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English Jam Jul 2018
My little friend is now gone
My tragic life must go on; despite that
His evil eyes and his cheeky smile still burn in my mind
He no longer exists except
For my memory of him
And I rejoiced
When I heard the news
Still I can recall how I sobbed
When he gave me his evil eye for the first time
When he hurled glass and other projectiles at me when he was hungry
When he spent hours upon hours pondering the fabric of society
I hated him
I wished
For his death
I was depressed
It was like paint peeling off a wall
It was like finding a dead leprechaun at the end of a rainbow
I was expecting some sort of remorse when he left
Funny how heartbreak works

Now read this in reverse
Because sometimes all you need
Is a little change of perspective
To truly understand someone
Dedicated to the goldfish I had when I was little who accidentally died. This is for you sweet fish <3.
It was December 27th,
Nineteen and fifty one
The day the Christmas  snowball war
Had officially begun
It started in the schoolyard
It was supposed to just be fun
But, by the time the whole thing ended
No one knew just who had won

The grade five class were ready
All lying there in wait
As the kids from home form seven
Approached the schoolyard gate
With a yell the whole thing started
They were served up on a plate
the kids from home form seven
would not forget this date

The air filled with projectiles
Launched from wet gloves by the score
As the victims ran for cover
They were hit by four score more
They were bruised and hurt and battered
As they ran for the school door
Now, the kids from the grade five class
Lay waiting there for more

Two teachers came to stop them
Get them back into the school
but, the kids just launched more snowballs
Using scarves now as a tool
They would catapult their snowballs
which was really, really cool
And the teachers ran for cover
In the safety of the school

They'd built a wall near four feet high
To protect them on both sides
It channeled all who entered
The walls acted as guides
At most their little walkway
Was only eight feet wide
and their victims ran for cover
For the school, a place to hide

It was dark when the attack happened
The form seven kids came back
They'd left the school from the front door
And had now planned their attack
Their first snowball hit it's target
With a loud resounding crack
It was clear that old form seven
Was truly fighting back

The teachers had a huddle
Met inside and chose to fight
They would wait until the battle
Had gone on into night
They would sneak out of the building
With the absence of the light
And attack the grade five children
And show them how to fight

The air was full of snowballs
Bodies, gloves, scarves abound
there were children hitting adults
And there were children on the ground
They'd been at it for six hours
When they heard the alarm bell sound
It was time to get inside for bed
Before the prefects came around

The snowball fight at Wellesley
Public School in fifty one
Is the one that they remember
Out of all of those they've done
In all one hundred people
Were involved in all the fun
For next year they are building
A snowball launching gun!!!
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
i am of the light
despite
my shroud
that crowds the villains in the toppled telemetry of my steeds
galloping gallantly from the burning cities of my dreams

i shall gleam from her or he
that which delivers
their truths faithfully to their dreams
open wounds turn invitation
in the pity of hungry thieves
who dared to dream
of peasants king-ed.
as we sing
sing
of desperation
in passionate confessions
of jaded wisdom
passed on through every failure
never to falter
in the betrayals of Walters
lost
in loss-less flac files
i have miles to go
smiles to grow
daggers projectiles
from mild mannered children
freshly ridden
of maniacal miracles
spiritual
but not stupid
we are troopin
this lucid movement
grooving
to the repetition of the drum
the gas blow back of a gun
the bursting bubbles of bubble gum
having fun
i learnt goodly on the run

learned nothing in victory

learned nothing in simplicity

complacently

snickering it all away
bullet by bullet
case by case
and eventually the blade
in my compassionate displays
we shall congregate
and hate ourselves
**** the donks to hell
dwelling on the cellar doors
that darkos teacher adored
in verbal massacre
of the written literature
of cracked brain fixtures
seeping the lines
in cold tingles
down the spines of maniacs

just relax

mix it down on a track
spit the thesis into pieces
through the creases of cracked sneakers, and out the speakers
of trouble seekers.

mistakes make us

deliberate chaos
tossed  
upon the fakers
who cry to think
the dream
became a reality
mistake us
for serrated blades that rip the hearts from beasts
sometimes i stop to think
while having a drink
conclusive brinks
of sanity creaks
of my humility
secreting
frivolously
the disposing of my jealousy
of your feelings

hellaciously
i rip a felony
from a face
in appealing agony
antagonizing me
in the frenzied forensics
of my oblique
outlooks
none of us
were ever crooks
speaking to self
while being booked
in hell
nivek Sep 2015
The tongues of the poor are silent
their bellies do most of the talking
the backs of the downtrodden break
a thousand times each day they snap
bullets fly in every direction, even upwards
celebrating some kind of victory
the whole wide world watches a TV screen
as they get thinner, wider, more HD
we can now see spots and dimples more clearly
on all the faces of killing projectiles and casualties.
davi bauer Aug 2013
In the civilization game
The mind is a sphinx riddle

Signpost projectiles suffice to be words

Can you be centered in intimacy
Knowingness  consuming vulnerabilty?

Our shadows are our ruins
Illuminating social foliage

Love's incisive lacerations
Conforming to moral memory

I savor the overwhelming
David Nelson Sep 2011
**** Deck

I got rubbery legs and a pain in the neck
sick to my stomach down on the **** deck

I'm rockin and rollin but there isn't a beat
trying so hard to just stay on my feat  

the waves or crashing high on the bow
my belly is groaning I sound like a cow

I bounce off the walls first left and then right
been doing the same thing all frigin night

***** bags are stuck to the walls
in the circles and in the halls

some folks are funny they're faces all green
beware of projectiles potatoes and bean

but I'll do it again I'll do it once more
if only I could open this GD door

put my head in the toilet give it a flush
boy that tastes bad where is my tooth brush

yes the seas were high but I was out flat
couldn't sign on couldn't even chat

what's that on the floor aw man what the heck
now I know why they call it the **** deck

Gomer LePoet...
Where Shelter Jun 2020
majestic adjectives
of contrary harmonies,
adverbs in adversity
that modify our satisfactions,
gut punch our eyes,
scramble the taste buds,
now inoperable,
incapacitated to distinguish
what is disturbed -
what is sweet -
what is impossible.
my days ending is
nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of
what I’ve got left

stale panko crumbs,
here come they in
1000 radium-tipped
projectiles of
serious humorous
self-destruction,
gifted to you!
my few
itinerant followers
peddlers brave enough
to offer shelter,
to follow me
into the deeps of
radioactive incomprehension,
of no particular disorders
a thousand times

bless you
richly, eachly,
name announced, pronounced,
we are all proper nouns.
Tammy M Darby May 2018
When the Last War began
It had been 15 minutes since the first missiles were launched and NY had no warning before it hit, entire blocks were obliterated, debris, brick, and stone mixed with flesh as horrified onlookers had only a second of recognition, before they too were nothing but melting skin, then ash as the radiation spread like a broken dam. A firestorm consumed all in its wake and deaths sister continued to rain down poison and rattled the earth in the aftershock of devastation.

New York City, Los Angeles, and Washington D.C. had been hit only minutes apart and the smell of fire and blood filled the rubble-strewn streets, those that did not perish instantly were killed by flying shards of glass, metal, and other projectiles. The smell of burnt hair infiltrated the nostrils of the soon to be dead as veins and muscle were ripped from the bone in an instantaneous flash. The screams caught in the throats of the victims stopped before they disappeared into flames.

Not one, but four nations had launched missiles in response to the sanctions, the isolation and tightening the noose of the military to strangle countries considered to be the "enemy," by the US.

