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Dominique Yates May 2014
she picks the nail polish off her nails
words cut her open when at school
when the sizeable switchblade slashes her skin
her curly hair covers her face
her teachers actions stress her out
paper is thrown as she gets off the bus
a mile she walks as she gets taunted
she slams the door to find love and affection
a smile on her face as school is not a thought
In her bed alone;
Darkness creeps
Schizophrenic ways
Fire inside
Rusted blades
she wakes up at night to find morning again;
Sizeable Switchblade
O'Reily Nov 2014
Written shots come in all shapes and sizes,
Size matters like size six, eight or fourteen.
Fortune braver the first line alternates the second so on so forth.

What becomes sizeable?
What's your size?
Little antidotes from a measured eagle size flies,
Weighs it all up from a prolific mind blasted out its circumference,
Two lines make three so on so forth.

In size short or long corridors open left and write,
Rooms of poetic justice words escape its meaning of pride,
Trying to connect its versatility,
Weighing up all its options to a third eye so on to the forth.

High five thinking outside a sizeable box,
A perfect band meets five,
Your five a day fruit flavoured squashed for you,
Drinking your rainbow colours that your taste buds acquire,
For then be hit for six.

Six like **** curves figure dressed up in  silk hanged up with a second coat,
There's a cat amongst the pigeons,
A cricket high score,
A winner catches it all out from a wicket duck 0.
A severed chase far from Devon.

Sailing on the seven seas on a ocean boat ride reach so wide,
Beckoning on a horizon with the world looking so flat but at your feet,
Never reaching the edge just for evermore,
No deck of cards would collapse or fall from this fate.

My great mate who I now hate as late as it goes round and round in a figure of speech,
Rate this of the eight wonders of the world,
Paradise monuments globalisms tournaments under and over a bridge we go and we go.

Nine I'm not taking no for an answer, upside down to the left six had it all,
Too much size from those verses,
Saliva grown twitch es,
A centre forward scores a goal,
The last but not least single number,
Einstein a rocket launch..

For then ten let it be impeccable when circling around next to its dolby one den,
Fur marks of a Lion gathered round a pack of clubs five odd and five even,
Doubled up figure of been odd but really been even Steven or maybe roughed up down in Nuneaten nine mine.

O'Reily@15112014
From the interstitial bile of the Profitis Ilias, was emanated the inaugural armour of the codes of Radius’s Eurhythmy. With it traces it typology of the three broken areas of energeia purple that will raise from bases it elementary of the contrafactum of melody of the Raedus. First with the paragraph’s of the Prophet Elias in the portion of the firstly 103 meters but awarding the contrafactum melodic same on the text of the Raedus Codex, that they will be rhythmic epigraphs of hallelujah and beginning of the Kirye. The polyphony will be an elevation of liturgy that will deliver doubly for the pipe that carries the prolific ascension to the face of the surface of the Profitis Ilias. Hypostasis Will be the substance, but of be to of way of the true unified to the all of the reality of the Áullos Kósmos.  To some 1, 7 years incessant light followed coming the Fourth Saeta of Zefian, to order the Áullos Kósmos with the ordination of the Go Auric that will conclude the retina that remains of the firmament and of his path like full earthly extra. The quota of prophecies will reside in the tectonics of the cliff and in fail them of the rocky mass, on the upper blocks from this outcrop from the inferior layers, from the start of the materials allochthonous on the hole of erosion, going in the Sibyls and the Prophet Elias until the 103 meters of the height.  

Codex I -Tectonic Nihil

The honor explains the Regressive Legend of this good piece of Meat Corpulent and Brain also, was born to write his astragals in his terminal syllable, whole and dying with the blood of Etruscans Steeds and Macedonics, each had golden piercing hanged internally in one of his six ******* paranasal, sealing the life of this blood caretaker Franciscan and swordsmiths extemporal so that with his last four molars yielded the light amalgamated Crystalline and overflowing in the gums of the lapse that soaks of blood the fields equestrian. In this codex Sibyl Pérsica would enter by the cylindrical vault, she advanced with a light secluded and stepped a snake, under the steeled hooves of Alikanto. She with his veil and oil lamp announced the arrival of the Messiah, here the awakening semblance invokes by the honor of his come, to Parents and the Mothers. The Souls of Trouvere appear beside Estratónice, Lochnith, and Wonthelimar.

It says Lochnith: The world abdicated the pontifical, have run the curtains so that enter the light, Moses here has to come with the true curtains that house the lunettes, the thrones of the Sibyls and Prophets that come us the miracles salvations that are born of his entelechy, for the one who is forbidden in the thousandth portion of the broadcast that break out like an affair signal, and testamentary of the Apocalypse to the Poielipsis in creation testament were live in the whispers of Emmanuel, in the verses burnished and oracular of Sibyl, daughter of Dárdano and Neso. With meager differences and matrices between Hellespont and Dardania, like Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and this last between the outstandingly in Eon Kareem, but in the corresponding bifurcation approximated to the baptistery. The Hexagonal Primogeniture will mandate the hardships of hexameters in front of the hectometers that will do evidence of the Escatón a third world is like a consistent reality, real that will carry us to the hope of a life satisfied and trained.  

Codex II - Tectonics Supra Lithosphere

Three white eagles’ headed flew by Tel Gomel, carrying blood in his claws twisted of spines turgid. They brought the vaticinator of double death predicted, with his double craze put and his double helmet that transmitter the rings of the putrid Tanat’s by the faces, and by his lips lackluster feeble in Him, Vernarth had sent them a missive with the Eagles in low flight; all they were dressed of the stink of the field of yellow fog and black battle, on the silty hooves of Beelzebub that heaved in the ones of Alikanto, they moan on the lymphoma of the size of a dream of six decades in his ridge crucible, that wheezed purges by his full snout of rests of lymph remaining in the interstitial of his teeth Burnished canine-alanos. His heart reconverted in armour red ad limitem with blue endocardial flourishing. When putting the twilight of the blowout lying of wind Eolionimi and Shamal, went breaking the vertical with the halter of his greedy steed to the spit helicoidal volatile mats in the catacombs of Markazí where residents of his lineage forge dwelt in abominations of the Lives that renacían victorious from the fire of cult to the city that houses his true Life and Soul in Sibylla Pérsica.

Singing of Wonthelimar: Already the veils have collected will carry the candles that wire the souls freed of Trouvere cries of prosperity expect us from the medrons that rebirth of the immanent presence of her same, to meters on the level of the lithosphere showed the Rings Ibics to the meeting of a tertiary matchmaker in the Saeta of Zefian,  and behold where interprets the law, the future gives us the pennant of justice insufficient of Light but there of the cavern that is born in the turns of the third world. It says Of Meturgeman or Rabí that break down the avatars of his advances, by ends off-center if they have to be the verticality of the Sibyllas with the mind of God. Like this we go topping by this axon of spiritual fatigue, centering in the nervous excessively that goes out of the body of consciousness of the cosmos, transmitting impulses of the same by Elías´s links, where the motor structure of the teacher and the testamentary of Leví, and Greek Aramaic Leví in Qumram subsisting to the big speed of how has to pass the Messiah priestly will interpret all the word of the Mashiaj in the Áullos Kósmos in his order motor and behold the Messiah  Priestly, and the patriarchs like Set, Enoch, and Isaac having the work of unraveling the illusions and mysteries of the cosmos of the same way that the angel interpreter the nocturnal visions in the apocalyptic relates of San John the Apostle.

Codex III -Tectonic Quartzite

The disloyal Ghosts came from 70 km of the Iranian city of Shiraz province of Fars, near the place where the river Pulwar ends in the Kur (Kyrus).  His construction and destruction would be provinces that will be subjected until the conquest of the Persian Empire subjected in October by Alexander the Great. Persépolis Remain turned into rooms of the Harem and in *** of magnet bizarro between massacred gods. The transitions of the porches in the sides are joined by angular towers in the Apadana of profane interlock. The two big doors remained opened in eternity groaning salts in interminable assets of predefinition and recharge in his abortive degree.

Here they were the comrades of Vernarth overwhelmed of preparations and attires in the lobs of Mars on his shoulders after oracles tempest of the burning sun in his heads.  Anahita; Goddess of the nature, pours the blessed waters of the nature that washed with morbid rains the bodies of the fallen in the ***** battles with the roosters of the Zoroaster, cutting the palanquin where are seated, and enraptured in polytheism with Ahura Mazda with a short difference like cloister and capota, ad carry to shoe the monarchic attires of Macedonia in front of his defeated realm by the subjugated constitution of golden blood of Alexander the Great and Vernarth tied to the Macedón or Zeus, fully Hellenic that ran vast both strides by muted seams of basaltic streets of paving stones, and obsidians between paradises of vintage and wind. The Sybilla Eritrea shows his veil not only collected but significantly knotted on the belly that alludes to the state of gravity of the ****** in Incarnation (scene of the Annunciation). The meters of ascension to see determinant the first 103 meters of climbing insinuate the appellatives of Erqia, Eriflam Herifle, and Riquea.

Singing of Estratónice: In the marble reside of white Apeiron of indeterminate infinite matter, exempt of quality and that finds in the eternal movement of the Eolionimi, that has to dwell in his belly a savior white from the Áullos Kósmos or paradise of Vernarth, the word will say that it rescues the life of the mortal the facets of the Katapausis would make amends the effluvia Hebrew in the ponderation of the mainstay of the virola that embraces the saeta of Zefian falling from the altitude. The biface solitude will trespass the rocky subsoil of the peak of the Profitis Ilias like this with tender meters that will cross the Fero of absorption of his Santity and Salvation of the Humanity.

Codex IV Tectonic Cenozoico

From Rodas, the geological temporary scale will contribute us the evolutionary frame of the rocky mantle, and superpositions in the happen of time. I register fossils of organisms that underlying in layers or endodermis of the prehistory of the Dodecanese. Vernarth After crossing the Helesponto transgressed his for psiquis parapsychological in the substitute Brook to Sudpichi like a weightless mantle of a Machi praying to the Kósmos Negechen by the rickty Rehue prophesying to him on his hands dismembered of bravery, of big assistance in 300 years of souls Nge-Nge Mapus deu in the raging nose that propelled the wrath; similar substitute with which trigger the knot, Champollion with some sphinx uncovering the allegories of Pandora from the Valleys of the Kings.

Singing of Sibila Líbica: The sparking plugs will inflame the Iridescent eyes of the Mashiaj flashed in the likely settlement mortuary of Alexander the Great in the oasis of Siwa: Oh My warm wind of Libya that flatters my chees, and my shoulders that groove in the light of the callous brain coexistence of Zeus. Singing by you my Didaskein; treating or teaching to the baffled herd that confuses the menages that were born to. B.C., not having a reminiscence of Irradiation in the mastery of the continuous-time of not contravening of ignorance, but yes to find him agreed and effulgent!    

Codex V Tectonic Brisehal  

By the desolate empty Dasht-and-Lut, Brisehal a huge shady of structure is moved him when is covered until all half orient, even disobeying to his parents; beings in uncrowded places of contemplation that were surfacing of his big mountain of the delighted desert overflowed the lemurs strolling alone as wanting to take off the last spark of politics that remained them for surrendering in his own banishment encountered. Brisehal Was an eminent mount with a head of the can similar to Anubis, but million times of the size upwards and with a clorhídricbreath, like a perspective of the congregation to go into the garden-realm of The Skies and in his laps. Before shivering the day with the movement of his shuddered step, Brisehal was two years moving day and night in the surface that did alluring of lux Solaris.  Brisehal In this fifth codex liquefied in the black layer of the tunnels of wind that hide by Dash-and-Lut, until the sensory layer of Dasht-and-Kavir, attracting by the tunnel of the grotto of 308 meters of height of Patmos intra geological, all the sculptures and images of the cusps did near to the 103 meters of initial altitude in this vertical underground in attachment with the parallel that retracted in cubic tones drilling the doloninas or geological depressions in the extensive of Lut for a giant that is born of the wails and lacerations of Vernarth when it was tutored by saetas in the middle of the field of Gaugamela, even moving to Maceo. When they moved noisily the dolines, lower mountains conceived deduced with the greater effect of his swivels nerves were immense thunderclaps that even reflected until the spheroids nimbus reddened by the riot of Dasht-and-Kavir. It turned off left to right pretending exile the Desert of Lut tubed in pro generation by both do of optical rope or fibers in high energy density, and that it could cohabit beside Vernarth disabling in the odyssey of the Horcondising (Paradise of the lineage of Vernarth to Gaugamela).

Singing of Brisehal: The veil that receives the indifference, has knotted in the abdomen hatched of the earth, and of the dolonina that protected me of the folio that barter what there was or of will have to become. The Gesta of all those that suffer from foot and rely on, have three abortive routines in his gravidity of a white relative, that did to shelter me in the love to my gentleman Vernarth. Sibila Eritrea neither in Greeks nor Latins has to sortear the breviaries of the maximum pontifex that speaks while dozing of anilines nights where anybody perishes awake in his epítome?

Sibilino By the Saudi, from the vórtice direct the gulfs that hide from where rebirth like choruses of Esquilo, behind the springs of Agamemnon in where Clytemnestra opens plains that do to run the Shamal by his dry disposition of dew, but humid of the sap of Eritrea faces in springs subtropical that tears dry of the tough body fallen in tears that will not hear by the tenacious hemp?

To the-Haffar, the third party is with saetas in his thigs, arms and pectoral, where the star does open shining for the one who dies by her in the first lightning of the night Thurayya, with violent embraces to receive to the one who from a codex receives the fifth bowl for violent winds of fishermen that resolved of the wind in a fine dust of the cleft hands of Aldebarán, peepholes of bilges of ogres that are born hell to die as pious in arms of Sybilla Eritrea, and in prologues of Brisehal with so many meters of wingspan, nevertheless that of any rye in the greater degree that have to ceremoniously in perks of a revived Sybilla Líbica.      


Codex VI - Strigoi Asthenosphere

In the spring of 331 b. C., Alexander the Great left Egypt returning to the port of Shot, where was his fleet. Of there it headed to Antioquía, crossing the valley of the river Orontes, and arrived at the River Éufrates to the height of Tapsaco, were founded the city of Nicéforo so that it was a strong square and tank of the supplies of the army, Here it was learned that Darius was found in Arbelas as he was crossing the Tigris, and heading north along the eastern bank of the river. The Sybilla Cumana found in the height 97 of the tunnel of wind when auscultating these waves very near of the dolonines, in avidity of the Pythia Délfica with divinatory proselytes that visited the folds of his attire, in places of his divinatory crowd cerebral. His relativity Cumana waste of energy of the Mausoleum, prophesying life for all in the passion of the life together with the abandoned bodies by the souls of the Devotio Roman, and in the poverty of the soul that drains scared by not remaining desolate between half of the parchment of Lilith, and in the offering of the Strigoi by breaches of troubling visions in the darkness of the cavern of Chauvet, when sacrificing competitive emotions of the Votum maléfico of Lilith.  Only one can exist like an inviolable part of the tradition of the chastest Wonthelimar, attempting the Xiphos with human chamois in tectonic offering and frizzing the altitude 103 of the tunnel of wind of the Strigoi.    

Vlad Strigoi Sings: Mardiath, noble and loyal hussar of the sea of Vernarth, Boss of the fleets of the Gulf, came by the cover when giving the turn by the bauprés, sees collected and hit by ropes in parasitosis that shined like a stray in the oars of the gods, and pleading that felt in the whistling of the wind. It approaches and it descends by dark sheds stairs with direction to the piston of water, who heresy in the ship Vladiana is quarreling when I training me in writing when saying who love the one who I am not, alone receipt phlegmons multitudinous Saecula Saeculorum, not hitting any foundation to confess me. They say not knowing that reveal due to the fact that it is not content that compares to the one who does not have Age, Life either Compassion that only has to communicate me like messenger Strigoi! Now I know that anybody will sing my thoughts, there is not ink that dares to spread a comparable quill that resists my word of ammonium Strigoi, usurped of a shipping Ballinger to some Flemish pirates, seconded to the side by a barge of Panescalm, that threw to 64 one thousand bodies massacred of the Bubonic Plague. Mardiath, get out of the Ballinger and leaves his sword to Vlad beside a geographic table to rediscover a destination in some doncella that could attend his disorders, more than ganglion suppuration in prostration. It traces back the course to shot to find with Vernarth and his minions to direct finally to the braves fields of Gaugamela and the Prehensile Ctónicos who revered to the gods or telluric spirits in the tectonic infra world by opposition to celestial deities, appearing in the tubular ascension of the warm wind that topped the consecration of my roman arteries, and all those that were up expecting them. The oblations of light lit the particles of the woodworm that suspended expelling those that magnetized the fosca matter. The unconnected syntax did periodically in the words of Strigoi from the Capite Velato or head watched from the Ballinger Strigoi that attained relocate. In double increase of sap did it minor to resist his life and his closure lying minimum in front of Wonthelimar, and Mardiath that satisfied him of the company in the eyebolt that sustains the road in his sullen life.

