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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
when the moon resembles a Cheshire smile,
a sickle, or a scythe,
away from the two-dimensional
experience of a full-moon,
when the moon looks two-dimensional...
the night comes,
and then the shadow of
the earth is launched
against the moon...
a full-moon is when the sun
can "see" the moon in
its orbit, a perfect orb...
but when the moon
resembles a Cheshire smile,
a sickle, a scythe,
or a scimitar...
   the moon is peeking
from behind the earth...
only partially exposed
to the sun...
i've watched, i've tried to listen
to the sound of the vacuum,
being filled with Holst...
  sorry... no...
yet... light reflected,
rather than initiated, sourced...
can allow you to see
a three-dimensional shadow-object,
which is earth, projected
onto the face of the moon,
when it is...
  Cheshire smile, sickle, scythe or
scimitar shaped...
i always thought...
ever peer at the canyons on
the moon, the darkened spots?
ever think that if another world
existed outside our own...
the white bits in between
the canyons of meteoric impact
where the landmasses
on another world, similar
to ours?
             that's why the moon
is not a perfect orb...
the earth casts a shadow onto
the moon...
               i.e. when the moon
is a fullness orb...
it is in-front of us...
    that's why i was asking for
what substance emits light
on the moon... light from the sun
hits earth, the seas,
and illuminates the moon
in its pristine orb glory...
  or so i think...
   only when the moon is behind
the earth in orbit,
so we only see fractions of it,
fractions of the Cheshire smile,
the sickle, the scythe, the scimitar...
that's when the earth is in-front
of the moon, and the moon is behind
earth, hence the moon is partially exposed...
earth casts a shadow onto the moon...
hence?    )   and the variant degrees of it...
you wouldn't think it,
but when there's a full moon,
and no shadow cast:
  the moon looks two dimensional,
or... what became known as the flat-earth
argument...
but if you look at the partial moon...
you can see the shadow...
and the shadow looks three-dimensional!
i'm not kidding...
i might be drunk but then, by being drunk,
i see no monopoly on lying...
drunks hate lying,
drunks hate lying because there
is no ******, no 100m run parallel in
a straight line...
  the whole labyrinth tract
of "truths" while sober?
   it, doesn't, work, on, drunks...
i just want to get this observation
out of the way, and return to my
gingerbread man cocktail
of pepsi and whiskey...
and that wes borland album...
  wait a minute...
the sky is blue because when
light hits the oceans,
       the blue moves into and construct
the atmosphere...
so a full moon is when
the moon is completely hidden
from the sun,
or fully exposed to it?
   ****...
    what's copernican in terms of north,
east, west or south?
    ah...
so a full moon implies...
the moon is wholly hidden behind
the earth...
     the light sourced from the sun,
travels into the Pacific ocean,
and a light refraction occurs,
a bending of light...
and those of us on the Atlantic scale,
who are experiencing night
while those on the Pacific ocean
experience day...
               so the moon is illuminated,
hence... light refraction,
  hence the moon is "not really" an orb,
but, given its orbit, a curvature ) or (
although momentarily being an orb...
to reiterate...
    a full moon is when the moon is
in front of the earth,
or a full moon is when the moon is
behind earth?
            well... given Einstein...
and the gravity dip...
   how light bends and doesn't travel
in straight lines...
  d'uh... the ) or ( curve of:
              half the moon in light,
half of the moon in shadow -
          and thereby other fractional exposures
of the orb, and thereby other
fractional hiding places of the orb...
i have my excuses:
i'm either drunk, or i'm drinking...
but to think, of these sober people,
having serious problems with videos,
comments, opinions,
           whatever you want to call it,
sober people?
    sober people drunk on resentment?!
i'm a drunk with a resentment at...
having "my" jukebox being ****** with...
i don't listen to any new music,
i turn into an anemic,
or an albino...
   no new music, my thinking enters
a period of involuntary starvation from
a lack of: a chaotic new playlist...
and like i "said"... looks like the freedom
of speech cue has become overrated...
writing is what would always become
the Georgian Stalin of Russia,
or the Austrian ****** of Germany...
writing would always subvert free-speech /
video commentary...
it would subvert it...
after all: the devil makes work of idle hands...
just as: god makes idle work of excessively
waggling tongues.
Connor Reid Apr 2014
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Zigzag Universe says: "I am the space of Devananda" Way of God "and meditation. We know how a great inherited noun “de meditatio” has reflected on the ideas that are reconciled. My numen comes from the Greek Peltast mercenaries, creating survival in the contemplation of standing on those who are not in the fords of the breath of blood. We focus the mind so that the sheep that graze in the meadows fall upon us when we reconcile ourselves to somehow standing, waiting for them lectured here in Archangelos and in placebos of the bread-making gifts of the grasses. Obviously, stability allows us to get colossally on our feet and meditate where we have to sow hopes of meditation and work them with the pleasure of experience, which transports us on spirituality on the lips that are pronounced by the horses that graze, filling their bellies with the idiomatic hopes that transport us to the intellect and the conclusive horse. On the other hand, in contemplation there is more spiritual than intellectual character since it carries an experience and not a conclusion. Philo of Alexandria; Philo Judaeus, being a Hellenized Jew, is our mentor and philosopher star, born in the year 20 BC. He is contemporary to the era of our Mashiach, maker of everything and the neo-universe of Vernarth "Duoverso". The new universe of Vernarth being apologetic, Jewish and also Hellenistic therefore makes of our creator and all the theological creative thinking of all his creation. Divine providence and grace are and will be your superiors to have universal kinship with the Zig Zag Universe that migrated to Duoverso Zig Zag, for the providence of divine powers, who are in this range mercifully allowing and forbidding the splendid power of the royalty of Christian meditation manifested. Those of us who bear his goodness transformed into passion, we are the ones who create his theocratic rise, doing sovereign service, courage, joy and caution of human ethical satisfaction. We surround ourselves with our philosopher Philo for the diaspora, for the benefit and virtuosity of laws that emanate from the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The stoicism of democracies weakens the ungovernable powers of self-wisdom, they decay before those who ignore who they are and will be, under the symbolization of the supposed Jewish leadership of offering their children to the sacrificial altar ambivalently. The warmth of the afternoons in Tsambika increases the macro radius of our zigzag, binding the biblical pages with Platonic Greek philosophy and anti-material stoicism, with goods re-delegated to the natural good where it comes from. Our writings are the inspiration of the demiurge of the embodiment of a bakery recipe in the idea of the lowing of Zeus's stomach, with the solid dissatisfied discourse of not creating more bakery hectares for Stoics and demiurges. Although the thought of Philo permeated the fathers of the ecclesiastical epic, as in its origins in Alexandria, they will be Ambrose of Milan and Augustine of Hippo, with weak influence on the Jewish tradition, particularly in the rabbinic tradition that was born in one or two centuries after his death. Part of this is due to his use of the Septuagint (the Bible translated into Greek) instead of the Hebrew Bible and his allegorical interpretation of the Torah. His work also gives references to religious movements that have disappeared today, such as the Alexandrian therapists. Zig Zag was and will be moved away between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are propelled within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zigzag Universe, being born on a stellar night when it touched our life the earth, being able to see how the cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making of it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the bing bang, emerging from the other side of the car, observing us and seeing ourselves in the Horcondising face anti-material. We are science that models the energy and matter system in causes of the ancestors, with whom their life and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made us great paternity in Vernarth, being in the Dodecanese, being a cosmos in the curvature that makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the oaks of the Horcondising of Vernarth and also the time-space that has not been troubled by the origin or the inflammation of the stars that move irregularly in zigzag , for the fractality of its component, which is clearly Aramaic blue light, in circuits of cumulus movements skimming the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the sleeping universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso  that is the universe awakened and young of thanks "

Duoverso says: “My distribution of nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macrowaves, which are the percentage of the spaces of the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach phylogeny in Gethsemane, now lying in a stagnant decomposed future, in a specific frozen present. My final station is to place the Zigzag Universe on the re-expanding medieval chrestomathy, in qualities of Sub Mythology, already settling here in Archangelos. The implosion of my gravity has created worlds of visibility of great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light-years, like an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being science or not, acquiring from the hexagonality, the primogeniture of the passage that from Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism, in whose Original is attributed a fractal of the two-dimensional shape of a line of the Mediterranean fractal coast, resembling the gems of the crown of King David to that of the Messiah, seeming to be similes, but of irregular geometric formats. To build gems in landscape spines, basically subdividing themselves into equal conical funnels and then being randomly displaced towards their central point shared with King David's crown, recursively repeating it in each square until the desired level of detail is reached, in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Church of the shepherds in its fractured hexagonal base, simulating to be snow falling on the top of the roofs, wherein the Kafersuseh manger, the Mashiach was born and died in the abstraction of the Beams One-dimensional in foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortals and do not see you with divine eyes in self-likeness of our hysteria of the failed plan to increase the size in the unknown geometry of this new dimension in the implosive movement of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailed in their nature and in natural infinity. Here the new privileged world for self-similarity in the mental and cosmogonic functions of Vertnarth was envisioned, at intervals in each space of gloomy clouds, bringing accelerated bombs of messaging from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees towards other humans. My correlation is an infinite fractal with the reversible observable time and with the pattern belonging to mobile echoes of a space, which is occupied by Vernarth as multi-study and integers between fractional integers”

Hyperdisis: “Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the jungle of the Duo Universe as an alternative of energy Zigzag and Duoverse, which triggers our observable world what a great eye is, which ignores and knows extreme distant and focal parts of the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by my form of Hyperdisis escorting him. I go in arduous colors in gradient for its limits of positions of verbality, and solutions of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macrowaves are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in the fears of reaction and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian cosmic. Examining the double of the macrowaves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography of hyperdiction, is the correction of the error of the current universe, losing itself, in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time ... !, we are left at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter "

The sub-mythology having already been constituted, Hestia appears, having taken a great nap. When she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, she was seen changing in size, when she was six meters away she looked dwarf and when she was two meters from him she looked monumentally giant, but with a versatile countenance, therefore she was already appreciated in the last steps, with the domestic figure of a Goddess who emanated light-years from the chimneys of her habitable galaxies. The critical immanence that would happen would be the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and the Hyperdisis, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in a great proscenium ratio in the vicinity of Tsambika, between the Mind / Meditation for a constant mechanism of Wisdom / Meditant, according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called Triverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which goes backward advancing between the rapid lights of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units millions of years of lightly compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, in its Prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the heart of fire and of the passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paved by the light of the clarity of faith of the owners of the hamlets that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika, in search of Vas Auric, cheering with the omphalos stone, which marks the navel of the world with the challenge of wandering towards the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils on her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterward. to be swallowed by her father, and then expelled from himself, regurgitated in candle flames, of love in a blessed house full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with angles never contained, sliding vibratory between distances that deduct minutes from Hestian space, for the purpose of approaching its finiteness, and inaugurating the sub- finite, which will never be a source of termination in a puzzling end of equationally physical unfinished time. This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-finite)

Saint John the Apostle says: "Not even death recognizes the dimension of the universe when it detaches itself from the capsule of the body ..., less from the Duouniverse ..., making at night what is day and what is a day at night"

Vernarth says: “I am being reborn, the variety of times between myself and myself, are you. In my new creation and Duo-universality, with rules that angle my thoughts where my muscles did not reach. Today we are plagued by invasive objects of new creation, and in particular, I feel them bustling with the wrinkling of the strings of the balalaikas that I had in Moscow, with flat thoughts and now with flat atonements that I do not know, but my courage climbs where they fear me. be poor of feared value. Rather greater fear on a larger scale and related limits where infinite dramatic areas fade away almost make me an atheist in atheism. The ribs of time, gropingly, are oversized, in the ribs of the five-fold dimension of the Duoverse that imagines my curved, over-curved world, not knowing how to reach the line that allows me to know it head-on and full, on the coast of light that If now I see the Mashiach in Gethsemane, in the Olives Bern, walking straight ahead towards me, with another starting point going back, but I being in the creation that for God the light of himself towards the stars that are reconverted into stars, in all addresses calling each other. "
Zigzag Universe
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
has anyone said anything to the LGBT movement that,
ahem, it is also a pronoun? i can't believe people are
getting dragged into:
                a. not only being taught
a secondary vocabulary that's "political", well, let's just
say democratically fascist - but that
b. a theological argument
based solely in the pronoun category is pointless -
i know point b. isn't really big,
or relevant, and to think
that St. Thomas' gospel once rejected
by the Church came back and
reigned in so much havoc that
it could have sparked the Syrian
civil war, and in general:
well... better edit Jesus from the bible...
at first it was the imitation of
the Kippah and the Tonsure -
in between the peacock and the pig,
religion resides - how you juggle
that field is up to you...
i tend you approach it as: well, whatever.
but this is really the best to be alive,
you can laugh in the night like you'd
never imagine laughing before -
i mean - who the hell would think
it wise to attack someone who sees
grammar use and wonders: but that's
also a pronoun, the changed Freudian
that (scalpel probing utility), later
popularised as it - or the complete
objectification of unit, aliases involve:
thought, self, personality, character, etc. -
well it's catching on like a ******* virus,
this unearthed grail of the Egyptian
desert - yes, they did travel to Egypt,
and look what came back...
perfectly fits Josephus' account of things,
which is literally two sentences
including the words: Mt. of Olives insurrection
deposit - i'm literally showing the easier
way out... most people took it too literally...
the existence of demons turned allegorical
altogether, but the existence of the words
inscribed as: make the outer the inner,
and the male the female: just shows you a lack
of both grammatical knowledge, and
poetic knowledge - the literal approach throws
you into the maggot pit of bullock -
and that's how it's going to say...
people took it too literally, that's the first
wave... taken as a sign of guilt from
a colonial past - they call the Visegrad
the new goose-stepping surgeons of thought,
this idea of a free and open society
has no boots on the ground in Anglophile
society - they fake being arrogant by
being courteous - being courteous is a sublime
version of feeling one owns a moral
superiority, which one doesn't...
and can you actually imagine yourself
being dragged through the filth of a discussion
concern pronouns? learn to build up a
subconscious of pure grammar association...
the unconscious, who Jung discovered
to be a hive you can't control,
i once suggested the idea that the collective
unconscious would resemble a society
where plumbers didn't know they were plumbers,
and no one knew what they were doing,
but incorporating the individual i see
the point of finally rationalising the individual
via the collective toward the unconscious -
the great free ***** debate -
primarily though, the particular use of language
will never reach a universal use of language
that isn't fragmented into a pseudo-arithmetic
of grammar - but it would do you a greater
good to endorse and implant grammar spectacle
to see past the fluidity of casual language use,
i.e. spot the ****** debate and say: hyphen!
down the middle! it! after all, we were children
once, and we played the game: you're it!
and ensure there's laconic appropriation while
people become forceful addicts of the flesh
to provide the weight to the categorised words
due to their change, and you're all airy fairy
with just the worded explanation,
still with the required genitalia and 2 billion Chinese;
but it's true though, look how horrified
the church is... the old geezers are not getting it,
they left the Egyptian shepherd unleash hell
on both Christianity and Islam...
the revision of the kippah was the monkish
tonsure - but this bit about ***-changes?
once again, blow-bubbles-through-your-lips
by motorising them and move your index finger
up and down... hey presto! a mongolian harmonica -
i can't believe so much intelligence was wasted,
and so much incorporated, and so much lost,
over a piece of skin that wasn't even categorised
as cartilage - it's a joke, right?
well, if it ain't, why the **** am i laughing?
if you learn grammatical categorisation of words,
you learn the insulating method of using language,
if whatever is offensive, becomes inoffensive,
someone will spend a whole life arguing the
transition from she                   into                 he,
with the haircuts and other adjustments,
while you'll be there, calling it neither he or she
(the end and the original result), but call
the individual accepting the transition by
the act of transition - incorporating the past
and the future via the transition period,
it! that's the laws of grammar, grammar in
psychological terms is the subconscious:
Freud tapped into the unconscious with dreams,
i managed to censor dreaming and sleep,
hence i tapped into the subconscious by
exposing grammar as, well, yeah: subverted language:
or language submerged by universal laws -
               in context you can understand
everything i write, in content? probably not -
again the boiling point is not 100°C - it's
universals and particulars - that's the 100°C of language -
via the thesaurus you get similar d.n.a. strands
(i just hallucinated a smiling face, but not too vivid) -
i.e. via synonyms and worded cleansing of antonyms
   off the respective suggestion as zenith-conundrum
                                                                               of Socrates:
       if something is universal it's evolved or translated
   into context - the context? using the alphabet and
words... (time references to coordination aren't necessary,
   well, something has to be unanimously expressed
  even if via dyslexia) -
                    what's particular is what's rigid in terms
of evolutionary adaptation - verbiage, i know!
   inescapable! what should i do? gauge my eyes out?!
again, dittoed paraphrase, shortened self-plagiarism:
     if something is particular it's independent or non-reciprocatory
  within boundaries of context-out-of-context: content,
   which means a b c d e f g... but arranged to a self-proclaimed
deviation (let's call prefixing the self- to a word provides
    the whole mechanism of deviating non-universal
automation, mildly put: eccentricity) -
                  in summary, you ever wonder what's
related between the list of phobias such as arachnophobia
and xenophobia? apparently the term Islamophobia
was translated into Greek as: god is one, and Muhammad
is his test subject... the sum of all little fears -
         oddly enough phobias are spontaneous and are
rarely instilled, they're lightning strikes...
i see a big spider, i recoil - it's not a permanent setting -
i stand on a ladder 3 metres off the ground, sure:
acrophobia -                    i sit in a crowded tube train,
yet again: claustrophobia - but these phobias are
a sort of antidote to the maxim: the thing to fear is
fear itself... phobias are reflex reactions to being conscious,
how people managed to translate them into reflections
is beyond me... i happen to come across phobias
all the time... but in a reflexive way: a ****, a spontaneity
surrounding them... there's nothing to be reflective about...
it's not even a phobia when i tell you a similar
reaction: suburban street at night, beer, cigarette,
walking, eyes not concentrating on anything...
~suddenly two women sitting on a low cement fence
in front of their houses startles me... the immediate
reaction is a nervous shock... who the **** would
think of that as being a phobia worthy a category?
no one. which is why i don't understand
the concept of Islamophobia... it's weird...
i don't get the same nervous sudden **** of seeing
something that isn't supposed to be there
when i walk down Oxford street and see a Burqa-clad
woman... whoever invented this word,
had a really ****** time at school and transcended
all laws of etymological construction:
i.e. on basis of really claustrophobic syllable constructs,
Islam is way beyond syllables, it's a noun,
as if the suffix / affix phobia - or little fear,
no, not sigma fear, fractional fear.
Derek Yohn Nov 2013
The blank page stares at me
mockingly, an empty wishing well
of impermanent desires, my
thoughts a herd of nomadic
feral cats to be coraled.

