i wish you knew English as well as you once
you knew Swahili - i actually wish you knew
Swahili ably talking to you grandparents...
i'm not your grandfather, even though
i wish he wishes he was -
you became gluttonous in tongue as they in body,
fat overdose from mono-linguistic apartheid -
you let them undermine the bilingualism
inherent in you... the Prussians
and the Russian and the Austrians never stole our
tongue... of course we devolved it borrowing
too many words, but loan nouns are never able to evolve
into slang, into urban talk that deconstructs nations,
where once was France now there's only Paris,
the same with England and London;
that you may read poetry without a tongue,
and make tongue read unto mind a Braille -
goosebump fidgety prickle - sour palette without
saying Thai in York - for the eyes to see the deformity
at hand, for the tongue to turn silent for one evening
alone, Venetian snares of the omni- eyed fake
entrusted with Cerberus' oath (only howl a wake
when your master Hades passes into the Styx for
voice of democratically reprimanding judgement over all
souls to arise from droplet into their own content
river form); for i too would have taken to resurrecting
the tongue, but the tongue was forgotten for a purpose
of agility in sports and un-thought poetics of excessive
rhyme, hardly the jazz, hardly the blues,
and hardly poetry - jazz i agree beyond measure a mint
cloud among the down-pouring heavy-clad-grey-clouds
of Mozart - i admit the blues the invigoration -
but rap? rap i just don't get.
me and this homeless man just laughed it off:
and i'm a Brazilian (blue tracksuit bottoms,
yellow t-shirt, green hoodie) - Eminem nemo Emo?
get the beach bleach out... we're going to stain those
starfish as coordinates' worth of horoscope... twirling
twirling twirling... cartwheels a'hoo a'hoo a'hoo ha hey.
i mean, sorry, i don't get the "hood" -
i don't get post-grunge either... i think i'm getting old -
and it's true what they say... the only black friend
was a drug dealer - wanted me to teach his daughter
to play the guitar... i said i listened to Bob Marley's sons
and he said i listened to culture -
racial stereotypes can be fun, i guess, if you're honest
about them... keen on the Illuminati,
so i said: anything better than Kubrick's eyes wide shut ******?
n'ah? hell, if it can't beat that, what's the interesting part?
or as i itemise the rewards the Koran states...
those 72 virgins... is that a metaphor for gym membership?
if you're a lazy drunk like me... the last thing
you want is 72 eager beavers.
Aditya Shankar Feb 2014
I sit down in front of this piece of paper, pen in hand, the wind through my hair and a single dim light’s reflection in my glasses. I close my eyes, tired of repeatedly trying and failing to write an article. I wearily rub my eyelids and sit still for a while.
And that’s when I see him.

He stands against the backdrop of a waterfall, the green grass gently caressing his bare feet as he walks slowly towards the calm, turquoise lake. A sudden whiff of tulips assails my sense of smell as he walks into the water, his composed steps mirroring the complacence of the cool blue he walks into. He wades in till he is waist deep; birds chirp in the distance, trees sway in the wind and everything the sunlight touches melts into a golden brilliance.

As he walks in, ripples branch out from his torso, tattooing themselves upon the surface of the water. They move forward with him, each with a colour that merges into a thousand new hues as two of them meet. I stand there watching in stupefaction; he does not acknowledge my presence as he continues to walk forward, his eyes fixed upon the blue-gold sky over us.

All of a sudden, he climbs out of the lake and begins to hurriedly hunt around, muttering to himself
‘It has to be here somewhere.’ He darts off between the trees, with the raw agility of a young impala. As he continues to fly over the many shrubs and roots in his way, I chase behind him panting and puffing as the entire forest falls behind in a blur of green and brown. And then we hear it, the scream tears through the woods and the sky explodes into a whirlpool of colour; he turns back and looks at me, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief. I skid to a halt before him and I realize that we had reached the outcrop of a cliff. I turn to him, my back to the massive drop from the bluff, a quizzical look in my eyes as I find myself unable to articulate the words in my mind. He puts his hands on my shoulders, the fear etched deep in his wide eyes. And he pushes me off the cliff.