It sings Mardiath: The troops of Vernarth would split from Shot were found his fleet that came from Sudpichi from the Empire of the Horcondising. It explains the legend that in the heights of the Gulf when his army goes sailing, break out on his squares a mysterious tempest of hot airs of Ormuz to the height  665 in miles of Um Kasar, had found pertinent shipping of current Romania. when spotting them and take part inside this frigid ship at all there was, only crunches of topmasts and his sail greater that was spurring and presenting fenced curtains that came from of Sighisoara/Transilvania; where the alike Vlad Tepes stated seated behind a chamber of captaincy writing in his buffet. Each true interval took out a handkerchief to dry his ****** nose, like a pinch of gelatinous darky ink and sullied. It sings Isaías: The presence in the versed and corresponding folio, does relative the prophecy of Emmanuel been born of a ****** that associates to similar prophecy Virgiliana of the Cumana justifying his prophetic symbolism and beholds the caution that blackens skies where the light retracted, thousands are chained during the annunciation of a thousandth abyss like the fateful Strigoi only troubled pastures will have to transplant rebellions, that dying slept for the winnow of the ideal of incipient spiritual ******* dressed of execration. It has trigged the conflagration of the heart that resists the death and that is in decline several times in the conditions awaited by the apostates when denying of the water that does not do them Optimus and does elliptical the radius of obedience in the heart Vernarthiano satisfied of granules of Physconia grumose, whose frequency they become encysted in bodies of traitors reigns and of fungus lineages. The reign of the saints will judge plurality in the thrones with devastation in fatuous beatifications in Pérgamo, already admonished by me.    

Codex VII - Báculo of Sheesham  

Vernarth it calms lying down on the bunks of the fire of Sheesham. Beam and Incense with ultra olfactory and sensory powers, delineating the elementary and phenomenal cores housing and adapting híper connectivity with probity Hinduist the akasha executed the essential foundation in all the things of material cosmovision; the first palpable material element and concrete was created by the god Brahmá (air, fire, water, earth are the others). Did it treat one of the classical elements of Hinduism, pañcha-majá-bhuta or? Five big elements; His main characteristic is the sabda (sound). In sanscrit, this word means "space. It is the physical and eternal substance Akasha, of the ether that flows by the Akasha-Nautas and by Vernarth in each regression parasicológica. Vernarth Takes of a báculo called Key of Sheesham purchased it once anxious for delivering it to his beloved Toscana in the Cathedral St. Mary dei Fiori, in one of his Regressives Lives. They expected it astonished by the tyrannized impulsiveness of the noble in Florencia, of which once again came delayed of the tillage of the barley and of the god’s fatuous next to the Porcellino. It expected long hours until it went out his beloved Maddalena of the Eucharistic ceremonial, while the carried in his right hand his crosier, and in the left a rectangular box sizeable for his hand, inside carried essences of the potpourri of lavender and vellorita, a ring with a stone of amethyst coated by a concave skittle of gold, in the outline supra circulate carried medieval ornaments of silver of Etruria of the Party of the past barley. In front of this acquiescence Sybilla Samiense, followed carrying the clairvoyance where the prophet Isaías there was untied the conflagration of the heart that resists the death and that is in decline several times in the form today from Kafersesuh in Ein Karem, opens the stamp of residing in the cradle where María poses beside his son, already being part of the lithosphere of Getsemaní and of Vernarth in the heart of Maddalena.

Phylogeny in Getsemaní: The **** erectus crossed with multiple pieces of evidence of beings pro-evolutionary-adaptative, Neanderthal/HomoSapiens. Children of Israel wrote parables, epistles, verses, histories, and books, his vocal tract and phonetic spoke of tempest and environmental factors between sky and earth, of the big noise out of us, but little silence in us. The elementary is larynx that only pronounces the image that reports concepts evocative minimal of the sound in distinct placings of the melisma in mega sound. Speaking us how the language varies according to the history, and the half civic-climatic instructing us to his threshold and descendants when giving off by the effusions aerial of the language in assiduous levels tracheo-laryngeal. Earning authoritatively the intervals of vocalization, and relation of the junction with the agriculture and all his dimension descending by his internal walls, but going up by parietal overexcites out of her same.

Of the little air that remains to the world, to follow digesting temporarily assumes leaving flow his extra-air that possessed this in particles mechanically inert, and no in sanctified prophecies with miracles inferences and Inherence that Innova factótum, in the súper existence of which even do not perish by the hand of a monarchic mandate. Like this, the world swallows air in halves suffocating and contaminated whole, whereas others redistribute it for the one who needs to seat at the table to collect the Bread and share it with the other half.  Here it echoes the echo of body Christic, that in Aramaic syndicate much more than a language in his blood, grapheme and phonemes of stylistic in vibratory shock further of his deep stretch reverberating with the grace of his billed divine. Joshua swallows spikes and leaves simultaneously having us in his arms like children of olive-nursling, risk a sheep in his arms giving us lactate hydro-milk of the sustain of a verb creator. Fact strict to preserve the Aramaic and no stray with turning the turns of the leaves in the history, the Aramaic has to incorporate for the times that Joshua grazes us after more than two thousand years even. The one who is walking of one side to another to say us that it still is here, only comfort suggest your walk plagiarized with his larynx the sound of his expression the sheep is mammalian but mammalian that the man as his billed formulates bleats always reflected in the base of his skull for the rest of his children like biblical language, under all the rainbows of Querubines bawling beside boys surrounding them in identical intention! **** habilis, **** Sanctus in a process that possesses Orthodox bases and peripheral anatomical capacity, a linguistic Pythagorean shortcut of the dalliance and sternum when confusing it between yes, not altering his structural complexity neither functional. Of the potential of the Lepidoptera and winged insects, will arise the phenotype that will relate and relativize the mechanical aramea or Aramaic method for no stray the divine tongue, as well as it also is sublime the laryngitic torque of the one who possesses blood and body Aramaic, as his mechanized mystic devours the minimum words with the maximum in an all of the ranges of cacophonies and of prototyped field, they see to my field here spoke the spikes and the insects more than the own mechanical potential of your Voice.

The tunnel of wind filled with Lepidópteras that flew rising in shape helicoidal, everything sensitized with the imminent advent of the saeta magnánima of Zefian that came crossing the perihelion from the high Áullos Kósmos, dialécticamente with abundance credibility in the interior of the geological tunnel of the Profitis Ilias, list to the turgent of lactation doctoral theological. Timoratas And long justices rounded in those who were even exhausted, entre ajar the colophon of the days that began with the identification of the báculo Sheesham, appointing regent of tribulations that drains by his length of trip, to the basality static focusing idiosyncrasies and interests of the Prophet Elías that it received them in the height 103 with passages of Corintios that the saints go to help in the administration of the saints millenials. His capacity will not have the limits of his previous earthly life?  


Codex VIII - Ultramundis Alikantus

Alikantus Archetype of his a short astral trip three days that topped in Gaugamela...! Bulle In hides and discomfort after lightening his igneous hooves by slippery Lerapetras of Lasithi in stepped that seemed to be the same inflows of committed that brought Kanti of Creta, that pyrographed the floor Traciano before arriving at the request of his address. It resorts to Medea, before arriving at Tracia after errate by distinct places in search of protection and councils to protect to his master Vernarth, while it subjected to the last libations opiáceas of vivid liliáceas and angiosperms encapsulated in his pectoral right in the anonymous of Alikanto, asking him to Medea a potion to be able to supply him to his master and reduce inflammation his pectoral for like this can use his armour Áspis Koilé in the fight, as they subtracted three days for the duel. Medea Arrived at the city of Athens on a tempestuous day with a gray dantesco Fusco on the palm of the cliff escaping previously near Abdera, in which the orient proceeded to evacuate sooty plectrums to the sunset. Medea While it looked to the sky, took a piece of anthracite of feldspar to create javelins of aluminum that would have to carry Alikanto to his return, beside the potions for deflating his pectoral infected. It painted the sky with grey lines plotted and lodged later in his wry loop,  sighting from the infinite signals that came joining up in a ray of an alloy whose semblance seemed to be a king, it was Egeo, that not only offered him hospitality but it would link with Medea with the hope that his sorceries allowed him to conceive a son in spite of the advanced of his age. The sorceress fulfilled his expectations by having a son to call Medo. When Teseo, the secret son of Egeo, arrived in Athens had to that his father recognized it like heir Medea took it as a threat to the future of his son and tried to poison it. But Teseo discovered it, accusing it to commit horrible crimes and witchcraft, Medea had to escape again. This crusade had the assistance of Alikantus that transported it flying from Abdera, not to be captured and can supplement the potions that had requested him Alikantus, also with javelins that had to carry to Vernarth to escort him off the splendorous insult. The convulsed Sybilla Cimera customized the symbols of the ceremonial willing forging classical gestures of prodigality, and that at all less was a cornucopia given to zephyrs of the Ultramundis, that revolutionized the boss around that shuddered in the pickets of the dermis rocky that dressed the walls of the final tubule of 103 meters. The channel located referred inclinations of Likantus that harassed, and customize the final discretion of Teseo to finish with the folio of Egeo downward breaking the sentence of his son, and evading it of his stepmother. In this colisseo rooted Teseo beside his mother Etra that did not reveal him the name of his father until it fulfilled sixteen years. Arrived at this age, Teseo could raise the stone, shoe in the sandals and the sword of his father, and initiate his trip to Athens to be recognized like a son of the king. From this obviously Vernarth in the film of Gaugamela dressed him in the sandals Persikaia that did of him the one who never was, and if it died would carry them settled until the altar of the comedies in the Tristanía, where all that surrealist exceeds the loquacity narrow of reality, more than at all in racked muses in forced symptomatology of paranoia or of a heroine Sybilla, that mediated with the Arms of Christi in the iconology of the Codex Raedus.

Vernarth Seated in the edge of the Ultramundis, and broke in front of the cosmos and the solitude that hid all the beings that floated in the ditch that he collected in his moaning, in such judge that it rejected all the creations when feeling his wails, where the demons looked him from the darkness that fragile hastened his Magro occipital, attacking him in front of Medea evading the Satanic circumscription to contravene it the agreed with Egeo. The perjures reigned in the doubts of tragedy favored of Komedia parading in victorious procession, and singing triumphs of duality paranoic tragic, enthroned in the martyrs of tribulation, and in the seeds of the one who does not cease Tragediopathic Ubis, and in facts that speak of the hunger of solitude in all man plunged of the Ultramundis, as only dimensional of the one who burns in his doubts and of Anastasia frustrated. Vernarth Saysekáthisan and the Duoverso in consequence of the Universe seated to dry his tears then Vernarth received from the darkness of the Ultramundis a golden light of steeds Hippeis with an aura of Tesalia, where the krima or criminality become in three chambers threaten from Maceo to the confrontable in the half-hour of Arbela. Vernarth compress desisting the essays of procrastination reconstructing bodies’ severed here more than going isolating of his own souls and sins, with Hebrew souls of root Néfesh that took spooky in capsizing of decapitation of the one who lives exponentiating in the solitude of the Ultramundis. Inexorably the infra earthly holiness of the surrealism exceeds any verse, if it is that it was Lazarus here in the tunnel of wind the one who raises in front of Vernarth embracing him,  and playing it cool the greek of Likantus to fulfill him his mission.


Codex IX Ultramundis Phalanx
            
The labaros of the Phalanx saw from Asia some of the faithful groups of Alexander the Great. They appeared like ursids and Amphibians that came by the near step from Gorgan. "The Red Snake" was a defensive construction from here come the palfreys of Alikanto, preview with big camerades of animals for the body adhered to the cavalry of Alexander the Big. This incredible barbican begins on the coast of the Caspio, north of Gonbade Kavous, and continues to the northwest and disappears in the mountains of Pishkamar. They continued on the buttresses beside Bears and Leviathanes, they formed part of the totemic dreams, that taenia Vernarth when it assumed hallucinations doped by regressive turn by hieratic spaces to the slip away in hardships and incorporate in connection with animal pets in rhythms and waltzes of the applause of his atabales. Alikantus came speedy flying almost without detaining and without distracting when he brought the poisons and instruments of the armory of the panoply. He came Already had for the hours that came to fill out details before taking the game besides the Heavy infantry, Light, and Thessalonians. Inside the most elementary of his mission, he was to do the protocol of the potion, broadcast the preaching beside the Lumberjack, and distribute the javelins to the Hetairoi of Vernarth.

When anchoring the cerulean hoofs of the fire unknown of the Gods, attains to discern as to Vernarth took him out of the back of an Elephant attacker was besides accompanied by the cunning guard dog of Alexander called Péritas, that insinuated him start and raise with windstorms in warlike stratagems. Vernarth Came of his last session frugal Opiácea, for institute vegetal nervous lianas that commonly remained with some of them, and remained cut off in his cephalic vein and jugular stalking his ******, that always spreads in laurels of Cocoon, and by averages of intríngulis that had to gobble up by some days. It would follow daily being joined to the infinite that saw him be born, like the most magnificent Commander of Alexander the Great neither imagined nor collated! The wall Gorgan possessed a length of at least 200 kilometers upper to any one of the Roman walls that outlined in archeology like works of bastion. It was exhausting to exceed it and take a course with beasts since they were upset when being near Tel Gomel to the present that they were approaching the mulch of Vernarth; due to the fact that they were his very adored pets besides the Crocodiles Tupak. The Alazanes were prescribed by a watchdog of the wall of Gorgan being of the Persian army that was seduced by the bears to combat beside Vernarth.

Next to the Bumodos, already saw Vernarth play with his pets, Bears, Crocodiles, and the can of Alejandro Magnus. Further submissively approached shoring his frozen neck, Alikanto or Alikantus preceded with donations and drugs for his master brought of the sleight phalanges by Medea. Vernarth was appreciated and almost emancipated of the branch mowing and the strains venal that populated mostly in his pectoral and both full arms of smelly tattoos that had colonized him. Almost when getting dark on burgeoning them and fluffs of Zeus then begin to arrive the phalanges of Vernarth. The Phalanx of Macedonia was the training of infantry created and used by Filipo II, and later by his son Alexander the Great in the conquest of the Persian Empire. The phalange Macedonia arose, in fact, like the answer in front of holistic modifications and tactical Hellenistic of Theban strategists, Epaminondas and Pelópidas of strengths of earth that deployed at the beginning of the 4th century B.C. For opposition to the superiority, although it already was decadent in training hoplític spartan, that had exerted in the terrestrial fights between the polis Greek until that dates.

The Sybilla European carried a Gladius in his hand but exchanged it with the Xiphos in alternation by the death of innocent entrusted by Herodes the Big, and of the escape of the Holy family to Egypt. This confirms the liturgical grouping of the Triduo Pascual; the alluding passion of Christ and perpetrating the typical dolorism of the Devotio to his death, and triumph to his resurrection. The transposed of surrealism transports to San Juan digging in all the layers and hordes of the Faith, his componential of tribulación that moved in the Egyptian and Greek cartography, moving the triangular areas of the Phalanx, that moved en geometrical block reaching the edges of the hypotenuse gradient and of the tunnel of wind that elevated them cornering to the beast that visited them pretending to be feeble and imprecise.

The dolines collapsed in myriads substances in suspension, while the two swords Gladius and Xiphos were satisfied with blood Greco-roman. Here vegetated the verb of Elías in the corporal resurrection with similarity of triangular body Lazarinus that saw dragging by the power of tow of the ionic Phalanx in his stuck. They were Beings Equis that abstracted in a start of the Be X in his contrary algebraic; an incógnita or something that could take any quantity in other words something unknown, so that the algorithmic links and cater corporeality resuscitator in Lazarus of Betania inside his angles of Holy Geometry. The winds of swing presented viviparous in future observances of visions and perplexity of consciousness, governing fiscality that does resurrect in rabbinic worlds from the highest occupying thrones in the bracket, but of thrice ignoring the belief by means of greater incredulities that the direct truth and more brief. Elías is attracted by the Cinnabar that ponders in an apocalyptic mosaic, in the chamber Esdras, at the end of the mundane reign dissolved and that dies in the same Messiah. Satanás Does not tire to attack the credibility of the Phalanx in manifolds of dispensationalism, perhaps being strongly attached to Carmelo and of the unloyal that never revive in his same bodies unconverted.    


Codex X Ultramundis Lepanto  

Of Lepanto appeared exhausted the Armis Christi with burned eyes volatilized in stratospheres that received them Belligerent. Cual if they went alien castes settled in inflexible breath, refloating from his clámide in fuss and idiosyncrasy. They arrived cracking the pristine stretches from Tel Gómel when they arrived it charges it a military strategist asking him clemency to extend.