It is a mathematical permutation
of the identity matrix, imaginary
numbers and exponents,
fractional divisions with
no order of operations.

Solve me for x, given y,
yield absolute value at
absolute zero as my
function crosses Cartesian boundaries.

     | x |  =   y * (universal truth / personal experience)  ±  squareRoot(-1)

y  =  zero;  go.

Factor in gravity (9.8 meters per second^2),
we have lost cabin pressure.

Please show all work, points will be deducted,
this is a test.
bonus points if you can solve the equation...
Mark Lecuona Nov 2014
For it is written to grant forgiveness
No matter difference or malfeasance
To never speak ill of one another
Or deny each other our subsistence

All men are created equal parchment
Holding these truths to be self-evident
The oppression of the Kings colony
Patriotic revolutionary

Migrating minds irrational to sane
Reserved safe harbor but to others pain
Land of self-righteousness and victory
Exceptionalism and destiny

Ships billowing with holds of chattel slaves
Fractional human beings ordained graves
Until brother killed brother for freedom
Assassination emancipation

Forty acres and a mule recompense
Jim Crow separate but equal pretense
Lynch mob street justice terrorism rope
Vietnam veteran unable to cope

James Earl Ray bullet Memphis balcony
Bull Connor another dead Kennedy
Black power fist raised Mexico City
Malcolm X panther Muhammed Ali

White supremacy freedom riders dead
Mississippi white cross on fire dread
Rodney King can’t we just get along plea
Is skin color all we will ever see?

Should they get over their Mockingbird past
Should they burn the city or should they fast?
Oh Lord should we turn a cheek in silence
Or fight with Kings dream of non-violence?
It's just something to think about... I'm not saying anything except there's a history that maybe needs to be remembered if we are to understand... and I don't mean understand criminal behavior. I just mean to understand despair... I wrote this as a "Heroic Couplet" (10 syllables per line) just to raise the bar of complexity...
The Zig Zag Universe was and will be excluded between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are driven within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zig Zag Universe, being born on a stellar night when the earth touched our life, being able to see how the cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the Bing Bang, emerging from the other taste of self-observing and seeing ourselves in the face of the Horcondising anti material And Universal Biomass. We preexist under science that models the energy and matter system in causes of the ancestors, with which their life and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made us a great paternity in Vernarth Biomass, being in the Dodecanese, being the cosmos in the arcuate curvature that makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising and also the time2-space2 that has not been afflicted at the origin or in the abscess of the stars that move irregularly in zig zag, for the fractality of its component, which is clearly aramaic blue light, in circuits of cumulus movements brushing the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso that is the Universe shaken and young with gratitude’s "

The distribution of the nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macrowaves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach phylogeny in Gethsemane, now lying in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific. Its final station is to stake the Zig Zag Universe on the re-expanding medieval crestomatia, in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangelos. The implosion of my gravity, has created worlds of visibility of great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light years, as an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not, acquiring from the hexagonality the primogeniture of the passage, which from Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism, of whose Original fractal is attributed in the two-dimensional shape of a line of the Mediterranean fractal flap, resembling the gems of the crown of the King David to that of the Messiah, appearing to be similes, but of irregular geometric formats, to build gems in landscape spines, basically sub dividing into equal conical funnels, and then being randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's crown, recursively repeating it in each square until the desired level of detail is reached, in the curve that joins the landscape to B ethlehem and then to the Church of the Shepherds in its fractured hexagonal base, figuring to be snow falling on the cusp of the roofs, where in the Kafersuseh manger, the Mashiach emerged and died in the abstraction of the One-dimensional Beams in the foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortal and do not see it with divine eyes in the self-likeness of our hypochondria and the failed plan to increase the size in the unknown analytic of this new implosive moving dimension of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailing in their nature and in the natural infinity, here the new privileged world was envisioned for self-similarity in the speculative and cosmogony functions of Vertnarth, at intervals in each space of shadowy walls , bringing accelerated bombs of messaging from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees to other humans. "Its correlation is infinite fractal with reversible observable time, and with the patronal belonging of mobile echoes of a space, which is occupied by Vernarth as multi monograph and integers between the fractional integers”

Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the grove of the Duouniverse as an alternative of energy Zig Zag and Duoverso, which triggers our subconscious observable world, what is a great reflecting lantern eye, which ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the Beams One-dimensional of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse and in Orion. Change of arduous colors in gradient in Avant Garde, for its confines of perspectives of verbality, and of amendments of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macrowaves are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in the reaction disturbances and recreation of multiform plasmas of Christian cosmic savior. Examining the double of the macrowaves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, already in millions of light years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography of hyperdiction, is the correction of error of the current universe losing itself, in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe,but all of them being more than time ...!, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter "

The sub-mythology having already been established, Hestia appears, after having taken a great nap. When she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, she was seen changing in size, when she was six meters away she looked dwarf and when she was already two meters away from him she looked monumentally huge, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in recent years. Footsteps, with her domestic Goddess figure emanating light years from the chimneys of her habitable galaxies. The critical immanence that would happen would preexist the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and Hyperdisis, as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in a great ratio of proscenium in the vicinity to Tsambika, between Mind / Meditation for Wisdom / Meditant constant mechanism, according to the cosmological constant, taking them perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called Triverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range; therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which goes backwards advancing between the dizzying lights of creation. Immediately afterwards, the Universe is torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units of millions of years of light compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, in her prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the heart of fire and of the passion of consanguineous love, “Prytaneum”, smoothing the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of the hamlets that were founded when they arrived at Tsambika, in search of Vas Auric, cheering with the omphalos stone, that marks the navel of the world with the challenge of wandering towards the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils over her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only maybe there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterwards. that his father swallowed it, and then it was expelled from himself, regurgitated in flames of love candles in a blessed house full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with never contained angles, sliding vibratory between distances that discount minutes of the Hestian space, for such a corollary of approaching its finitude, and inaugurating the sub-finite, which will never be the source of a term in a disconcerting end of time that is not equationally physical. "This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-finite)"
Zig Zag Universe / Part 19
Without the souls of Trouvere, will he aspire to spheres from where he can replicate himself in the ductile state of the ceremonious Energeia...? The naive action is univocal as the first practice modulated in inclinations and lexical motricities, where they die within their fears, failing to hope and convalesce their desecrated wounds congruent in concepts of Energeia, as an arbitrary neologism to move what in itself is not self- scrollable. Vernarth after witnessing Stratonice's intermission decides to run barefoot for those who banish needs on the parental scale of his range. Succeeded by the need of Energeia towards the impudent sense of being enraptured in possibilities, and supernatural substantialities that transported him in the Epistle even to his desiring hands, but in natural causes, and kinetic emotionality in the destiny of the principles of a movement that dialogues by a spinning spin; alembicated in particles of displacement time eccentricity, towards itself in the synonymous statics, providing intrinsic angles to be associated with the rotation of time and Epistolary demands so that the quantum light can relate the energetic spiritual emotionality, with the own dissociated relationship in the spaces of appearance; where it is to be believed that there is a moment of bias provided in the emotional-movement rooted in linear memories of the temporality of the Hellenic mental axis. Everything is proper in the coordinates of the speculating, which is adduced and duplicated in Poielípsis or unveiled generation of relativistic emotions. For this reason, Vernarth naughty importunates this metaphysical precognition, alluding to particles that generate dissimilar inclinations in lapses until reaching the threshold from when Stratonice partially divided its material and spiritual origin into stationary diversity, in meditated phases that will not take place nuclear, but in the polymathy of its exteriorized threshold, and of the emotional mass of its free and passionate matter that concerns its strident and impalpable Macedonian origin.

From this moment on, the intuition corresponds to the angular reinforcement of "Poielípsis", in this way the coordinate of the Souls of Trouvere becomes present, as pseudo images of the Diadochi, involving magnetized radial movements that will lie in the spheres of physical value., in the garb of the Gerakis and Petrobus, who strived in the sense of the energeia of the Epsilon neologism, not to restrict themselves as Aristotle affirms, investigating the being towards a mono-sense in this causal, of such alpha that it says the paradoxical, demonstrating the diversity of optics. Faced with this diatribe Vernarth from the naturalness decides to empower Souls that are part of both topics according to Vernarth, it is to alleviate the potentialities of the acts that apprehend the light of genius that coexists with both. What the entity justified us in unfolding will be delivered by divine intelligence, so as not to reduce the free power of the Epsilon that was extracted in the welcoming presence of Stratonice still withdrawn in the atmosphere of the Voielípsis (substitute scale of relativistic emotions of Vernarth). There are few seconds that can be extended more from a selective argument of trends in the specifications, which could be attributed to dimensions of the Trouvere period of souls, lacking stillness in simulated biological environments, as if they deliberate the naturalness of an expression of who It does not philosophize if something has to detach itself or grab hold of creation to privilege the natural, re-arguing affection when professing, if there is time to express it, so it is intuited what the virtue of muttering simultaneously in the laborious, and in what does not progress. The dynamics of this Poielípsis is to dress the Voielípsis, as an analogous addition of quantum causality and of temporal and timeless Christianity, since it supports a conjugate mix deified by Saint Thomas Aquinas, heading towards the prop in the mega absorption of Christian Aristotelian ideals. The souls of Trouvere will be residents of the indeterminate spiritual mechanics, to deposit effects of the incredulous versatility in themselves, in the sub-aquatic depths that coexist with the geological structure of the cavern of San Juan Apóstol, but in subterranean concomitance, under the same axial coordinate that is sustained sub-geological. Namely; They will coexist as long as the Mandragoron of the Duoverso and its Voielípsis are established, but three hundred and eight meters from its antipode in the underwater base of the Profitis Ilias.

The antithetical line is the verifiable germinability of those vertical events of the plinth settled by the Souls of Trouvere, containing the germinable starch of the growth of the ergonometric stirrup of the Zefian Bolt, which from zero elevation to 308 meters above the Aegean level will form a mega extra parapsychological bilocation, which will be gestated in its uniform vertical chronological numbering, with the pre-Christian Pythagorean and post-Christian representation in the coronation of Carlo Magno, mentioned in royal visions by the Apostle Santiago, in the versant apology of Pythagoras as an entity supra divine, envisioning the scenographic depository, and fragmentability of these three components of this start of the Hellenic Magna in the hydrographic, sub-terrestrial geological and residential basin of the Souls of Trouvere.
The upholstery of the Pythia of Herófila attacks the subtended of the flying buttress that supported the volcanic cavities of the Sub-Patmos, indicating its agreement with the Souls of Trouvere by its disoriented cognitive dissonance, generating paradigms that traced stones that formulated Aquarian sounds, in a dominant tonality by the minuscule machine of light, more distant from the incommensurability that escaped eclipsed in the resplendent major note that becomes monarchical by the hypotenuse of a rectangle in three subdominant angles. This brings about the thaumaturgy of Pythiais, the mother of Pythagoras who, together with Vernarth's Poielípsis, forge retentive songs given the scarce natural light that was only born from some of Trouvere's souls called Poielípsis, in stories of the oracular Delphians. The Poielípsis remains encapsulated from the thaumaturgy of the banal anti-desires that would make it mortal, for a hypotenuse that makes the gift of poetic prayer tangible, prompting the Bio axiom, by fertilizing scaled suspicions of repeated mortality in the banner of risk. Stratonice well points it out:

“The signal field has been prophesied today for the Apollo tripod. Having to reencause itself in three parts of the support of the oracles, and in clairvoyance in the pre and post Christian insemination of the gift of the word that redeems man from sin, sub-tenant of the flying buttress, from the interface of the supra trinity of sin as a blood element, and difficult to evade or avoid. Here the Hegemonic energy of Alexander the Great has been condensed in the arch of ideas, pointing out that the diseased body of Antiochus; my father…, is supplanted by that of the to happen all the trances and difficulties that are assumed after the hazardous departure in Babylon. Therefore he has to bring all the corollary prophesied in the death of my grandfather Seleucus in the hands of Ptolemy Ceraunos. Wanting to dress up the irrevocable interference that occurred in Judah by his Diadocos gangs, opting for the effect of his offspring, therefore on his spiritual stretch of energetic residual and static mass, ad libitum that will end when unleashed in his son. All will already be consumed in the pathogenic body of Antiochus, and of the love for my mother where she was abducted, and possessed she sees by retaliation from Alexander the Great for proven insubordinate ethical demands. "

Stratonice walks with the sendal that should be translucent by Santiago of Compostela. As an intra-everlasting geometric raconto, subduing fears that slide through the sendal of the dogma of the architrave, where no philosophy can look higher if it is not allowed, typical of vegetarianism or freedoms that turn green in fears that do not illuminate life. eternal, perhaps from the same Matematikoi who doubts a basis for Adfinitas, to understand limitless limits, taking Pythagoras to the soil of Crotona. Always, someone who is ignored of the linguistic power, he plans to rewind spheres that still weave crossed angles, placing himself in scores to consider as an irreplaceable past. The soul of Poielípsis adopted a Pythagorean conception, in the halters of the livid legions of Orpheus, as if it were his consecrated hypogeum where the high position was, to stir to the embankment where it will merge with the Zefian arrow. This liquefaction should purify all storage of cognitive and circumscribes of those ancestral, becoming reincarnable pre-Christians, who transmigrate in the need of osmosis of universal unity. Atonal music will transmigrate molecules to great sidereal distances, being the same replica of the other eurythmic, in multi-trigonometric periods, vivifying the fractional number residues as souls of the same numeral that finally perish of Pythagorean digits, perhaps at the angles of the Phalanxes of Vernarth or in the oblique crucial moment that slumbers in an elegy, flourishing in those beings that do not Live...! Already under-treated, they will only be souls tired of keeping themselves alive and deprived of their morbidity, in a dissociated cause of immortality that will distance itself from the forbidden abstinences, in liberating exercises of any count that ponders in the coming etymology of the Vita Pythagorae, on the divan of the joys of serving his doctrine, which saves himself, and which will save the Messiah, for those who in the soul have no sacrifice of a lamb that grazes..., nor on the pedestal that goes ahead in the centuries..., pasturing what nobody was capable of ?. The second triad of the oracle of Apollo of the Souls of Trouvere reveal Charles the Great, favored by the Apostle Santiago for the protectorate of Compostela and its spiritual regency, invited Charlemagne from Aachen, in 33 consecutive years of dispute with swords, stating that the Saxons never complied with the treaties and signed surrenders. Charlemagne placed himself at the head of his army on several occasions to fight with his sword against the Saxon danger, also entrusting the troops to the counts when other matters required his presence.