The air whistles past my ears as I fall to the ground; it seems like an eternity has passed before I finally rest my head on the hard ground beneath me. Every bone in my body feels like I have walked headfirst into a moving train, I gingerly raise myself off the cold floor to see him standing over me. He raises a finger to his lips, signalling me to follow him. We walk forward cautiously, the fear of an unknown disturbance still hanging heavy over us. We walk through an open field of wild grass, the pale silver stalks dancing in the breeze as the moonlight lit up our path. He doesn’t say anything to me; I walk alongside his shadow as his shadow. We come to a clearing with a single tree standing proud in the middle of a vast expanse of nothing. He gestures to the tree, we make our way there with haste. I walk into the cool shade of a massive oak and collapse under its mighty protection. He walks around the tree and returns with a figure in his arms. Next to my tired form he lays her down, a look of gentle calm upon his hard features. The moonlight dances upon her face and her shallow breath rattles through the night. Her stormy grey eyes lie wide open as she continues to struggle against an unknown force so as to keep breathing. He stands at a distance, silently watching the two of us on the ground; one battling for her life and the other silent and still like the great oak tree above us. Her lips part slightly, a single droplet of light rises upwards into his palm and she falls into a silent stupor. He gazes at the pinpoint of white in his hand, bringing it slowly to his mouth. I watch on as he proceeds to swallow it, confused about the events transpiring before my eyes. He throws his head back and looks up to the pitch black sky and a million tiny lights wink back at him in response. His eyes open wide, his jaw falls low and a burst of brilliant white light breaks through his tall, proud form. I see the mouth move, I hear him speak a few moments later. The voice rings loud in my ears, resonating from everywhere and nowhere and he says to me, “The path you seek is straight ahead. Do not deviate from the road and you should be fine.”

My head falls back against the firm bark of the oak as I witness my guide disappear into thin air with no evidence of him ever having existed. My eyes close of their own will and I embrace the comforting darkness of slumber enveloping my mind.

My eyes fly awake as a sharp ray of light dispels my drowsiness. I wake up to find myself looking towards a convoluted, winding path leading into the woods. Against my will, I find myself rising and walking down the dusty road. I try to hum to myself, no sound greets me. I try to dart into the woods, but something brings me back to the same path no matter which direction I turn. The sun beats down hard upon my head, and in the distance I hear the faraway call of an eagle. Resigned to my current fate, I walk forward taking in all that I see around me. The sunlight dances between the shadows of the twisted trees, the brown floor beneath my feet gradually begins to evolve into a lush green lawn and the air I take deep, calm breaths of is painted with the scent of rain. I brush aside a shrub and stop in my tracks as I take in the view before me.

I stand before an ocean. The sand twinkles against my eyes, giving me a psychedelic glimpse of a million pinpoints of colour every time I blink. The tide rolls against the shore lazily as the sunlight bounces off the surface of the water. The sky lies mirrored before my feet and my toes play with the fine grains as I walk onto the beach. I sit against the onslaught of the slow tide and feel the refreshing spray of water upon my tired form. The sun begins to drop gently from the sky, retiring to his home beneath the vast expanse of water. I watch the sunset, I watch as the sky is painted by the whims and fancies of the final rays of sunlight as they herald the appearance of a single crescent sliver of silver hanging delicately in the sky, casting a dim white light on me. An ethereal breeze gushes past me, and I find myself obsessed by an urge to enter the water. I stand up, the waves breaking around my ankles as I walk into the water with an oddly familiar slow, composed gait. I walk forward calmly, the waves breaking against my torso as I begin to feel the ground sink below me. I let the ocean cradle me; I surrender myself to the mercy of the sea as she carries me in her lap. All emotion begins to wash away from me; I do not feel the familiar wave of fear as wave after wave crashes over my head, pushing me down beneath the surface of the water. I feel no panic as I take in the water in deep gulps, I feel nothing but a calm of certainty as I feel the ocean filling up my lungs. I smile and close my eyes as I begin to plummet down under depths. I embrace the vast nothingness that spreads out before me and fall unconscious.