Falangist: With the crest in my hands and the Dorus on my clámide from the floor said; each disposal that tried in the double edges of my sword that dent. The upper leaf Sansevieria nominated me to a Hebraic past and to a medieval future, it was the Sword of Saint Jorge, notifying that my family in Kalidona was under a state paradoxical, given to my two greater children that were quoted to the service of the militia. The second inferior edge of my Xiphos and the Sansevieria bent me ruin in front of the prosopopoeia to the entrance with discouraged to defray the sclerosis of my soul follows exploding, surpassing and impelling to my wife in spars of easy undress. I know that my descendants remained buried under the effect of mortal meeting in the catharsis of Pompeii, the future of Saint George that patented! All emigrated and will escape afterward to remain desolated, and attain to return the inopportune comrades to the reintegrate in the verbena of St Mary in Athens, the Saint Patron saint comforted me and prepared my resist of such bad numerary so that someday left to fall my seeds in the wisdom of archangels peasants with sacral devotional fruits. I sighed and I groaned rubbing in my animals! my empties eyes day and night were mesmerized to the ethereally magnetized. They did it beside me, with the singularity of not to affect me, they went by little booklet near to moan not to see them demagnetized by some fatalistic effects and consummatory.

Etréstles moved by the tribulations of the Child of the Falange, bent imposing non-existence afterward that his words involved the exhortation to Hera by his benevolence consummatory to be able to reside beside her. Like this, they would remain immune to progressive lives under the influence of sharp primary stew and secondary in arms of the phalanx. Shinings the eyes of Hera when the spirit of the Falangist is entering to her were not vanities but if the advent of the vanity in ínfulas to the Acrópolis is carrying it to her.  

Sibila Tiburtina sustains it gathering him in his arms saying him: You will receive the heat that you will imprison in the house of the great priest, a scene that will be represented in Prócoro in the neutral corresponding folio. Events and expletives will be of the past, no longer allocated him neither he annoyed. The Arms Christi again swirling with the Souls of Trouvere in last irascible chinks of the winds Eolonimi in the holístic of all the winds that appointed to Vernarth. "They did not go back to live your children heard a Macedonio military", The physical resurrection of the unconverted take place after the tree of Mars when they free to the innocent fallen in the belief versicular that divides the ray with his half where any minute will be able to hit it. The passages of the tunnel of wind are the wasteland that dies revived by the *** cutting overflowing fibrils of vitality from the high for overflow it downwards for those who even expect amazing miracles, walking beside the alive with hypocoristic triviality reborn in his same blood that was spilled. Everything famous goes walking with pennants that raise of his own sepulcre, cutting lower capillaries of the impetuous rising of his pale cheeks, where the scepter Greco-tridentate will be a forbearance of the one who frees and purposeful escape of the tree of Mars. Now lie down beside your children and will be between the hazels and Eolonimis doing revived of the Tágmati or order of succession of the Polis like the unit of elite tribulating the final stretches of the straight of the Ultramundis to the fries the 103 meters glorified.

Etréstles during the millennium of the Satagenesis and Deidagenesis beside the Heosphoros and the Uomo of Valplacci they prostrated to Lucifer in front of Etréstles (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Cap. 45 - Palibrio USE), reflowing and emulating wars of the Peloponeso, is being east a garrison of the general of the Athenian fleet in western Greece. The mentor floats were directed by the admiral Formión that defeated all the Lacedemonios in Naupacto. When they approximated to the province of Nafpaktia, of the Nomo of Aitoloakarnania confined followed the indivises and weightless musks disseminated, disintegrating immortal souls with the damage of the break exhaled that is extinguished in his offering. It is as well as it could cause some aversion not to be condemned to the Hadic infra world, to Tee castes of gods and semi-gods with Sansevierias in green leaves, and clover that chained to the freedom of the furious gases of Xenon and Lithium, slipping away by drainages and spaces where any sword neither launches will cross the atmosphere of Gaugamela-Macedónica, only Vernarth here was hádic and will have to pipe by the untouched pavilions of the spotless backsstore with heroic lineage. Any curly tease or flagrant will slice sanctified carnosities purchased in quoted sessions in the manacled of the Bumodos with the drugs and the potions of Medea.

Codex XI - Ultramundis Raeder      

From Patmos saw come hundreds of hanged boys of the stringers of the pelican blue of the Dodecanese. Raeder cames Hanged with both hands on the rings of iron plating of jasper; from the Greek "iaspis", that means "stone marked". Raeder found it in sharp hydrothermal, in volcanic rocks, and in sedimentary rocks in the surroundings. With four palmate fingers that shod in the hoops of amethyst for the owners of the house that celebrated the actions of thank you, and the celebration of the guidelines of Saint John that sent them transported in his peak golden shoe. Generally, they were more than five thousand those that transited by the regions, they swallowed canonized water of the sea Jonico with the big advantage to reproduce saltwater seas in freshwater to drink. They carried them to each house to fill his vessels and also in periods of seed, irrigated his tillage in summery periods where scarce, with his brown golden plumages raffle the fields of olives and of the ***** vineyards of the Goddess Afrodita. With his whites plumages, they spray the tillage of barley with vinegar and recently wheat fields fished of the legs of Petrobus, his pelican of the dreams! From here they were born all the recipes by all the regions when it depressed them the Bread without firewood and tares. Patmos has recorded in the stringers of the pelican planning every day and go looking for houses where arrive to carry them the Gospel. To all the boys like Raeder accompanied him other blessed, to carry the good news to families that seated expected near in denouements of his social limits when they expected them by the afternoons with the action of gratitude. They ate by the afternoons to expect the boys to taste them Tzatziki; Sauce of yogurt with cucumber and candy with drinks of poppies and honey, they received them in chambers near his gynoecium and right there exchanged the gifts that brought of the Grotto of the Evangelist in Patmos. The boys from the same moment in that the future mother knew or suspected that it was pregnant, attended speedy so that the distribution did not have problems considered them a divine gift,  the only children to the firstborn or those that were born of greater parents, was the privilege of these primogenitures. Reckless renowned and quotations that appear in the Apocalypse of John, in whose introduction says that the author was banished to Patmos, where had his meeting with Jesus in the called Grotto of the Apocalypse that originated everything.

The grotto or foundation of sapphire, was just to the addition of the empty that levitated from the walls of the grotto were molecules with mass hyperactive, delivering him tracks to Raeder near to the Jasper, calcedonia, emerald, sardónica, sardio, crisolito, berilo, topacio, and crisoprasa, but he magnetized with the Iaspis of the genealogy of Kalymnos that revealed him the wave vibrational on the Jasper,  the Arms Christi of Saint John in Apocalypse 21, of verse 19, says there: "The foundations of the wall of the city all lovely stone the first foundation jasper; in the paráfrasis predicted that the foundations of the Megarón will be most of these materials, but regularly of Iaspis of Raeder.

Sibila Gets flu carries the relative scourges to the scene of Flagellation in the praetorium here filigrees hematíes ran by exvotos simulating blood from the celestial, representing the corresponding straight folio. The natural laws of the Parables Iaspias do the alchemy with noble minerals immanent and hypocoristic in the cavern that revealed all this grace to Raeder for the propaedeutic of the Mashiaj when centralizing here the spacetime that said that God has similarity to the Iaspis, as its bed of condensed gold in the expiration and metalization of the cosmic essence. The similarity did that all the walls of the vault or tunnel of the Profitis Ilias governed of Jasper and Cornelian, being this last of blue greens eyes of Raeder glittering in his iris, and in the curvature of mass that did apressed in the interior of the tunnel of wind that also expanded, doing rubíes and sharpnesses of her same. The visibility of the Universe still did hyper brilliant on the inlet of Patmos, for this Petrobus his Pelicano blue topped surrounded in the arch superciliary of Apollo, to train similarity of the metals like his neighbor metalloid.

Isaías says 28:16: "Therefore, Iahveh the Gentleman says like this; Love and behold that I have put in Sion by the foundation a stone, stone tested, we look by where it begins, a stone, but first tested then angular, then lovely of stable foundation; the one who believed. From this situation the Iaspis and Sardio in the mountain of Sion the throne of the Gentleman that accompanied to Raeder and to the lamb flashing beside his idols Petrobus. They did angulars to all the stones some powdered finally and all pyramided by the dolines, in the exquisiteness of the son that presented in the cavern of the most refractory way for irradiate light that warned to Raeder to go by his progenitors. The glory of Raeder did of the glow to garrison enhanced in voices of boys by all Patmos, speaking that his parents were similar lovely stones to the Iaspis.    


Codex XII - Ultramundis Duodecim Evangelii

The twine of the Rainbow did to mutate the labaros in each color disseminated, already descends a peripeteia in the chromatic Era and niveous, discoloring in the Antiphony of entrance that says: I will give you shepherds according to my heart that grazes you in consciousness and experience. Oh God, that have aroused in the Church to Saint Joseph, Mariah, and his Rabí, wise priest, to proclaim the universal vocation to the holiness of the Duodecim Evangelii, grant us his intercesión and example, in the exercise of the ordinary debit having us to our Messiah, and serve with fervent passion in the work Redentive by our Gentleman Jesus Christ.

This big event exerts from the chasm of the Apocalypse, where daily inhabitants bound handwritten and ancient treasures  Sakkelion-Sakellarios. They upset conforming a new resolution in his scriptorium in the Byzantine period they administered alms and tributes, Curiously related with Zaqueo appearing in the new verses from Lucas´s Gospel, 19 1-10, when Jesus Christ goes in Jericho. It was a publican, boss of collectors, and very rich. The collectors worked for the Romans and besides asking for more money the Romans demanded doing this rich way easily, by what was doubly hated. Zaqueo was low in height and for this reason, when Jesus went in in the city of Jericho, all the world banked to see it and he remained backward and did not arrive to see it. Then it advanced and it went up to a species of the fig tree, a sycamore (Ficus sycomorus) since it went to happen in front of her. When Jesús arrived at that place, said him: Zaqueo goes down prompt; because it suits that today it remains me in your house. In front of this, the village muttered that it went to the lodge home of a sinner. Zaqueo retorts that it will give to the poor half of what has, and if it defrauded to somebody previously will give him the quadruple. Jesús answers that salvation has arrived at his house because he also is the son of Abraham. From this antiphony arises the Twelfth Evangelii, which arises in a file that celebrates the haughty morals of tributes that have to motivate by tribal crowds of Gaugamela for the presence of God, by what want his will and No!

The tessitura of the wind tunnel transfigured the next height of 103, after the blonde grace of Abraham murmuring his tent to generate height over Israel and Jacob. The dolines of aspersion evaporated the matter that transfigured in celestial plasma with ranks of metric coercive, of what that up to is down and vice versa for the hemispheres of the Sefirot, and for the Shemot or name of the start of the origin transfiguring in would idolise of Creation in the Universe-Duoverso. From all the corners will split to give reading to this big incident no easy to read, and listen neither less feel in his once become vibrations by the immortality of the events memorials of the history like regent conveyor of the meeting of all the frivolous voices that sin of ignorance, and those that know by ensuing ebullient. That they will be quadrupled the parchments to the fighters that finalize alive or died in Gaugamela, each one carrying in his hands one of them bled. All the crosses relations of the ancient society, infuse parallel of sustainability of Faith by means of the generosity, almost transferred of an essential charisma praised of the esoteric core of the Same dogma, confusing on the way that it has to transport it without having consciousness of the destination that will carry it, and comes badly from the limen of the doubt from the beginning. Since a king, impious Manases was imprisoned and exiled, designated king impío, convivió in the depths of the heat of the Averno. For the modern Christians, Manases is an icon of the Divine pardon, of where arises the traditional pray socrative of Manasés from the jaculatory of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, since after being one of the kings more bloodthirsty and pagan of the Jewish, forgave him and even was buried in the city of David, pantheon only reserved for the faithful kings with what deduces that God forgave it entirely.

The Sybilla Délfica carries the crown of spines of the Coronation of Jesús become equally in the praetorium, and as in previous cases to the scene that represents in the neutral corresponding. In the triade Eritrea, rather Herófila, if caste and clairvoyant Délfica and apologetic, his vernacular artery did it native of Marpeso, Trojan Tróade, as in fantasies to be a daughter of a Nymph and Shepherd. It chose it did him escort for the Duodecim Evangelii, from Samos this robbing to Patmos in the foundation of the Megarón with the same polygonal of the Chapel Sixtina in the quattrocento, where Vernarth had assistance in Regression parapsychological of the Quattrocento Duodecim Evangelii, announcing that the Vernolatría serious part of his Apologetic life inspiring prophecies with the Parables Iaspis, extolling erudition after the grave that was in the forest of Apollo Esminteo, returning to his origins to a sinkhole in the Córico mountain.          

Codex XIII - Nix in the Tenebrousness

All the demarcations derived to witness Bastos and impolitic utensils of the undivided Gaugamela. Three days before that the Falangists protested to Vernarth for when they were clouded by the Ekadashi. They fasted three days before and delivered to the visas of Zeus, graduating fulgid movements in his lunar seals eleven days before. It is the penultimate stair; already remained hours to walk by the woodworm that shook the heels of the Phalanges, all the accouterments and animals were conferred to the mysticism of essence and to his disputable worshipper. Now in the boundary circle of the heritages of Gaugamela, Darío came from afterward to move the Tigris, organizing his troops and his harem. The Macedonians had an army that added 7.000 riders and 40.000 children. The heavy cavalry of the elite of Alexander was the Hetairoi and was formed by the nobility of Macedonia, that accompanied Alexander in this battle and went the decisive factor in the faction, Vernarth commanded more than 40 one thousand children, saving narrow relation with the Hetairoi with his arms twinned of divine caste, and the Hoplites Greek that took part to cover the rear of the phalanx, that Vernarth defrays from the more furtive boundary of his doctrine in this mobile taint with thousands of Macedonians singing institutional quarrelsome poetry. From the Dodecanese, Kalidona and all the central Greek archipelagos came to surrender the figure of Vernarth, accompanied by Etréstles of Kalavrita, big hero and defender beside Markos Botsaris (Capitulate 6, pag. 36 Koumeterium Messolonghi / Palibrio USA) in this Magna Epos. Also, Raeder incorporated beside Petrobus the Pelican Blue, Brisehal of Dash-and-Lut and Vlad Strigoi appearing of the transversal valleys of Transilvania, suddenly after having arrived of the Reign of the Horcondising, tackling his Frigate in Valparaíso juxtaposing in the nine elements and in megatonnes to be ratified from the start in a new Celestial wasteland. All camp to five kilometers of the Rio Bumodos, in the ***** north where the shady blemishes favored them of a new lunar phase in tendencies, effusion, and backflow that was the apotheosis influence of energy. The worshipper of the clan did not give him any importance especially only given hierarchy by alone gnosis because in these goods could improve his devotion, so they are occupied in his service.  They are to the expectation to have the juncture of renovating even more his mourning for himself by second certificates to his right-handed with astrológics cosmic interpretations of the Ekadashi, being able to be explained by the shoots of the material world.  The concept contravened to the reverences is that the Ekadashi will be the day in that the Gentleman will persevere attaining the unitary joy dean, contesting flashes incessant by the unbalance emotional community of the assistants, like ingredient spirit that is allocated in his spree, and has to treat to give more start to Vernarth in his regression parapsychological. But besides it is necessary to conceive that we are in singing of subsistence of the hypotenuse, by which do not have to think this Zeus requires extremely our third. He is entirely self-sufficient and is tied to his transcendental world of the vilorta, but not to leave us alone with his vague shimmers of collectivity!

Sibila Helespóntica sustains the cross, the last emblem of the Passion represented in the chaining. As it corresponds in his straight and immediate folio representing the Crucifixión of Christ in the Gólgota, the spaces car selected consigning in the ashlar that came close in technical whispered of works that inspired to Sybilla of Helesponto, she approached with the gear and the utensils of the altarpiece of her same, decorating them with passions that represented in the lineup, eleven days before being sprayed the alcohol on them of first degree in his heads to leave them in the intemperate, and to posterity that came to the goddess of the darks Nix spilling petals macerated and turned sour on all they to inhume them in blasphemies of the god Erebus, in the deep light scarcity of all lethargy marginal to redeem them of the chaos, on an earthly crushed sea unfamous that will be the surface of Gaugamela transiting in the catacombs, with earthy rivers and elusive phlegm escaping of the insectaries light of Ultramundis of the god Tartar. Nix Runs alarming in his muddy tiled, appearing as a winged woman dressed with a black toga cover of stars. It will drive an armature thrown by two steeds properly accompanied by his children twins Hypnos and Tánatos, here besides them trepidation running by any place, for attesting the regrets of the Falangists Hoplites, after being suddenly invaded by mythological strengths of the Auqemenides. Through condensed pulses and of others no designated will be represented on diverse types and in supports of xylographic monumentality in the ceramics and even in the patrimonial immaterial with the hindsight of the Áullos Kósmos. From the Basiliscus will aim to Betelgeuse, dispensing in the Arms Christi to advance to the Fontana's and to Parables Iaspis, staging the Sibyllae Prophetae, vaticinating the paved of the Iaspis of lovely stones for fragment in the elevation and in the maremágnum issued by Sybilla of Helesponto,  raising on the height of 133 in the ordeal of the Gólgota, in orient skull of Abimelech and of Jezabel from the kraníon symbolizing the traffic in places of executions from a kraníon admonished.  