In the second segment of the concave wasteland of the straight ascendant of Trouvere, he crowned Charlemagne emperor of Rome and the Franks, predicted by the Apostle James, in defensive papal struggles and in defense of Christianity. In this paradigm it appears how they are transmitted from the dead ungraspable world, they unite here in the axon of Poielípsis for the sake of the times that occur due to the anonymity of a silence that augured to link, and to know within what the endless intrinsically organic movement is, as well as the biological cosmos in the discovery of the Jacobean route. In what better region than the Dodecanese, he will be fused by twelve apostles, and now the brother of the son of Zebedee; Santiago brother of Saint John the Apostle. Dating back to 778 AD, spreading to Hispania. In the ****** and constant fight against the Saxons, Carlo Magno, entered Hispania crossing the Pyrenees, as a preview of the aforementioned Jacobean Route, everything raged witnessing their overwhelmed squares in the fueros of the Trouveres, who were Pythagorean elite soldiers, who had been bilocated in this post was Christian, preceded by the perfidious Basque in the forests, subsisting separated right here from the progenitors of the Trouvers, who claimed to be the strongest to continue them to Pamplona with Charlemagne. All escaped from Islam, and not a few Christians resented this affront, the dynamics will be reflected in the Songs of the French Gesta, to enter the Jacobean Route on the way to Santiago de Compostela, when the Calixtino Codex, in its book IV o Historia Turpini, the apparition of the Apostle Santiago to Charlemagne is told in dreams, pointing to the Milky Way as a way to find his tomb, which must free them from the Saracens to be able to venerate their relics with the enamels and medallions that they issued in the Apostle's crypt in Compostela. The souls of Trouvere, are beings that enjoyed a short life in the Pyrenees, they enjoyed the fortune of originating a liberator of post-Christian inheritances, mechanized by the exquisite citation of Pythagorean antiquity, behind indigo faded in red blood cells, to dress the sendal of the figure of Faith, freed behind those who should have dressed her as a Codex Calixtinus.

Five sections rose along the straight line of the Trouvere pyramidal axon, the base of the liturgical appendix that honors the multidimensional space, with antiphons for the cult of Carlo Magno on the underlying Patmos. Santiago was lacerated in the Holy Land far from his Brother Apostle Saint John, but he came to meet with the Trouveres who came from the rugged Pyrenees. Santiago passed the Strait of Gibraltar and reached Padrón, which is about 20 kilometers west of Santiago de Compostela; there some angels took him to the place where he actively rests. In a boat he arrived..., and always by the Mediterranean he will now reach Patmos, still acquiring the iconography that attempts to find Charlemagne, and a codex that would unite pre-Christians like Pythagoras and Aristotle united in the relic of the taxpayers transformed into three maritime rivers, concerned with a predicted belligerent episode, to say that all roads lead to Patmos, like Locus Sanctus, of all the shepherds who heal their sheep in which they are not of others that are populated with souls white, for the good of others. Thus the souls of Trouvere from the Pyrenees revealed themselves as predecessors of the raiding of the shells 308 meters below the Profitis Ilias, in agreement with Stratonice who would be arriving in Macedonia, where the passing of the centuries would tell him about the Jacobean Route instructed in confronts, and concordances with the airones of the Trouvere, protected by a rectangle in three subdominant Pythagorean angles in the dissipated darkness of the golden indigo of Theoskepasti, in the meridian of Kímolos.
Poielipsis Souls of Trouvere
It harassed free fall, it was affected by the friction force in the absence of the tefillah, the walls became more taxed and accelerated with gravity that exceeded the acceleration of time, gravity triggered the rest that was in the outside walls and made different kilometers apart, with the free fall at more than 9.8 km per second. Beneath the ground the dimension was made lower than the intake embankment, creating placements in revealing swaps in the solar position, for anyone trying to level the force of fall and its acceleration versus gravity around bodies that were moving accelerated and scattered. The earth constantly hurried its mass to preponderate and go where something or someone could rescue it, the air was inked with an offer in the cases of the imprisoned airs, which from the graves adjoining the valley of Kedron kidnapped its areas of lavender physiognomies to link it to the mantles of the Tallit, which in some cases arose with thousands of souls from their graves, to receive the cushioned rubble between which they were electro-magnetized with the blankets, and the wiring they generated, conceiving that they would gather them in the naive and demiurgical plates, for the holistic retransmission of the tract to Patmos, starting from the Cyclades all the way to the Dodecanese.

The sensitive ex-karst plates of Patmos trembled through the passageways of the Cyclades, which permeated in a ratio of the first reflection in the distance vision that approached between both physical episodes, but the second axis of reflection was made aware in an unknown perspective close to the underwater elevation of the Profitis Ilias, close to the entrance sinkhole, between the variables of the inter plates that were assigned to the reflective tapes of the Beit Hamikdash that mutated to the Megaron Áullos Kósmos. Here the omega will resume a minimum of constant forces, emphasizing the friction that bellowed by the hands of the pro-zealots who had left those sarcophagi in the Kidron Valley, in the average anchor values of the great leaks of the friction with the falling water by millions from the inexorable wind that aided the indivisible objects in the Kidron valley ratio, as a reflection of free fall hitting the friction between the Bern Olives, with torrential rains that were made periodic for an esplanade near Mount Scopus. This seat suffered from the force of friction in the fall of the wall, appreciating the burials that were and will be the reactionary phases of the Hellenistic degree. Objects faded to the state of rest and gravity that cavorted through the valleys, replicating distances more than periods of Elijah in the Judah desert itself and in the Dead Sea. From the depth of the valley, aqueous elements emerged with the proportional speed of the falls of the material and immaterial bodies, outlining the second Newtonian law, as the holy water submerged into the flow of the super-atomized savory, which was reconverted into the same Beit Hamikdash, to materialize in the submerged and hidden effects of the pagan force, hinting at the analogy of the equinoctial of the Dyticá that pushed the wave of the Kaitelka whale, in the constant of speed, tensing the force of the rocks that never stopped moving until his body igneous was quintupled in the fifth dimension beyond the consciousness of those who do not understand immaterial physical abstraction, in fractional microseconds.

The density of the rain filter that had been volumized from the submerged interstices, created the gravity of the horizontal movement that subdued the equation in kinetics that gave the differential in the unresolved expectation of the cessation of movement. Where the amount of reaction is more than what would go to Patmos, disproportionate to the macro pulleys that oscillated in the meridians, speed, and acceleration. Prior to the decoupling of the forces of fall in the already submerged bodies that were counterbalanced to give rise to the volume cords that detached from the largest chamber of the wall, to record the final sequence of wear generated by the reconversion and balance points of their masses, then the starting pedestal accumulates and is reconnected with this phenomenon of the Invisible Eclectic Portal of Patmos, being aware that they would have to enter the cavern, after having ceased their work for this mass retransmission of the reinverted wall to propel the Megaron uprising. Within three months after the Hellenistic Full Moon, the colors of the Tefilah will become mathematical, fascinating the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the reef of Patmos. The sanctity will count the astragali in front of the cyclamen for the delicate advances, wearing the blue-green of the quadrinomial that represented geodesy in its points of order and of its evangelist faction. Confusions were overwhelmed not to stop the movements of splendor in the effusions of the storms in sacred prayers in the room, which takes refuge from Kímolos bringing the souls of Helenikká, for the offices that made the trend of Katapausis after the subsequent full moon. Discounting the three months that never elapsed since Vernarth arrived on the Eurydice.


Kaitelka and the judgment of her abode would determine the corpus and the psyche of the irascible necromances of Borker and Leiak, subordinated to Zefian so that the torrential rains on Patmos are perceived by the colder of condensed water of Cassandra that Beit Hamikdash had been bringing with two anthropomorphic shadows that had been supporting him, that of a Cohen, Levita and a Samaritan, they were the guardians that came from Jerusalem to Patmos to assimilate the enthronement spectrum of free fall converted into free ascent were the fourth arrow that spectrum for the first column to be erected. The breath of all of them became more entropic each time that would be concentrated in a certain haze that was released by its titanic whale snout; Rather, I say of her presence that she was raised by some larvae, which came from certain Zeus dresses that he had expelled to free the larvae that were from her immortal garb, looking like bait for those who stalked him with necromancy. . But this time he would be very contemplative for the construction of the Megaron de Vernarth, because amphitheater was a cause of low politics for his Olympic spectrum. The energy or Evegeia, was primed for objects that took forms of papyri covered with invisible enzymes tried from Qumram, but the cause of Mortis revived the larvae making the oblivion of the era that continued after the Mortis of all legions multiplied by the phrases that were sinister from the true matter of physical remanence.
Helleniká Souls
Alexsandra Danae Oct 2011
lightning, thunder
pummeling droplets of rain
vicious, forceful hurricane winds
sweeping, spinning
swept violently away
whipping, ******
dragging me
a helpless rag doll
tugging me around
- by my ravaged soul
dizziness, nausea
fractional-seconds, flashes of light
circling; bewilderment
world rushing past
lost in this predicament
having been carried away
...so far away...
prisoner of this whirlwind
fearsome, raging tempest
powerful and raw
merciless desecration
mindless murdering of innocence
inescapable prison walls
captive of this sociopathic entity
hopelessly enslaved
****** and over-burdened
foul irony, my fate
- my only companion
pressing, constant reminder:
I AM TO BLAME...
chained to my own
passionless, encroaching storm -
this loathsome,
jerking, twisting, spasm-wracked,
hurricane monster
a destroyer -
- my destroyer!
the homicidal destroyer,
that I have made...
I am, my own, storm slave...
Kaitelka was in the Equinoctial Aftó, she bathed but always oriented herself as an Argonaut star bathing in the Aegean while waiting for the ******* of Áullos Kósmos. Between both Aulos and Citara, she modeled the auletic- citaristic, in glimpses of her Psychic Trisomy.  In effect of the existence of an extra chromosome in a diploid organism 158, for a number of chromosome fifty-four, instead of a homologous pair of chromosomes. From this position she was limiting her chromosomes of normality in the genetic proximal when entering the bay of Skalá that she was waiting for her native, where the art of navigation danced in the nitrogenous water that brought her from Skalá; from Eleios-Pronnoi, about 39 km south of the main city on the island of Argostoli, in southern Kefalonia, on one of the Ionian islands of Greece. From here, mimetic was thrown towards the art of the unknown sea, collapsing and disoriented by its territorial similarity, and maritime per se of its Otolith that brandished it in dual places of Ionian-Dodecanese geography, following the semiotic songs of Leiak that emerged from the auletic to infer Ballenid genera, which acted precisely between the island and the Bay of Patmos with the same name as Skalá.

Kaitelka's Vernarthian tenor carried her behind her with another Ballenid, this one carried the Demiurge Ezpatkul, with his prominent Augrum or Gold teeth that rotated on the backs of all the borer beetles, being Scarabaeidae that delimited towards a dialectic, and paraphrase of a qualitative satirical one, especially in the form of Vernarth's sub-mythological subgenre. To commend all the hypotheses of this whale, it sang with the native cephalization ultrasound, where it continued to harmonize media in its cranial cavity, and in the muzzles of its larger fins that transmitted waves of parapsychological regression towards Vernarth, parodying the transparent sendal ballads that it made. with his transit through the water, however, not having members that strengthen his controversial cetacean passerby by waters of a melodious literary language, such as a great inspirational propeller, and satires that host greenhouses in most of the jubilation, related to rudders that furrow his verbal poetry, easing restrictions, and possessing the genome that was deprived him in his gestation, of a maternal expropriation victimized with fears of an end, and Apocalypse hungover by the sea and freshwater. They piloted their heart valves, mere and Dantesque with Zeusian buttress spauto, muddled and bundled in their bombastic myocardium like omitted ships without ever lifting anchor and setting sail, a very brief tulle of water satirizing formula additions, and a piece of dull wood on its spur that was It bore like a whale, it was carrying its weight in a literary category where there is no way to test it. Without hindrance, she laughed alongside the breakers in the manner of a belligerent tendril in thick keel skins, dramatizing him and perhaps delaying the investiture of Vernarth's Himation Proskynesis, peering jocularly and foreshadowing his encounter with her. Her chains were Caucasus icebergs, demystifying seasonality by residing linked to a single Down Whale destination, ******* with her dorsal to exhale genome rearrangements with Cinnabar, refining hormones and stereotyped whale chromosomes.

The concordance of the Satirical subgenre, and the polarized gender correspondence inanimate Kaitelka, usurping the intentionality of the sub-mythological drama, in two roads of Skalá that appeared to lose the standard of their ears, in tragic representation versus the comedian staging, harbinger of an interlude between two areas that struggled to have it directed towards three comedies that plunged into three tragedies, missioning the furrowed features of the ideals of survival, with preceded parables of the psychic-linguistic being, due to its canonical supernatural modality by blending itself with disciplined domains. Of a rhetorical poetics, rectified in religions that grant Orphic and messianic structuralism; foreshadowing the hymns of Orpheus in the Bible, and metaphorical in revealing divine truth, accessible only to spirits worthy of it. The purpose of metaphor in her poetry has the deciding function of the ineffable of thought, through simile, comparison, or image.  Song and poetry, song and prayer, prayer and ritual forming an inseparable phrase of meaning in it, impossible to differentiate in the biblical psalms themselves. The penultimate of them recalled number 149, being a hymn destined to accompany the dance; "Make melodies for him, with drums and lyres." It is known that the classical instrument of Orpheus reaches the level of the sacred in biblical texts. Psalm 150 contains an orgiastic ending to a symphony, in the description of the instruments that accompany the word and the voice that praises God, with sermons from Kaitelka blooming from an oceanic being and printing songs of the subgenre, without blemish of sub- mythology and the unconfessed proceeding. The comical exaltation of him recreates aspects of great joy, for those who feel vibrations under his belly in his orphic water, portraying semis or semiotic cathartics of their own trisomic roots, in an effort to decode drama, for intermezzos of the mythological subgenre. Borker with his sword Mythos interpreted the story of Kaitelka when he told her about the melting of Horcondising, seeing in them friendly glaciers that included her within the storytelling of provinces that sensitize the culture by rebirth on spherits and plasma hematocrits, for an apologist that admits inanimate corporality actor. Its genesis is Bereshit, "which names and does not start", from the undervalued parashot of the gods and kings, commanding them ibid to the inter-dogmatism that it contributes in its credit reserve, in large consortiums besieging colonies by the southern seas of the Borker  Nótos. "Evil tears their veins heal their goods and relegate the forgetful in the tradition of existence alongside the demiurges, incontinent to their ills that enjoy making creation sleep, soothing it in innocuous myths that are often more than a truly supernatural!

Helios went out to the road by the west and not by the east, in the nascent instant of the ectoplasm that revealed micro satires that led to the station of the hero who lives hidden, behind the proscenium of cultural and religious intimacy, Kaitelka plunges a few meters below the Aegean where he was already arriving, and he can realize that he did not see marine species around him, only beams of light that distorted his view of those who flatter him on a descent? Underwater a mythical mission wailed on dry surfaces, and the phenomena of the underwater stones were relaxed before any reflection of the veracity of a myth of expression in the mouth of a fish, brushing against systematic hermeticisms of what was infinitesimal. All this dialectical journey towards inevitably alternating molecules of his genome, to re-establish himself in his hybrid status upon reaching Skalá, here he would have to use his two neurochemical brains for a mortal instinct that does not die inside the mouth of a whale but in interrogation. …?  Based on Leiak's sexagesimal nanoscale extension, endowed with a fractional comparison that collects mythologies within them, for the uncertain truth. The only burden of etiological myth in Kaitelka is a consequence of her suffering, which is offered in psychic trisomy, for being **ized by three chromosomes, disorganizing her reality as a specimen that unfolds as a congenital disease.

Kaitelka says: "Who am I and where do I come from? I am reaching the floodgates of my lord Vernarth, and I can see that I am reborn in his astragalus and honeysuckle, which tell a story ****** under the tripod of Herophila.  Authoritarian truth that will bow before the pig to become, smelling here the tragic essence in truths that are hidden in symbolic denial"

Kaitelka is instituted a few miles before she begins to navigate in a zigzag, trying to condense forces for the origin of her ethereal, with sarcasm techniques that the self encourages to plunge into diluvian tears and moan in the scenarios of uncertainty, in the judgment of pouring out real myths, transposing its flow in the destination that is flooded in imprecise gestures and between cries with super sounds that lifted it on the swells, and these, in turn, were shedding the mystery Masken by raising water concentrated in onerous polymorphology. With joys and hilarious meltdowns on the mountains, she approached everything when she reached the pleasant Skalá, escaping from the cosmogony that bound her ungraciously on the light water, overflowing towards the very origin of a Vernarthian deity, in pasts and futures that do not intersect in the radial of its origins. The sky proclaimed laughter and mimicry gestures that adhered to the vitrifying phenomenon of past-present pashkien images, ready to lightning that heals the invalidations of walking on disturbed waters, a dipsomaniac leitmotif in early Christian justice. Kaitelka sins irascible, violent and proud, urgent and judicious, but conciliatory despite carrying a cross and a harpoon on her back. She will remain Kaitelka Down, but Patmos will arrogate her Thracian gift from her Orphic origin to her, for purposes of radial preeminence in the Ballenids that hoist sacred sites. The adventure prescribes a univitelino twin, but when she goes beyond the hirsute destiny of her Iliad, she begs to go transforming into a rainy sphinx on the thick bronze roof when the coins are broken, towards a seduction stop that is enthroned in the gloom of the minotaur, in the numinous hands of a daffodil and on the face of the Epsilon. Or crawling in mitral of valvulopathy with the carriage messengers, with the swans or pigeon birds; perching on a wreath of roses and myrtles that surround her red bozos. Almost always appearing undressed next to her escort, usually more than multiplied towards her, with the amazement of her animal consorts, which are dolphins, and Thracian pigeons, a priori of being covered by the Pythia of Delphi that is migrating in murky triumphs of the Achaemenides in Gaugamela.
Equinoctial Aftó by Kaitelka
Hope is such a powerful thing. In the midst of every loss, every failure, every mistake, and in the face of every single thing, be it necessity or desire, which seems may never come to pass, hope keeps us pushing towards the day when those things will become a reality; striving ever onward no matter how many times we may fall or find ourselves back where we started, having to fight so hard all over again for the things that were obtained and then taken away by some tragedy, mistake in our own judgment, or sometimes for what seems like no reason at all but bad luck, which is a tragedy in and of itself. Hope gives purpose. It gives meaning. It gives life. But, such a sorrowful thing hope can be at times when one can only watch the world slip away into the nothingness it is coming to lust for more than life, itself.