But Trump's inner circle had miscalculated, the military, his advisors with all their combined minds never truly entertained the idea that Russia or China would attack and were confident the might of the capitalist US and its military would always prevail.

Russia, Iran, North Korea, and China had long been secret allies, laid their plans and patiently awaited the day when the US could no longer hide its intentions and made no effort to do so, openly challenging territories of other nations, promoting economic terrorism, backing extremist rebels and destroying governments. as they pleased and with impunity.

The lack of, "freedom and democracy," were frequently used an excuse for the invasion of unfriendly countries, along with the seizure of assets and resources, strategic position, or refusal to use the currency of the United States.

So they fired the missiles and dropped the bombs. The people of all nations had depended on their governments to use diplomacy to negotiate the differences that were the basis of the conflict. They never expected a real nuclear conflict to occur until it came as deaths face to their door, like a flash of red light before the darkness claimed them.

And so the last war began.

My first try at writing a short story

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby May 5, 2018.
All Material Stored in Author Base



All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby May 5, 2018.
r Aug 2014
words in a blender
too slushy
pain behind the eyes
frozen thoughts
lime green
exorcised projectiles
turning heads
with demon smiles
and whispered snarls
in a dead language.

r ~ 8/1/14
\¥/
  |    ¥
/ \
Jolan Lade Mar 2018
It's not going so well.
That's really all that I can get myself to tell.
It's a struggle for me to keep above water, when I'm in the middle of this meaningless slaughter.
I keep telling myself that I will survive, but everything is in an endless and continues dive.
When I look up all I see is empty eyes and dark lies.
When I look around shells are cracking, and guns are banging, making projectiles whistling and blood drizzling. It's a chaos.

I look behind me, I gasp as hell gates clasp.
No sense or justice are served when rules are curved, so well as pain observed.

I carry on digging my own grave, I am no hero I have no one to save.
I am not screaming, just seeing how people fall in vain, without any opportunity to gain, just a single breath of "clean air". That is where I shoot my flare into the sky, in a hope so needless, I might see an angle fly.
The clouds turn dark, and with time, "hope" quits leaving a mark.

So dear beloved God, please give me a sign, lead me a path, so I can leave this awful place behind.
I don't really belong.
Harold Rizla Oct 2014
The Futility of Persecution


As you approach me
both guns drawn
Bullets full of hate and bile
I stand here naked
hands beside me
Armed with just
my inner smile

As you seek
to breech the sanctum
Leaving carnage
and calamity
I sit here safe behind
the glass that shields
my newfound equinamity

I never built these walls
you built them
with your twisted
bitter hand
It was you not I
that sought to cross
the line within the sand

As your projectiles
tear my body
Leaving gaping wounds behind
I stand here smiling
in the sunshine that's
the fortress of
my mind...


©HaroldRizla
We yelled and staggered on
We stumbled and many fell
Detained in the perplexity
No respite as danger pursued
The ordeal ensued when
In the midst of clout struggle
The insurgents took up weaponry
Determined to surmount a dictator
That morning bewilderment originated
Helter-skelter we escaped for safety
Sad enough bullets out ran some
Especially as cross fires existed
We saw our Kinsmen reach for the ground
As though caught only with fatigue
But bullets indeed penetrated some
They lay motionless as we lurched on
Struggling to God knows where,
We knew not our course
No worst thing existed for us
Like the cross fires we were trapped in.
One by one we began to die that day
Randomly death swallowed us up,
While power mongers persisted
Fired projectiles missed targets for us.
We ran frantically in seek for safety
Recognizing us as restless victims,
The insurgents mercilessly began to
Extinct us with great delight
‘No one is surviving the assault
What do I do?’ I pondered hastily
‘Shall we all face our demise this way?
No, I’ll live’ I determined
Kinsmen had long fallen to rise no more
This fact gave me impetus to survive
To live and tell the story of the cross fires
History of the fallen most be told to posterity
Inspiration came to me at once
I unyieldingly fell down as one lifeless
Spilled, oozing blood entwined me
The killers shoot till no one stood
Everyone lay motionless in a stack
I lived however not too sure yet
The cross fires persisted for long
That at one point I envied my kinsmen
Finally, calm was reluctantly returning
The government militia advanced
The insurgents had not a choice
But to retreat in dread of superior artillery
We had unfortunately advanced towards
The insurgents that we became the target
Of the artillery that was meant to shield us
Blames on the wrong tactics by the militia
Abounded as calm was retained in days
But I had a story to tell of the cross fires.
Connor Jul 2015
The giants tongue swallows
Suns
/Constellations constant
down the knowledge throat
And Owl perched over velvet
Hollering at the neighborhood
Darklight nightlight window
Still life sillhouettes radiant behind
Metropolitan curtain series bleeding
NEON-

The OWL is receiving words
Back/forth the communal conversation
vibrating thru
tenements and telephone wires.
HootHOOT Italian Voicemail two in the morning
Beep tip & ZAP>>by doorway,
H o ot Hoo t deranged traffic
Menagerie metallic dance of silvery brass
windshield reflection/
Other owl beating wings on the wheel
to Debussy
While lakes become public fountains
and Oceans become wars.

Giants breath ***** up                        atmosphere,
Javelin to eyes
Everything                     ...                      escaping us
“THE INEVITABLE BLINDNESS OF MORNING”
Heavy matter on the soul/
Doomly sandman tossing flowers
down the aisle
during wedding for imaginations
weeping tears of JOY
!AT LONG LAST!
The apocalypse is no longer Faeries
and pamphlets
on the
                Elephants
                          doorstep.

Giants showering with hot water
And
Owls sweating/
Damp feathered
in front of the machinery at that heatwave
boiler room backyard.
The animals have been terrified of existing this way
(owned by our products)
Before commercials
And Cold War nuclear paranoia broadcast in
Ohio (Columbiana County)
                                                         ­                  Owls be dreamin' fevers!
(Dreamin' the commonly non understood methods of which the TV sets turn on, anyways)

Noah's Ark continental
engulfed by
                     the galaxy
and comets
                    --------JUST--------
                 ­    ---MISSING--
          -THE-
[[EARTH]]
(Boy, that one was close!)
The spaceship enthusiasts
with superspyglass
technology pointed at infinity
telling us that September
will be the END OF THINGS AS WE KNOW THEM
the Owls are sleeping in their nests
ticktocking
in whispers



......the answers
to the darkest parts of

<the man-woman-brain
the human-brain
the dumbo-brain
and goof-brain>

"Oceantide inward-
taking everything, even the gold"

Letting loose
giant discovery ******
to           M O O N
and         P L U TO
snapping picturephotographs
“Ooooooh!”
“Aaaaah!”
Trashing rockets/
projectiles capable of decimating
the
CORE
of
the
P.L.A.N.E.T
hundreds of times over
(Jesus Christ!!)
the owls are all too aware
of that
wacky-brain
primate deficiency
and packing their suitcases
to pocket realities
hidden beneath
                                                TREETRUNK­S

The giants
(us)
the blackhole of population
so deep so dark so quiet
nobody can see it coming
(a-million-lightyears-away-i-swear-it)