The place of the Gólgota also is uncertain of archaeology. All he knows is that it was out of the city, further from the second wall. It had to be a hill, as it could see from some distance and was near to a way, homologous to the initial of Getsemani, Saint John Apostle amplifies that a new grave was near, in an orchard. The tágmati translated as "order" Indicated the ranks in the Roman army; the saints of the Ancient Will and of the tribulation receive his bodies glorified near the return of Christ to the world. Being Greek root Tagma of put in order from the thoracic head and abdominal, in tagmatization and differentiation of regions of the body or tagmas formed by series of metámeros or similar segments between himself differentiated of the rest. The Ultramundis of the god Tartar here is conceptualized, and corresponds with the metamerization heteronomous of inert organic, and opposes to the of metamerization homonomous, in which all the metámeros or bilateral symmetry in all the appendices that are equivalent. They are those centurions that drilled the rib of the Mashiaj in the Gólgota with whispered symmetry from the head, thorax, and abdómen of the Tágmati, sorting out from the launched Pilum awarding them the Christo Salvatore Vaticinante, but in the dictamen or professing the same symptoms of his passion by the tagma abdominal, toráxico and head in his crown of spines Ziziphus.    


Codex XIV-  Ultramundis Primum apud Orionem finale    

Challenged by the sortilege of the Augur Vernarth gathered with his General Commander and invites him not to separate further of extending them that edging by a docile lunar greyish wind. They gather and they put near one of another.

Vernarth Says: That joy turns to my meditation behaving in this contiguous night to our Falangists Consecrated, and to the cavalry sleeping in Machiavellian dreams when falling in his sink, until in his parishioner and in his steeds so that they do not lose his eyes sung in the drain of the pressing. All lodging as if lying in a genial lawn and honesty of the belly of the Chaos, exhorting hallucinations to those who sleep in the cap of the kraníon, with the wise utopias of the Erebus. Dozing likewise  utopias to the high and rubbering in Orión with a pythoness expression and changing his tacit. Leaving hardly a space of turn to change the tri face cariátide tackling the secondary mirages of Aurion, turned into a decimated Muse captivate for desirous delectation treating them as his heirs, seeing them flatter with his scarlet layer and inscribed with Lambda in your magazine in Gaugamela.  Alexander Magnus answers: That the satirized arms re-spin by the ****** of Amón, popping your eyes-hearings and eyes unheard folded in the martyrdom glaucoma of Anubis, re transforming the constellation of Aurion after we heave us annihilating them in this silent furrowed already embattled! While, I have to wash down your sentences more cleaned with one thousand tempests more than the refrained gallantry that receives in my corrected hemisphere, unbalancing the **** Target of the night, situated in the Lambda on her so that it accompany me with his nurse to the temple, truncating the investment sovereign to the moaning in the lead of Febo.  

When observing Vernarth that the spittle of Febo or the personality of Apollo in Alexander the Great fell repaired, quickly the appraised on his jaw drying him, smiling him and at the same time changing his gestures of nervousness. Taking him and attaching him, since it seemed a retained dizzy of his long addresses parliament with his feudatory. Then it would be prosperous to leave him seated in the side of the aspect that escorts him. In this instant separates and extends his arms to the envious koelum or dialect sky, joint to both swords that also will accompany them with the bronze shake chatter, snorting in the retracted navels.

Vernarth Retorts: Dissolute In my infancy had to walk with my dogs as a ray stayed in his frame when it advanced me to them only sniffed my scarlet aureoles; that they were red stars súper giants and near to the Earth fading. Today it is the belt of Aurion beside the Big General, beating in his groove and changing his course precessional. His hallucinations will move, so that it remains alone in his reddish outline, but not in his physicist componential.

In this way, Vernarth moved the tunnel of the zephyr with the tip of his Dorus when they bent, the shining final of his tip warned to reopen in the intestinal of the firmament when going out launches. Mechanical ran Years light by much more than it has to describe, in front of exact science and in front of a Dorus inaccurate, in a universe that only this distant whereas Vernarth is doing using the protocol of governance, pulling on the floor with the drum, ratling by his dorsal in direction to his shaft that volatile attached of the abbreviated adminícule, for one launches used like Sword Xiphos, arriving at the vertex of Betelgeuse to approximate to the legatee space of radiosity, and of Persia joined in a billed merely advocator. It appears Vernarth behind the cloudscape coughing with cloying fever with a dazzling ruby hypnotizing the muffins of the colossal fénix cosmic, and lighting up to Alexander Magnus when waking up. Sibila Frigia, finally sustained the cross with the risen flag of the same representation that does it the own Christ resurrected in a corresponding scene of Resurrection, in extensive complement of the Sybillas with his Gothic imagination and recentish, with the Sybilla Frigia being the priest that will chair an apolíneo oracle of a historical realm in the western central part of the highlands of Anatolia contrasted with Casandra of the Ilíada.

The incipient muffins sequence to redeemed reigns in that the puérp postpartum aurora, intercede nonetheless of the facets and of the screams of the Cáucaso, of the one who this chained in the irons but frozen of his isolation, for the one who the panic of the Diaísthisi or presage, traps him in millennia taken from a heart stuck in the thorax of the Tágmati, to the Apollyon offered in the abyss of the consecratam, and of the abyssal jumping from the fathomless floor the abysmal destruction providential, and his tulle issuing in those who will not shine after exalting concluded in silty bottoms of the fosca. Regards and Tares will govern intolerable pacts s and promises, early tinted in the heartbreaking disclosures of Saint John, glimpsing to diábolos interventors of Apollyon beside the Sheol of the Koumeterium of Messolonghi, redeeming them in Nínive and ordering in Arbela and Gaugamela in the indissoluble planted zones of the Camels Gigas of Apollyon.    


Codex XV - Apud Secundus finale  

Arbela falls in the hands of castes of the mesnades of Etréstles of Kalavrita, collapsing like lightning and exceeding the charred farmhouses of alien Mosul, to his intrinsic compartments. Of to the contrary was the authority of Maceo, found immediate to Syrian troops, mesopotámicas, medas, split, sucianas, tibarianas, hircanias, albanias and sacesanias, scattered like disturbed Leviathanes of himself same and of debased titans in all the execrations not specified of this avalanche, so that they are carried by his dean leader, and donated to his physiognomy like limpid preys of misfortune when predicting for them in the banishment of his bravery. Later once encysted in the cracks of his stinks would look for in the fatuous emanations of the Phosphorus (Crash of the morning of Venus) drizzled by the glories of the morning and of his distractions, changing the decomposed inert matters to the Aqueménides, incontinenti to be bordered with all the fascination of the dawn. The commanded by Maceo; the commander of Dario, brought a heart to be transplanted from a wise person Dervish that had split to install it after conquering the epic Gesta, and his conjecture of it. They believed to ****** his ascribed gentlemen that seconded to his disconsolate of him…, but brought off by half the substrate character that moves the incessant rumbles in the bitterness of the cicuta unfunded in the Xiphos, offering to the twilight to mark the withdrawal between lights.

Etréstles, spotted a stray prescription in the field of battle, expelling it from the divine sky of Arbela. By the conferred adherents him to Vernarth in this round stroking to Alikanto by the gibbosity right of his steed Kanti, this would cause that they would cross on the same line and gave an oppressive split kinetic curve so that the lancers hyper vibrated with the spin of twist of his masses contracted, adding a field in the tips of the sky to the discouragements and the static Persian. Like this they fought together near of the children, infamous legislation plagiarizing the movement and tying the ribs of rows from left to right of the Syntagma, to fluctuate in the strengths of his graceful Falangists of anxiety. When observing this Moving away Magnus, redouble his heavy cavalry and also challenges similar concert in the maneuvers executed by Etréstles, designating it Diabolical Officiousness curiosity, as they visited inseparable in the Runes of the circulatory movement and in the cardiac system or Kardiá, reimplanting in the spin of twist of return of the children and the cavalry, but with the whole mass of his horses bluish lapis lazuli, wheezing of his nasal like a domestic nasal breath!

Auriga Says: Your venerate you milestones come to upset to the new beings, come to occupy your organisms with arrows on his bodies deterred by the quiver magic of Artemis, with new incarnations and manly gallantries?

Etréstles Jumps from Kanti, represses some militias that were surrounded, and reaches to spot Vernarth, to there is of the hubbub of his transmission recharged on the intimidated enemy. Sometimes they affirmed of one of his hangman of him to resist the pain of his ribs of him, while he vigorously tightened his sword and resisted the suffering that paled in his face, but increasing the size of his arms and legs, to unchain the big booming voice of Sheol or Hell, that piped him in the big stupor of the Persians resigned, afterward he clarified an all in the miscellanea was of the ardor and the pain of the souls expelleds, to testify the quantity of his independence consumed. The lightened environment of emptiness in the tunnel of the Profitis Ilias did feel in the peak of the surface, where was and trembled in the acroteria of entry of the Hexagonal Progenitura. Majestic Gravitational waves struggled here invested, oozing from the volcanic base of Patmos in vertexes of the physical fields and of elementary particles of great similarity to the caverns of Getsemaní, in the suggested detain of the phylogenetic mechanics and of the instauration of the phonetics, all embedded and propelled by the particles hitting on them, causing opposition of mass in the empty internal of the pipe covered by chairs of the Iaspis, propelling unions in progressive waves in viscous fields, very dense when being generated by the Arms Christi and the Souls of Trouvere. These elementary particles of God plunged into aroused basilisks in compound particles in the dynamics of energeia, preexisting already quoted, and adopted by Vernarth in his last parapsychological regression where he collided in the field of Higgs Ipso facto. In the areas W and Z, rather in the W of Wonthelimar and Z of Zefian like patterns of Lights without mass in his vectorial that were attracted by the maremágnum of his matter, where the viscosity is maybe, the confused darkness of the material fossil, mutating by atomic energy from the starvation of the Phoebus Shemesh, or false Sun of Apollo-Leviathan in his demolished asthenia. It was captive of a viscous moraine that collides between yes, arousing occupations of the empty field, already typecast in the boson of Higgs, and in the photons of Wonthelimar that taenia of on dowry, to be prone to the binomial W and Z, in the energized tangent of the shallow elementary bodies transformed in particles with mass. The interaction of the particles resembled a quantum field of the Orchard of Getsemaní with asymmetric and rocky graphics, that supremely did immanent in the trinitary energy that absorbed them in his arrest, concatenating the converted tendency of the field of Higgs in a quantum physical structure symmetrical, therefore in a perfect triangulation trinitarian of elementary particles, activating equidistant of his uniformity between if in all the spin of twist and in the three ataxic angles of unsteadiness of Zefian inroads of his fourth Saeta. The statics longed for the tendency that propagated in a fourth Angulo, but this time in the Progenitura Hexagonal in his six sides concealing the two equilateral triangles, subtended in no massive strengths, that is to say; feeble in a load of a photon, but if having to cross the unions of field that were him apt to auscultate the physics of God. We have to understand that all dogma gathers interactions with the field Diaísthisi or to presage, that recovers the mass of all this or that ventures the idleness of some silent particles that conform his weight, and the global mass affine of his material existence, sponsored by the proton in a cubic meter if it is accelerated. The field that underlies here in Patmos will be of upper physics from the Boson of Higgs or of God, for the grant of mass and of weight in the empty tunnel of wind in the Profitis Ilias, re sustaining the necessary ineffective light of the Febo Shemesh apocryphal of Sheol (Hades and Erebo), for constraining the symmetrical balance magmatic basality of intraterrestrial energy, contributing the supernumerary of her, turned into Light for the reborn world of the Apocalypse. The elementality bearer of the particle of Patmos, in his context of quantum physics, will enumerate like the theory of the Apud Secundus Finale, to generate interactions in the spacetime, that reduce physicality and delay when attending his credibility, in front of facts supra abnormal and bearers of his hyperactive dogmatic abulia, understanding that the graphic of his cerebral activity is genius of the quantum physics, provided with energy without mass, that vertiginously adheres to the protons of his physical strength consolidated, turning it into a kinetic inert element atomic, and in one dynamic of physical solidity. For all the solidness of the wasteland of the Apud (In) of Getsemaní, this will not be consecrated like a mystery, rather it will aspire the just act of immense clemency of the body compacted in the emotion of the feel gravitate, and accelerated transfiguring in an atomic elementary impulse that crystallizes the creative Faith, or was to the Vernarthian Duoverse! The Boson is massive, all the matter that is him leading will be poured by the standard of verticality in the creation, predicting theoretically in the tree of physics whose pipe hyper lives between the root and its foliage, and will consult the effect of his origin for greater challenges of his divine experience.

Singing of Sibila Líbica (bis): !The sparking plugs will inflame, the iridescent eyes of the Mashiaj flashed in the likely mortuary settlement of Vernarth in the oasis of Siwa: “Oh My warm blow of Libya that flatters my cheeks, and my shoulders that groove in the light of the callous cerebral coexistence of Zeus. Singing by you my Didaskein; treating or teaching to the baffled herd that confuses the kitchenware that was born to. b.C., not having a reminiscence of Irradiation in the mastery of the continuous turn to the not contravening of latent ignorance, but yes to find him agreed and effulgent”!
Codice Raedus
Our mouth customs has gone beyond our control,
Every time we talk about Turkana nation,
We always goof to label it a den of poverty,
By failing to see the vice of human backlogs,
That has worked most to stultify human hopes
Down to a false pale that Turkana nation is all poverty.

A nation that arms its daughters and sons in entirety
With the vogue models of AK 47 and 74’S
Enjoying money worthiness to a whopping!
Media with which they brutally rustle neighbours’ cows
Leaving them in forlorn cry like lame childlings
Such nation can’t be labeled a poverty reference.

Nation in which a naked elder in a loincloths is matchlessly animal rich
Owning hundreds of Carmel and goats, sheep and cows in similar fold,
Enjoying pure *** in marriage with virgins, whose breast are sharply pointed,
Marrying them in pairs out of polygamous morality in the chriso-paganity,
Where each man is a king and each woman an akuju; Turkana goddess of beauty,
All youth confident of animal wealth, then it is total sphinx of no secrete
To label Turkana nation a land that is all about poverty.

Land of sand tunes fit for use in modern architecture,
Replete with deadly desert scorpions, watchdog against women stealer,
Diamonds and gold form its hills of Lapur and Pelekechi,
Its underground waters huge than masses of Indian Ocean,
Lake Turkana being deeper that Lake Tanganyika, full of Fish like helluva,
In the sunshine that generates solar power in fathomless units
Desert snakes jumping here and there in chase of Locusts,
On the seashores at Todanyang and Loewarang towns,
Antelopes there are foolish that they don’t fear dogs
While chicken are condemned to be wild birds
For the Turkana don’t eat birds lest they degrade in dignity
Foolishly calling such land to be example of poverty
Is like putting your economics education in higgledy-piggledy pose.

A turkana woman is a beautiful woman, indeed a paragon of femininity
Slender and narrow at the waist with a humongous bossom,
Her legs are sizeable and long, forming a curve between her thighs,
Her neck stands straight on her thorax, forming a shape of flag post,
Warm on touch and sensuous on each kiss, with her eyes full of compassion,
Her arms strong on each assignement, hence her gun management power,
She screams on an ****** like the swine in a slaughter house,
Sending up the chills of gusto up the spine of the *** partner,
When in the apical realm of love at scenic Eliye Spring,
How can a nation full of such wonderfully virtuous daughters
Be declared in foolishness benchmark of poverty and human despair?