A blinding pain flashes behind my eyes, as I gasp and sputter to find myself on a jet black rock, sprawled out like an empty carcass. I look around, unable to find my bearings, and my eyes fall upon a massive, emerald green pillar. It stands on the shore, firm and unmoving even as the ocean tries desperately to push it off its pedestal. I lift myself off the rock with difficulty and force my sore feet to stumble towards the pillar. I fall at its base, every bone in my body feeling like a deadweight. I rest my head against my arm, panting and coughing when I feel a hand upon my shoulder. I look up to see a small boy smiling down at me with an odd benevolence, the light of ages of wisdom alive in his eyes. He puts his hand to the pillar, and I watch in awe as it begins to crumble to a vibrant green ash. I look at him in plain bewilderment, and though he chuckles silently, I hear his deep, rumbling voice in my head. “You have nothing to fear from me, I am merely here to deliver to you what you have been looking for all this time.” I hear his voice tell me. He walks over to the shimmering green pile of dust and pulls out a piece of paper. He places his hand on my head, clasps the paper in my hand and smiles. I see his small head throw my face into shadow as he blocks the sunlight falling on my face, and I sit still, relishing the cool shade.

I open my eyes in front of this piece of paper, pen in hand, the wind through my hair and a single dim light’s reflection in my glasses. And on the paper, I see this article.
Well, this is my first post here. And I know that its "Hello POETRY" and this is not a poem, but whatever floats my boat, right? :P
Marvin Jet Apr 2016
To play together as one,
united unlike none,
to those who play be you have been warned,
for the step you may take might be your turn,

turn for what? you might ask,
for us their is but one task,
and that is to win ,
don't let your patience wear thin,

for the sound of torment and anguish,
might just make you want to wish,
to not have played this maddening game,
for some might be so lame,

but let them take their aim,
we will shout out our heroes name,
for glory and honor unlike none,
those who know none begone!!

for this is a battle of defense,
be it strength, agility or intelligence,
because what you might pick,
might make you want to stick,

for this is game is ancient,
with events so transient,
victory we shall claim,
as we shout out our name!!
RAJ NANDY Oct 2014
BULL   FIGHTING
(WITH A CLASSICAL TOUCH)
                  * By Raj Nandy*
(I)
The Minoan Civilization of ancient Greece,
Was well centered in the Aegean island of Crete;
And around 1600 BC this civilization had peaked!
Seeing their frescoes, and paintings on potteries
and vase,
Scholars concluded that ‘bull-jumping’ was
perfected as a gallant art!
Those jumpers grabbed the bull’s horns, -
And receiving momentum from its violent
head-****,
Vaulted over its back in a somersault,
To land on both feet to break their fall!
I was spell bound by Minoans courage and agility,
Their acrobatic feats performed with such
dexterity!
Those bulls were not killed and no blood was shed,
Some acrobats might have been injured instead!
What a shame for our bull fighters of date!

(II)
Today bull fighting has become a popular sport,
Where the bull gets slaughtered amidst loud applaud!
I recall those Roman amphitheaters that remained
jam-packed,
When the Gladiators performed their fatal acts!
But even those Gladiators had a chance to survive,
Our cornered bull has no place to hide!
Friends, to see blood is an age old thrill,
But none would like to see their own blood spilled!