DON'T FORGET THAT
DOGS ARE AFRAID OF VACCUM CLEANERS
AND I THINK THEY'RE ON TO SOMETHING......
Enlightenment is explosion                                                        ­                                                           Its means your mind is virtually certain                                                          ­                                      Either been butchered                                                        ­                                                                 Or wobbling or wondering                                                        ­                                                         Like a curtain thrown from system strongholds                                                      ­                          Threat of retaliation,                                                     ­                                                                 ­     with its more we feel the beauty
Trash bins for leftover, Buddha said the same thing                                                            ­             A Zen master would say sidewalks                                                        ­                                             If you work too hard the latent anarchists or God will attain anything                                                         ­            Not to make everyone the same prostitution                                                     ­                        Capital into an asphalt jungle, the proportions of our own body                                                   Ritual *** on the other hand it may be too idealistic
Blood **** ended no need to talk about         Unorganized and we can see the beauty                                                           ­                             Her face covered with blood you try to do it all at once                                                             ­         Since most of the victims realized that you are one                                                              ­              One whole, many thousands of innocents                                                        ­                          Brainwashed whites with reality                                                          ­                                        Anarchy and savagery grew emptiness                                                        ­                                 Subsequently died in a wise and effective way
If an artist becomes,                                                         ­                                                                 ­  Short intense raids on the system river                                                            ­                               Sources and supply and human life                                                             ­                                     Put some strength into their veins and die                                                              ­                         With fingers encircling and incantations of Satan worship                                                          ­   Her pretty face was smudged little by little                                                           ­                        She moaned of eternal life
The meaning lies in a flash about fifty yards in almost a direct hit                                                      From a secluded densely wooded suffer in your difficulties                                                     ­    Exploded inside your body                                                             ­                                                     The projectiles began calmness                                                         ­                                            Something in itself is enlightenment weapons especially for guerilla distress                                       Your life in your effort thundering in the midst                                                            ­                 We saw beautiful blossoms of some meaning in their ****** toll                                                   Know the answer, but while it lasted
Paul d'Aubin Oct 2016
Peire-Roger, le Chevalier Faydit.

C'est Peire-Roger le Faydit
regardant la vie avec hauteur
Comme l'aigrette flottant
sur son heaume argenté.
Ses terres furent mises en proie
Par les prélats du Pape
Au profit de barons pillards.
Venus de Septentrion.
Il était Languedocien,
Par la langue et le cœur
Sa sœur Esclarmonde, était une «Cathare»,
l’une de ces chrétiens hétérodoxes,
Se vouant à l'Esprit,
Et disant rejeter ce mal
Qui corrompt l'esprit humain,
En colorant de sombre
Les œuvres terrestres.
Très jeune, les jeux de guerre
Furent, pour lui, comme un breuvage ardent.
Il éprouva l'amour brûlant
Pour de belles châtelaines,
Si dures à séduire,
Au jeu du «fin Amor».
Mais il était certes moins aimé
Pour ses vers d'ingénieux troubadour,
Que comme homme fort,
ayant belle prestance,
Et apparaissant triomphant,
dans ses courses au galop,
Et les grands coups
Qu'il donnait pour se frayer
Un passage dans la mêlée,
Dans les éclats, les étincelles
De l'entrechoc des épées.
Bien jeune, il vit son père
Spolié de sa seigneurie,
Confisquée au bénéfice
de la lignée maudite
De la maison de Montfort.
Il fut tout jeune humilié
par la tourbe des seigneurs pillards
Conduite par des fanatiques
Et masquant sous l'apparence
De religion, leur vile convoitise
Et leur voracité de loups.
Une fausse paix obligea son père
A rompre l'allégeance
Avec les comtes de Toulouse.
Alors que la persécution
Des «bonshommes» s'amplifiait,
Et que les libertés Toulousaines
Étaient sous le talon de fer.
Son père s'en vint en Aragon
Parmi tant d'autres hommes,
droits et valeureux,
Pour sauvegarder l'honneur,
Et préparer la reconquête
Des terres confisquées,
par l'avidité de ces nuées
De corbeaux et des loups
Venus faire bombance
De terres Languedociennes.
Comme plus ****,
les Lys viendraient agrandir,
Leurs fiefs pour le seul profit
De Paris la dominante et la vorace.
Sa jeunesse se passa à s'entraîner
Et à rêver au jour où
Il traverserait les cols
Pour la revanche de son sang
Et la mémoire de son père,
Mort en exil en Aragon.
Enfin les appels de Raymond VII de Toulouse,
De Trencavel et du peuple de Tolosa révolté,
Résonnèrent comme buccin
Dans tout le Languedoc sous le joug,
Et l'oriflamme de Tolosa fut levé
Qui embrasa plaines et collines.
Le temps était venu de combattre
Et ce fut une guerre
Aussi ardente que cruelle,
comme une chasse à courre,
Faite de sièges et d'escarmouches
Contre les troupes du Roi Louis VIII.
Peirce-Roger chevaucha et guerroya
Donnant tout son corps et son âme,
Et fut maintes fois blessé,
Mais il lui fallut bien du courage
Pour déposer les armes
Quand les chefs s'entendirent
Pour donner en mariage
Jeanne de Toulouse
A Alphonse de France.
Ce mariage funeste,
annonçait et scellait la perte,
Des libertés et de la tolérance
De la haute civilisation
des pays Tolédans et Languedociens.
Aussi Peire-Roger, l'esprit blessé
Plus encore que ses chairs
Meurtries et tailladées,
Décida de consacrer sa vie
Au soutien et a la protection,
Des «bonshommes» traqués,
Par cette infamie nommée l'inquisition,
Usant des pires moyens,
Dont la délation et la torture,
Pour extirper par les cordes,
les tenailles et le feu,
Ce que la Papauté ne pouvait obtenir
Du choix des consciences,
Par le libre débat et le consentement.
Peire-Roger vint à Montségur
Sur les hauteurs du Po
Transforme en abri, en refuge et en temple,
Sur les terres du comte de Foix.
Il admira Esclarmonde la pure, la parfaite,
Et la pureté de mœurs
De cette communauté de «Bonhommes»,
de Femmes et d'Hommes libres,
Bien divers, mais si fraternels,
Ayant choisi de vivre leur spiritualité.
Contrairement aux calomnies,
Qui les disait adorateurs du Diable,
Ils mettaient par-dessus tout
Leur vie spirituelle et leur idéal commun.
Et leurs autres vertus étaient
Le dépouillement et la simplicité.
Hélas vautours et corbeaux,
Planaient autour de l'altier Pog.
Alors que la bise des premiers froids
Se faisait sentir les matins.
C'est alors qu'un groupe d'inquisiteurs
Chevaucha jusqu'à Avignonet
pour y chercher des proies.
Cela embrasa de colère
nombre de Chevaliers Faydits,
Dont les parents avaient tant soufferts
Le feu de la vengeance l’emporta
Sur la prudente et sage patience.
Et Peire-Roger lui-même
Pris le commandement de la troupe.
Qui arriva de nuit à Avignonet
Pour punir la cruauté par le fer.
Le Bayle, Raymond d'Alfaro
Ouvrit les portes aux vengeurs,
Et un nouveau crime s'ajouta
Aux précédents crimes innombrables.
L’inquisiteur Guillaume Arnaud
Et Étienne de Saint Thibery,
furent massacres avec leurs compagnons.
Leurs cris d'épouvante et d'agonie
Résonnèrent dans cette Avignonet
Qui huma l'acre parfum du sang,
La peur semblait disparue
Et la vengeance rendue.
Mais la lune aussi pleura du sang
Dans le ciel blafard et blême
Vengeance fut ainsi accomplie
Pour les chairs et les âmes martyrisées.
Mais le sang répandu appelle
Toujours plus de sang encore.
Quelques mois après un ost
De plusieurs centaines de soldats,
Sous le commandement
D'Hugues des Arcis.
Vint en mai 1243,
Mettre le siège de la place fortifiée.
Peire-Roger se battit comme un Lion
Avec ses compagnons Faydits,
Ils accomplirent des prouesses
De courage et de vaillance
Furent données.
Mais lorsque de nuit par un chemin secret
Qui leur avait été révélé,
Les assaillant s'emparèrent
Du roc de la tour,
Et y posèrent une Perrière
Pour jeter des projectiles
Sur les fortifications et les assiégés.
L'espoir de Peire-Roger,
des défenseurs et des bonshommes,
Commença à fléchir.
Et une reddition fut conclue
Le 1er mars 1244 laissant aux cathares,
Le choix de la conversion ou de la mort dans les flammes.
Ce fut grand pitié ce 16 mars de voir
Plus de deux cent femmes et hommes bons et justes,
Choisir en conscience de ne pas renier leur choix et leur foi,
Préférant terminer leur vie
D'une manière aussi affreuse,
en ce début du printemps
Qui pointait ses lumières.
Et jusqu'à l'ignoble bûcher,
Leurs chants d'amour,
Furent entendus puis couvert,
Par leurs cris de douleur
Et les crépitements des buches.
Aussi; qu’une honte dans pareille
En retombe sur le Pape si mal nomme, Innovent III
Et sur le roi Louis IX, sanctifié par imposture,
Et sur l'archevêque de Narbonne, Pierre Amiel.
Que surtout vienne le temps
Où la Paix aux doux, aux justes
Et aux Pacifiques s'établisse.
Et qu'une honte et un remord sans fin
Punissent ceux et celles qui continuent
A se comporter en inquisiteurs
qu'elle qu'en soient les raisons et les circonstances.
Il semblerait sans aucune certitude
Que Peire-Roger, le chevalier Faydit
Témoin de ces temps de fer et de feu.
Soit allé, au ****, se retirer et prier
Dans une communauté de bonshommes
En Aragon ou en Lombardie.