Walk tall Turkana, stand and walk tall, for you are the ****** of Africa
Your oil wells are gift of providence; it will put green foods on your table,
Walk to school and learn anything, learn the languages of the world,
Through which you will caution the lazy talkers of this country,
For them have labeled you as black sheep of the Kenyan family
When it’s their folly and vicious governance
That has betrayed Turkana towards its destiny.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2018
I Am that I Am (אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה‬ ’ehyeh ’ăšer ’ehyeh)

for Eléa

the requests are assiduous, regularly arrivaling, some shy,  
some heinous demanding and denouncing,
inquisitors inquisiting this revelation,
as if it could be bought in a Five and Dime,
with a childlike whining insistence

just  exactly who are you?

this is not my name above,
but one of seventy the Father gave himself

He named me in a fit of efficacy and whimsy and in and from, a fit of a deep veined mystery

You Raise Me Up

all this on the ****** side of corny, and would not blame you
if you moved on…

so nominated in honor of my mission, to travel with you in
all the travails that ail,
to raise you up to raise me up and thus salve the universe's cracks,
fill the crevices and the ****** scars invisible,
with the precise refreshment that make my life,
a slave to your thankfulness

I am the wetness of a mother’s lips upon
a thin red tear on a child’s skin,
I am the the rock hard father’s shoulders grasped by a child’s arms, the child does yet understand that human is illusion,
human is human, however strong,
it is the allusion of human limitations
that is our magical

I am the present re-borning come with a morning glory,
the time when the Am and the Pm  future merge in a name
without tense,
past present and what I may be is simply what
I am

when the past is but another sky bright star, untouchable,
but winking at you, to you personally

I am the touch of the untouchable,
a messenger commissioned to remind you when
the reminders are too far apart,
or even too close
and thus make a breathing space
in between for the living and the missing

I am the
no difference
between a newborn’s soft skin cells
relentless multiplying,
that offers the same precise sensation of the
grandmother’s delightful wrinkling cells of smiles of her
relentless dying,
for all, one and the same,
the child in her is you, baby

I am the fall before the rise, the first that defines the last,
the standard, once obtained, nevermore unobtainable

I am the first fruit of the summer,
a tongue blossom, a burst of memory, always recalled,
always the same, that begs for forgiveness for there are no
new words to describe the profound finding of the
simple pleasures that sustains the blessing over all things new that
are recurring and truly
renewable (shehechayanu)

I am the crinkle in the eye, the one that hides in the fine lines
and upon the lips,
when you purchase the hope however fleeting of a
$2 Powerball ticket,
the very same hope preserved when you laugh when you lose,
for there is contentment in knowing one may hope spring eternal,
yet again in a finite
three more days for and too another lousy two bucks fantasia

I am the ruse of happy satisfaction of a man
in the dark of alone at home,
staring at his sizeable bank balance
and the happy knowledge that its loss  it will make it greater someday when it  happy converted to memories and photos that  are worth a thousand times its multiplicity
if only,
or when,
he knows how

I am that pain in the left side of your red sea-parted soul that cannot be dismissed but is religiously ignored,
that you alone know of
due to its persistent existence, and because it is just tolerable,
it is a sad but comforting pain,
an acknowledgment that a companion travels with you
and that in someway is ok and you exist

I am the water on the night table that extinguishes the dry throat of recurring visions in eyes that always end badly
and make the bed’s welcome a fearful thing,
which is a fearful thing for in good sleep is the
re-naissance and re-formation and the salvation
that was given to you as a gift inside thy mother’s womb,
and that
it is I,
whispering the hum of easy soft lambs,
soft breathing you
unto welcoming rest

I am the poem that must end because of our
frailties and impatience to live in
the reality of human touch,
that must be put aside for any novocaine of words

I am the one who can only be alive
when he raises you up and
you begin a new poem all your own,
and then exit it too, willingly,
to embrace the raising up of living

and that is the
who I am
that I am
raising us up
Paul Rousseau Feb 2014
I scrutinized the miserable wretch harnessed to the table
Polished my knuckle with his murk, malice, and fable

                             Placing a centipede on his stomach as it shuffled to his eye
Languidly impending horror as he begged me to die

                                I put pressure on his abdominal with the ball of my hand
Took a breath to my diluted lungs as the boy’s jawline ran

                          Tantalizing screams of dread, poor boy fastened on steel bed  
I protruded my hand deep and to his intestines, it fed

                                          My malignant clasp ripped and mangled as it went
Like the centipede too, itched and mangled as it went

                                 And as his entrails to, like sizeable centipedes they went
In a ****** stream of fluids crawling and sprawling as they went

I bound up with glee as my poor wretch lay be, and I swung him head-toe to a pit
Where billions of legs crawl, but human ones not at all, a realm where arthropods permit
CM Rice Dec 2013
There is no ****** in relationships these days!
He proclaimed, swinging amble waist in my direction,
Just them public displays of affection Or PDA’s:
To those afflicted with ‘abbreviationithis’ (ABT) for short,
We are in the custody of a soulless generation,
Bathed in apathy, shorthand speaking, glass-tapping,
Pampered glad-hands glad-handing, over-perfumed,
Statements of exaggerations - investigated in toilets,
On lifeless screens, no skill of conversation required.
Larry continued, unabated by the stares an’ giggles.

****** is what counts; it makes up a sizeable portion,
Of love at first sight, not online but in person,
An animal magnetism takes hold an’ before you know..
You’ve ****** yourself and your attraction in the flesh,
The art of being undressed yet still dressed is an art,
Too easy are these poorly constructed witless lines,
Weak almost polite hugs, clearly awkward air-kisses,
Perceived as the innocent dance of modern romance.
How is anyone to know anyone lusts after them?
How is someone to know if not for someone’s ******?

I feared that I had stumbled upon an early night,
I’d been collared by this mongrel of a forgettable time,
His rigorous attention to showing this ******,
Serenading my embarrassment was now a highlight,
His ramblings long ignored, possibly insightful,
Cried out hilariously for proof of his master plan,
So for the devilment – I asked for a demonstration,
To appease my boredom of debating with this fool,
Larry motioned again; his eyes lit as much as his mind,
To a woman stood waiting, her desire for the taking.

I must warn you, ****** is not for the faint-at-heart,
No use shoving hips of wanting into a total stranger,
Catch the eyes first - leave some distance and discretion,
Smile and move silently – prepare to tell a story,
As with any manoeuvre, there must be some grace,
Double-check your manners an’ prepare for a feast,
Straighten your ready stance to deliver the clincher,
Smile again brightly with no hint of danger,  
An’ in a movement pincer-like yet working alone,
On a wing with no prayers – I’ll show you, my friend.

An’ so he did, sweeping toward this unsuspecting patron,
Larry had managed to scare, scatter and surprise,
This woman and many others, the beholder unwelcome,
The moral of this story on hold, he had slipped a hip,
Into her personal space, and nonchalantly she turned away,
He continued with his thrusting, his way of affecting,
The conversation – dead now for shock and unsettling awe,
She had strangled her anger and suspended her belief,
That a man would be so crass as to ****** her in public,
Accosted by her coldness, he returned to proclaim an ending.

I never said that ****** worked on the charmless,
The per-occupied, the rude, the shy or the frail,
I trust my ****** with one hand free for everything,
My other hand grasped on this lover’s Holy Grail.

It does take all walks of life, some stumbling some not,
To lust, to wonder for love, now left forever pursued,
So a question is forever lost – to ****** or not to ******?  
Deluded Larry had diluted - still I’d been left, amused.
…. Few years back, a man known only as ***** Larry, drunk on someone else’s memories, had told me about the ‘good aul days’ and the way of showing a desire to be with someone was to ****** yourself. I had agreed although as he had spoke that night - I had assumed his flagrant misuse of alcohol and his ‘Irosh’ accent had caused him to mispronounce the word trust.  I was proved wrong after a few more light ales, as Larry prepared to ****** his sweaty, unsteady frame into my side. I had been left me in no doubt – he indeed had meant the word ****** and the action of thrusting. He concluded that it was what most relationships lacked these days…
Ben Jones Apr 2014
Peter built a paper boat
To set afloat upon the sea
And visit spots of hidden coast
Where not a ghost of man would be
He painted letters on her bow
Which soon would plough and skip and trot
Between the waves which rose and fell
The letters spelled ‘Forget Me Not’

He bid his love a fond goodbye
The tide was high when he embarked
And drifted from his lonely cove
While weather drove and seagulls larked
His course was set, horizon bound
For solid ground and ****** shore
When darkness fell he made a bed
'Goodnight' he said and nothing more

His fast was broken elegantly
Delicately poached, his eggs
His freshly laundered morning clothes
Were hung in rows on paper pegs
He cut a furrow, straight and true
Across the blue, towards the sun
But in the distance, lightning spat
As thunder rattled, eddies spun

The tempest threw a wall of ice
Like careless dice, they clattered down
The sails dropped amid the squall
The hatches all were battened down
A curse was uttered through the storm
Its evil born on salty spray
With gusting arms of icy wet
It threw Forget Me Not away

He coughed awake, all caked in sand
Upon a strand of desert beach
Forget Me Not had run a-ground
But safely found the water's reach
He walked ashore and found a glade
Within it, made a paper home
And origami wings, he built
To never wilt and ever roam

He felled the tree and smote the ground
A frame, he wound of paper string
His garden flourished all around
Each sight and sound of ever-spring
The flowers jostled in their beds
And turned their heads to follow him
He kept his distance from the blue
In case the view should swallow him

An evil creature stalked the trees
It dined on bees and butterflies
On owls and cats, it liked to sup
To gobble up and gluttonize
With paper sword, he killed the beast
And cooked a feast to celebrate
A rain cloud sought to disagree
But quick was he to remonstrate

He flew his island, shore to shore
And kept a score of fire flies
They hung imprisoned in a glass
The light they cast could hypnotise
With nothing left to see or do
He flew up to the highest spot
And carved into a single tree
Remember me, forget me not

His boat remade and set a-sail
The heavens pale with early dawn
Upon his bed, he sat inert
With paper curtains neatly drawn
His charts uncharted, compass blunt
A currant bun, to satiate
A world of peril out to sea
To skillfully negotiate

Some time to contemplate the past
And backward cast the here and now
The Merfolk sang a siren song
And leapt along beside his bough
They guided him to foreign ports
Where shady sorts in cider soak
The tales they told were sizeable
And risible, the words they spoke

He folded down his paper boat
Into a coat of paper lace
And set the ocean to his back
The open track, he turned to face
The way he took was through a copse
The swaying tops of mighty pines
Leant form and rhythm to his pace
Upon his face were thoughtful lines

To either side, the shadows grew
No more, the blue shone through the boughs
And branch and bracken, driven wide
Were cast aside as careless vows
He chanced upon a quiet nook
A winding brook, it scurried by
It seemed a place where time would bide
While either side it hurried by

So dining sparse on only bread
He laid his head upon the ground
A lullaby the branches sighed
Was far and wide, the only sound
He deftly pitched a paper tent
And in it, spent a weary night
A whisper echoed in his ear
It lingered near, beyond his sight

So many weeks of rambling
Through bramble and through briar patch
And pausing for an hour at best
With feet to rest and breath to catch
The summer season on the wane
With autumn rain, attention pinned
To pounce on unsuspecting shoulder
Ever colder rose the wind

Above the adolescent fruit
Fed by the roots of ancient trees
Gave promise of a juicy crop
But yet to drop, they simply tease
Upon a morning laced with dew
A shadow grew and fell across
The spongy ground rose underfoot
And boulders jutted through the moss

The space between the trunks expanded
Saplings stranded on the scree
And whispers carried on the air
From places where they couldn't be
A sheer cliff now blocked the way
A ***** gray and smothering
Against, there thrived a mess of vines
With jagged spines their covering

He found a cave and ventured in
A desperate grin upon his lips
His chattering of nervous teeth
Was lost beneath the endless drips
Reverberating ceaselessly
Increasing with each fall of foot
A passageway and crooked path
By wrath of ancient water, cut

The arid air was felt to shift
And Peter sniffed a musky trace
The passage opened wide and tall
It sprawled into a massive space
The walls were smooth as beetle hide
But all inside was bathed in black
The flies were putting up a fight
But solid night was biting back

A tower carved from stalactite
In spite of probability
Was looming from the cavern top
And from it dropped futility
A spring of purest liquid gloom
Within, there bloomed an evil thirst
For those who drank a thimble worth
Would tread the earth, forever cursed

The cavern floor was laced with dust
A powdered crust of rotted skin
As Peter neared the central spire
The fire flies grew weak and thin
But all across the distant dark
There lit a spark and sprang a flame
That burst from ancient blackened lamp
To banish damp and shadow shame

A scrabbling amid the murk
As forward, lurked a breaking wave
Of decomposing denizens
The citizens of Evergrave
With sinew bared through rotted hide
The flesh inside was yellowing
From every throat that still remained
There shot a baneful bellowing

They forced him to the tower's tip
From which the drip of night was thrown
Gruesome stairs he climbed in haste
Of interlaced and knotted bone
A dire tunnel led within
The light was thin and shadow thick
A deathly door he tumbled through
And fell into a bloodied slick

Within was rank and heavy air
Like foxes lair where hunters slept
The walls, from living flesh, were stitched
The carpet twitched as Peter stepped
The Zombie Queen sat on her throne
Of flesh and bone of Underlands
She rested on its gory arms
Which raised their palms and held her hands

The creature laughed and cocked her head
A single thread of drool there hung
Between her lips and fear crowned
The single sound which echoes sung
The living walls, they tensed and strained
As terror reigned and ichor dripped
And when the monarch of the dead
Inclined her head, the stitches ripped

She spoke in harsh and bitter tones
As withered crones do curses bloom
The fate of Peter turned to dread
His soul, the dead would soon entomb
A single card he had to play
On such a day, in such a spot
He grinned and bid the rotting queen
‘Your time has been, forget me not’

His folded coat he casted wide
And from inside, a paper storm
Within the flurry, shapes were made
As wings were splayed and talons formed
A paper dragon rustled forth
And in his jaws, the queen he caught
He turned on the assembled dead
Within his head, a single thought

Peter climbed between the wings
Where paper rings he’d fastened there
Gave safety for the coming fight
And all the night, he nestled there
Until the dragon fell asleep
Upon a heap of smitten foes
And Peter robbed the deathly hoard
Each room explored on stealthy toes

He shunned the dark and met the day
And made away for higher ground
Along a path of narrow ledges
Razor edges, upwards wound
A trail, he scaled around the peak
Of Raven’s Beak the mighty mount
Up slopes which claimed so many lives
And widowed wives beyond his count

He stood atop the pinnacle
Where clinical, the ****** snow
Reflecting in the autumn light
Lent all a white and eerie glow
The frost had chilled his fleshy core
His eyes absorbed the scenery
A distant shoreline tugged his soul
A long unfolding memory

Of home and of his fireside
His future bride would tarry there
The tiny church upon the sand
He’d always planned to marry there
He took his dagger from his sock
Into the rock at just that spot
He carved upon the highest stone
I turn to home, forget me not

The knotted land that lay between
Had never been abode to man
The name it took was infamous
And ominous: The Neverspan
Its valleys tinkered with the eye
A fractured sky shone crookedly
Above a wood of vacant trees
That clawed the breezes hookedly

The setting sun would lead the way
Through lands which lay in wait for him
To bare him forth, a paper horse
To keep a course and gait for him
The blackness trickled from the bark
The  tangled dark enshrouded him
And songs in long forgotten tongues
About him hung and clouded him

He journeyed through the Ebonmire
Though fire failed to kindle there
His breath before him writhed in blight
And turned to fight the rancid air
Through many months of loneliness
And bitterness of solitude
He conquered the abandoned wood
And silent stood in gratitude

He forayed through the hill and plain
As on the wane the winters hold
The grass had shaken off the snow
Its Icy glow had turned to gold
A paper hat he now prepared
For as he fared, the rain endured
His horse was crumpled in the wet
No living vet would see it cured

The seasons tumbled mindlessly
And rivalry removed his haste
A sallow band of Neverbeast
By shadow greased and interlaced
With paper sword, he lay in wait
To penetrate each haggard hide
And when their blood was deftly spilled
A phial he filled for sake of pride

The sun became his only guide
His face belied his weariness
With little left to raise his soul
Above the cold and dreariness
Until the second summer passed
And sunset cast a silhouette
The outline of a tiny church
Was perched beside a maisonette

A flutter leapt about his heart
And wide apart, his eyes were flung
As Peter ran with tired limbs
The heavens dimmed and crickets sung
He reached his open garden gate
His face elated, turned to woe
As through the window he could see
His bride to be would not be so

A gentleman stood at her side
His bride adorned in happiness
And though it burned in Peter’s chest
His wrath would rest in idleness
So with a final fleeting peek
He turned to seek a worthy cause
Before he left he knelt before
His former door and seemed to pause

He fled upon his paper wings
As many things he’d yet to see
A myriad of foreign faces
Distant places he should be
He sailed the sky and sought the sand
His native land he soon forgot
Behind, he left a single note
And on it wrote: Forget me not
Do dust bunnies have consciousness?
Does instinct guide them?
Instructing their best chance of survival
Is to hunker down,
Go out of sight,
Hide under a piece of furniture?
Will they survive & thrive in Dust Land,
Dust Land Planet Earth
Where cat hair is
“A sizeable constituency,”
So would say some latter day Machiavel’.
When spring comes, at last,
Will the minority Party
The Politburo in absentia,
Pick up on,
Comprehend the fact?
The red-red boffin
Goes beaucoup mnemonic, again.
“Wake up, wake up you sleepy head!
Get up, get out o' bed!
Cheer up! Cheer up!
The sun is red.
Live, love, laugh and be happy!”
The red-red-Redbird comes
Hammer & Sickle cell, again.
chess mess Aug 2013
youll see me half dead lying in a ditch by your mothers house. shes smiling, but your tears,quarters,dimes are worthless here. egypt. land of your gods' daydreams; twelfth sister of the night. shimmered and weeped. under your eyes are millions of disguises you have yet to unveil. we wore seashells and flowers. decorated ourselves in jewels. nightclad. venus slept under the afternoon. black and siamese twins have yet to uncover a sizeable difference between me and you. took scissors to carve a name into yourself. "JESUS" and "KING." got drunk before i rolled my eyes back into my head. forever uncovering diamonds in your snow. foggy and blue. giggled and worshipped pictures of ourselves. we are the sky's undead children
Picture it when in a flash of a description, brought you the news
  it said was your derelict.

when    in becoming      we   ultimately   fail
   our   being   championed   by   our   unbecoming

seeking   the   real   scathed   by a sizeable   truth
    like a    persimmon    in  your   tender   hand.