So many people hope for things, but seem to forget or loath the work and effort it takes to achieve and maintain such. Granted, there are those who do remember and strive to achieve and maintain what they hope for legitimately, but the percentage of such people is becoming smaller as time passes, and this ever declining percentage find themselves fighting so much harder, and having to hold to hope so much more fiercely, because of the ever increasing percentage of those who want to take the easy way out, casting most of the weight of the work and effort onto those who are still willing to put it forth, and abandoning whatever it may be when the effort required becomes more than they, themselves, are willing to put forth for whatever reason, and all while placing the blame on those who are actually trying. This is a great reason that the declining percentage continue to decline, because the harder it is to achieve what one hopes for, the harder it is to hold on to hope. The harder it is to hold on to hope, the easier it is to give up.

Those in the declining percentage who are still willing to fight and keep a death grip on hope are often the ones who suffer the most, for they are the ones who are tortured and tormented by emotion and conscience, sometimes wanting to give up and to do things less than decent and respectful as so many more people are doing every day. This is where I find myself.

A hard battle it is indeed to hold on to being a genuinely good, decent, and respectful person and having to struggle so hard when I see the deceitful (and by deceitful, I mean lying, cheating, stealing, manipulation, treachery…basically anything that compromises the trust, respect, and honor towards one or more people and/or themselves) gaining and flourishing, pretending sincerity and disguising their intent until they get what they want.

The way I see it from my experiences, there are two sides to feeling this way. The first is the anger and frustration spawned by seeing people who are being deceitful more quickly and easily obtaining the things we are both needing and/or hoping for and legitimately struggling for. While we struggle so hard to see our hopes become reality…often with minimal results, or results that are ever so slow in coming…the only effort they put forth is deceit, and are rewarded with what seems like immediate results, in other words. With this comes anxiety, depression, and a harder struggle for hope with every instance. These feelings are intensified the longer the wait on anything we are hoping and striving for may be.

The second, which often isn’t a comforting thing at all, but often does help us to hold on to hope in its own way, is seeing the things people have obtained in such deceitful ways only last them for but a season, even if they want it for much longer, for deceit, in the vast majority of cases, always comes to light at some point in time, whether it be soon after or years down the road. Sometimes, it is for one of the same reasons the declining percentage struggle so hard…seemingly for no reason at all but what appears to be bad luck (but what I like to call karma in the cases of deceitful people). Regardless, the people who put forth more effort into being deceitful to obtain what is desired or hoped for often do not put the same effort into legitimately keeping it, but only in continuing to be deceitful to hold on to it as long as they can or want to, and to keep their deceit from coming to light for as long as possible. We often forget this factor of loss when we are standing on the side of anger and frustration, thinking only of how unfair it is that someone so easily obtains that which we have been struggling so hard for and have not yet seen come to pass. This applies to all areas of life.

So many people say how they want and expect and deserve to be treated, yet are not willing to do the same for others, especially when it comes to obtaining something they hope for or desire. They completely disregard how badly they will hurt someone by being deceitful as long as they get what they want, and always seem to have an excuse or a blame to place on anyone but themselves so as not to have to account for their deceit, and are often times the most defensive about being done the same way by others, even if they are only being done so in a minute way.  Most of these are doing so with all knowledge that they are just trying not to have to account for their wrongdoings just so they do not seem to be the one at fault, either so they can simply get away with it or so they can get away with it long enough to move on and do the same to other people when their previous attempts begin to fail them. Sometimes they even do all they possibly can to slander the person they were wronging and create lies that take the focus off themselves and place it upon the person they cannot deceive any longer, doing all they can to make the victim’s life a living hell so as to see them suffer for having tried to call them out on their deceit, while at the same time moving on unnoticed to the next deceitful opportunity.

The only thing worse than this are the ones who are doing this very thing and are convinced that they are doing no wrong. They have lied for so long to get their own way without having to put forth the effort that they begin to believe that they aren’t doing anything wrong, and that their victims are trying to make them look bad. In far too many cases of such, they try to find every flaw and imperfection in their victim and their victim’s life so as to dress it up with drama and lies and use it against them because they think they are getting revenge for being wronged. Sometimes it doesn’t even take a history of lies and deceit to bring someone to self-deception such as this. Sometimes it is merely their true nature, and they are doing all they can do to convince themselves otherwise. Whatever the reason self-deceit comes into play in these cases, it is still the worst form of deceit, because not only are they harming others to wrongly obtain whatever it is they seek, but they have deceived themselves into thinking they are doing no wrong by it, and will most likely continue to do so to others. Most times the victims have already endured extreme amounts of sorrow, pain, and loss before the self-deceived deceivers learn from their mistakes. Sadly, some never learn, losing everything and continuing to cling to the belief that they were the ones wronged by those which they were wronging. This also applies to all areas of life.

There are also people who hope for things, but have such limited standards or preferences that they feel the thing they are hoping for should be absolutely perfect as is…at least what their own personal idea of perfection is. They say they want something, but only if it comes a certain way, in a certain package, and doesn’t take any effort or acceptable compromise on their part to have to work with for it to be something that can truly make them happy. These people continually pass things over that could make them far happier than they would have ever imagined, merely because it doesn’t seem to be everything they wanted it to be according to such deceptively high standards. Either that, or they find something that seems to be everything that they wanted, or so close to it as to seem to be something they can be happy with, but then reject it and walk away after a period of time because it wasn’t all it seemed to be because of the work or acceptable compromise that may have been involved for it to be the thing that would truly make them happy. They then begin the process all over again, never finding what it is that truly makes them happy. They don’t want to compromise, but expect everyone else who may be involved to compromise for them, in other words, not realizing that some compromises can be good things, and that nothing is ever as perfect as someone wants it to be, because sometimes it is the imperfections that make everything truly perfect. Far too often, this also hurts others who are not deceitful and who are genuinely good people, and who are striving to hold on to hope, because the declining percentage who have any kind of stake in what is being discarded by those who cannot be satisfied are knocked back a step, and have to try harder yet again and struggle that much harder to hold on to the hope that things will work out some day. This also makes it harder for the declining percentage to trust people.

Basically, what it all boils down to is that the vast majority of people seem to want things the “easy way”. They use whatever form of deception or self-deception is necessary as long as they get what they want when they want it, which more often than not is something they only want temporarily or end up only wanting temporarily, anyway, as opposed to long term, because of either only wanting instant gratification of some kind or not wanting to make an effort to keep it, casting it away as soon as they have it or are no longer satisfied with it. They want what they want only for the feeling it gives them, in other words, and not for the appreciation and respect for what they want before and after they have it, expecting others to put forth the effort that they, themselves, refuse to put into anything but the deception of their choice.

The only comforting thing about this is that sometimes, these deceivers are so used to deceiving to obtain what they hope for that they do not see when their deceptions begin to fail them, and continue to try to twist and conform their deceptions towards those they are trying to deceive, only further outing themselves, while trying to place the blame and guilt the person they are deceiving into thinking they, themselves, may actually be the cause of the problem, prolonging their deceptions long enough to cause more damage to their victims until in either rage, sorrow, or a combination of the two, the deceived reach their limits and halt the deception, but by this time, any trust, respect, friendship and/or love that may have been between the two is either almost completely lost or lost completely. But, in cases like this, this does make it harder for the deceivers to continue to deceive, for usually, enough people are aware of the deception that the deceivers cannot deceive so easily, and have to try and find new people to deceive to make any ill progress.

There remains another percentage amongst these fractional factions that plays an unknowing hand not only in the declining percentages struggle for hope, but in their own as well, feeding not only the beast of hopelessness seeking to devour those who would rage against it, but also aiding the increasing percentage in their deceptions. This percentage wants something so badly, often times after trying and failing due to the deception of others or by legitimate failure, they begin to fall for deceptions more easily because they are so desperate to have whatever it may be that they fall for the beauty of the deception over the truth of it all, or they see a small bit of what they hope for or desire in someone or something else, and decide for some reason that it is what they want or need before finding out anything more than just that part of it all, and then are so let down or blameful for being let down again, that they throw away any efforts or progress made towards happiness, often hurting and further complicating the struggle for hope in the declining percentage of genuinely good people when those people happen to be the object of what they thought they wanted due to only focusing on the part that appealed to them.

These are but a few examples as to why hope is such a sorrowful thing, because it is one of the hardest things to hold on to in this world with so many factors coming against it from every angle, and sometimes from so many angles at once. But, it is the very existence of every negative thing that makes hope so hard that defines why hope is such a necessary thing, and why we fight with all of our heart and sanity to hold on to it, even when we believe nothing good will ever come to pass because of how many things have gone wrong or hurt us or set us back to square one time and time and time again. If we gave up hope, how would we ever expect anything to ever get better, and which one of the reasons, listed here or omitted because there are just too **** many to list them all, would we become in the destruction of someone else’s hope, or the destruction of our own? Without hope, and everything we fought like hell through to hold on to it, how would any of us truly appreciate the day when it finally comes, or every day thereafter?

In everything we see and experience, there seems to be so many more things that would have us let go of hope and sink to the bottom, drowning in sorrow until dreams are so lost in the fathomless depths that they will never wash ashore to see the light of day to breathe again. But in reality, and in our heart of hearts, it is our very dreams that outweigh what would strip them away, and there are so many more reasons to hold on to hope than we will ever think about at any one moment, especially in the worst of times, because the bad is sometimes so bad that it is all that we can focus upon, and we lose sight of most or all of the reasons we fought so hard and hoped so fiercely at all. But, it is the existence of every bad thing that should convince us every single time one or more befall us that we should never give up hope, for it is the rise and swell that we feel when things go well before every fall that reminds us of the feeling and the dreams that fuel the fires of our hope, and help us to believe that every hell will be worth heaven when it comes. It is only when we find ourselves swimming in sorrow when what we thought was everything we had been hoping for turns out to be another deception or another mistake that we start to give up on hope because of feeling like hope was wasted, and the more times we have to experience the fall, the harder it is to hope once again. What we often fail to realize is this…if it hurts so bad to fall into the letdown of finding out that what seemed to finally come was not what we were hoping for, then how much to the exact opposite will the joy be when what we were hoping for finally comes to be? If we never go through the sorrow of falling, how would we ever learn that sometimes what we were hoping for so long may not have been the right thing until something comes along to give us something new to hope for? One day, one of the instances we find that what comes along that makes us feel that our hopes and dreams are coming true will actually be what we were hoping for, and sometimes, what comes along will be so much more than we ever dared to dream to hope for. If we give up any single time we find what comes to be wrong, no matter how right it seemed or felt, then how will we ever find either?

Sometimes holding on means letting go, for if we are hoping for the wrong things, then holding on to the hope for those things will only bring us more sorrow if we do find what we hope for in those aspects. Sometimes letting go means holding on, for if we let go of hope when we let go of the wrong thing, how will we ever find something better to hope for? To dream is to hope. To hope is to dream. Nothing good is ever easy. Nothing easy is ever good. Even the most perfect of things still have imperfections, and as I say so often, it is often that the imperfecti
This is a free write of my thoughts and feeling of hope, and it is just a draft until I can find a better way to say it, unless it remains the best way that I can.
Poetoftheway Sep 2017
parse and praise the phrase,
checkerboard fraction,
appréhendé immédiatement,
a poem title!
put aside to marinate,
stamped "will not expire,"
doing the research legwork,
**** it is a real thing!

toujours,
where the best words and titles come from,
if one listens well
romantic notions swell the chest,
all the love affairs over so many decades,
all checkerboard games
with Kings a-crowning and Queens a-moaning,
poet, no way, never planned ahead,
always lost by a fractious split,
more than a fractional loss,
losing
most triumphantly!

each lover took and left a fraction behind,
a numerator, a denominator, never a whole number,
for then there would be no poetry need

you want,
have need for
une idée fixe
whom I should be, but i could be a
multiple choice answer
a three scoop ice cream treat,
or perhaps, a mix of forty favorered flavors
a new one,
chaque coup,
why not?

our first disagreement
both of us wish to nominate the other to be the nominator

the denominator is a definition of what is the whole
because i am gracious,
foolish and less than whole
already
I concede cause I am in already in retreat,
conceding comes supernaturally nowadays,
so move me forward on the checkerboard
and triple jump me, and any way
I am pas de nom
we close today with an American
yay...
https://www.scribd.com/doc/200770223/decimal-checkerboard-lesson
Ramonez Ramirez Feb 2011
The winded willow wailed,
and the wild flowers hung on every sigh of the tree’s weathered leaves.
The shed door yawned each time he raised the axe;
blade-on-bark gave him a fractional sense of ‘being there’,
and a wry smile — thin, like dawn’s frost-moustache on the Chevy’s windshield —
shaped his lips into worn wiper blades,
which stifled the sound of his teeth chipping away at winter’s breath.
Vernarth was ready at the threshold of the validity of the constellation of Orion, barely a hundred millionths as indicated by the Duoverse in his Cosmogonic amphiboly, and sensitive to physical space with the Kli vessels that he carried on his back that were in the proximity of the Loop of Bernard as the Omission nebula as the exponential hemicycle in the center of Aurion's oculus waiting for Vernarth and redistribute its molecules at 518 light-years or 440 Parsec, with the diameter that will be reflected in Patmos of more than 300 light-years condensed with the element of Hydor or water from high space over Aurion. Vernarth, united by the fragrant hand of the Mashiach, could carry it when he moved away from the Opistodomos and the remains of incandescent lagoons of supernova materials that surrounded them to accelerate the mass of the Iridescent Nimbus that Vernarth would carry, and the Mashiach as a sentinel of his Purgation. already defined whenever the simultaneous explosion of the Super Nova with Patmos becomes effective, and the Terrestrial World in impulsiveness that admonished him under the right shoulder blade in the skinny hollow of the arm that was getting rid of the oscillometer right at the original entrance of Betelgeuse, and when Vernarth remained alone in the frontal altitude chamber to take off towards the cosmogonies of Eridanus to tune into the Ptolemaic astral. The Sybilla who acted as stellar consort would be Herophile with overtones of expansion and her brilliant metric mass that would take her through Betelgeuse Orionis allied to a multifunctional instrument such as the entrance Aulos, expelling hydrogen-like an Ace in 240 harmonic scales, and sounds of light that they boomed towards the Pleiades and the Milky Way where it would be the supposed first state of paradox where Vernarth would utter: "Give me a little Gála and I will be more than Zeus". This is where he will experience the diarthrosis of his synovial joints in the process of Hyaline cartilage, allying himself with the two bones and synovium to hunt down the Trapper Aurion in advance to wake up from the feared defenseless world that he feared since everything he abandoned despite having his Purg discharged, he kept sensing that if nothing would work for a lost world. Here Vernarth would hold Alexander the Great's first childhood vision as an infant at Péla using his scapula with the force of rubbing discs at the Olympiad making the sky his Odyssey-encrusted Constellation of whips, and sullen Hellenistic being by May in the amber trunk trapezoid and in each hand a Xiphos and Dorus.