Paul Arrighi
Le personnage de Peire-Vidal n'est pas imaginaire. Il a bien existe mais je rassemble en lui les qualités de plusieurs Chevaliers Faydits qui se battirent pour la sauvegarde de leurs terres et des libertés des pays d'Oc et du Languedoc face a l'avidité et au fanatisme - Paul Arrighi
Ahmad Cox Jan 2012
Arrows fly like darts through the wind
Piercing whatever they can in their path
Just as arrows can pierce a person's skin
Words can pierce just as bad
Sometimes we walk around
And we are not aware of the affect that our words
And our actions have on other's
It is so easy to be malicious sometimes
And to say things that we know might hurt people
Especially when we are feeling threatened
Or when we are angry
Or even to hide ourselves and our own insecurities
Its easier sometimes just to put some one down
Piercing them with our words
And stabbing them with our actions
A look
A glance
A snicker
Avoiding them all together
Purposely going out of your way to hurt some one
To try and get back at them
For some wrong we think they might have done
Its easy sometimes
To send these verbal projectiles
We toss them around all the time
Letting them fall wherever they may
Leaving carnage and destruction in their wake
Harming and scarring those who they hit
Blindly hurting people
Whether it be intentional or otherwise
We need to be more careful with each other
And try to heal the hurt that has been caused
By the random sling
And the wayward arrow
That finds its target
And sinks into their soul
Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain
Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains
Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates
Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates

Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines
Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease
Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat
Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit

Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed
Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed
Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom
Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb

Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis
Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence
Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness
Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust
Holocaust [May 11, 2017]
Category: History/Fiction/Relative
What if WWII ended differently?
Geno Cattouse Feb 2013
The truth set me free along tome ago.
A lightness of mind like vapor from a Tennessee still
nestled way back in the Blue Kentucky hills.

Carefree as a bird swiftly winging  to buckshot every feather in place.
The song of my nature driving me forward. To be or not.
Easier to forward than crash into false recollections.
Like a roaring inferno set upon the land. Reckless.

A mind too lazy to conjure in webs of reckless  fantasy. Encased with  surety.
A perch above the turmoil where the view is forever and blue.
Yes there is a price however. The winged truth is easy target for the hunter.

He lies in the brush well concealed and leads the mark by a hair.
Placing projectiles in the way of surety with devastating precision.
Truth falls to earth in a death spiral ****** feathers waft behind.
Fire and destruction. Fire and resurrection. Fire at will.

The heady substance is a snare.
a small price to pay. The Phoenix will rise  however.

The outcome will replay.
The Phoenix will rise yet still. Stubborn in his way.
Set free to soar and fall to ground
Set free to soar.
Set free.
Butch Decatoria Nov 2016
The morning ***
Before head
back to work
This Jay Oh Bee
B is for Business / Bull Dooky

"It's just Bid ness"

No Justice
The menial  
Minimum wage / Slave to NEED
Gotta have purchase
Gotta buy to eat
Nothing comes for free

Except / accept

That moment
The whole world fears...
DEATH.
We sware to
Vanity
A Slave  - yes Sam, I am
I tell you this,
what I saw, we done-did seen...

White Grey hound buses
Parking in our Plaza
Spilling out the Orient,
          Snapping pictures with Samsungs
While I did smoke
An Ultralight One-Hundred
          I got the sense,
That they were surveying the area
Pointing forefingers painting
Tree
Miming
Expansion
GPS  e s p
Architects of
Pleased with themselves
The language of enigma
Listen
To their chatter
            chinking
Foreigners they used to be

Historical predictions now

What landscapes will look like
When remodeled
(...misguided projectiles....)

A bigger Little Korea Town

Over run...

It's the feeling
That must be panic
It's the feeling
Of being surrounded
By enemy foe
By animal control
Their tranqs. Nets & leashes,
Stunners at the ready...

Pzzt and sshhzzz....
Static mind games
Phones smarter than us,
Of course

We all FaceTime with touch screens
I'm no different,
Press Menu, the date and time
                       It's only 5 minutes 'til...
Light another ***
Before I get started ...

Here, my J.o.b. Is being...
The only employee "who a-speak a-only
English"
"Only a-one language"
Hehehe *** emoji!

Less than zilch.
Became
Like a spy spying secretly
Inside his own
Country / nation / tribe
Of the people, all
men are creating
Our own inequalities...

Done-did see, oh say so

We'll get - done got toked
Peace pipes, petrol
and the joke goes
"There's this bus, and them opportunists...
Blueprints, dispensaries,
The Imminent war..."

(Even the church has history
With puffs
            Of black and white
Rising
             Smoke / gag reflexes /
The Coughing it up)

Chang Cha-Ching!
Money.

Smoke brakes over
Gets back
To the factory
Line
Chain Gang am/way

Cracking whips on backs of us
Of those who still worship
The lamb...  Yes I am
To Uncle Sam :
In the way, another obstacle


In the way of progress
Prehistoric pedestrian painted in the landscape
Sooner pushing
Out of the way

For supermarket boulevard malls
Catering from cowering from defeat
Mean streaks
Bomb shells
Mad money and a piece
       "Glocks, 45colts, semi automatics
        *******' Guns
For the **** storm hustle...!"


Every conversation started
Shaft all up in your grill
Every question an appeal
Digging
For information is power
Axing who you be?

I works at the grocers
In the ****** area part of town
Across the ways from the dispensary
(**** Chung winks at chuck wagons)

Says I gets discounts
With my marijuana card,
Prescription coupon
******


A regular
Opportunist.