(III)
Our Matador today is like a popular Rock Star,
While the bull becomes a martyr in the pit by far!
The bull’s mighty horns are sharp and strong,
Can lift up a man like a rag doll!
But when the Picador lances the bull’s ****,
The bull never gets a fair deal and jumps!
Next the Matador waves his ‘muleta’- a red cape,
The bull makes a final charge but cannot escape!
I wonder if the bull sees red!?
The Matador then amidst much pomp and applaud,
Spikes the neck severing the bull’s spinal cord!
He is greeted by flowers and cheers of ‘Ole’! ‘Ole’!
Let us learn from those Ancient Minoans, -
That's all I have got to say!
                           - by Raj Nandy
When reading about Ancient Minoan Civilization, I read about this ceremonial sport of 'Bull jumping', which is seen painted on their vase too! So I compared it with our tragic Bull killing spree in the ring!
NeroameeAlucard Oct 2014
Now for those that don't know
I'm a huge fan of ninjas
From cyberpunks like Hiryu and Jago
I guess my subconscious is linked to them
These warriors in the wind
From Sheik to Smoke
Ermac's telekinetic choke
Ryu Hyabusa to scorpion
subzero to Joe Musashi
These warriors in the wind
are part of what defines me
Raven and Yoshimitsu

I'm nowhere near the ability or agility of a ninja
Ninjutsu probably would end up being the tool of my demise.
I may never reach the skill of a ninja
but that doesn't mean I won't try
Thia Jones Mar 2014
Skipping ropes tied to lamp posts
hopscotch was another for girls
I'd try to work out the rules
but dare not ask, nor yet even
be seen to be showing interest
sometimes I'd be invited
to join in girls play
I could hold the rope
while others skipped
but had not the grace
or the agility to skip
at all well myself
there were role play games
of families with dolls
proudly displayed
tenderly nursed
and I would be offered
the role of 'daddy'
though I had no clue
of how to do that
having no father myself
so I would be told
to arrive home from work
to sit in my chair
to put on my slippers
to smoke my pipe
to hear tales of misbehaviour
by the children
and I would be amused
but would be told firmly
that I must be stern with them
then when that was done
to eat my tea and afterwards
to sit watching the telly
distracted from the game
that continued around me
or to go out to the pub
and I thought that
fathers must be
the most boring of people


The rough and tumble
was not for me
why would some boy think
he could throw me down
straddle me, pummeling
overpower and hold me there
trapped, despite my struggles
I learned early that
scratching, biting,
flailing, kicking
were not permitted
nor were tears
yet I shed them still
and screamed and scratched
and bit and flailed
if I could not avail
myself of natural defences
generally expected of girls
then why should my attacker
receive no more than
mild admonishment, if that
while I'd be advised
to "toughen up"
and the goading
carried on relentlessly
"you run like a girl"
"you throw like a girl"
"you kick the ball like a girl"
"you fight like a girl"
as though doing those things
like a girl were demeaning

Cynthia Pauline Jones 30/10/13
SassyJ Jan 2016
Communication technology recognition