The pathologies were at the forefront with dexterous inclinations of his Kopis to the west when he throws it and the whistle of return makes him see that the meteorites reached as far as his gaze could observe the latitudes of the Tyrrhenian. He takes his bronze-brass cudgel with the corrosive breath, filing the odysseys on the concupiscent ******* of Eos, Goddess of the dawn, opening the heavens of the eager natives of Gála, by sipping raw milk from the right edge of the corner of her upper lips before the first dawns of the world, when Eos would be in grains or grasses that brandished from the bronze club that Vernarth waited for before leaving Gaia, or rather the fertile land of Patmos that officiated at him. Mega hectares appeared that threatened Enopion's revenge, disturbing his eyes that shone in Hesiod's striae by advocating for him in the Duoverse where all deities would be annulled but his psychic ramifications as stellar humans would be covered by the action of Helium gas. In this way Vernarth was already bidding farewell to Saint John the Apostle with his rounded eye set on the shine of both pupils between Mintaka, Alnitak, and the third shine of his pupils united in communion with Vernarth when arriving sideways at the pale shine of Alnilam (The Three Mariah) fourth star to follow in Orion as the brightest of the three on Vernarth's neck like a necklace of precious pearls. In this way, he climbed the steps to measure the slow brilliance of the immensity of the celestial solstice that raised him with the expedient Sun that also led him towards the twelfth lunation of the celestial vault attached to Pléyone in his bolometric oceanic matrix, which will arise between the stellar limitrophe between the Canes Mayores and Menores, and a priori in the measurement of the eye of Aurion always harassing the Pleiades. The intrigue will be reborn for the second time from the Duoverse's momentum that Vernarth will have to leave in the biosphere oscillation wasteland of Prometheus already freeing himself from life in community, and from an extreme sensitivity of major psychic connections that will flow throughout the immensity of inaccessible time. , on the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of the oxen that urinate on the endowments of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles as flagrant Amphibology. The Kanti Steed and the Aorion nebula to the beat of a waltz will ionize chemical portents of ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse to propagate in the nerves of the shoulders of the bronze club ad limit of harmonious praxis, and net compromise by supplying steps to the nebula and art of the Duoverse that shows the primeval daily days as in his alchemical armband, germinating astral Lynothorax and axillary armpit that held him in his maximum club, cutting down roots of Olivo Bernar after Barnard's Loops in between of fugitive stars that go regimented in their ionized bleeding esplanade, like Stellae Novae that transfers astronomical cults in the formation and pretext of going through the darkness to sleep near his parents Poseidon and Euryale, acclaiming him near the gramineous fields to paste him with explosive clay on the portfolio of such a smiling face drunk with Ionian wine, in precedence of the disemi nar by the new and expandable Duoverso, Vernarth was already on the last steps of the stairs similar to that of Florence in the Medicea Laurenziana as well said to feel alive when going to paradise next to the Messiah who came to pick him up. But at times electrifying residues would vanish over his field of vision in small beams or flashes, which would prevent him from moving forward to the last stirrups without looking back where all the Birthright was watching him for one last time.

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, Zefian was waiting for him to meet him in his dark chamber, since the most intimate and primordial causality of his metaphysics emerged from the bases of the reason for all things that should exist, before everything was created and that it has never had pre-eminence as it is in this case of the parasitic chamber of Zefian in the company of the Auriga, which also came to wait for him in the calash running wild as prescribed by the Duoverse in the structures of luminosity in the midst of this colossal inter-planetary chamber, between molecular agitated points that will venture through the axon of infinity longitudinally unpredictable for light-years even though it is so. The thermal outcomes of superheated remnants over the entire luminosity will speak of the catastrophe, and of the inherent emptiness in the eyes of the eternal hothouse very close to the supernovae that can only strengthen the fusion of the space disks of the Universe-Duoverse long before the explosion between Orion and Andromeda. The axes of time will be dislocated between both astral components in this dissonant chaos that will contract with Vernarth's levitation whenever he has stepped on the last step before entering the Hydor chamber in every dark portion of the Universe, making both constellations the ferrule or ring that will yield to the underbelly of Betelgeuse, dispossessing the boasts of the appropriate Commander Hetairoi of his Lynothorax to resist the ravages and turbulence of the Apokálypsis, which brought the immense loads of matter that discharged all its constant energy through the circulating nuclear power plants, and tangents that caused galaxy changes pierced by Hetairoi Aorion clods satirizing expenses for retracting the galaxies below Soldier's precept and super homeostatic mass attracted from their distance on astronomical scales of 2.5 million light-years.

The galactogenic galaxy made use of great prominences that would cover the greater proportional that is outlined in Andromeda of the strands of the Universe adjacent to the spiral that rolls on the underbelly, deferring to telescope sections, and the gravitational field to execute its nocturnal translation like the Hyperdisis Galaxy that collects the bubbling of the belt in conjunctions of minor stars making star mechanics by exaltation, and magnetic disorders creating other leading atmospheres in those detached from the cord of Andromeda, the Milky Way, and Orion. Vernarth was still holding on to the transparent hand of the Messiah while he was climbing the ascension steps to Hydor that would transport him to travel with him through the globular clusters, they will form the perfect delay in transfusing the lineage and not another, in this way the Lynothorax or bleeding pectoral de Vernarth continued to flow from this polynomial tractatum between all area subjugation guidelines, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the inter-galactic reversible staked Duoverse.

Lenticular to irregular above the nails of the trapezoid, it spread towards Aurion's right armband, sequentially making the centric radiogram hiccup, despite taking advantage of interstellar matter to self-generate its own transmission light, this made it refrain from emanating the hybridity that came out of its body by vibrating above everything that expelled from its center towards the right rectitude of Orion, thus making the multiplied speed of containing itself of both parts of the null hemisphere of its free will when verifying that it never existed, that it was only an illusion of doubtful matter that would soon Go away like gasified water on the galactic repulsions that would settle on Patmos as devotions of Skalá, and Astro-omegas that would be adhered to the Xiphos and Kopis, who were still united to their being rather in the contour of the perimeter of his soul two meters floating like invisible quantum universes. The totality of everything was inciting the fields of omega-stars that would begin to advance after becoming visible from the spur of the sword that became denser with the viscosity of the Hebrew Adom, which trickled from Orion to Hellenic lands as an Omega age for Vernarth which is conceived early when it carries Hecate's Kleidia or keys to the Omega world towards the proto-galaxies that provide ultramarine loaves, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass that they can collide in a few million light-years. The Duoverse of Hyperdisis was predicted in the visual reality of a fusion of change to interact with each other as it dismembered but re-transformed into the new theoretical core of the Duoverse as a large Black Hole embedded in the center of Patmos. In such a way all the inhabitants began to worry when phenomenal masses of warm air that began to take on the appearance of the Universe plagiarized each other generating incoming earthquakes, not affecting the Opistodomos or the Primogeniture, nor the crowd that was waiting. of all the monstrosity of monks who were grouped kneeling on the top of the Profitis, floating the shattered shaggy skein parts of the Himation. As it was dyed in the albi-color of Calígine, demonstrating the darkness of the intrinsic terror of whoever plows later to free all the succumbed who fell throughout Greece and Judah, exposing all the origins of appearance from the internal now in the converted Universe that was reimplanting itself in the helical of polarity, and bifurcating by pretexting all the reincarnations and polishing the stagnant cessation of darkness towards a luminance that could warn them and observe where their feet could move, sheltered from the monumental litter of calorimetry, and chromatics that was linked in romances trivial with the residuals of the angel shark galaxies where Aurion's progenies will deliver in candelas per square meter: LV waking is the luminance, measured in Nits or candelas per square meter (cd/m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, the Milky Way, and Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion. From here Vernarth will supply all of them as the one who will dwell in it in the preface of his Fables of Calígine with the following: "Ex Calígine Chaos: ex Chao et Calígine, Nox, Dies, Erebus, Aether", which transliterated means "Of Darkness: Chaos. From Chaos and Darkness: Night, Day, Erebus, and Ether", Decreeing the (Burning Darkness) before Chaos as flow F, is he also the only one who divinized this abstraction, conferring a proper meaning to the word. And then make of the normality of dwelling in the darkness that is the irrevocable opulence of the desire to maintain the radiance of all the forces that devour eternity. From the remote aces came dark families of flying Lepidoptera Ditrisios, lined up with countless other species that carried dimensional eyes that will be devoured by ocelli or giant eyes that come from the chaos of Vernarth's Caligine to appease the effects of ultraviolet rays, which started from the Nimbus Iridescent creating a layer of protection between the new dimension of the twilight of flight that was already beginning to ignite from the Aurion's scaly fingers.

• dS is the surface element considered the triad Kímolos, Rodas and Patmos. While Vernarth is distracted, he manages to dissipate the twilight of the inverted Erebus between Eleos and Ezis, personifying Clemency and Sadness, where they border the worlds that are not yet riddled with chaos or Calígine, who exalted himself over Erebos with the redemption of Eleos, who was getting ready to swallow the sadness of Ezis. Therefore Kimolos, Rhodes, and Patmos will consolidate their hegemony of unalterable lands where Eleos' piece of clemency will bring the support that makes Ezis's faceless portent, close to the hybridity of the Itheoi gods, in the Transversal Valleys of the Horcondising, with the Norns and generosity of Apollo who had given them after long stays in Hyperborea as female spirits once again as advocacy and imperishable protection of the legacy of Smintheus's travels by providing the company of Dísir, Uror, Verdandi, and Skuld as a female entity, of the past, current and future that should occur by order of Skuld. This will allow the three to unite with the Ds to merge the three as a complement of three female entities that will safeguard all climate change on future disasters in the Dodecanese.

• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse. From this premise, the worst of Vernarth's fears was to let go of the Messiah's hand and fall into the anger that blushes even Hetairoi Hero from Deimos, when the night reverts to the rest of the demons and the night adopts those who go perceiving in Vernarth that perhaps he was holding hands with Ares for the battle alongside his brother Etrestles, under the orders of the savagery of the metaphysical engines of panic. From this vision, Vernarth manages to open his eyes with the desire to show those who were watching him and to be able to show that he was aware of being a prisoner of his emotions and escaping from himself in the illustrious suffering of thousands of arrows, which ran around him like fleeting meteorites to the flat field of Tisiphone's revenge. The luminances became and became colors that were molecularly twinned with disparate tones that were capable of differentiating them, and at the same time nullifying the power of obscuring Vernarth's countenance to take his right hand and take the arrow to break the darkness that was lunged at him.

• θ is the angle between the diameter from Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years), Nemesis or Ramnusia as the retributive coercion of disobedience, being aware Vernarth became more and more of a being adopted by balance Nemesis for balance to command him to his senses before entering the field of limpidity of his soul in transit to liberate himself from all the chained who used to be happy, but sad that no one acclaimed them except Aionius Itheoi of Vernarth who translated the messages that from now on will move diametrically from Andromeda to the Milky Way, without any of these two portions being invaded only under the order of Nemesis, and Vernarth abiding by the retributive justice of The luminance that can be defined from the radiometric magnitude of the radiance without more than weighting each length of the wave by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of Vernarth's eye in the underbelly of Betelgeuse, spilling plasma and magnetic bruises on the galaxies and Eyes of Orion.
Meanwhile, it manifested itself as a personal universe, not excluded from time and space for a metaphysical causality that will not be able to compose the mentality that is measurable in the joint senses of a Zig Zag birth from this same calígine emerging from another creature of self-observation and see the physiognomy of the anti-material and mass Universal Horcondising. From which we pre-exist to waste of science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors with which his life and ours that were propelled furtively. Gravity made great paternity in Vernarth's active Biomass, being in the Dodecanese and cosmos in the verification of curvature that makes us with the moon of its romantic astrophysical swings and exaggerated geometry of a Zigzag.

We are versatile multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the void that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising, and also of time2-space2 that have not been attributed to the origin of the stars that move irregularly in Zig Zag, for their immature componential that is clearly of Aramaic blue light from the Pealim of the Abba, circulating with bullets movements skimming the air of the grasses attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe, making appear before them the duplication of the universe itself; in Duoverse, which is the recently shaken Universe and of gratitude in the distribution of nearby galaxies that are keys to the paleo kosmous already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Tri-solated energy fields, which interact with the phylogeny of the Mashiach in Gethsemane, lying now in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific to the peri Kosmous. Its final station is to wager the Zig Zag Universe on the temporal middle Ages chrestomathies re-expanding in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangels to activate. The implosion of gravity has procreated worlds of visibility of magnanimous astronomical longings, in some fractions of time in Zig Zag by millions of fractioned light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measure of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not acquiring the hexagonal of the primogeniture of the fragment since Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism whose Original is attributed fractal in form.

The personification of longevity was trapped by Geras, always escaping from the obfuscated universe or temperament that could be represented in humanity that relied on the antigens that served as support for the reversibility of every hero like Vernarth, who tried to glorify himself in the fullness of life in Heraklion or in the sand that was dyed red-azure when the soul of Alexander the Great would rise together with Vernarth with the Mashiach. The fractal beating line of the Mediterranean towards a vein resembling the rhinestones of King David to the Ziziphus of the Messiah simulating to be irregular symmetrical formats, to build gems in thorns of landscapes that basically subdivide into similar conical funnels, to then be randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's five o'clock Incorruptible crown, recursively reiterating it in each square until the eminence of the desired detail was reached in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Baptistery of the Shepherds in its hexagonal base, figuring to be the sleet in the final Crown of Rejoicing falling on the top of the roofs "Doroteo or theological gifts" in which the Mashiach's stable of Kafersuseh burst and agonized in the abstraction of the One-Dimensional Beams with foreign eyes, and own tissue eroding to mortal frowns that can be seen with their divine eyes in our own likeness, and of the planet n failed to increase the size so unknown and analytical in this peripeteia of the implosive ideology of the bubbling of the Verthian Duoverse.
The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals detailed in their nature, and in the natural infinity that here was envisioned from the new privileged world for self-similarity in speculative functions of Vertnarth, by intervals in each space of shadowy fences, bringing accelerated courier bulbs from Gethsemane in intermediates of olive trees transformed towards other humans.“Their correlation is infinite with reversible observable time, and paternal belonging to mobile gagged echoes of a space that is obstructed by Vernarth, in such a monograph and integers among the fractional integers "Finite is the curvature between the path that walks through the thickness of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of Zigzag and Duoverse energy, which is unleashed to our subconscious observable orb, and what a great beacon reflecting eye that ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One Dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The Duoverse is the rehearsal Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse Orion, changes of arduous colors in gradient and Avant-Garde, for limits of perspectives and verbally of amendments of physical fields framed by an external gravitational means. The macro waves are exposed to matters not contained in the abrupt changes of the Mashiach optical selection with the One-Dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them in reaction disturbances, and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian astronautics, examining the double of the macro waves and equation of them on the axis of the universe converted into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years, they will continue in the Duoverse, to reconvert from ectoplasm with large margins of assertiveness. Cartography is the error correction of the current universe, getting lost in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time…!, remaining at the expense of the wick of the Cirio with all its electro-matter” Having already established the sub-mythology, Hestia appears after having slept a great dream, when she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika she was seen changing size, when she was six meters away she looked tiny and when she was already two meters away from him It looked monumentally enormous, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in the last steps with its domestic figure of a goddess that emanated light-years disserted by chimneys and its rooms. The critique of immanence that would happen, would pre-exist the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and Hyperdisis as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of the Vas Auric, which consisted of the great ratio of the proscenium in the Teodora vicinity of Tsambika, between Clairvoyance/Judgment for Wisdom/Meditating constant mechanisms according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called the Triverse. The oscillation of all these fantasies was observed by Vernarth, but he knew that he would have to collide with this finally, already precipitated by temperatures that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate him into the proselytizing provisional Duoverse, which moves backward between the lights vertiginous of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around him, establishing units of millions of years of compressed light from the piccolo Aulós, which Hestia carried in one of his pale hands, his prytaneion was lighting up with the flames of the heart of fire and passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paving the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of farmhouses that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika in search of the Vas Auric, acclaiming with the omphalos stone that marked the navel of the world with defiance wandering to the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils over her face always walking to and from her home unscathed in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones who were staying in the cold fire of her climacteric losing fertility after his father swallowed them, and then they were expelled from himself regurgitated in flaming matches from a blessed house full of indemnity, giving the Duoverse another category calculated with angles never contained vibratingly sliding between distances that discount minutes of Hestian space for such a corollary of approaching to its finitude and inaugurate the sub-finite,  which will never be a source of terminus in a disconcerting end of time not finished flush with the physical equation. “This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is consummated and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinite).

Vernarth was a few meters from entering the Nimbus, when suddenly his soul darkened and his panic flared..., suddenly he felt a scream from above and below he saw how everything was made of rubble. Courage blinded him, not wanting to observe what the evident end of the world and rubble intended to consume him if he said goodbye to his most beloved beings, until the lines of infinity approached those of the earthly world, intending to eliminate all traces of his family lineage. In this way, he begins to run through his hands the reflected Hydor of colors that pierced the skylight of austere words. He manages to see Calígine del Apokálypsis farther from the mist, detached from all gravitational force, only being able to see his mother among the smoke, who was coming up by a ray of light, Vernarth tries to free her from that moment of expiration but does not reach the synchrony of catastrophe in what pretended to be from the hand of Eris as the disagreement that did not allow him to put his survival weapons in order, believing that this instance would not allow him to ****** her from the goddess Eris, if he could believe that it was inevitable that his mother Luccica became a granite coat of arms, after the dark night that threatened to unravel her from her flimsy solid state, and then crumble to the ground turned into the ground that was crushed from roots that postponed it to be consumed by the gift of the light of life, and end of a light that is visible in all the roots of the earth when consumed by the infinite that vanishes in the existence of all being.