Yelp! Hollah!

we Gots what you really need
       It's only business
Don't take it personal
Minions of E.T

But Still... there is no justice....

We Prey on the Lambs
And tell ourselves to
Doubt slowly
             "Just you wait / they'll see...
Dawn will break"
Ever
Clear of smoke, no doubt

The open minds, eyes,
Done did and able to see...
The invasion
Gots
Intellectual property

Karma will be a *****
On dinosaur bones
In the crude that burns the sky
And the smoke
Breaking
Our bad /

bubble...

FIN.life.
Choke.
Jenn Gardner Jul 2011
I am drowning beneath an infinite ocean,
entrapped within a world of chrome and plastic.

plastic lacks understanding of the way
that the wind has been blowing for the past

hundred thousand years.

the breeze has allowed souls to set sail
carried consciousness amidst colossal waves

towards crimson creeks of hate.

chrome and plastic knows not of the black or the white,
for reality is composed of repetitive sounds and vibrations.

perhaps it is pondering the peculiarity
of the projectiles stunting the growth of gardenias.

or perhaps it is simply appalled that
when we tilt our heads backwards
and open our eyes...

we are no longer mesmerized.
Paul d'Aubin May 2016
Le manifestant

Il avait manifesté, tant et plus.
Dans l'après 68, casqué,
parmi tant de jeunes copines et copains.
Il courait vite alors et cela valait mieux.
Car la police n'était pas tendre.
Mais c'était comme un rituel
de courses, de lacrymos
et de chevelures dénouées.
L'époque semblait alors grand ouverte,
à la jeunesse, aux guitares et aux robes à fleurs.
Tandis que les posters du «Che» régnaient sur les murs des chambres d'adolescents.
Lorsque Franco, le cacochyme, l’infâme,
voulut, avant de mourir, accroître sa moisson de victimes.
Cela chauffa fort devant le consulat
Espagnol, à Toulouse.
Il fallait maîtriser la peur des détonations,
et se tenir bien droit dans la chaîne,
lorsque les hommes casqués qui
avaient aussi peur que nous,
reçurent l'ordre de charger.
Sales moments pour les services d'ordre,
Entre chocs de casques contre casques,
Tels des chevaliers des temps jadis,
avec leurs heaumes.
Puis les années passèrent, les copains s'égayèrent.
La venue de l'âge adulte déboulait dans nos vies,
avec sa part de réalisations et d'oublis des serments.
Certains tournèrent complètement casaque,
et commencèrent à se prendre au sérieux,
en jouant aux patrons branches ou aux conseilleurs officieux.
D'autres furent laissés pour compte.
et s'en prirent aux plus faibles qu'eux,
votèrent pour le borgne et sa fille
qui leur promettaient de rendre de
rebâtir la France en rendant la vie
plus dure a de pauvres hères basanés.
qu'ils suspectaient si sottement
de réduire leur part de droits sociaux.
C'était des temps bien médiocres à
l'haleine fétide.
Dans les cafés, les propos volaient bas,
Comme des projectiles
et les plus hargneux régnaient par leurs outrances,
comme le loup cervier sur la meute apeurée.
Et puis, fut élu, François Hollande, non par son charisme mais surtout par défaut.
Il avait l'air bonhomme paraissait bienveillant.
Et puis Sarko nous avait épuisés
et exaspères,
par son ego de montgolfière, son agitation incessante,
et sa manie de dresser les uns contre les autres,
et de courir sus aux boucs émissaires.
Nous n'attendions pas un Zorro, mais nous eûmes droit au sergent Garcia,
Et funeste erreur, ce Président apaisé, trop tranquille,
fit appel à Manuel Valls, ce querelleur, cet hidalgo ombrageux.
Alors s'instaura le temps des reniements et des provocations répétées,
ou il fallait battre sa coulpe et ne plus prononcer le mot «socialisme».
C’était l’éternelle fable du nouveau et des vieux !
Mais ce nouveau avait un air et un goût de ranci et de Finances aussi.
Comme comme une cerise bien amère sur le gâteau et ces goûts d'alcool frelaté,
surgit la «loi Travail» comme un pied de nez
fait à celles et ceux qui en manquaient
Et dont le cout baissait incessamment
Nous fumes beaucoup à nous réveiller hagards,
et à reprendre le chemin des manifs,
Ou nous virent des «robocops» super équipés,
nous serrer de trop près; ambiance détestable,
pendant que nos mandants, élus pour faire tout autre chose.
S'efforçaient de nous enfumer et de créer maintes diversions.
C'était moins marrant qu'en notre jeunesse.
Mais il fallait ne pas lâcher, pour transmettre l'Esprit et la Flamme.
Nous avions quand même, la gorge serrée,
de voir d'ancien amis raconter des salades,
et se battre désormais pour la préservation de leurs postes,
Et de quelques prébendes.
Mais comment était-ce arrive ?
Comment avaient-ils pu oublier ce qu'ils avaient été !
Et venir défendre ce qu'ils avaient combattu ?
L'histoire est bien cyclique et l'être fragile comme un roseau.
Ça ne fait rien, j'étais redevenu manifestant, opposant.
Je gardais comme l'oiseau bleu ma conscience pour moi.
Et je pourrais dire un Jour à mon enfant,
«Le plus beau diamant est ta vérité intérieure et ta conscience
Maintien ton Esprit pur avant que de prétendre changer le Monde.»

Paul Daubin
V May 2015
Lighting
Oh so beautiful
Lighting up the sky
Long, fingerlike projectiles
Racing through the darkness
Lighting everything in its path
Yet, child, be wary
It is not unlike a leopard
Sleek and graceful
Yet dangerous if you attempt to harness it
'Tis akin to a wild animal
Yet so beautiful
Breeze-Mist Mar 2017
I must've been more stressed than I seemed
Petting my dog, I released a guttural scream
I've been studying projectiles, calculus, and semantic ABCs
I just hope it's enough to get through the SATs
My dog was confused by my primordial groan of stress, but she seemed pretty supportive.
Geno Cattouse Nov 2013
Freddy krueger?
Kreuger?. Kept a leuger as backup. Sharp edged steel ?
Made him feel the essence of perdition.
But high speed projectiles made him smile just like burning cordite did.

So freddy hid. His piece in his back pocket. Wrapped around it was a chain and locket ,wrapped around a crucificx. For absolutions sake.

What made freddy tick.?
A temporal trick.
Wrong place right time.
Tick..... tick.... tick.
Joseph Childress Oct 2010
Some sinister, cynic sending me sick signals,
Taunting me, teasing me,
Treachery!
Treason I see,
The reason for my recent reason to be,
Is for wreckage and the reckoning
My reality
Factual actual fictions is in my diction
The man in my mind,
Is minding my business again,.
Against the walls of my brain,
Signals reign,
Please bring more pain and angst!
Panic?
As I glance at my pen
The Manic
Maniac managing to Damage
Every page
On a Rampage
With no rage?
But by the way
I’m swinging this pencil
You would think I was
A bit temperamental
But my temperament's temperature,
Is irrelevant to the mentally
Disturbed
Stirring up tension
Did I mention
Means nothing to man on a mission
My missiles miss the misled and misfits
Because they weren’t
Where they were expected
My moon is now ecliptic
Messages eclectic
Ecstatic about nothing except
The inception
What an immaculate concept
The fact that my conception
Was from the product of
Of a project.
Projectiles impelled out my mouth
And impaled a man on the
Right path.
This ****** has committed his first ******…
Cain Dec 2012
Projectiles piercing past years, tears and more,
All for nothing, nothing for all, but for what? What for?
Ruination of art, knowledge, wisdom: ambiguities of war.
Instilling fear, burdening bystanders- thrown asunder or ashore
The guiltless stream meanders as wings which soar.