Reformation in monopoly contortions

Feel the attuned tunes from satellites

Setting light like an antenna televised

Usher prolific hologram vised in vision

Bid manipulation bye to new world neon’s

Motivation from free thought movement

Commendations cemented in another time-zone

Complement to comment for extra terrestrials

Electrical vibrations moving from wired modems  

Floating up above the skies, a heaven end  

All life become a past tense lie, come lie

A dead fantasy for the oars ain’t tacky

The most surreal reality, the stability, an ability

Congeniality, this is an alien evasion, adaptability

Figure a boxer on the ring, trenching victory

An agility the accessibility to the victorious flag

Tracing admissible tunes, planking in a cool challenge

The heroic and not hectic hologram check the angiogram

Its not a diagram, but a radiant heart an earthy soul

Am a do anything, buffing myself to do anything

Ain’t a deal rocking the crowd in crazy clouds

Breaking the underground like a Fujita F Scale tornado

Ronaldo tormenting the ball in a field with F clef societal

Social control and orders, tormenting the ****** to extraordinaire, an extradite

Streaming live make you believe like you can live for real

Stratifications, ****** classes and sewn mobility

Chasing dreams in the winds deeply wheeled in a well

Be well as we sink  so deep to seek and hold the dense

The essence of the whirlwind, it’s a seep through static

This rollercoaster an aspiration to inspire then perspire

Ever higher, from the root to crown charkra, a tantra

Annata,the ascending holographic magnetic hero

Tuning visions to dreamers and travellers

Hold my hand as we sink underneath the stratums

No sputum, just headphones.... a culture, it’s the new age soul
An alien televising from another time zone. The monopoly grounds broken by the new free thought movement, questioning all the control and social orders. Calling to break the ground of 'normality', shaking up the routine with a F scale tornado or even F clef crescendo. Humanity, need to sink deeper and rise from root to crown charka to envision the vision, to unravel the stratums and ultimately uncovering the true "human essence"... One peace!
Anson Thomas Dec 2014
I followed the lead,
Of my sinister caretaker
I was taught to serve my greed.
And we lived with men of no stature!

That was when my people, brown
Just free from the clutches of blond folk
We spoiled many men, who wore an unseen crown!
For our avarice grew of their prosperity’s scent.

We hooligans ruled the fear,
Of the humble and the righteous
They knew they lived in no ****** shire.
Our bare sight, rouse them nervous!

We revered no civil code
Vices and hatred our nub,
We belonged to no family, no abode.
No handcuffs strong enough to help curb!

Such was our thing, our cupidity,
To which none dare rise against!
Our victims seldom showed their agility,
For grief we inflict is a poor choice to endure.

The honest fell on my grime feet,
But how long will justice fail to prevail?
My hired judges failed to sow my ‘righteous’ seed,
And I was pushed into the chasm of evil to wail!

My life until death now lay waste,
These insidious walls seldom let me rest!
My wretched soul yearns to run away in haste
The very thought of freedom, a precious zest.

The days at first I numbered for a lost cause.
They made me hope, the very part I often stole,
From the just by virtue of my flaws!
At night I sit waiting for the sun to rise.

Those rays of light seem now as precious gold.
No prison mate was a heart of resort.
As a shoulder to cry upon and hold!
I yearn for a wise consort.

A woman like a mother, I wish.
Though a dream, I least have this liberty,
I feel blessed to have it to relish.
But I remind myself to repent for eternity.

I am reduced to a number,
I dread to now count!
Seldom have I got to be in a deep slumber,
My nightmares bark like a hound.

I stare out of the window,
As repentance flows out of my eyes
A woman came searching for me that fine day
The woman of a just man I once slay!

She didn’t have revenge in her mind
But pity and mercy like the viscous honey!
She bought sweets, I met someone kind!
I felt mortified of having robbed her man.

She claimed to instill goodness in me,
That there would be no disparity amongst us
If she choose to be passive and loathe!
That day after years I felt a bird sang to me of joy.

She preached to me of gods,
Of the same virtue but different form!
I prayed to them, one day a lord,
And soon watching her made my heart race!

For she was the only woman I knew
The only one I fell for,
A forbidden love, I fancy!
Soon she departed to her pristine abode
And with her left an eternal grace!

To this widow I owe my soul,
Her goodness makes me hope.
That I can be righteous and commit no foul
And this was a dream I sowed passion for.

I would stare out of the window
To see the birds soar high.
No mountain stopped their flight,
Nor a tree tempted them to rest.

Then when I heard of death’s call
And that my endowments lay unperformed
Her words proved to be true,
Hope surpasses the depth of every woe.

There lay a little of life to live,
A respite offered for a promise.
And they let me see the world,
All its grandeur, all its bounty!

It seemed nothing like yesterday
For they had taken from me
The chunk I should’ve valued most!
The world had risen in time,
And I was left with none.

But it felt akin to waking up
Like from a deep slumber,
In a place not known to me!
And every priceless breath I now took,
Like the first breath after coma,
The courtesy of the widow!
An ode to all the prisoners around the world who repent.

— The End —