                                   This is the default

sketched    over  a sagging   paper, plugged within the air
   the   motes  depart   and  is  as easy  as it is  explained:  an elusive

thing   that may never   be   captured.   Something   the   arriving
    betrays   then assuages     with   a   word   treated benignly:
                         a    transit.

let   gray  define  the  day:       let   the   file    describe   the   motive:
           let    presence    soil     where    we   stood   our   place
            like    a   monument:         let   it   seek   a   real  object
                or  a   found   language

a    wafting   presence     is    lost   somewhere    gliding   over   unnamed   territories
   commencing       a   displacement   said    was    our    undisputable     location

                     roads   becoming   roads     vehicles   becoming   salvage
                  birds   becoming   orchestra      shambles   becoming   complete
                                   thus      dearth    becoming      us   before     our  denied   image
        from    a    source   that      was     our    implacable    place   like  a   deadspot    discovered
I took to the shore my final day
my final few hours
the Sun was low and the breeze had a coolness
though it was blistering hot earlier
I was watching an osprey returning from the ocean
a sizeable fish in it's claws
the beach was sparse this late
I relaxed and enjoyed the sounds and sheer beauty
of the Outer Banks
from my left I heard a light gasp that startled me
as I hadn't noticed her approaching
she spotted a lettered olive
as the sea gently lapped the shore
it was rolling back towards the next wave
but she managed to grab it just in time
a look of delight crossed her face
glowing like the Sun itself
'Nice find' I said
'those are tough to come by in that condition'
'they are my favorite'
her eyes sparkled blue and her auburn air
tied in a bobble hung far down her back
'nice to meet someone who still appreciates
the beauty of a sea shell'
I was hoping for a name but one didn't come
instead, she looked up
sent a gaze that ignited not shivers
but an energy down my spine
'If only everyone knew the beauty that lives here
It's nice to meet another who sees as well'
I started to respond, but she turned and continued down the beach
her white kimono lightly lapping with the ocean breeze
appeared to be from a time past
I turned my attention briefly to a group of pelicans
playing 'follow the leader' just above the waves
I could not let her go
I gathered enough courage to continue this chance meeting
but when I turned, she had disappeared
impossible
we are no less than 50 yards from the path off the beach
I just saw her less than 30 seconds...
I called out...but felt foolish
I tried to gather my thoughts
a light voice...or thought came as the breeze quieted
my name is Eve...
I walked the shoreline until it became too dark to stay
bewildered...I bid goodbye to the ocean and turned to leave
something caught my eye in the sand
amongst the thousands of shells on display
there lay a beautiful, perfect lettered olive
I will hold onto this one
just left the beach...always prompts a story
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
i'm a poet, i don't see language in linear fashion as a plumber or an electrician might, or as circular as a lawyer spinning lies might... for poets language is multidimensional... and, counter-intuitively... disposable.*

in the language of phenomenology
the kantian concept of the noumenon
is just translated:
an exception -
and there is not article attributes
to suggest whether the stressor
can qualify as definite or indefinite,
since the quantification value is 1,
while the qualification value is 0,
meaning that the phenomenon of, say,
a heart attack, with the phenomenon
allowing 3 years more to live,
while the noumenon allowing ~8 - ~18
years to live is un-quantifiable,
since it's an exception,
and can only be un-qualifiable
to stress its parameters if it's left
un-inspected by the noumenon-itself.
i can't stress it simpler, nor can you;
as with regards to to the commonplace
problem of existential identification
with concepts such as god, john smith
b. 1974 living on mayfield st. for the past
twenty years, married with 2 children...
using such edenic nakedness as are the pronouns,
then returning from this realm of nakedness
into attire of concepts in cognitive signifiers
used elsewhere for prayer and divination,
what are you so naked among the cardinals' clothing?
a wriggly worm, if anything?
we have inherited a nakedness with the nakedness
of pronoun usage to avoid theological association
specifically, to remain human,
to remain as john smith etc., and not thirst
for such entities beyond the invisible realm
of sub-atomic particularisation - refreshed
by the fact the we can ***** the einstein bubble
where time and space huddle hug and play the harp
in a parallelism of the dipped-in...
we can suddenly hear newtonian causality
of the atom bomb... of the internal combustion engine
and the "sparing" use of fossil skeletons
derived from hawaiian postcards and pavlov of the eyes
that ingest jealousy to salivated rather than hunger...
we can see newtonian physics provide us
cause & effect... but in the einstein muddle
we go on... living our perpetually-seeming lives
to the extent of a debt unpaid...
seeing is believing the old maxims shushes
when others are muttered in retreat
from the arena of rhetoric where the greatest actors
engage a sizeable inversion of parameters
in terms of mechanics and activity...
oh there... there they have it...
the western hinterlands who took pride
in teaching children of the greatness of nations
being built upon the remnants of butchering
social / civil engagements... and having no
other foreign power engage with their
disorientation... now... the great nations... now...
suddenly... trying to invoke a foreign civil code
into a nation that lost its civil practices?
will an english butcher say to a syrian baker
that the syrian tailor is prizing his body for bounty?
no, because an english politician will do that for him,
the english butcher will be a pop-art colour splash
against the pavement...
civil society of syria is not dependent on
english civility... and no english politician
can provide the syrians their former civility
between trades to make society coherent again...
only the syrian neighbour with a syrian neighbour can...
no politician knocked on my door in my life...
i don't even know what a politician looks like
or sounds like...
a civil war can only be solved by civil means...
not by foreign intervention...
it is about civilians becoming civil once more...
foreign investors will never crack the stalin code
available to the civilians, there, waiting...
to re-engage with society once more...
with civilising with providing art...
we don't need bombs and foreign soldiers in syria...
we need art... seeing how all the foreign neglige additions
of the final solutions in terms of postponed paranoia /
para-phobia / the spider just transversed the ceiling
doing a moonwalk - care for old ruinous buildings
that define the meaning of museum.
if i'm being honest... i rather see the worst... than fear the worst.
Waverly Aug 2012
You want to love me.

You want  to ******* fear,
and cure
my insecurity.

What you hold about me
seems dear
when it's in your pocket
and
close.
as a child
when the ice-cream truck rolls around.

The looping rhythm
of every day
is a clear sign
that you
need to move
and hold me more.

I **** your *******,
lap at your legs,
crumble in your words,
erupt in your anger,
and you think I need you,
and I relish
in you needing that
needing.

But then the need bites,
rips,
destroys,
and the black hole of our apartment
is reality
when you sleep
and hear me snore.

You know that i will get fat
when I am older,
and I know that you will slowly
become bitter
as raspberries;
Me thinking you're ripe
and perfect,
when you're holding in so much
and don't
even
know
it.

Don't touch
those broken stars.

Don't try to cup
my nebulas
in your hands,
or grip
my exploding novas
into concrete baseballs.

They cannot be hurled into oblivion
to make a sizeable dent
in eternity.

They burn
and crush you.

And I whiff
at your beautiful pitches.

Your words crumble,
and slither,
when they are meant
to soothe
and restructure.

My love
is horrible,
stupid,
and placating,
because I made ramen noodles for two
and you ate them
because it was a sweet thing to do
and that was the only reason
you ate them.

On the way down,
those noodles say that my love
is the best love,
but poison
in your gut.
Thomas Conlan Oct 2017
A Dotard deals directly with death
His empty head wastes it’s breath
Fire and fury; war and worry
Life lost like a blink of an eye
A flash in the dark and then we die
Another ****** on the news
Black, white, Muslims, Jews
Fears of terror on the rise
Weapons of sizeable lies
Pray for Paris, stand with me
Pray in public for people to see
We’ll send our thoughts, a share, a like
And we’ll declare another drone strike
Tears shed for the injured and dead
For every white city stained red
Another elementary school mess
Caused by a child’s carelessness
Or some ****** having fun
With the barrel of his gun
A classroom of souls sit silent
Victims of a life so violent
Education spent on waging war
Using the pockets of our poor
America’s defence, say the boasters
Our children, new age holsters

A mother explains the world to her son
That’s ruled under finger and gun
Until a time when tragedy hits here
We all live life, paralyzed in fear
A world in decay and that’s okay
Because her child won’t ever know
The sky on fire raining ash-like snow
Won’t ever see the rising sea
Will not hear the screams of the free
As they rally together for peace
And are rained down on by police
Higher he will have to rise
Higher, after he dies
No longer burdened by the blow of living
In a time of eternal unforgiving
Plunged into a nightmare, he screams
Softly, slowly, delved into drowning dreams
As his mother stands above
Holding him under with love
A monster, a fiend they’ll see
An American reality
Another victim of violence
A soul becomes silence
Hearts break, tears are shed
Out of jealousy for the dead
For all the world’s war and strife
He’s just another casualty of life
On the news, a leading millionaire
Offering a thought and prayer
Clem N Tine Sep 2015
I stood in the musty, off-white bathroom of the hotel and grinned at myself in the mirror. I was drunk and in my boxers. I needed to shave. Mitchell was asleep on one of the beds, snoring, a beer balanced on his ever growing beer belly. It was an impressive size for Mitchell only being 25.
He was in town for a court date. I was ecstatic when I heard, I hadn’t seen Mitchell since we were about nineteen.  I took his beer from him, set it on the nightstand, and shook his shoulder.  I said, wake up *******, come smoke a cig with me.
We stood outside freezing in the winter air, chain-smoking, watching the ****** do their rounds. Mitchell said something about finding one to score. I exhaled my smoke and snickered in reply.
“You don’t wanna stick it in ***** ******,” from behind me. Surprised, I turned around. A petite girl, puffing her non-menthol cigarette, with a slender nose and tattoos on her arms. Mitchell smartly replied that what if he did want to stick it in ***** ******. I wanted to know her name.
I asked what the hell she was doing at such a run-down hotel, why I had never seen her around town before. Between exhales she told me “I’m living with this guy but I hate him… I don’t even know what I’m doing with him.” Mitchell had gone inside. I invited her up to my room. While we walked, I studied the way her long, dyed red hair graced her plump ***. My god, that plump ***.
“I’m trying to get into some **** tonight” she said, “Are there any bars on this street?”
I was still thinking about her ***. I opened the door to our room.
“Um, I think there’s one,” I told her that we have drinks, though, and tossed her a beer.
I talked her ear off for a good hour. I can really get goin’ after a little alcohol is in me. What’s her name? I’m too drunk to remember to ask. I’ll call her red. She played with that long *** red hair and looked around a lot, antsy to…get into some ****.
“I’m not gonna *******, you know” she said.. I was taken aback by such a blunt, matter-of-fact statement.
“Oh come on,” I said, “My girlfriend’s ****** two different guys this week. I’m just trying to get even.”
“You *******!” She got up from the bed and hit me with a pillow, laughing, “You mother ******* *******!” A mouth on this one;  I liked her.
We goofed around for a bit until she suggested we walk around the hotel. We were halfway down our hallway when we saw and smelled a group of people ahead of us with a doobie. They gave the rest of it to red and invited us in their room. I met her eyes, blue, swimming in excitement and thriving in the spontaneity.
We walked into this room and met the strangest group of people I’ve ever laid my eyes on. There was a skinny, tall black boy with chains and a big bag of herb, two gothic girls with every lip piercing known to man, a preppy high school girl who kept losing her lipstick, a short black boy with a sizeable bag of white stuff; he told us to call him Doc. I think there were some more people there too.
Anyway red is chatting away with the high school girl, found out they had went to the same high school. We were sitting beside each other passing a doobie from the guy with the chains. Next thing I know, the shorter boy slaps a heaping pile of the white stuff on the table in front of red and I. Split it, he told us. That we did. Red did a few lines and sat back and closed her eyes. It was alright, she said. I did some myself. Now, I do forget whose idea it was, probably red’s. Somehow it got suggested that I do a line off her ***.  I mean she obviously had a nice ****, who wouldn’t want to snort a line of coke off a round ***?
Next thing I know, she is *** naked, face down in front of me and I’m trying not to get hard, which is difficult when you’re as ****** up as I was. The tall skinny dude was behind us, asleep, using his bag of *** as his pillow. We laughed at this. The girls smoked in the corner, and the other shorter guy watched a little too closely at me spreading the powder on reds white ***. It was as white as the substance. I couldn’t believe this girl; she won’t let me see her naked but insists I snort drugs off her bare ***.
After I was finished we all drank and smoked more, got more ****** up. Red and I eventually left and walked back to my room. Mitchell was open-mouthed snoring. I was being drunk and annoying; I rolled on top of her and just laid there. I rolled off and walked to the other side and lit a cigarette in our nonsmoking room.
“I’ll get you, you *******” she said, “You just wait!”
“Just don’t bite it off,” I said, “or you’ll make a half dozen women very unhappy.”
She climbed up to the top of the bed and perched there, cross-legged, watching the small television which illuminated her face. The news was on. Why is she so intent on the news? Now I know you aren’t sane I told her.
“Be quiet, she said, I want to watch the news!”
And there we sat at the top of a ****** hotel bed, coked out, watching the news. She held the hand with her cigarette in the air and let out a laugh. I accepted her like this.
I used a few lines from Charles Bukowski!! Story of how we met.
Ottar Apr 2015
aloof alphas attack!
banal betas boom, before backing
cautiously, creeping

down, defensible dark
estuaries, estranged escapes
from fierce fiery-eyed

giant gators gathered,
hard hearted hedged
in impossible illumination, irate

jowly jeering jaded jackals
****,… ****,… ****, …
let loose low laughs

making much mirth mercilessly
now none need nourishment
oblivious obvious, overt

a putrescent phalanx,
quite quintessential a querulous quorum
a quatre

raucous resounding raptorials retreated
subsequently seizing sizeable sarcoid
sections in scissor strokes

total tormentors, that time twists the
ugly utilitarian
veracious victory

works the wild

yearning as

zealots
Dean Sep 2014
not exactly a poem, sorry.

The turnkey was the fumbling sort, the sort that could be taken advantage of, Carver never thought about it more than a passing fancy. The kind of thought that was dangerous, it wasn’t a ten-year stretch after all. Popping the old guard and making a break could work, would work.  A couple of years is nothing in this joint, they told him, once you get a few connections in the yard, get on a baseball team, two years is a breeze. You might even miss it all. Carver was hesitant to heed the trappings of these old relics, they were just counting the days to nothing. He knew that very well might’ve been their prerogative, but for him there would always be that something. A lonesome post-office box, containing the culmination of his life’s worth. They didn’t know about it, none of them knew, his brother, his slick-*** lawyer, not even those rats, those ******* rats that got him in here. At the time he resolved that he would part with that secret of his post office box for no less than his life. Whatever dissent had marked him as the fall-guy passed him by. Complacence led Carver here but it would never happen again. No more concessions next time.

Cellblock B wasn’t devoid of small charms. The periodic mewing of this crooner or that, with what seemed like a common intonation amongst them, all tapping from a collective unconscious. The window with a view of the yard, although mostly obscured by another cell block, was still something. Lately he had been privy to comparative bliss, his erstwhile roommate having to nurse off in the infirmary the sepsis resulting from a shiv wound after an ill-judged altercation in the mess hall. The daily motions had long since become routine, Carver thought that in many respects, this was not too dissimilar from his army days. Avoiding the unsavoury types was the key to surviving both.    

Conversations which abounded lacked privacy and tended toward the trivial, but listening in did occupy a sizeable chunk of Carver’s day. Someone, Carver was fairly sure it was Fuzzin two cells down was wondering why he was growing more hair in his right underarm compared to the left, and was resolute in uncovering the mystery. Sal in the cell to the left was perpetually reciting his conquests, ****** or otherwise, to anyone that would listen. “I was in Maine for a year and a half. Lobstering up there. I mean, what else is there to do. In Maine....” A collective murmur took the cellblock suddenly, stirring Carver out of his reverie. Sal dutifully motioned and whispered “cell inspection”, Carver did the same for his neighbour. The deputy warden for cellblock B was a short rotund man Williams, who as appearances go, looked like he should be better acquainted with ledgers and stock tickets than prison walls, but was a lax sort, permitting what modest allowances someone in his position had the leeway to do. I have heard harmonicas and guitars chiming after meals regularly, unheard of in any other cellblock. Thomson’s mattress was tossed down the way...of course every now and then a few examples had to be made to appease the warden, Thomson’s codeine addiction not doing him any favours by way of effective concealment. I exhaled a sigh, not so much in condolence as boredom, as even the strewn mattress and its assorted artefacts was becoming as familiar as the yellowed walls and the evening chill.