Tyrants rampant like rebels on the range,
Hierophants justified killing for a cause,
Fuel-driven greed heeds a need for a change.
Actions bring reactions when blood meets the gauze.
Pause, hold the applause; the jaws withdraw.
Will May 2017
In a flightless freefall, the heart plummets to the ground. Would a soft landing negate the fact that the heart did in fact fall? Would just a scratch or cut be justifiable?

No.

The pain would still exist.

Some say the bottom does not appear at all. That our hearts just continue to fall until we find another heart to fall with. These two hearts join together and fall in love.

The joy that exists between the two is boundless, unfettered, and infinite. Shooting at the combined love would cause the projectiles to bounce off. Yelling at one heart would cause the other to fight back.

In this state of perpetual falling the two hearts complete one another. The rips and tears of one are filled by the unhurt parts of the other. In this simple union they are perfect.

But time does not allow for immortal love. One heart will choose to float away, falling at a different pace. Falling out of the love it so joyously engulfed at an earlier time.

This sudden uncoupling causes the other heart to tumble in a tailspin. No longer falling in love, but falling into heartbreak.

Where love feels like resting by a safe fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket and sipping on a warm drink. Heartbreak feels like a cold house filled with bitter memories and empty tears.

One might ask; "Is there any everlasting love? Why must the poor heart always be falling in and out of the love it so desperately covets?"

Some do find love eternal. Some do not. For some it is a person who cares for them. Others find purpose in a job or lifestyle.

But those wounds are still present on their heart. The scars never heal. The pain never truly fades.

The heart never ceases to fall down, with gravity pulling it towards the endless void below.
Sleepy Sigh Apr 2012
Pair of mad eyes under imposing brows;
Staring me down white and blue,
(And I can see the muscles in his neck
Straining under the power of his voice.)

Staring me down and singing
Three thousand hundred million ideas
Into my head with one defiant expression.

Two mad-wide eyes blue and white,
Mouth working ‘round words like
Projectiles aimed at my heart -
Striking down the walls Misunderstanding built
Over years and years and

His hands wrapped around the guitar
Years and years
So perfectly, striking it so lovingly -
Music staring into him staring into me
And me staring back.
Eugene Hutz
ogdiddynash Jul 2019
preface.  
majestic adjectives of contrary harmonies,
adverbs in adversity that modify our satisfactions,
gut punch our eyes, scramble the taste buds,
now inoperable, incapacitated to distinguish
what is disturbed - what is sweet - what is impossible.
my days ending is nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of what I’ve got left,
stale panko crumbs,
here come they in 1000 radium-tipped projectiles of
serious humorous self-destruction,
gifted to you few itinerant followers
brave enough to follow me into the deeps of
radioactive incomprehension,
in no particular disorders
a thousand times
Jack Thompson May 2016
Am I depressed?

Or am I just the reflection of everyone else.

Feeling as though I've just lost the meaning to it all. A cavity like I had it all grasped so tight and yet... Here I am again in this sludgy bucket of depressed feelings.

It's a hopeless feeling. One like I just lost my sense of purpose. But the most dulling of all is the epiphany that you never had any to start.

It's almost enough to drive a new spark like a drained battery. A momentum, a motivation but only momentarily.

What is it I'm doing here on earth? Where am I heading? Is it enough to just make a goal; a plan to be somewhere. Or maybe just scraping through university. What is it that will without a doubt fill me with life long satisfaction.

Is there anything? Anyone?

I worry about where we are going as people. How we're all just a lost bunch of misfired projectiles. Even those that miraculously slide out of the barrel and experience the updrafts of life always find dirt.

We are just stimulating the illusion of freedom. Inside the prison of each of our own making.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2016
david mungoshi Nov 2015
young life is  quite distinct
exudes the beauty of innocence
and has curiosity without bounds
calves run about, seized by the paroxysm
of joyful life oozing through milky teats
and lambs and kids not to be outdone
go on crazy adventures on the pastures
Lo and behold, even baby lizards are
projectiles of life bursting from within
life was meant for them and you
brother, the world is waiting out there
what does it matter if after a long journey
you discover you never left the world?
Will Jun 2019
Like a cosmic whip, lightning crackles across the night sky.
It’s electricity illuminating the dire landscape that passes by outside.
Glancing out the window, eyes squinting at the glorious storm growing near.
Pressing the gas pedal down, heart racing as the vehicle jolts forward.
Like a comet flying through space, the car ripped through the torrential downpour.
Speeding through the dark void, raindrops colide with the window, like projectiles from above.
Though the inside of their vehicle was dry, the driver's eyes were flooded with tears.
Wiping them away with a brush of their hand, car speeding forward.
Resolved to follow the lightning, but not to see it’s glow once more.
It was to chase the thunder, that deep booming foe who always felt so near.
That is who we all chase, the invisible enemy who instills immense fear.
Keith W Fletcher Dec 2016
I fell through a crack
In my own self conscious
And landed in that place
Where the ego launches
Misguided missiles
Of intentions unknown
Into those far-flung realities
Outside of any known zone

In those concentric orbits
I found a unified vision
Where any truth I've accepted
Now leads to a pending collision
Of acceptance or exclusion
Far beyond the realm of reason
Is the dimension of expanding doubt
Where Universal doubt executes truth for treason

And all relative reality collapses
Like a pinpricked balloon
To be absorbed into the maelstrom
Torrential meteors slamming into the Moon
No longer to be free roaming projectiles
The occasional visitors ,visions or omens in the night
But a contusion seen for millennium's by those
Thinking beyond Earthbound realities by seeing the Moon as more than just light

And fell through a crack in their own self conscious
Chapter ***
Second Hegira to Patmos
Part VIII - Conclusion of Judah

What can be perceived by the Universe of Judah would be in a Universal Eye of photochemistry, within the phosphorescence’s of the spectrum of the Jaffa roadstead, which magnetized the electricity of the visible spray, within the visible field of the photon in the same bay. ,  as the responsible elemental particle guarantor of the quantum manifestations of the electromagnetic phenomenon. Carrying gamma-ray electromagnetic radiation over the entire Jaffa atmosphere, X-rays, ultraviolet light, visible light, infrared light, microwaves and radio waves, causing the ellipsis of Radio Moscow on October 29, 1929, right there appearing in the future to the present before the Hegira to Patmos.


Ellipsis Radio Moscow 1929 - Parapsychological Radial Regression:

“Radio Moscow goes on the air on October 29, 1929. And this first foreign language broadcast would be in Greek, to be heard by everyone in Jaffa. The Radio Moscow bulletins expressed great unease at the recent rise to power of Adolf ****** in Germany during the 1930s. It was considered an unintelligible and visionary daphnomancy rummage, predicting the persecution of the Hebrews and the extermination of themselves, for which San John the Apostle immediately tunes in common with Vernarth, the instant he was shaken by this radio wave from number twenty-nine of the Jaffa exit edict. The visible fantasy of this would disconform the audio listeners, towards the behavior of certain swings and intermittences that made the natural light of Jaffa intermingled with luminescence’s, with waves and photons in presumptuous duality to dominate Vernarth's behavior when invaded by this flash of prophetic invasion. The spheres of observation of the Apostle made it faster to climb and try to sustain this invasive radial wave that crossed time thousands of years, from the year 1929 to the year 165 AD. C. approximately that it traveled with a great infinite wave speed at a great percentage of microseconds. All this information alerted the native son of Capernaum, worrying too much about this ethno-political situation. The microwave refracted, undergoing a change in direction that collided with the ship, in its floating basement portion, due to the fact that this wave propagated at different speeds, considering that the medium in which they were moving was clearly made of wood, but propelled by a large vehicle of transmission through the winding water up to the massive hull. Doing and scheming what would make them move immediately to go to Cyprus; Limassol. The speed of the radial wave was stationary on the canopy and that of the hull by the chromatics of the water that lightened its refraction, through the facets of the canopy and canopy, bizarrely acting as an overheated exponential concave-angle drive motor.