Vernarth, when a moment of clarity allows him to see his mother, tries to rescue her, realizing that his father Bernardolipo was with her, between them they would try to redeem them from the spread of Nix and Calígine, who behaved with great pain by mocking the edges of the Ether that they received Crono, they could not be victorious in arriving in time to rescue them, if from the harmony of a troubadour of the Mashiaj he observed him see if he would return with him to enter. They became visible in their parents as they contended before an avoidable awareness of this indivisible event with the aggressor words of hindrances and generations of millennials who anticipated the omega of everything in the lower part, under the feet of their parents appearing insignificant one (w) that precedes and succeeds the beginning of a beginning based on the end of a beginning a thousand times more than a threshold based on hundreds, appropriate to the metric unit of the numeral Myríaz = ten thousand, three times more than the Falangists, one thousand less than the Peltasts and three thousand fewer than the horsemen, total thirty-seven thousand fewer than the fighting forces in Gaugamela out of a total of forty-seven thousand, under the myriads of the Myriaz of Phalangists undermined by their Xiphos in the area of the right calcaneus of each faithful man under his command before facing the Achaemenides. During this period, Vernarth took extreme steps to rescue them and stop the numbing effect of all organic matter, not being able to rescue them, only granting them in the image of each one when they began to turn stone from feet to head until the fragile solidification of their eyes. when for the last time, they looked at each other only making it clear that it was a belated rescue gesture. The omega was ineffable even beyond the omicron, being Omega and Micron in the warfare primer of initiation of its cause within the prophetic in all the necropolis of lowercase omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the raised hand in Saint John the Apostle to rewrite the Apocalypse twice, having to be the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Phalangists that made up the intergenerational gaps, more than mimicked alien ancestors. In such an effect, as is known, the Duoverse opened the skylights with its sheathed pillars and with the strings of tetrachloride of chlorine in solid angles of Ω in what was Virgo institutionum/Aurion, an entity that interfered by projections and leaks that converged in the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing in frequency and bloodless of immortality, consisting of an auxiliary being towards the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With its arms raised in each claw, a sword raised to pierce the vanishing point between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection from an observer that inhibits and limits the biomass in all the aqueous filter pastes and lumens, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus of dissociated physicality, still being an amorphous entity with magnitudes pulverized between numerosities of Pi and Aureos, fading without area or volume.

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “Vernarth, I come from Bethlehem to help your life because I have detected the subsuming of the chains where your parents made the alliance from where your life has been erected from Sudpichi, Transversal Valleys in the temple that bears my pseudonym. The only rune that will determine that your parents can remain united, is through the action and direction that has been consecrated to me. No dead language will unsay what a dead soul cannot interpret. Our Mashiaj has entrusted me to free the languages that have conspired at night, and low luminance where Calígine has been uncomfortable seeing me knowing that it is my favorite environment, the memory of the chains want to incarnate in the stones that surround your parents, but  they are typical of a response that I will get to conclude by urging your mother and father to recognize that here they made the alliances, ordering, and reconciliation of your world that concerns us all in endless dictates to be agreed, I know very well that the point has not of allowing your atonement to have been prevented by this cosmological affront, here are the transverse Valleys in the favorite place of the Spirits lie the treaties that will move my greatest interest to re-marry your parents from the true chains of the complacent scholar, thus all the vastness that afflicts you will belong to your servant Jerome”

Vernarth replies: “At your service, his majesty, here I have been since dawn arriving at the town to meet them when they contracted their marriage. I know I shouldn't be here, rather I know that decades of inquiry had planned it that way. Of such conviction that their chains were anointed from the heights of the Kanthillana whose partiality emits the partials close to your direction? As is known, my very extensive walk through these dusty paths must recognize that the personality and nobility of its burial mounds will strengthen my presence so that everything that is incomprehensible if it is brief by making it neighbor to my reason”

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “everything has been planned like this, and as time drags on I know that your wounds burn in my epistolary like Latin and Greek voices that reluctantly direct me to your aid. Everything is beautifully comparable, and first to what should not be said..., but to do to the genre that above all it practices, the second to one of the ways with the above all that it practices "
By the reverse of the expletive to the insurmountable destiny, Vernarth takes his hands and Saint Jerome withdraws them telling him that it was not time for greater vain for the equivalence of minor desires to please him if he had not appeared before him. It shows him to celebrate him and to want to make of him the permutation of his golden polysemy or interpretation of the world's Apokálypsis by not changing his axis of change, by redirecting them to stated comfort interests. Namely; the leaders of the world in their world of annulled freedom of will to practice following as they please when interpreting the Apokálypsis only as a revelation, and not as a destiny that exalts the senses and compensation that will reconquer the consistency of the nature of the Apokálypsis that adheres to humanity as golden that will consolidate humanity fearful of its own ******* and excess of greed, just as it was just a few steps before entering the Temple of San Jerónimo in Alhué hand in hand with Vernarth already fully healed of his Lynothorax pectoral. They go to the ambo and Saint Jerome essentially takes out of his pockets chaff that was from the escape of the mass of stone that had not yet finally hardened, allowing them to generate a mystical sermon so that their parents return to the nave of the temple in person to surpass farther from the spring of awakening of the Kantillana requesting the unification of the ashes of his father Bernardolipo and Vernarth, to rescue his mother from a poor abundance, and is transposed by the metaphor of the life-giving spirit. Immediately afterward, Saint Jerome pours the chaff of his parents all over the surface, a great noise is produced, the doors and windows of the temple are suddenly closed, and his parents can be seen walking along the central row of the nave, where fiction could testify that everything was a fantasy, rather a great testament that would exhibit the union of two juxtaposed flanks prior to an invaluable crossing of smiles and flowers that fell from the upper altar on their crowns, they came holding their arms like open borders with the procedure before the harsh reality of a metaphor made real in the future of two beloved shepherds who crossed the limbo of their fingers, with the ferrule or the act of engendering rings of family procreation. The crosses of Lisbon and Saint Jerome resembled the monograph in beats of her wealthy feet that were consistent with the nubile gesture of her lips and then released with all frenzy towards the meeting of her beloved Vernarth, the three of them dancing together on the central pinnacle of the obese light that sheltered them, meaning from the testamentary Hebrew the Aleph on the way to Sudpichi after the Raphaca “Healing” ceremony until the diastole that adheres between the middle of the gap that was produced when the three confronted each other and the word “Heth” again He was bent over to take them like gigantic camels to meet his relatives and ghosts that surrounded him when observing the heights of Kanthillana at the assent of all this.

Because of all this similarity, the tribulation from Patmos was raging with very strong resistance, leaving totally clear of the conditionals of the flint or flint, which enveloped the parents, began to fade from their bodies while it was recomposed of seven elemental forms in relation to the transcription and identification of the three as a family trunk enormously of its exegetical possibilities. Tangent to the transcription, and if it is the case identification of the names that we stick to reunion and redemption of their parents, like all anthropology that was chained to the figures and characters that cordoned off the top of the temple when the three met they hugged and held hands as a sign of illustrative demonstrations of never surpassing oneself. Beginning with the compensations in the fullness of the tables, and completion of all the facts that showed that nothing of language escapes what an eye can observe; that is to say, as long as there is a speaking light, it will always be necessary to listen and then observe in the presentation of the mechanics by the lines that expressed the figures, which were increasing the number of letters that were possible to decipher; called stichometry or measurement of the lines in the texts that Saint Jerome that they were ordering to order a vade mecum or memorandum of this unbridled situation, which in any case had to simplify it whenever it is indicated for the reading of three beings that would meet in what literal of four spirits articulated in the continuum, in such a way that Vernarth added his bilocation to this symmetrical experience to meet again with the Mashiach who awaits him on the third step before entering the Iridescent Nimbus.

His parents will be the co-princes gathered on the Supichi road bound for the Horcondising, where Vernarth all Austral Winter Solstices will come to ask his parents for an audience in the Kanthillana Heights where they will summarize the exact day, that everything happened from a Thursday to a Sunday in the first hour of the most certain Saturday in which the twelve unnatural candles will be incorporated into the Duoverse from the branch of the Raedus Codex, specifically from the Antiphon that accompanies them to the compromised one, and sinuous height that was misted by the mist of snow, and vehemence that was perceived in the greatest regulars of Spílaiaus, having a ring of lights as if such were a gesture of Jerome and everything that was named in the concordance that could be confusion that slipped from the metaphysics of new space by beginning. From such a root emerges the Eta or value number and Vernarth symbolized as  N times from "8" to the entire value of the figure of 800 "w" or Omega, which will be the values of figures and numbers to predispose the alternation of the visits that will take place. to have with his precursors each Solstice, after alternating with the Elves of Archimedes, and to cross with them the manifestations that made him lighter than air, as could be expected before the imposition of everything that he imagined to sleep to the badly gestated world that had been altered, even with a remote Faith that symbolized the decisions of Saint John the Apostle by disposing of the salvages of the vestiges that had been destroyed in the physiognomy of a cause that proved more eloquent than a mere revelation that was never believed which would awaken from its very Semitic superlative. In this case, the allegory surpassed the prototype of all curly visual language that emanated from Vernarth's decision for the humanity that needed him, on the one hand, Saint Jerome already resolved, and Saint John the Apostle in the division of two events of the same story that It was melting into the complexity that would be unspeakable for two Saints in the middle of Vernarth, demonstrating that he had taken them with all the power of the force that is capable of pulling and manipulating until arriving at the darkness of the senses where all understanding and reasoning fall asleep. only allowing the silence to take them in the ellipsis recently emanated by the Nothofagus that were walking on the flaccid snow, the three went with graces of faith and satisfaction, Saint Jerome escorted them with everything healthy that made the incomparable awakening of two latitudes explode who managed to revive in invisibility, after resisting the latent verbigrace of the Apokálypsis that showed that the incomparable topic denoted the ma Greater resistance to everything destructive and Omega with the only subjection that only the verb "Love" does. They reached the icy and stinking gases similar to what Santa Rita de Casia emanated, which at the same time would be dividing breakers like those declared by the Corinthians about the Israelites when they were blinded by the radiance of Moses. The same would happen in the veil of little snow that was left behind his last steps when everything was white as a growing incident that would be attached at once to Patmos and Sudpichi, as well as Kanthillana and Olympo. He says goodbye to his parents and they carry their impulsive agreements to meet on the next Solstice together with Saint Jerome and Spilaiaus on the plateau.
Genesí of  Apokalypsis
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.you could possibly rewrite the sudoku puzzle, using letters, i.e., to replace 4, 6, 8, 9... with D, b, B and P... alternatively the lowercase b with Q.


.                          i really have to stop borrowing
               from the Zen concept
of ensō - with what the "circle"
represents -
   namely? heihō, i.e. the "square" -
namely, what comes after
absolute enlightenment,
strength, elegance, the universe,
     and mu (the void) -
i.e., alternatively: the nu, or?
  the filling...
            heihō is an elevated noun
denoting a sudoku puzzle...
  
   it begins with the key and lock
analogy, borrowed from greek:
Φ (insert the key)
       θ (turn it, open the door,
   and subsequently enter) -

all sudoku puzzles begin like so...

    □ that becomes Φ, θ
   that becomes #
    that subsequently becomes ■ -
   after many instances of
   —, |, / and \ considerations...

this idea only came to mind,
bothered by an obstruction
on the 10,050 puzzle...

0    0    0
0    4    2
1    3    9
2    7    5
4    6­    8
8    9    4
3    2    0            } these three blanks
0    0    7                    i was concerned with...

                          1   0   0
                          0   0   5
                          0   6   0
                      __
                          x  ­ y   z
                      
__
                    (    6   ­ 5   1  )
                    (    5    1   6  )
                    (                1 )   ****... no alternatives...

and given there's a fractional choice,
conundrum, i.e. there are only
two viable choices?
      well? neither.

the solution? i had to be patient with it,
after all, it's akin to Zen "circle"
concept, namely?
  you can't make a mistake -
given you're using such, "primitive"
tools as a pen on paper...

5     8     6     4     3     9     2     1     7
7     4     2     1     6     8     3     9     5
9     1     3     5     7     2     8     6     4
1     3     9     7     2     4     5     ζ     6
2     7     5     3     8     6     9     γ     1
4     6     8     9     5     1     7     3     2
8     9     4     2     1     5     χ     7     3
3     2     1     6     9     7     4     5     8
6     5     7     8     4     3     1     2     9

yet this wasn't the pinnacle of
the evening...
   some "madwoman", singing,
in the night... the most beautiful songs...
it was hard not to listen,
given she went on for about 3 hours...
kept singing and singing...
sometimes giving
   a frivolous explanation to someone
trying to interrupt her...
    a woman in love...
    just kept singing and singing...
     defiantly english -
i can't recall the last time
i heard a woman sing so beautifully -
not armed, standing behind
a microphone, on a stage -
   with a band behind her...
this girl's voice had but one stage:
the night -
   and her backing band?
         simply the moon;
and an appreciative audience of one...
moi.
Babu kandula Jan 2015
Every moment
I wish
To be mine

They slip away
From my finger
Tips

Like

Water drops
From
Dark clouds

Like

Lightening
From
Two unlike
Clouds

It's fractional

I don't even have
Time to analyse

They are fast

They run fast
Moments

They are not for me

Everytime

They no how to
Escape
Micheal Wolf Oct 2013
Almost aloof yet engaging
She carried herself daily in fastidious fashion
Approachable yet distant
The inner workings hidden from all
Yet when pressed loving and kind
So much so to her detriment
Trying to reason with fools
Cost her the career of her dreams
Once I saw her guard down
Fractional then raised
Then as I met her in turmoil
I said goodbye the same
Vivian Nov 2014
how eager we are to forget
where we came from,
as though we weren't
dirt beneath God's
meticulous manicure mere
fractional eternities ago.
you stopped talking to me
just days ago, but
it feels like epochs;
time dilates in strange
manners, it truly is alien.
there are civilizations
that simply do not
measure time; things happen when
they happen, and that
is that. foreign concepts and
foreign languages slipping across
the tip of my tongue, while
foreign tongues work their way
into your every orifice.
I'm laying in bed, last night
was a bust, I drank a
little bit of whiskey but
not enough, it rained but
only briefly, and I
did not have fun but
I cannot complain;
at least I don't need
you anymore.
Mary K May 2015
The nebulas danced a twisted waltz, leaving a dusting of themselves behind after every step. White painted onto black, and then green, and purple, and all the colors of the rainbow into the sky, and the ballad wailed out its long notes as the song crescendoed into oblivion. Notes jumped up, adding brush strokes of stardust onto the azure of the absent canvas. A celestial battle was beginning, varnishing the open vault with beautifully broken carcasses and fingerprints forever to be seen. Each movement, every fractional breath, leaving a trail of stars and color and galaxies for worlds to gaze upon in wonder. Swords unsheathe and blood is finally drawn, dripping into elliptical formations, and hardening over stars. Asteroids are hurtled through the expanse in a way of symphony, in a way of ballet. The horrifying back and forth blending to something magical, creating an order from chaos, forming patterns in the dark. And suddenly the anthem comes to a ****** and stars are expanding and dissipating, leaving nothing in its place. And instead of new cruel masterpieces being added to what was once there, everything around gets pulled in, into the nothing until nothing becomes everything. The symphony swirls around in circles, adding bits of blackness between the blinding light, and soon the universe is following suit. As the closing notes ring out, the cosmos revolve and whirl and dance, they simply dance to the crestfallen fantasia as it cries out its call for help one final time.
sorta prose poetry we got going here
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
502 bad gateway bypass...
title: shattering of stone
body:
in the rubble: a mountain could
be found;
as might be suggested...
given enough time and there's plenty
of it, as there is of space...
the now known deserts of the world...
were once great mountain ranges...
the ancient Egyptians even tried
to replicate this truth by erecting pyramids...
as if implying: look! look!
there were once mountains here!
now! there's nothing but sand!
how the gods, grunted at the idea of mountains
in what is not Sahara... fickle creatures
like the creatures they created are...
who knows... perhaps there will one day
be the desert of Himalaya...


i felt it coming at me like a freight train...
i was going in for work sharp...
woke up at 6am, had a coffee and ate the prepared
bun with pickles and liver pate...
but couldn't finish it... drank a coffee and smoked
a cigarette... had a shower, pampered myself
with about 7 different pampering products...
usually i'm obviously to how i smell like...
but on the bus i could quiz myself:
who here smells like soap and who here smells
like either stale bread or a curry / eggs?
that's the 86 route for you...
it's the immigrant bus... and... funnily enough...
i'm an immigrant myself... although...
it's different when you come to foreign shores
aged 8... and thrown into the education system
rather than bypass all that jazz & enter the work
force... by immigrant status i'm a veteran of sorts...
by 7am the pains and spasms in my abdomen were
becoming excruciating... i could feel
a plug-hole of a **** building up...
      like a bear before retiring to hibernation...
i wouldn't be able to just simply, **** this plug-hole
of a **** out before or on the job...
why? because there would be more to come...
dizzying effects of focus...

i was nervous... she said she would be coming to
do a shift today... who? Jeminah...
she sent me a text telling me how anxious she was...
i figured... the best... blatant: covert question
would be... you worried the trains are not working?
oh... you can get the 86 bus... the tube might be open...
pulling a long long stick...
a lever even... something Archimedes would
use to lift a mountain off the ground...
she felt anxious... oh... because of those two storms?
Eunice - the worst for 30 years...
red weather alerts? you worried about that?
i was seriously stroking a massive bear silly...
she felt anxious for all the reasons i wanted her
to feel anxious about...
n'ah... the way to get to the venue wasn't on her mind...
neither was the weather...
she was found out... she didn't want to be in
the company of the other girls...
and because i put my foot down:
this is getting silly... i'm not going to get blamed
for your son's and her son's friendship fallout...
telling the truth...
    what a recurrent theme with me these days...
well... at least its not a soap opera style of
a multiverse of competing dramas...
there's only one... and i'm fortifying myself with
all the right answers... i need to play this out
like an opera... petty **** that can grow and grow like
that must be explored from many angles...
down the line...