It was the 14th and Carver was due for a visitation. 9:30a.m. and already in the throes of being worked up, he was sure to be getting worked upon soon enough. Carver cracked his knuckles against the edge of the table in the visitation room, an apparent thick black line bisecting the table with ‘hands behind the line’ mirrored on each side. “Hello Maurice.” Carver winced, knowing that she was purposely diving into ways to put him ill at ease, commencing with the upperhand, by calling him Maurice the name he hates, not Maury. “How’s life treating you?” The smirk barely contained in the pinstriped pencil skirt, her hips less so.  “Yeah okay, it’s okay. Great to see you here.” And he meant it. Not that her presence normally roused anything like that sort of sentiment, their domestic life was a burned out cinder even before he was busted.  But there was a particular warmth in her notes, just an untouched civility foreign in place like this, tending to be drawn out from the inmates one gesture at a time, often for good. Carver thought to 8 months prior, camped at opposite ends of the house, their wares might as well have been labelled ‘his’ and ‘hers’. Evenings were carefully orchestrated, where arcs in their lines of vision only merged for the briefest of instances and only as a measure to avoid any dreaded physical contact. The prospect of *** was a joke, Carver well aware that she was ******* at least the grocer and his broker, but felt better for it. One less unfulfilled expectation he had to relieve. “I’d ask how you’re dealing with the weather, but I guess you’re keeping pretty warm these days.” She half-stifled an involuntary scoff, “You know I don’t need to hear this now, Sam is due for the dentist at 2.30 and I want to get him all washed and ready, I’m not here for your games.” “So who is it today? Talbot? Someone from the club?” Carver questioned without a hint of animosity. She breathed a defeated sigh, “You know I’m not going to talk to you about this here.” Carver jolted, the seat raised an inch or two on the linoleum, “I’m just asking if you’re ******* around, and you don’t give me a straight answer so what do I have to assume huh?” The guard was giving allowance more than he had any obligation to, but Carver’s voice was raised enough to disturb a few of the surrounding groups. He moved his way over, “Hey, what’s the ruckus here Carver, keep it down okay. What’s this box up here, move your hands back, c’mon, you know the rules. Diane piped up, “It’s just a taint, sir.” The guard prodded it with his baton, quizzically. “hmm oh yes? I thought those were seasonal, okay just keep it down.”

Carver motioned to the box, “Why did you need to bring that here? I don’t need you parading my taint around. You know I’m trying to get parole in three months? What have you done with it?” “It’s just a taint.” “Yeah, but what’s with all this purple and green stuff here? All these spiky bits, I don’t remember that.” “Well, two months ago you asked for the taint and I’ve got it here, so what else do you want from me.” Carver listened to her speak but looked passed, to the frosted glass, wishing that a window was all that really kept him between here and there. “Christ, I’ve had enough of this, I come all the way down here, spend fourty minutes caught in that dratted excuse of a highway, and you won’t even thank me for bringing your stinking taint along. AND, just last week you were all taint-this and taint-that, why do I bother.” She flung around just slow enough for Carver to observe her figure it in all its majesty. A drop in his stomach, as she moved off with authority. “Wait!” He flung himself towards her. “Please...I’m sorry....please....just...leave the taint.” “Here just take your **** taint, I hope you’re thinking of it when Sam and Eliza are eating that canned **** and asking what their father is doing so I can be sure that I’m explaining what a worthless **** you are and be accurate about it.” The words fell on heedless ears, Carver and his taint. The taint and Carver.

Fuzzin was moving back to the cellblock alongside Carver, “Buddy, your wife has some ***, you better hope my parole don’t come through before yours.... say...what’s in the box.”
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
Lincoln’s House


This notable landmark stands now silent and reserved. From its shelter one would be called forth to fulfill

a unique destiny in American history. He would have to be course and strong as the logs that formed his frontier home. The nation was on a collision course, there were the greater differences than one being

industrialized and the other still in an agrit economy. The difference could only be resolved after the scale was balanced with the lives of six hundred thousand men and the ****** of the nation’s greatest

protector since Washington and Jefferson.
Into this chaos an individual of peace would step fourth to make war on the other half of the nation it

would test his last measure of his convictions. In the person of one individual the whole country and its
fundamental beliefs would be tried once and for all the dross would be skimmed off and the purest part

of the national soul would remain.
Before the sunlight of freedom would again be allowed to burst forth into its former glory, a train draped

in black would make its way west caring its precious cargo his job was finished it would be left to a
distant home coming to give him the thanks of a grateful nation. We would enshrine him as a national

hero; for ever more we will pay him homage as the great emancipator and lover of the constitution and
the principles it avows.

His words over shadow us still freedom needed a renewed language he spilled the contents of his mind
and it formed the truest representation in the annals of human thought on the subject of freedom. He

was at home in each circumstance that he faced, he spoke with elegance his words found the center of his subjects there was no need for further discussion.

Subjected to poverty in youth but he grew rich in adult thinking and living and one who wept at the death of his son’s pony now was caused to preside over the death of many boys and men for a cause that was
greater

Than them all through dark war clouds a pristine sun shine would emerge across the breadth of the land
and in its rays a new lease on freedom would continue so great an experiment that was first forged in

Valley Forge
York Town and other places that small roots took tenuous hold to enable a colony to throw off the power

of a Monarch through the hard and seemingly impossible circumstance a common tongue would become the greatest voice for freedom the world would ever know


He pulled off these feats while at the same time he was a husband and father. He lovingly doted on his sons and never paid attention to their childish mischief. Was a loving husband to a wife that needed

a kind gentle hand. Through it all he was a successful lawyer.
He lived in an era different than our own but people are the same from generation to generation. The

lights were coal oil and they made your eyes burn no nostalgia or romantic thoughts leaped to your mind
Remembering these instruments of by gone days their home was fashionably decorated with silver and green wall paper fine furniture throughout the house. A favorite place had to be the back porch that was

sizeable enough to walk up and down on where you could gather your thoughts or just sit and muse about the problems of the day.

He kept his divine appointment fulfilled his duty to the fullest degree. When war and trouble raises its head we always find comfort in the familiar sad face of Abraham Lincoln he is our enduring treasure born out of the turbulence that consumed our nation for a tragic period. We shall always be grateful
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
A Dead Tree
So stark not a spark is left abuse thoroughly viewed a large branch splintered and busted is evidence of
Deaths spasm the aura deepens at ground level the finery of your life now bold and black is the
Silhouette you reach sky ward still but with reduced arms that are empty and they have no feeling
Just a resting place for a solitary bird the gloom covers you the battle lost the cost was high you paid to
Play among the hues that tantalize the enrichment of life fuses all together the wind plays upon your
Hard skin the vestiges of time preyed on you and you made no complaint you were given a choice a piece
Of land to cover and occupy you did it admirably each day you stood your ground you took you’re part
In Representing the good earth you had abundance of worth the winged stole away in the folds of your
Mighty presence the woodland creatures made their nest high in your crown a flourishing honor you
Bade to the Forrest serine you reduced the cold hardness that would have been if you hadn’t taken your
Stand bared the elements helped make small changes a cleaner more perfect nature drew from your
Roots and then the winds of change brought a fading to your very existence colorless was a hard one
To except when always that was your best feature green that sprang out from the base hard tone it was a
Singing image came to full range nothing can hold a candle to thy head so high the sky plays about
Wondrous it made us think how much you must know with such a princely view rarity personified
Looking over the earth as it renews itself a spectacle how rich and blessed when the rains wash your
Face with joy you stretch and creak then the thunder fills the air the wonder rolls evenly throughout this
Wild domain the lighting puts on its show thrilling with the hint of danger your loss still evident from the
Time it personally blinded you left its flaming calling card you lost a sizeable portion of your mature
Branch you understand power in the base meaning of the word then like all living things it was the
Sign of the end you felt the weight of sagging that was unknown before you had luxury of a slow demise
Still you bore the glory of many years you fulfilled your destiny of a monarch thanks for standing so long
And the grace you shared made us all indulge in the finery so richly you have expressed
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
listening to the radio is far less melancholy than you might think, sure, the adverts are there, and you can't skip them or hush them like you can on the internet and on-demand t.v., but it doesn't bother me, i sometimes like to take a break from being my own d.j., because as my own d.j. i tend to choose music that's perfect for writing, for honing in on the sizeable bite of verbiage, sometimes distinguished by a touch of a magician's wand. plus i surprises are better than presents - i stopped celebrating all the orthodox occasions in the calendar - i forgot my birthday, christmas = pyjamas and movies, Easter outside the Catholic / Orthodox realm is a bit silly... rabbit testicles... the greatest profanity, Protestantism has its weak spot... coupled with championing capitalism, Easter has no surprises, given the most celebrated act of the man who lived when Spartacus burped and Ben Hur farted... (cat just started his opera when i wrote this, just treat it as an odd thing, remembering the dead and still famous in cinema adaptation)... but you seriously can't imagine Easter in England... chocolate *****, Christianity has become a joke, it hasn't died out, it has just become a joke... what with Elijah becoming a saint rather than a prophet, what with the Archangel Michael also becoming a saint... you'd start thinking: this is getting ridiculous with hen parties and fairy wands, plastic wings and ******* in the alley... the disrespect people have for Easter and over-powering the celebration of Christmas just shows the weakness... a sly incursion into a penitence for the Inquisition... comfortable chairs in churches across America... like i said, a joke. Islam is heading the same way, the failings of these two monotheisms is bound to (as i mentioned already) the incorporation of a polytheistic concept of polytheism bound to the last book before the fiasco, Malachi's promise of a return of Elijah, to turn the son's heart unto his father's, antonym too with the women; well, i have to take this text seriously, i hate ridiculing them, the 20th century's antidote to explaining why the Holocaust wasn't averted by some big brother - i live in England, i'm used to c.c.t.v. voyeurism, i don't understand why a theological c.c.t.v. is so ****** complicated - usually argued by the person with his hand in a cookie jar... why should anyone else be worried? don't worry, i'm not digressing, there's a reason why i added an emphasis title to the first of a sequence of my experiment (where i stop being my own d.j.).

my father left for England when i was 4,
i do have a vague memory of 1990 -
most notably my mother waking up late
and in his words: wake the baroness,
lothar matthaus (1990 world cup) -
carrying a table for the kitchen with him -
meeting his grandmother that raised him
being the oddest experience -
(yeah, he was an unwanted child,
raised by his grandparents,
the shame stories of his drinking father living
near him but taking no interest,
his mother moving to Silesia) -
so from a presence aged 4 to being 8
he was simply a voice on the telephone
and a pack of presents once in a while -
my mother left to join him when i was 6 -
before she left she bought me a dog,
a doberman pinscher - called him Axel
(after Axl Rose) - after that i got a taste
of my father's childhood, i.e. being raised
by my grandparents - driving an industrial
buggy on the steel plant complex,
taking a shower in the bathrooms -
my grandfather was an alcoholic... now i'm
a post-stoner alcoholic... so i don't have any
horror story to name and shame someone,
it doesn't matter, once i walked my grandfather
from his mother's house on her birthday,
he got the woman's wrath from my grandmother
and my mother, but i sure as **** walked him home;
just stating the obvious, not all poets are
fluffy heart frail, some of us learn to live.
so when i arrived in England aged 8 at the Victoria
Coach Station i didn't quiet know what to do
hugging my father... a complete stranger
(early development is not the development of
adults used to the mundane hamster wheels
of countless Mondays and Fridays and nights out) -
my memory of learning English in primary school
from scratch? i can't tell you anything detailed -
what i can tell you is that Jurassic Park came out
that year and i really wanted to see it after
becoming a fan of the Japanese versions of Godzilla,
my favourite? *Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster
.
and Lion King was out too... each day after coming
back from primary school (fond memories,
like taking pictures of Pamela Anderson from
a newsagent that were given out for free into
the schoolyard and distributing them, getting ratted
out given the shame-mantra by the headmaster:
what would you say if this was your mother?
Christianity is perfect by shaming you first, then
supposedly redeeming you, their own vice fruit
and that ******* crucifix. the game of bulldog
the meals, Ribena, choc cake with custard,
drawing Ophelia drowning for a school exhibition...
the devil mask bought at Warsaw and worn at
a dance ball, having it worn by all too eager friends
one by one... the list is endless - as ever, memory,
the best cinema in town) - so each day after coming
back from primary school i'd watch the Lion King
religiously... even my mother was bothered,
after two weeks if not more she complained to me
with concerns as if i were autistic or something -
why was i watching it? think about it... from the age
of 4 to the age of 8 i hadn't seen my father -
but you know that famous scene when Scar betrays
Mufasa and throws him to his death in the stampede?
pivotal moment for my psychic life to catch-up
with having a father - using the fear of loss in bright
colours kinda illuminated the dull realities around me -
intuitive masterminding what many people will take
for a standard family life - obviously i stopped the Lion
King after i saturated enough feeling for a person
i didn't develop around aged 4 till 8... which might
explain my resorting to alcoholism... but i'm not bothered,
i don't feel like starting a family, plus alcohol
sedates and makes writing more uninhibited (show me
a writer who didn't drink and i'll find you a bored
reader and unfinished books, that's the point of the
anti-haiku concept of ensō - i'm counting on it:
written without effort, should, technically be read without
effort), and never mind that ****** focal point in
my life that's not at all interesting aged 21 and thus
what happened after; that's me, automaton -
rebellious against being grilled down to:
an Englishman's house is his... cave... Darwinism take
on history will continue to be my pet peeve -
it just erases so many advances we've had down the centuries,
plus for every humanism alive... it must be kinda boring -
no... i'm not ensuring Darwinism is sparring in a boxing
ring with theology - from human to human -
that new program on channel 4 (naked attraction)
looks a bit like a trip to the butchers - and however you think
about it... the date after still looks ******* awkward,
so the ******* doesn't really help, the situation between
the pair is still like rubbing sandpaper on your face:
you're not showing a rouge of minor shame and inhibition...
you've just been basically *****-slapped silly.
Colten Sorrells Oct 2016
.

it's like finding an exciting new disease
that you never knew
you couldn't live without


it becomes your spirituality
after a "spiritual experience"
affecting everything you do

you're on the path to destruction
and you chase things that leave you empty
like impossibilities

you spiral down, down
until you reach the bottom
and there's no one to break your fall

..

after being down for long enough
your anxieties are replaced with apathy
to where up and down look the same

and if you're very lucky, someone may come along and make a huge impact
somewhat restoring your will to live

gratitude turns to love, love to obsession
as they become more valuable to you
than anything else in your existence

...

determined to be enslaved no longer
you cast aside your old, toxic friends
in favor of healthier choices

with a sizeable chunk of your life missing
you are left with a hungry void
that must be filled with something

so you take up a hobby, or several
and feel some contentment, but it don't last
you're trading one addiction for another

....

your demons haven't gone, but
you find you can keep them contained
if you can keep yourself busy

they're too weak to fight, but they will still
try to trick you into submission
by manipulating your dreams

and even with all the will you can muster
you find that you are basically powerless
and your higher power is tired of your ****

...and it will always be a part of you
Jared Eli Aug 2013
She sat there and drank
As the Titanic sank
And the people were running about

"There's no need to worry,"
She said without hurry,
"I expect to be wined 'til they're out!"