An expeditious quarrelsome radial wave appears in Vernarth's tongue:

Vernarth says: “Anti-Semitism is a matter of the profiteer of slavery and insubstantial ethnic resources, not allowing the advancement of millennial and primordial civil social immigrations to be related, which migrate to the socio-political statuses, already allowed since their arrival in the Rhineland during the Roman Empire. The Jewish community thrived until the end of the 11th century. Starting with the First Crusade, it had to go through a long stormy period, marked by massacres, accusations of ritual crimes, various extortions and expulsions. Their legal status was degraded and Jews were prohibited from exercising most of the trades. In the 18th century, philosophers of the Enlightenment, such as Moses Mendelssohn, were outraged by this miserable condition and launched a campaign of denunciation. However, the path that led to Emancipation was long and lasted nearly a century, after which the Jewish community was integrated into society. Its assimilation allowed an economic and intellectual success that aroused suspicion in certain sectors, also giving rise to anti-Semitism. The coming to power of Adolf ****** in 1933 put Jews on the fringes of German society. The persecutions were followed by deportation and then extermination during World War II. After the war, the Jewish community is slowly rebuilding thanks to the support of the German federal government”

The Apostle heard this with the speed of becoming a steely carnation, breaking the prominence that would be caused by intervening with other civilizations with invigorated gardens, to predominate in the existence of the world as a chosen people, and having to submit to all kinds of propagandist ministerial exactions. , limiting the legitimate gaps to prosper beyond the Mosaic acquired teachings, in some dense field devoid of different disintegrations of divine rabbi illumination, either in a straight line or the same line of the One-dimensional Beams of Ein Kerem's geometry. This time enchanted with lamb's blood coined on its cornices, to sprout them by all those who had to endure the enigma of departure towards the rectilinear desert, as a property of the radio waves exhibited here as a dogmatic whole, dusting in the geometric regime, which testifies to a all of "May the Savior's Tunic shake all the structures of critical and political thought and race brilliance." Producing objective intellectual blood,  which would be integrated into the Social Christian party in Germany in 1930. But every elementary thesis, it would promulgate the emphasis on the centrality of social democracy, of bringing a great work to Patmos, of dividing itself by time when crossing the line of the time, providing the solid One-dimensional Beams of Joshua in Kafersesuh, for the protectorate of the holocaust and sacrifice, to introduce the premises of emancipation and abolition of the subterfuge of marginalized social fields, devoid of the inter-ethnic social guarantee and of the Semitic rooted heel. This natural property is of exception of the race of San Juan Apóstol; son of Zebedeo, consisting of bringing this to the most informative substantiality, to Patmos to protect them organized.

From this dialectical propagation great shadows emerged, interposing opacities that showed many Hebrews falling into concentration camps and at the exact moments of expropriation of their real estate. Naked bodies can be seen only with dark shadows, with small hints of imperturbability on their split faces, remaining in the gloom of the Conviction, with some photos of their children in relative proximity to the deadly impression of last rales and their undermined, perishable pointed expressions , appearing in the rictus of their wives, with narrow condemnatory anguish falling on them from the same Cell of the stormy Éscaton, which transcended under Semitic history; the resurrection of the dead, divine judgment, heaven and eternal happiness with God or damnation and hell. Here a perfect archetypal case of the disconcerting radial wave overturning novelty and satisfaction before the curiosity of the listeners, but it was a "very new Revelation at the same time, being objectivity for the cell of San Juan and for the immanent protectorate", which designates the dimension mundane and temporal opposed to transcendence.   Because many Christians have become unable to conceive of the "other world" as a consistent, real reality, and have transferred to this world the hope of a full and happy life. In this "immanentization" both evangelical prosperity theologies, which see the Christian faith as the means to achieve material well-being, as well as Catholic liberation theologies, for which faith should lead the believer to fight for autonomy and development of the world's indigent populations oppressed by powerful multinationals and their collaborators.
Vernarth pulls a blind when they were already walking on the magnetized sea capering, without feeling how the sea was besieging them,… saying himself: “I keep looking through the hole of my ignorance, and I can see in monochrome the dictators displaying their diffraction placards lights, key to ethnic oppression "in black and white" and the veers going through the gap in the paths of the Hebrews with their suitcases and belongings, lost and surrendering to the laments united to the Messiah. In combined holistic, centered on the measure of a third screen and taking place in alternate light and dark bands, in the Lepanto ship when everyone found out widely about the radial phenomenon in non-transistorized tubes, in a frank romance with the old ways of their customs. .

End Ellipsis Radial Radio Moscow

The phenomenon of interferences of a natural nature continues, making their broken hearts happy, they all sang Christian songs that made them put vertical lines on their faces, between both refined cheeks. Leaving them incidence of light of fasting, to signal like thrones of lighthouses that illuminate the skies of the seas of the Messiah, putting before them to millions of years light by the side that now they could see him.

The angles are scattered, and fall on the light of the Messiah, of the Our Father in twilights, falling on the others like the same conclusive Gethsemane leaf from the Olive Tree Bern. As the light flowed on the matter that protected the ship to Limassol, industrial energy was constituted in all the directions of the surface optics, generating reflections in the weak interferences that oscillated as an immobile remnant of the radio waves still active. This phenomenon made Brisehal appear from the bottom of the sea; the giant of Dasht-e-Lut, who was approaching to protect Vernarth and the Hex Birthright. Generating a dynamic global heterogeneous internal light in the navigation radius of the ship, from a more parsimonious speed to a more frustrated relative, to try to synchronize the flashes of the Xifos sword of Vertnath Hoplite, which allowed it to use it as a sextant, to arrive at the destination Cypriot. In this emptiness of energy by another replaced, an imprint of the same emptiness arises with lengths of movement of submarine waves, caused by the giant Brisehal to displace them in washings of the Adonis in accordance with the Sword of his master Vernarth Ephebo. Dispersing evaporated drops of the Dasth-e-Lut  desert that remained in the sewage areas of his ears, polarizing the defensive crystals of the hyper active and current environment of the flagellated Phalangists in Gaugamela, which still twisted on the diaphanous and immaterial earth that followed in heated conflict, until the coexistence of the oppressor ceases it. The worlds rotated parallel continue to each other not rotated, being disturbed, in another dimension mediated by the warned consciousness, which lacks all neutral rationality. It would only be attempts to pierce through the crystals of Faith ..., dominating salute projectiles of malevolent brotherhood, plunged into a maximum intensity of crystalloid breaking and rupture, which emanates from the lens of the Messiah, in the angles of underwater darkness.

All this atmosphere is self-absorbed, leaving  tele-transferred divine rabbi light, in stored energy reaction levels, whose capacity would exceed one billion cubic meters due to the breakdown between the chemical bonds caused in radiant energy, dissociating molecules by the effect of sublime light from grave sounds of immanence, and being redefined as the interaction between one or more mass cells of light against a nomadic target molecule. Also suitable for the extreme radicalization suffered by marine plants, which also sailed expelled from Jaffa's radical disturbed seabed.