she didn't show up... the other two girls involved
acted slightly funny... she must have passed on
my Pontius Pilate messages: i'm washing my hands clean
of the matter... you girls created this issue...
you sort it... those two boys are not falling out
over something their mums did...

handshakes all round... two clingers...
one ****** with a nervous tick but one guy with
cerebral palsy... well... oddly enough...
having been a recluse for almost a decade...
i have managed to surprise myself by fitting the role
of a people person... i don't know where i was storing
this confidence... self-assurance... stoic silence...
i don't feel the need to talk unless talked to...
sure... i might say an anecdote or two:
how Millwall fans at Fulham told me a joke
about a West Ham player who's fond of kicking
cats... cat lives matter...

the shift itself... West Ham are back to their usual
antics of not respecting lesser opponents...
Newcastle are on a campaign trail to survive
in the Premier League... two of their best players weren't
playing: yet they still managed to draw 1 - 1...

who do you think are going to fall?
i says: Burnley had it coming for the past two years...
yeah... Watford is a boomerang team...
one season on the Premier level...
the next on the Championship level...

seems i can have much fun with people,
whether coworkers or the actual public...
the freaks among the coworkers follow me like
dogs, while the public?

an old lady wanted me to use her camera to take
photographs with the West Ham mascots:
some bear mascot was first, then Harry the Hammer...
i had to tap Harry's shoulder when a father asked me
to call him back while he moved along the stand
so he could go back and have a photograph taken
with his kid: so heavily padded he almost didn't feel
my touch...
but he went back...
then that retired police officer that took my side
when some busy-body ***** of a: not my supervisor
kept on demanding i put on a face mask...
that infernal: secular niqqab...
the retired police officer noted: he's distraught...
**** the club: if they can think they can get away
imposing their own rules: all staff must wear ******
coverings... this busy-body even said:
i don't you not covering your nose...
so, what then? my chin is capable of breathing?!
scale of escalation... the from me to the supervisor
to the busy-body third part...
the ex-police officer used the hypothetical
argument: but i have a deaf person, friend,
sitting next to me: he needs to lip read...
how is he going to read my instructions if he can't
see my mouth...
and then... well... i wasn't bothered...
wearing these nappies always brings back
memories of my grandfather's funeral...
he was a big deal in a small-town where i was
born... a foreman in the metallurgy industry...
he knew a lot of people...
but how many showed up to his funeral?
not even the half that i'd have expected...

we kept chatting... my supervisor later came up
and asker me... so...   ?!
oh... you know, we just talked about life...
his father was a widower... living in Cornwall...
he used to get free grub from the local (pub),
but when the pandemic hit...
he lost all WILL to live...
and me says: you know how people say that
you can die from a broken heart,
i guess you can also die from being denied
WILL... we agreed... we shook hands about x3...
like a post-scriptum he asked me for my name
and i asked for his... Mark...
now living in East Sussex... but originally from
Dartford...

Mark said he had thick skin... and i told him...
your eyes are watering... i don't believe it...
looking at them feels like watching a very bountiful
aquarium... you're not going to fool me mate...
life... plus, it's not against the law to not wear
the *****... as i later said:
now you get to see who the people with OCD
and the hypochondriacs are...
yeah: it feels weird... i'm walking around without
the "*****" while my wife is still paying
servitude to outlaw rules...
but if they want to... why deny them the right...
sure sure...

but i had to use a member of the public
to infiltrate the hierarchy on the job...
he used the proper arguments... i was just thinking:
perhaps people just want to see my face...
recognise it... see ****** expressions...
after all: we've been playing a game of pretending
to be Muslim women for two years...
how about we start playing hide & seek once more?

what happened later... the curiosity of the children...
i looked at them, smiled, they smiled back...
they felt so comforted... they felt like:
well... thank god this cubist-esque freak-show is
running and hiding... little girls, little boys...

like i told Mark: but the young 'ung suffered... too...
you need to see people faces,
i might have slouched with the expression
of "****** recognition"... but expressions matter...
you sometimes have to out the tongue to the face...
you want to see someone laugh,
at ease... nowhere near the culture & the people
of Afghanistan... this might have to be the building
block of the supposed "great" restart...
seeing people's faces...
esp. when it comes to children...
they want to see faces they can trust...

but it's outright blatant...
i'm not going to make a comparison between
The Beatles "vs." The Rolling Stones...
for me it always been
Bruce Springsteen "vs." Chris Rea...
no... can't choose...
who the **** do i couple Bob Dylan with?
i'm currently sipping some whiskey while
in the company of ol' Bruce...
ah... Bob Dylan vs. Tom Waits...
        Tommy 'ol boyo...
                    live circus... going out west (live)...
Tom Petty though...

there was one expulsion... a ginger she-male...
all the fans were laughing: don't give her out...
the SIA guys were playing gorillas while
i was on my break... putting my hand on the shoulder
of the hurt party... calm... calm... you ginger ostrich...
stop pandering to the parade of:
already lost teenage hormones...
it sort of worked... i giggled... and no one
became involved... i chewed on my gum like i
like might have been found chewing on a broomstick
or a horses' mane...
i chewed so hard until my jaw hurt...

Tom Waits - going out west (live)...
now we're talking...
prior to Prince dying: you had not access to
songs like Party-man... Trust... all copyrighted
material... yeah.... but i own the best of CD...
why can't i stream it?!
oh, right... he's dead... free-for-all...
free meat for the crows...

why oh why would someone walk up to me
and ask to take a selfie with me?
yeah... this American accented dude...
i watched him through the second half...
off his nuts...
but at half time he walks up to me and asks...
can i take a selfie with you?
sure... weird...
am i famous?! or am i just ****** approachable...
all the other stewards are like bricks in
a mountain: but mountains don't have bricks...
or they're over-anxious busy bodies...
it's like people never learned their NVQ training...

safety, security, service....
the service part is the building part...
you pass off being attired in safety / security tactics...
but... service comes first...
you talk, you interact... you learn to be human...
one year of this, before i ask for being given references...
that's when i'll work toward looking toward a more
permanent employment as a chemistry
teacher... even though... scribbling this sort of *******:
i'd love to become an English teacher...
ha ha... an English teacher... even though i'm not
English...

i need the references... working with my father in
roofing... no, can, do...
they don't want familial ties in references...
one year... i'd still do these gigs on the weekend...
but one year...
you get a chance to deal with a football crowd...
you got a belt... when it might come to dealing
with a classroom of rowdy children...
like Louis XIV stated... it's the trick of the eye...
look the authoritative type...
there's nothing more to it...

then these three supporters at the front...
when they first started singing the song for the cat-lives-matter
footballer who was more into... kicking
cats than a football... how did the lyrics go?
almost Dr. Seuss...
he kicks with his right foot... he kicks with his
left foot... i pursed my lips... i tried to cover my
face with my hand... all the while trying to as
instructed: not taking sides... not showing emotions...

but their remarks came fast... i must have looked
interesting...
so where are you from?
Russia? guess again... Ukraine? nope...
Czech Republic? nope... ******! yep...
but i've been living here since the age of 8...
and i'm 35...
have a nice life: she said... one of them was
ginger... presuppositions of Irish... the beard was
pulled... oh my god, the girl looked proper, proper,
drunk...
i went on a break... i came back:
oh! he's back! you know you're the only one
without a hood on! all the other stewards...
the guy who's usually here is somewhat asleep
while prying open his phone...
where's your pancho against the rain?
oh... i gave it to a spectator... blah blah...

point being... i was actually waiting for her...
Jeminah... all the time... she didn't show up...
i've just received a text from her...
what is... drotaverini hydrochloridum?
i had to take it today...
a rubric of buzzwords...
it sells alongside suggestions akin to the morning-after
pill...

well, it will be a rubric of buzzwords...
i had to take some pills for the cramps in my stomach...
it just felt like one of those Sprintsteen,
Chris Rea, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty sort of nights:
when you feel nervous about thinking bout
a girl while simultaneously feeling nervous
about taking a ****... so you feel like taking a ****
at 7am but delay it to until 5pm... 6pm...
because the girl's easting away at your mind...
you're getting cramps in your abdomen
like you you're about to do a clown trick
with balloons turning them into theoretical poodles...
because you just love the girl:
you just love the girl...
she might be a single mother, she might think
she's a woman... but she's just a girl to you...
even though you're not her father...

oh right... the buzz... words... as someone who studied
chemistry i should know what drotaverini hydrochloridum
is... it's for the abdomen cramps...
for: i ought to have taken a ****...
but here's me stalling...
will she, will you come?
DROVATERINE....
an antispasmodic drug...
   used to enhance cervical dilation during child-birth...
i'm giving birth: to a feeling...
i think i'm in love... she's all anxious...
Bruce's: Maria's Bed... yeah... i'm on that same page
in this story...
esp. noted use in Asia and Central Europe...
i'll be lazy: i'll cite it verbatim:
it's structurally related to papaverine,
is a selective inhibitor of phosphodiesterase 4
and has no anticholinergic effects...

the way i see it... i'm giving birth to love....
i want her fat **** to sit on my face...
sorry... what?!
i'm being absolutely serious...
just looks up the article on Anticholinergics...
i don't have a womb...
but i have a heart that seems to have
sunken into the levels of the intestines...
while i get all spaghetti tangles
for brains...
i'm in love... i can't help it...
she a cougar red head... a deep red...
a mahogany red...
i can't stop thinking about her...
it's exactly impossible to live:
without having to think about her...
anxious cluck by cluck...
if she's not going to abide by failures in life
then... no... life's not worth living without her:
when she's at her pinnacle of failure...
let me pick her up...
let's pretend there's an old world
worth looking at... that there might be a world war
in the theatre... none of these proxies in
the H'American department of... up-keeping
hard-ons and kaleidoscope coyotes...
now for the text messages... why weren't you around?!

i wrote this yesterday, i went downstairs for sone grub
because i couldn't fall asleep...
my mother came down... saw me in my TOMBSTONE
mode... drunk... what? you want me to punch
myself in the face? lucky for her, lucky for me
i remained silent, because the night was silent...
she ****** off i ****** off... today i made mein vater
und mein mutter some ******
chicken broth with vermicelli...
all the usual suspects were used...
the leek, the parsley root, the carrot,
the garlic (skin on), the celery... chicken... d'uh...
although i didn't use the chicken *******...
that's going to be used for a curry...
  
and what are my other options? living alone?
paying rent to a landlord from hell?!
shame... sure... but the attic is full of clutter
and there is no basement...
plus i have a private library the deservedly might
need a proper: HEAVE! HEAVE!
50 oars...

i'm in love and not for all the right reasons...
if my youth took the route of an atypical man...
starting from 20 working my way up...
yeah... but i went mad at the age of 21...
******* invisible choir, great wind dispersing it...
psychiatry that tried to attempt its regression
tactics of implanting me with false memories...
giving me anti-psychotic drugs that fattened me up
until a nurse said:
you either loose weight... or you'll be put
on high-blood pressure tablets...
so... i bought a bicycle... lost 20kg... cycled off
into the sunset...
now... 35... years old... oh... look...
they're looking... they're actually interested...
the young girls have: "woken up"...
yeah... by now? i'm not interested...
i don't and i didn't pay much attention
to the game of genes... it's a fractional impossibility...
unless you're cloning yourself...
by the time you're a grandfather...
only a quarter of you remains...
  why bother with the argument?
        it's silly...Darwinistic unrealism has always been
a thorn in my side...
eh?                            my genes have my consciousness?
i'm... translatable to future generations?
sure... but they can't be my own...
why would i be interested in young girls...
if things worked out for me like they might have
worked out for other men...
a walking *****... and spare parts of monetary dough...
i never wanted to make money...
i took the principle left around for others to see...
between the aesthetic and the ascetic...
well... St. Francis of Assisi...
other men in my position: who have hungered and
been left out in their 20s... now in their 30s can have
their comeback...
their revenge... me? i'm trying to court
a woman 4 years older than me... with a boy
that's 11 years old...
i said: bully them into teaching your German...
you know, it's the mother tongue of English...
grammatically the two languages are very much
aligned... Fredrick... "bully" them into making
you learn Deutsche... i said BULLY i implied:
persuade... do i need to use sign language...
finally... though... a third head on the Hydra...
if i had a little Frankenstein in my possession...
i could be learning Deutsche proper with him....
a youngling like that... sponge for brains...
maybe i could teach him some of my ****** zunge...
wow... no no... that's the whole point of turning
toward art... by 35 i could have been earning
100+ £... yawn... no, truly...
playing this to-and-fro with younger girls
because i now might have status...
not much fun... to be exacting...
single mum... problems at school...
you should learn German rather than French...
he understood it splendidly...

             just you wait... i'll get him into modern German
folk music... did i buy her off with my homemade wine
and him with my own made banana loaf with hazelnuts?!
here's to me!
salute!

              - on these isles for most of my life...
35 - 8 = 27... twenty-seven ******* years!
and no chance at a pluck at the Rose...
up north she was giving it up to grooming gangs
from Pakistan... down south...
shy ******* nunnery: "all of a sudden"!
but now... ah... this... hybrid of Scotch and English
stock... i'm shuddering... i'm still getting these
cramps in my abdomen that says:
you have a womb... what?! i'm transgender?!
what the ****?!

that's why i didn't want to earn money...
well... it's not that i didn't want to...
you see what happens when you go mad aged
21... and how you figure things out...
at least now i'm not a target...
i don't have anything to offer expect for...
knowledge...
it's a blessing...
since... it's hardly what any woman wants...
women tend to want only their own advice...
they conjure this advice like witches conjure up...
perhaps the rosemary herb
goes well with lamb... but like the Turkish
broads suggested... but if you add it to beef...
oh! mein! gott! the Turkish lavash!
with that red onion & parsley roughage of
a side salad... mouth-watering stuff...
i don't really need to see the competitive hard-on
of whatever Sultan to counter the Hagia Sophia...
just that beef lavash...
and yes, you'd be wrong... English cheddar
works just as well...

but... i'm no Frank O'Hara... there's no qualm in
me about not being a painter...
why i'm not a painter translates to me as:
why am i not a painter?
i abhor colours... well... i like some more than
others... the amber and the auburn...
the greens... whiskey... autumn...
but when it comes to movies?
i prefer them to be black & white... less strain
on the eyes...
if images are moving? black & white...
sure... no one is expected to paint in black & white...
like no one is expected to write in
rainbow hieroglyphics... i can stand for an hour
beside a colour painting...
it doesn't move, i don't move...
time, the world: moves...
fair enough...
but colour-riddled movies?
a strain on the eyes...
    why am i not a painter?
                     why am i not a narrator?!
i'm clearly neither... what's the middle ground?
priest? psychiatrist? *******... poet?!
oh you have to be choking me to make me joke...
let alone laugh... but i'm not rhyming...
but there was a time and a place
when people identified this art with
a need for mathematics... measure... ticture...
rhyme... music...
like **** that's happening now: proper...

- perhaps it's not painting, i think it;s painting,
perhaps lacking in colour, perhaps lacking in contorts..
in shapes, in disguises...
what? no traffic light: goes green?
no traffic light remains red?
no middle ground for the amber?
no cyclist prepped to be the shepherd of traffic?
to leech onto a truck where he might be
visible... to orientate the roundabout congestion?
no one, ever, minded, this?!
before moi!
           oh... what shame... what utter shame...
we were supposed to help each other out...
not be these... petty demigods...
silly ******* idiots...

             i might have to reiterate my stance...
she's giving me the love-ups making me feel like a woman...
i'm getting cramps in my abdomen...
sure... i ought to have taken a **** 7 hour prior...
but i keep it in... like a bear about to hibernate:
a plug-hole ****...

- anticholinergic agent are substances that block the action of the neurotransmitter called acetylcholine (ACh) at synapses in the central and peripheral nervous system...

-  anticholinergics are divided into two categories in accordance with their specific targets in the central and peripheral nervous system and at the neuromuscular junction: antimuscarinic agents, and antinicotinic agents (ganglionic blockers, neuromuscular blockers...

she says she's anxious... i'm nervous too!
i'm getting cramps in my stomach...
i'm giving birth to love...
i want access to her son... i want to learn Deutsche
with him... is that too much to ask?
i don't have the sort of money
to access younger, fertile, girls...
i'm left with single mothers... MUFFAS...
oh... she's rounded... like the earth ought to be...

i'm still shy on one reply...