The waiter dropped tray
As he scampered away
And the champagne now flowed on the floor

The woman looked down
With a sizeable frown
And gargled and belched, "I want more!"
Impulzez Nov 2012
My head is on fire
I’m running on water
I’m flying but
Can’t pass the ceiling

It feels so good
I’m breathless from this feeling
Talking to a million people
With a billion voices has never felt so, so great

I see you in a million reflections
Responding in a billion reactions
Time after time I keep changing my mind
But I still can’t get myself over you

You get me feeling so high
I believe I’m in sky
Voices echoing just like yours
Faces flashing just like yours
Scents smelling just like yours
My nervous system can’t stop vibrating

This Addict is in love
Like Smokers who never
Remember their days of resistance
I can’t remember ever wishing
I wasn’t feeling this way
You alone lift and elevate
My emotional status
From the real to the imaginary
Height of realms

From a crisp rub with my thumb
To a careful sieve of the shafts
A cutting of a sizeable wrap
To package it all before
Flaming it up
A drag, an inhalation
That assures of all

This Addict is out of control
Wanting nothing but more and more
Like I never knew your love
It’s beyond my certainty
It’s my hormones and cells
Flowing in my blood stream
That just can’t get enough of you
Like a bad habit
I can’t stop loving you
I don’t need a tattoo
To let the world
Know you are always on my mind
I'm already addicted to you
and the truly talented ones
eclipsed his paltry
writes
which engendered in him a
want to disappear their
rites

the green eye of jealousy
was constantly gnawing at
him
why he asked unto himself
are they more superior of
trim

people who knew a fine pick
would shun his dreadful
pap
they sought out authors who
wore the praise worthy
cap

he couldn't match the greater
pens that did show so
well
to whit he bought off the head bloke
with a sizeable money
shell

to-day he's the so called
genius of expressionistic
art
whose popularity on culture plus
is like a sale at
Walmart
Najwa Kareem May 2023
Many
Shall I repeat?
Many
Shall I repeat?
Many
Shall I repeat?
Many
Would you please not be consistent?
Would you please not be so loud?
Would you please not be so disturbing?
You're irritating us
Don't bring Godly attention our way
Don't remind us of our responsibility
Stand up
Sit down again if you're going to put your hands up and pray
while OUR GOD is playing
OUR GOD is playing, Mahmoud, don't you hear HER?
Aren't you a slave like us?
You're more of a slave than us
You're paid better than us
You're paid big money
like the rest of your proball player colleagues
You're making us feel uneasy
We feel jittering
We're uncomfortable right now
Now, we're upset
STOP.
STOP right now
or Get out. Go.
GO.
We want you to leave
We don't like you anymore
LEAVE
Hang up your jersey
and toss away your basketball
Do whatever you want with them
Sale them, Give them to charity, Put them on display in a museum or at an exhibit somewhere
We don't want to see them anymore
We don't want to see you anymore
We don't like that you make us feel like cowards
We don't like that you remind us that we haven't any reason to have pride
in our nation
in a stolen land
WHAT?!
You're making us think
We didn't come to watch a NBA basketball game to think
We didn't come to leave a NBA basketball game thinking
WHAT?!

Don't you know anything about America separating church and state?
You're American, right?
Though your name is different
If you were an immigrant
you might have had to learn this
to take a test to get your citizenship

Yes, yes, I know
that a basketball court is not a state
and that you don't believe in the church
And you've said
that the making of a prayer's never confined to any particular institution or place of worship
You said
At the doctor's office,
I pray
In the car before I pull off,
I pray
In the restaurant before I eat and after I eat,
I pray
At the start of a game,
I pray

All this unnecessary buzz
All this unnecessary hype
around me refusing to pledge allegiance to the American flag
and instead pledge allegiance to God
and pray during the anthem
Even more than 25 years later, a 1/2 of a century later,
we're talking about it
But this time
I get to speak my story
to whoever is interested
I get to speak to the world
through a number of ways
so that the truth can be heard

As for the NBA
compensate me in a way that can never repay me for what you did
for what I've gone through and others
for all of the suffering
compensate me as justly as possible
compensate me appropriately
Do what you would want to be done to you
in a fellow human's shoes
if you were in my Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf basketball player's shoes

It's your choice
Either way
My light has shined
GOD has told us that
Joslyn Rose Lyons
said this, too
and with her production
"STAND"  
a documentary film
about me and my truth,
it will continue to shine

Anything done for GOD will always be zoomed in on
Will always be talked about
Will always STAND out
Because with as many Hitlers as there are
As many Netanyahus as there are
As many corrupt Saudi Kings as there are
No matter how few,
there'll always be
Mahmouds
There'll always be
El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazzs or Malcolm Xs
and
Imam Khomeinis
There'll always be
Imam Asis

You see
Mahmoud's See
"Once you see something,
you can't unsee it"
is POWER
Mahmoud's See
is INFLUENCE
Mahmoud's See
is like that of the SEA
with a beautiful, eye-catching tide
that keeps coming back
and keeps making waves
and keeps giving us reason to notice

Mahmoud
You said what you did and what Kaepernick did
By the way  
I bought 10 copies of your autobiography (audio CD)
"In The Blink Of An Eye"
produced by Kaepernick Publishing
allowed you both to speak your conscience
to do what is right
to speak against injustice
but it doesn't translate into POWER
because as you said
in so many words,
there are still many injustices
happening in America and around the world
and crimes against humanity still taking place

What you, Kaepernick,  
and the other professional athletes to whom this applies did
doesn't translate into power
because there aren't enough like you  
taking a STAND
asserting their human rights
speaking truth to power
More are emergently needed
Insha Allah, as those who take a STAND
become the norm and
they become a sizeable number,
POWER will be the result

Nonetheless,
your STAND beckons more to STAND
It's a rare match to start a flame
  
Injustice will always have its See
And justice will always be seen
even if and when it's seems to be at a distance
even when it appears out of reach

Like Mahmoud,
myself, and others,
we are forever changed by
an NBA star's See,
a human who chose to STAND's See
With it,
there is no turning back

By: Najwa Kareem
*The idea to write this poem came after viewing SHOWTIME's official trailer/teaser in August 2022 for the documentary "STAND" about Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf. This poem was written in February and in March of this year (2023).

"Once you see something, you can't unsee it." Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf (in SHOWTIME's Trailer/Teaser for documentary "STAND")

Trailer to My Poem (August 2022): The Power of Mahmoud's See

Once you've seen basketball, you can't unsee basketball
Once you've seen God, you can't unsee God
Once you've seen Islam, you can't unsee Islam
Once you've tasted Islam and its teaching, you can't spit Islam out and its' teachings out
You can't force a person to be something he is not
You can't force a person to stand for something he does not endorse or believe in
whether the NBA wants him/her to, or some other entity or influence wants him/her to

September 2022: The goal of Mahmoud's autobiography and documentary should not be for us to watch and be entertained. The goal should not be for us to learn and know more about Mahmoud and his life. The goal should not be for us to be familiarized with his story. The goal should be for these two forms of media about Mahmoud to act as a catalyst, to serve as motivators for us to each do whatever we can, to carry out whatever actions, to put forth whatever efforts we can to ensure that Mahmoud is fairly compensated for his career having been taken away from him, having been destroyed by the NBA. Mahmoud's autobiography and documentary are to serve as an impetus for a no BS, no nonsense, no playing around here DEMAND FOR JUSTICE FOR MAHMOUD from those who acted criminally against him in a most profound way, who bullied him, who punched him in the face and knocked him to the ground, who robbed him of his worth, etc. We need to PROTEST (there are a spectrum of forms of protest) for him in ways that many of us did not at the time of the inflammatory onset.

Again, as pertaining to the release of a basketball legend's autobiography and documentary, let us not see our role as being consumers but rather contributors to a cause and case involving a violation of human rights, freedom of speech, social justice, the terms of a business contract, etc. We mustn't forget that we (those who are included) have benefitted from Mahmoud in one way, shape, or form, in minute ways and/or in big ways. At the very least, we owe him something in return.

Najwa

Mahmoud believes the flag symbolizes oppression. "Am I saying, everything in America's bad? No! Wherever the bad is, as a Muslim, we don't stand for it."

*This poem was written in honor of Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf, what he doesn't stand for, and what he stands for while praying for. Thank you for what you have done of good and continue to do that is good! Happy birthday to you, today! (March 9, 2023; my plan was to publish this poem on your birthday, however, after learning of the tragic death of a from childhood family friend on the same day, I did not publish it.)

*Poem published today (5/19/23) in honor and respectful memory of El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz (Malcolm X) whose only choice was to STAND and who dutifully encouraged all of us to STAND, to fight against injustice and oppression at all levels and in all forms - to fight for our human rights; he, a most courageous, committed Muslim...a most peace loving, justice loving, human loving, injustice hating, corruption hating, greed hating person - one most generous with his time and efforts for the good of all mankind, etc. Happy birthday to him/you, today!
Jeremy Duff Jul 2014
I've been finding it terribly hard to write more than disillusioned rants and I've been finding it even more difficult to sit still with my thoughts.

I think about you a lot and it never fails to make me happy. Never. But I can't think about you all the time, and those moments late at night when I can't see the moon for the ceiling and I can't hear your voice for the time negative thoughts linger. And usually I let them vent, like a man professing his love by writing it in wet cement, I put thought to hand and pen to paper but now... I don't know.

I can write about you and God knows I do. God also knows I have not and hope not to run out of things to write about you. But there are other things in my mind that I wish to let out but I can't. There's a purple liquid slowly amassing to a sizeable resivior in the bottom left corner of my brain; I can feel it. It's where I store my doubts and anxieties but it's been dammed.
emlyn lua Sep 2019
There once was a tiny dragon,
No larger than the palm of my hand.
She burned no village, stole no princess,
Her name not spoken in fear throughout the land.
She hoarded not gold, not jewels,
Cared not for such frivolous things.
It was memories she kept in her miniscule cave
She guarded with flickering fire and scrap wings.

I went to her cave in the mountains.
Stumbled on it, by mistake;
As I lay down my head at the roots of a tree,
By an obscure and secluded lake.
She emerged in her miniature splendour,
From beneath a nearby rock.
She let out a yawn of fire;
And I froze: in awe, in shock.
She grinned a needlepoint grin,
Beckoned with one curved claw
Into her miniscule cave,
I followed: in shock, in awe.

I peered through the half-hidden opening,
Only inches larger than my head.
The dragon spoke soft but thunderous,
And this is what was said:
“This is my hoard, young human.
This is all I hold dear in the world.”
And she handed to me a birthday card -
Some edges singed, some curled.

It had writing in a swirling foreign script
That seemed to be etched, not written.
“This is the love of my first ever crush,
In the days when we were still smitten.”
“Is this all?” I scoffed, “Just pieces of paper,
and wrappers and old useless things?”
Her doll-sized body began to shudder
With a judder of claws and a flutter of wings.

No larger than my littlest finger,
She was a smaller version of herself;
But still I froze as she perched on my nose,
To her, a sizeable shelf.
“You hold no value to memories?
Then why don’t you leave yours behind?
Since they strike you as being so useless,
I’m certain you wouldn’t mind.”

Now all my memories are scraps,
Shadows of what they once were.
I wonder if she kept them somewhere,
In that diminutive cave with her.
Notes from a wife I think I had:
About the shopping, the kids? The car?
A card from my parents, a gift from a friend,
A reason for this faint lip scar.
I try to keep letters, tickets, receipts,
Compulsively, I feel I must.
But whenever I reach for that link to my past,
It is nothing but ash, but dust.
There's a few of the old crowd still meet up at Christmas and
each raise a glass to the past and good friends.

The crowd's thinning out now, but I'm thinking out loud now
it's still quite a sizeable group
(If you don't count so well )

We reminisce about that and the other and
it's this that makes the bond stronger

I suppose the longer we go on the few will become less

there are flywheels in the abattoir
and they spin to a six string guitar
the piano plays on down in Abilene to the tunes of a cowboy and his praire dream.

It's all alike or a bit the same
never knowing if one had been
sane what the outcome would have been.
Tizwas Jun 2018
At the end of the world where the sea meets the sky,
there's a small strip of land where the mermaids lie.
Where they chit and they chat, or play and have fun,
and top up their tan in the midday sun.

Now it's rare to see a mermaid, and you may never again,
so to see a whole shoal is a rareness x 10.
But this is what happened, or so it is told,
to a young keen explorer who was both handsome and bold.

When sailing alone he encountered a storm,
his boat then capsized,  he was stranded, forlorn.
For day after day he sat atop of his hull,
until at last he was visited by a sizeable seagull.

He thought; "Land must be near, of that I am sure,
for a seagull this fat can't be far from a shore"

Then suddenly, beside him did a mermaid appear,
she said; "I'm here to save you, so please do not fear"
"Climb on my back and I'll take you to land"
and a short swim later his feet were on sand.

Swimming before him was a sea full of beauties,
he'd never seen cuties with fins on their booties.
With their flawless skin and long flowing hair,
and sunkissed bodies so tanned and so bare.

The mermaid said;
"My name is Christina-or Queen Tina for short,
and my sisters and I welcome you to our shores"
"I am called Tim" replied the hansome young chap,
"But I did not see your island marked on any a map."

"We've lived here for centuries in quiet seclusion,
and saved the life of the odd shipwrecked human.
My sister's and I will cater your needs,
we'll make a tent of a tree and a bed of seaweeds.

The explorer thought he could get use to this,
and began to forget she was  half-woman half-fish.
In fact, young Timmy was falling in love,
as they slept on the beach with the night stars above.

They fed him on wine and the finest of food,
and Tim grew from a slim to a tubby young dude.
His shirt was now stretching, his trousers were tight,
he put on pound after pound with each bite after bite.

Months had gone by and tubby Timmy was bored,
day after day living life as a Lord.
He was missing his life of sailing and discovering,
of finding lost treasures and new lands exploring.

He told the Queen one day of his needs and his yearns,
and surprisingly the Queen understood his concerns.
She said; "I could see you were sad and exceedingly glum,
and I thought that this day would eventually come".

"We'll build you a boat, a raft or canoe,
and to say our goodbyes we'll  throw a bit of a do".
So a bonfire was lit and each mermaid did bring,
food and drink and got the party in full swing.

They bathed fat Timmy in octopus ink,
and he thought to himself "this doesn't half stink."
They then rubbed his body in garlic and honey,
Timmy thought this strange and not finding it funny.

The Queen then declared "sisters-let us sit down to eat"
The Cook asked her Queen "how would you like your meat?"

The Queen replied;
"I like my human slow-cooked on a griddle,
crisp on the outside and pink in the middle!"
Crash, bang, wallop
She collided with the shelf
A free standing unit
Until she grabbed it to steady herself

Down did it topple
Raining glass on her head
Sending everything flying
Through the air, what a mess!

Wine glasses, flutes, tumblers
And a vase
All hit the deck
And smashed into shards

Oh, what a racket
And a mess to behold
The nincompoop just stood there
And couldn’t be consoled

But it’s no use crying
Over spilt milk
And in her inebriated state
The thought of cleaning did she jilt

Drunk and disorderly
She sent herself to bed
Knowing that tomorrow
She’d have a thumping head

So leaving shattered
glass
All over the floor
Off did she teeter
To think about it no more

In the afternoon
When at last she awoke
The carpet was glistening
As if covered in snow

It shone and it sparkled
Like a night of a thousands stars
She wondered what’d occurred
Until her memory was jarred

By treading barefoot
Onto a sizeable piece of glass
That tore into her instep
Causing her to curse

Jumping up and down
With stinging, bleeding feet
She surveyed the considerable damage
Shocked at the scene

Of all her lovely glassware
Lying broken on the floor
A shattered picture frame
A teacup that was no more

Oops, thought she
What a flaming disaster
I’d better get a shovel
And hoover up straight after

And so she did
And all was fine
Apart from the ****
Which would heal in time

The moral of this story
Is nail your shelves down
And don’t put glass atop them
If you’re a drunken clown.
a good financial advisor
will tell you to ditch the credit card
for this little piece of plastic
can gobble you down hard

when you use the thing
monthly interest accumulates
so be very wary of the
bank's excessive rates

but some people keep
over drawing on the account
then they will have a
sizeable bill to surmount

luckily for me I got out of
my credit card mess
yet there are those who'll
ever be under much duress
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
when i went to my local library, to my horror
i found no books that are in my personal library...
to my astonishment i found Thomas Mann's
Dr. Faustus -
                        but still, in my possession as extensive
it is in its modesty i found only two books
i'd gladly reread - Ezra Pound's Cantos and Bertrand
Russell's the History of Western Philosophy -
harsh, isn't it? only two books - from a collection of
some sizeable amount, and a good fraction well
established in my head to have made tattoos into -
like that joke: what's the door most frequently
opened in the house? the refrigerator door.
so it is with a library - but there's a twist...
how fortunate you will be if the dictionary isn't
the answer... but a book that you would reread
and know all the words; so as you can see, i have
my two books i'd establish strength with,
even if it meant waging such a war with the Koran.
her voice danced on the Summer breeze
carried over the garden
and graced the stillness of the catfish pond
"Suppers' ready"
one more fish, I thought
just one more
but I could almost smell the beef stew
and the apple pie Mama had coolin'
fish can wait
sometimes the best part of fishin'
is gettin' hungry
and no one in Clarke County
cooked a finer meal than Mom
I closed my eyes as I walked toward the house
reminding myself to save room for pie and vanilla ice cream
Dad's gonna be proud of the 4 sizeable cats I caught
a strong breeze and the sound of window blinds slappin'
brought me home again
a storm was comin'

why is it that the best dreams are always interrupted?
sliding the window shut, I can still smell that apple pie
oldie
jimmy tee May 2013
try to add a little sanity
but it sure is a lonely job
in a world where all is vanity
and emotion rises and bobs
thought is a solid thing
this world is way too sizeable
a speck of eternity’s wing
an’ nothing  be recognizable

— The End —