Hellenic Existential Hypnosis

Reaching the central memory of the Aegean Sea between the parallels 36-38 of latitude and meridians 24-26 of longitude, belonging to the periphery of the South Aegean, an abduction of the amnesic trace of the Alexandrian magnetic period occurs, which made them realize, how they had deviated from the destination of Limassol-Cyprus, having to turn a few degrees to redirect to Limassol. This was exercised by the subjugated Alexandrian period, which in its immanent chronology sought to remake an existentialist caste, which lowered the chronological limits due to the depressive effect of the aura, after the death of its sister Cleopatra. This whitish and courteous barrier of Zeus, invaded them not auditing to govern the schizophrenic ship, having to retrace the course to retro of the Cyclades. Sovereignly Vernarth takes the helm with great Greek breath, creating shields of redemption in the arts and sciences of the Hetairoi  aristocracy, under meso-urban science-politics, replaced by the Christian religion, making the Hellenic language a potential romance Aramaic, to overcome the existentialism of the hypnotizing dream dream; of a silly banquet served by the hordes on all the slopes that transported them between an enigmatic underworld, of panhellenic language, and with the reculturation of the ephemeral crossed lines that subtracted them from their dramas of troubled consciences, depriving them of the neuromotor of the main return value for the origin of the reconquest of the Tracóntero in Limassol.

This Hypnosis, brought consequences of the Sects called Diádocos ‘successors’, of the old generals of Alexander the Great and the children of the generals (called epigones) that to his unexpected death of Alexander the Great in 323 a. They divided their empire, disputing power and hegemony over their colleagues with various pacts and six wars that lasted twenty years. Then a political system was established that until the beginning of the Roman Empire in the eastern Mediterranean at the beginning of the second century BC. Before this contingency, Vernarth resorts to Hypnos and one of the thousand children he had with Pasitea, who urged them to the cohesion of this Hellenic Hypnosis, making quantitatively the immortality of the image of Alexander the Great, to bring him to each of the former faithful commanders, thus refounding Vernarth his Hellenistic encyclical, for the purpose of escorting them to Limassol, and protecting the families and infants who were in their puberty in sleeping Greece, after great war campaigns and abandoned conventions, as an example of the snowy lineage in their Mother Olimpia, and his Sister Thessalonica and children waiting for him passionately. And also in the Sudpichi Empire - Chile, Luccica with the court of her familiar stoic resistance, ingesting the opiates until her Vernarth takes her in his arms, of her own imaginative swamp lagoon.

The disintegration of Macedonia and Greece into sub regions, catapulted again the appearance of Clovis who says ..., the river Lete in the underworld, dissolve your memories, and clean your mind permanently. That's the branch of a poplar tree from the underworld, from my father Hypnos. "Lethe is not the place you want to go swimming ... but if you change the helm for your proud mind." This achieves that one of the sons, among thousands of Pasitea, committed himself to Clovis, to dispel this existentialist contingency, vindicating the plea, of family reunion and imperishable Hellenic constituent prosapia, under the hypnotic and hegemonic phenomenon that made the banners and panoplies burnish in Greece, Macedonia and Asia Minor. As a subsidiary exception they will satisfy, which was reissued by Ptolemy, one of Alexander's childhood companions, of whom some authors venture to say that he was an illegitimate son of Philip II. With intelligence he quickly seized Egypt and hastened to create an enduring state, declining to imperial ambitions that he considered unrealistic. He was one of the main opponents of the imperial cause, thus becoming one of the founders of the Hellenistic world. Unusually, the commanders of Alexander before his excessive dipsomania of hierarchical power and glory, demystified Hetairoi's harangue, generating in it a Hypnotic counter conception, making these sedative efforts to delegate the religious north Dei ..., which had only known how to redirect itself later in the classical arching Gaugamela, of his great Holplita Commander Vernarth.

This grayish super mass of uncontrolled winds and increased rays, spat out idolatrous proto forms in the same Hellenistic family, whose postulate was to multiply the family over its geopolitical dominations in other nations, unifying them as a family geo clan, rather than in the seas, in which they do not the waters-lands are divided, rather they unite the hydro-parental ethical and cultural resources of the world that are a concomitant part with "The devouring cyclone of mythological dignitary entities, and other lines that flee from the proper chronogram of historicity and its reconstructive past-present ”. Square meters of great Cyclops slaps that were floating in the air, inspired Vernarth to revive the green grass of the sea, like plankton that made a compulsive propensity to exalt Chloe’s presence; that being an Epi Phantom, it always sparkled among the nebulosity as a reservoir of Universal Consciousness, gaining the Hellenic consciousness with a black bandage over its eyes, so as not to stain more outbreaks of the chlorophyll and photochemical green mass of the phenomenon, accumulating only the electrogenic beasts of Cyclops that they had to burn on the rays and unbridled embers of dissident light, to leave in some memorable way, or beg some Sanctus, to do his will prowling in the acquisition of the square meters of the tiny, almost unidentifiable beasts, that appeared simulating to the slimy green water of the River Lethe in the contracted underworld.

The existential holistic in the ship produced depressive lags, lack of self-esteem and factors of ego loss, therefore each one who pointed with his index, relaxed from some silos in the hands of opiates, which would denigrate the dream in those who tried to flee of his own collective weeds ..., shying away from himself, stagnating and freezing in stretches of dreams of great loneliness and permanent fantasy ..., and what the extravagant hypnosis sought to occupy in them with its decrees of mortality, in an adulterated afterlife, in some signs of benevolent and reactive psychic alertness. When the soft glow of the same flash was shown on the faces of Alexander the Great and Vernarth, in the six wars that took place with the Diádocos without sparkles, for twenty years ..., just in twenty seconds, would Alexander the Great appear, on the deck of the ship of Lepanto, dressed in a crimson red garb, covering his Hellenic silhouette, down to his figurative half torso. From here, he urged them to culminate their hypnosis in a deep world in an unbreathable statue of colloquial rhapsody ..., watch out for this ..., everything continues normally, and Vernarth leaves the helm to honor him with a hoplite Khaire and as a fellow Christian Shvil, as philanthropic and deferential as Ptolemy was, and Vernarth himself in Tel Gomel and Bumodos, herding the green glosses to open them towards the new magnus theological empire. Beyond the profile of the wise dervish, Limassol appeared, like a sapphire rosary entangling in the physiognomies of rises of hope, in the average Gen, when approaching the latent peninsula of the Eurydice's Gold medallion.

Judah was suspended in the Gigas Camels ruminating the bags of herbs that thickened in their Palestinian snouts, the sphinxes of the birds continued to grow with their wings to shelter the blasphemies of their prophets, and Judah wailing in the intrabony of those who traveled leaving of Judah, but never departing from the aramaic cells of Gethsemane, lost from Hellenic Existential Hypnosis. Investigating lost rings that would unite the dissolute stretch of the Cyclades, recomposing itself from expelled dramatic thicket and loss, in the foliage of the rocky jungle coastlines, where the Mariano gold medallion rests in the darkness of a moldy circular massif.
Chapter ***
Second Hegira to Patmos
Part VIII - Conclusion of Judah
Ottar Aug 2013
how did it break, the sky,
raindrops like tears fly,
projectiles aimed at my
heart of strength, you, right beside
protected
love
eternal
if that is
possible
like all
things

— The End —