Apologies for the lateness of this message, came home and "had to", i.e. wanted to make some Silesian gnocchi with beef in a dill and a horseradish sauce... cooking for three, it takes time, then I fought up on some footie... was soaked at West Ham, but it was a good shift.... so what happened to you? Weren't you supposed to come? I found out late that the tube was working, managed to use it on the way back... so what happened? What were you anxious about? The bad weather the day before? I took a walk for a newspaper when the storms hit... it was almost fun-windy... at one point I stood rooted in one place for about 3sec being unable to move... the winds almost roared, i even stopped listening to music on my headphones as I listened to the wind whizz by and ruffle the trees... sort of like ASMR but with a loud speaker... I imagined the wind ruffling the trees like someone brushing their hair on an ASMR video... you feeling better though, yes? You doing Fulham this week?

but we're talking about a psychotic girl...
one layer of narrative against another...
she might as well conjure up
a missing 13 year old cousin
to just test you...
thar's how it works...
this reality, this ugly "thing"...
and the deviances of how much
i want to sleep with her...
there... i said it... beautiful view.
Aidar Omar Jan 2022
Now, I like to sing Jazz and I'm millennial investor
When the Crona came I had to sell all my Tesla
But I hope if you listen in a decade or less
You remember this song with a smile on your face

Robinhood story has been trending four years
Raising new generation of bulls and bears
Letting smaller fish swim alongside sharks and whales
That’s how I became a fan of fractional shares!

I believe they will grow they were growing before
Nothing can stop me from getting some more
Oh I love buying low like a pro
Selling is also an option to know

Now, I have some snacks, I read reports on the stock
What is Under the hood, what's the talk of the block?
Talking heads on the-Street could be playing their game
Let the buyer beware! And there's no one to blame

Robinhood stock has joined the show
Ticker "HOOD" is in business come rain or snow
And so after a long night of trying to sleep
When I open my app, I just pray for the dip

Now, I hear of new coin on the crypto market
They say it costs a penny but has a dollar target
I say thanks but they're plenty of crap coins around
I already have good coins in my Gold account

Robinhood crypto is well on the rise
Litecoin, Dogecoin, Bitcoin - they rhyme nice!
If I get some Ethereum I’ll cling to it tight
With those coins in my wallet, my future is bright

I believe in the crypto, I believe in the hood
But I'm not a prophet don't let me be misunderstood
Though it might be a one-time deal
Even Santa Claus rally could go downhill

I believe they will grow they were growing before
Nothing can stop me from getting some more
Oh I love buying low like a pro
C’mon give me that access to best IPOs, best IPOs

Now, I have an opinion I don't give advice
You buy or you sell, you gotta think twice!
Thank you for reading this lyrics. Check out the song to these lyrics too.- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OxUKmtjK49Y
The Noose Dec 2013
On the first day of the year
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed
This year
Nothing changed
And yet everything changed
The bad obscured the good
Completely.

Governed by disorders
Trials galored
Tribulations were scarce
Shredding me were my emotions
As I ricocheted between mood swings
I took permanent residence in the doldrums
Walked on the razor’s edge
Sank deeper
The chasm is endless

Tripped by sorrow
I fell on my ****
Staggering, I rose
Fell then rose again
Only to be handed
Another ******* pill

Sempiternal thirst
For internal calmness
Remains unquenched

Refusing to take anything
Away from myself
Veering off the pessimism lane
Allowing the optimism
To settle in my blood
I feel compelled to admit
Irregardless of the turmoil
This has been a year of
Milestones
Transformations
Achievements
Realisations
And fractional clarity
On the blinding forest that is life

I shedded my second skin
As I went along
Not completely renewed
Almost...
Or not at all
I don’t know

I grew some *****,
As they are essential in life

I blew out the candle
Lit for the one
Who will never be mine
I watched the flame fade away
But the thoughts of him did not

The road ahead is the toughest yet

I am placing the  few good memories
Of the year in a jar
To carry with me
Into the forthcoming new year
These memories, it seems
Are for keeps.
These are my good memories of this year
-Graduating with *** laude in business
-Going overseas with my mum and brother
-Discovering more rad bands
-Paramore releasing their self-titled album (favourite band)
-Discovering the wonders of gin and juice
-Re-uniting with my aunt
-Liverpool fc being on top of the league over christmas
-Building relationships with family
-Partly letting go of my social inhibitions.

Adieu, 2013
bulletcookie Jul 2016
Their faces distorted
while bodies contorted
soon are deported
transported to hell

Painted dysfunctional
classic untouchable
labeled as fractional
migrant they dwell

Pharaoh's adorn
pharos do warn
these masses forlorn
narrow politics swell

homogeneity
sprung from Greek deity
democracy with fealty
a perfect union knell

-cec
Karen Ng Feb 2017
Life
I, a constant wave
Am a hearth

Love
Stars encircling us clearly
Beautiful
I struggle to see things
As they really are

Child
Hands from all sides
Offer me eyes
I learn my own

People
Elemental wholes
A fractional tug
So I clutch the strings
They’re like trees

Freedom
Beyond here
Goalkeeper isn’t in sight
But they might be
Soon

Living*
Breaths, waves
Jamie Newton Jul 2018
Let’s talk about life and let’s be frank
All global strife starts and ends at the bank

With fake inflation and monetized debt
It Cripples our nations, controls us through threat

Now let me be formal and you might think me mental
But free markets are normal it’s really the Central

Creation of cash at a click of a button
Valued at trash, your debt they take cut-in

War for resources innocence left in lurch
While weaving clauses to suppress free energy research

The influence is deep, insidious at best
Our lives they will reap seen as figures to invest

It’s a perfect legal sin That we do not deserve
Its the evil of Central Banking and Fractional Reserve
Bank ethically ❤️
Fawning over the fissile festivities,
with which I fake my facile form.
Fatal futility floods my far-flung faith in myself.

Feeding the fires of my forgery,
Frantic forethought,
Fictionalizing the facts before my faithless eyes.

Forclosing upon the fractional freedoms that I've so long fought for.
Fearing the unforgiving firestorm that follows,
Once I've finally exhausted faith in my future.

Fielding my final fight,
Standing fast in the face of futility.
Fit to fly into the fray.
jonathan valonis Jul 2010
I've said so many sounds,
Focused into an understanding,
Of nothing to profound,
Just creatively undermining,
The sense of organized,
Thoughts of being,
To only recognize,
It's not worth seeing,
The whole picture,
All that is fractional,
May seem obscure,
Logical is rational,
Though slightly missing,
Greater the detail,
Honed on the mission,
Information neatly entailed,
To multiple identities,
In single sense,
A whole remedy,
How thought is spent
The barrel filled with ink spill on the sheet
Pulsate in joy dance to heartbeat
They dry up quick but not before
Sealing on paper all heart’s outpour.
Some are dark some pretty faced
Some orderly some badly messed
They fiercely battle none would be less
To touch your mind and find there a place.
Knowing too well impress they must
The fractional time for which they last
Freeze it chill or warm it hot
Smiles, tears, emotions, what not,
Doing it all the best way they can
Before fading out in their brief lifespan.

The barrel is full spilling on the sheet
Day in and out in ceaseless beat
Knocking time again on your door
Pleading you to listen to the heart’s outpour.
Steve Page Nov 2017
See how the colours shift -
with each fractional adjustment
I'm met with a 360 revolution
emblazoned horizon to horizon
a panchromatic world of beauty
in a constant state of flux,
with variations,
both major and minor,
circling round 
with each marginal movement
of my creator's hand.
Our fragmented lives can be a thing of beauty.  Just gaze and take it in.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2021
bless the parents

who grow their worry lines,
a slow etching upon their face,
every night, a fractional addition,
what will the future hold for the children,
wandering tween wondering and wonderful

I am among the parental plenitude, who
struck a deal with the authorities of life,
pleading, demanding, coercing, begging,
take my years excess, give it to the children,
and spare them famine, thirst, war, sickness...

give them children, and spare them too the worry,
ban those crinkled lines, provision only smooth faces,
never let them never wonder, the accursed how,
will they be alright, & let them read this poem,
and laughing ask the surrounding atmosphere

whatever made the old man write such nonsense?


April 10th 2021 @5:38 AM
Babu kandula Nov 2015
a prisoner will be asked for

the last wish before sentence,

as a prisoner of your heart I never got one

my demise from your prison is fractional
Kaitelka was in the Equinoctial Aftó of Áullos Kósmos IV after geomancy was oriented as a star Argonaut bathing in the Aegean while waiting for the ******* of various sectors of Áullos Kósmos. Between both Aulos and Citara, she was modeled with the aulética-citarística, glimpses of her Psychic Trisomy. In effect of the existence of an extra chromosome in a diploid organism 158, for a quantity of chromosome fifty-four, instead of a homologous pair of chromosomes. From this position she was limiting herself with her chromosomes of normality in the genetic proximal, upon entering the Bay of Skalá, which was waiting for her native again, where the art of navigation flourished in the nitrogenous water that brought her from Skalá; from Eleios-Pronnoi, about 39 km south of the main city on the island of Argostoli, in southern Kefalonia, on one of the Ionian islands of Greece. From here, she mimetic, she turned towards the art of the unknown sea next to Wonthelimar who endorsed her with his favorite, collapsing and disoriented by their anti-gregarious territorial similarity, and maritime per se the Otolith that brandished him in dual places of Ionian-Dodecanese geography, following the semiotic songs of Leiak that emerged from the aulética to infer Balénid genres, which acted precisely between the island and the bay of Patmos with the same name as Skalá, to meet everyone and be a participant in the construction of the sanctuary.
Kaitelka's Vernarthian tenor carried her behind her with another Ballenid, this one again carried the Demiurge Ezpatkul, with his prominent Augrum or Gold incisors that turned on the backs of all the borer beetles, being Scarabaeidaes that were delimited towards logic, and paraphrase of a qualitative satirical, especially in the modality of the subgenre, and sub-mythology of Vernarth. To commend all the hypotheses of this whale that sang with the native cephalization ultrasound, where it continued to arrange means between the middle and in its cranial cavity to the percentage of the world map, with the muzzles of its larger fins transmitting waves of parapsychological regression towards Vernarth, and parodying the transparent cendal ballads that he did with his passage through the water, despite not having members that strengthen the controversial cetacean passerby by waters of a melodious rhetorical language, such as a great inspirational helix, and satires that house greenhouses in most of the jubilation, akin to rudders that I furrowed in his verbal poetry, easing restrictions, and possessing the genome that was deprived of his gestation, of the maternal expropriation, victimized with fears of omega, and of Apocalypse hungover by sea and water candy. They piloted their heart valves, mere and Dantesque with the Zeusian buttress spauto, muddled and bundled in their bombastic myocardium like omitted ships without ever lifting anchor and setting sail, a very brief tulle of water satirized aggregates of their formula, and a piece of stony wood on their spur he braced himself like a mammal, he was carrying his weight in a literary category where there is no way to test it. Without hindrance, she was hilarious next to the breakers in the manner of a belligerent tendril with thick keel skins, dramatizing him, and perhaps that would delay her in reaching the investiture of Vernarth's Proskynesis Himation, some looked out jocular and foreshadowed to meet with her. Her chains were Caucasus icebergs, demystifying seasonality by residing linked to a single destination of Balénido Down, ******* with her dorsal that exhaled rearrangements of the Cinnabar genome, clarifying hormones and stereotyped balenid chromosomes.

The concordance of the Satirical subgenre, and the inanimate polarized gender correspondence to Kaitelka, usurping the intentionality of the sub-mythological drama, in two Radas of Skalá that appeared to lose the standard of their ears, with tragic representativity versus comedian staging, heralding an interlude between two areas that struggled to have it directed towards three comedies that pounced on three tragedies, missionizing crossed features of the ideals of survival, with parables preceded by the soul-linguistic being, due to its canonical supernatural modality when it was mimicked with disciplined domains after of a rhetorical poetics, rectified in religions granting orphic messianic structuralism bis of the equinoctial aft; foreshadowing the hymns of Orpheus in the Bible, and metaphorical in revealing divine truth, accessible only to spirits worthy of it. The purpose of metaphor in her poetry has the deciding function of the ineffable of thought, through simile, or in comparison to imagining. The song is one poetry, and the song such a praying too, prayer and ritual forming an inseparable syntagma of meaning in her escaping from Arbela's zither, impossible to differentiate in the biblical psalms themselves. The penultimate of them recalled number 149, being a hymn destined to accompany the dance; Orpheus says: "make melodies for him, with drums and lyres." It is known that the classical instrument of Orpheus reaches the level of the sacred in biblical texts. Psalm 150 contains an orgiastic ending to a symphony, in the description of the instruments that accompany the word and the voice that praises God, with sermons from Kaitelka blooming from an oceanic being and printing songs of the subgenre, without blemish of sub- mythology and the unconfessed proceeding. The comical exaltation of him recreates aspects of great joy, for whom in his Orphic water, he feels vibrations under his belly portraying cathartic and semiotic of his own trisomic root, in an effort to decode drama, for intermezzos of the mythological subgenre. Borker with his sword Mythos interpreted the story of Kaitelka when he tells her about the melting of Horcondising, seeing in them friendly glaciers that included her within provincial storytelling that sensitizes the culture being reborn on its spheres and plasma hematocrits, for an apologist who admits acting corporality and inanimate. Its genesis is Bereshit, "which names and does not start", from the undervalued parashot of the gods and kings, ordering them from the ibidem to inter dogmatism, in which it contributes in its credit reserve, in large consortiums besieging colonies by the southern seas of the Nótos of Borker. "Evil tears their veins heal their goods relegates the forgetful in the tradition of their existence alongside the demiurges, incontinent to their ills who enjoy making creation sleep, soothing it in innocuous myths that are often more than a supernatural truth!

Helios went out to the road by the west and not by the east, in the nascent instant of the ectoplasm that revealed micro satires that led to the station of the hero who lives hidden, behind the proscenium of a cultural and religious intimacy, Kaitelka plunges a few meters below the Aegean where he was already arriving, and he can realize that he did not see marine species around him, only beams of lights that distorted the view of those who flatter him on a descent? Underwater a mythical mission wailed on dry surfaces, and in the phenomena of the underwater stones, they relaxed before any reflection of the veracity of a myth of expression in the mouth of a fish other than Theseus, brushing systematic hermeticisms with the gloomy and infinitesimal. All this dialectical journey towards inevitably alternating molecules of his finite genome, to reestablish in his hybrid status when arriving at Skalá, here he would have to use his two neurochemical brains for a mortal instinct that does not die inside the mouth of a whale, but in the interrogation after being swallowed…? based on the extension of the sexagesimal nanoscale of Leiak, equipped with a fractional comparing that collects mythologies within them, for the uncertain truth. Kaitelka's only etiological myth burden is a consequence of her suffering, which is offered in her psychic trisomy, for being bastardized by three chromosomes, disorderly the reality of her specimen that unfolds her as a congenital disease.

Kaitelka says: Who am I and where do I come from? I am reaching the floodgates of my lord Vernarth, and I can see that I am reborn in his astragalus and vines, which tell a story ****** under the tripod and vapors of Herófila. Authoritarian truth that will bow before a pig to become, smelling here in the tragic essence, and in truths that are hidden in its symbolic denial?
Kaitelka is instituted a few miles before she begins to navigate in a zigzag, trying to condense forces for the origin of her ethereal, with sarcasm techniques that self promote her to blink in deluded tears and moan in the scenarios of uncertainty, in the opinion of pouring real myths, transposing its flow in the destination that is flooded in imprecise gestures and between cries with super sounds that raised it on the swells, and these, in turn, were shedding the mystery Masken by raising water concentrated in onerous poly morphology. With joys and hilarious meltdowns on the mountains, she approached everything when she arrived at the pleasant Skalá, escaping from cosmogony that linked her weightlessly on the light water, overflowing towards the very origin of a Vernarthian deity, in pasts and futures that do not intersect in the radial of its origins. The sky proclaimed laughter and mimic gestures that adhered to the vitrifying phenomenon of past-present pashkien images, ready to lightning that heals the invalidations of walking on troubled waters, a dipsomaniac leitmotif in early Christian justice.
                                            
Kaitelka sins irascible, violent and proud, urgent and judicious, but conciliatory despite carrying a cross and a harpoon on her back. She will continue to be Kaitelka Down, but Patmos will arrogate her Thracian gift of her of Orphic origin to her, for purposes of her radial preeminence in the Ballenids that hoist all the sacred sites. The biological diagnostic prescribes an univitelino twin whale, but when she goes beyond the hirsute destiny of her Iliad, she begs to go transforming into the rainy sphinx on the thick bronze ceiling as she breaks in the minting of the coins, towards a stop of seduction that enthrones in the gloom of the minotaur, and in the numinous hands of a daffodil on the face of the Epsilon. Or crawling in the mitral and in her valvulopathy with messengers, carriages, and with swans or pigeon birds; perching on a wreath of roses and myrtles that surround her red bozos. Almost always appearing undressed next to her escort, usually multiplied in excess towards her, with the amazement of her animal consorts that dolphins are, and Thracian pigeons, a priori being covered by the Pythia of Delphi that is migrating in the murky triumphs of the Achaemenides in Gaugamela.
Áullos Kósmos IV

— The End —