Thou said I'd killed thee-then haunt me! The murdered do look for their murderers. Do find me, capture me, and seize me-until I am no more! Until all t'ose resentments are conquered; and th' due satisfaction is approached! How I am but ready for 'tis-for I now can see even t'ose roaring flames in thy *****-thy lifeless, inanimate *****-o, thy ghost! My poor-dreary love! But why doth thou hath just to release it right now? Thou wert no more than a vapour. A silence! An undreamed thought-yes, despite how I sobbed over thy ignorance, thy blandness towards me! I who was unjustly a piece of willful visage in thy mind-a fracture on th' soil thou mercilessly cracked-a wailing fragment, unheard by t'ose passers-by, unrecognised by th' wind! Terrified in t' steepness I could look around-but insignificant as I was, I hath no right to claim any attention-I was by birth a stone to t'ose young buds-leaning against their flower mothers so tightly, so scared and petrified were their looks-upon my gently-but alarming, steps! How I was a crust to warmth, unbinding and unyielding in every step, glowered at by t'ose thirsty stems-and their green abodes! How crushed I was by my own nature-and to my despondency, by my own fiery passion! Thou wert so distant to me-thou wert a prince from a faraway castle-unreachable to my loveless realm-I could only, in t'ose wakeful jests-dream of thee! T'ose solitary walks we took, as part of our serene perambulations, but in every retrospect, also part of my wildest dreams! At those silent, barbaric hours! And how I regretted when which wert admonished! How my waves of anger would be roused against me-and my lilac-scented pillow-I wanted, in those wraths-grasped my little gun-t'at very kind, and sometimes sweaty-lil' gun, with t'ose uncomprehending steel layers, and strangle th' neck of each of th' intruder: I was glowing with fury! Insidious and pernicious my soul was-but inevitable as to the love I nurtured. The love that would be adequate to me, and its loss hath left me in 'tis shameful, disgraceful, and unpardonable lifelong longing, and incarceration. How isolated I hath been now-for t'ose unimaginable y'rs-how unfair! Resentful ist my heart-grudge is th' only will it can beareth! O my lost love! My prince! My young, mirthful treasure! But I recall how solemn thou wert to me-and cold-tempered in thy redolent sophistication-thou neglected me! Thou killed the flame that had been lighting up my mindth-thou wert the one who fled from me! Aye! Thou wert the one who relented-who adversely tore t'ose flo'ers of my heart; thy quietness sent them into a hurried, mysterious death! Like an earthquake flitting apart th' moons at a blissful night-and enduing th' soil with bursts of cold horror-thou passivity in t'ose very moments-wert but tragic yet unmistakably obscure! O my soul that was ripped apart-just as thine! How dead we became-and still, areth now-how inanimate! Of bliss have our languid joys have been deprived, its remains doth we have no more-no, in our but only dying embers. And how their momentary torch mocks us! How bashful, and unlovable! O but my love is torn. Wholly torn. As how a pool of blood is th' produce of a sword of honour-that is how it is now-and was it swerved astray from its cherry, back then-its very own romance-which hath been so full of ****** youth, to taste agony! Agony as it was-but th' only reward to my suffered love, when I could feed on thy sight no more-thy movements were a nameless leave-threatened by the glaring autumn, and killed by th' ragged winter-my holy love was slaughtered! Now that thou hath known how dead I am-and my feelings are, how I am unseen by most of yon ingress and egress of t' others-t'ose vile, and reprehensive b'ings-with t'ose unthoughtful, and abhorred shortcomings-pallidness and sickly merriment in t'ose eyes-o, what falsehood, what falsehood! I despise th' sight o' 'em-daemons they are, hellish are their souls! **** me, my darling, slander me now, and bring me back into thy world! For th' world I belong to is th' one with thee, my dearest-I do not mind being a ghost, and am unafraid of its vagueness-I'm not! And together shall we traverse th' earth-enjoy but only our keenly desired brambles-t'ose ones we could not partake of, as healthy refreshments to our souls-in t'ose sickly, tumultuous lifetimes-t'ose brazen years! I am thus indebted to thee-t'ese guilt and pleasure, as both thy own'th remorse and treasure-I declare as thine, only thine! Be with me always, since we'll occupy ourselves together-and taking any form, we'll drive each other mad by our passioneth-and grasp all 'ose happiness we've always wanly desired! Love me back, o love me back, my prince! Only don't leave me alone in 'tis abyss, where I cannot find thee...'

Alone she stands...
at the bottom of the mountain.
The beginning of her journey.
Her journey to forgiveness.
She looks at the steepness of the climb,
and wonders where is the strength she'll find.
Especially when her backpack is full of rocks...
The painful memories of emotional abuse and verbal attacks.
But, as difficult as this journey will be,
she knows she must take it,
in order to be free.
Then He whispers to her soul,
"Step by step, with Me,
this is the only way to climb
The Journey to Forgiveness."

She begins her journey,
one step at a time.
One foot before the other.
With the heavy burden upon her back,
which she knows she must surrender.
She makes stops along the way.
The memories surface.
Her wounds lay open and bare.
But she chooses to forgive.
To release them of the debt.
And empties some of the rocks
from her backpack.

She continues on.
The journey is tiresome,
and oh, so long.
She is tempted to give up.
Many times.
But He keeps reminding her of the prize.
Another stop.
More rocks dumped.
More forgiveness given.
More
freedom.
And another stop.
And another.
Until finally...
her burden grows lighter.
As her soul unloads its bitterness.
She sees the top now.
Oh bliss!
She climbs faster now.
She empties out the last rock.
The biggest rock.
The largest offence.
The one that was hardest to forgive.
The one that bound her in chains.
She releases it now.
Into God's hands.
And hoists herself up to the top.

She stands now in victory!
The burden she has carried so long is empty!
She has completed her journey.
Her Journey to Forgiveness.
And is finally free.
Until tomorrow...
when begins another journey.
To forgiveness.

You sexygenic. Steep babe. It is unrealistic beautiful. Drooling flow of men from you only. Resist such as you simply useless. Your sweet laughter, your smile ****, soft look, perfect dress, fought on felling everybody. Do you relish the most juicy, sensual, tender, feminine passion. You are my love, emotional outlet. You are absolute, supreme steepness. The eternal novelty. Unbearable, too, in the highest degree, is beautiful and **** look beyond just you. You're in the highest stage of evolution, you are the most perfect, you're my idol, my ideal is the true and authentic embodiment of beauty. You **** ****** glow of love and passion. Your body brings to the highest level of excitation. You are very soft and feminine. You 1,000,000,000 Interest luxury, precious, unique, eternal value. All the good moments in life are associated with you only. Your sweet caresses and kisses is a very powerful drug. You are the most valuable gift of the universe. You're gorgeous in any type of image frame, everywhere, always and everywhere. In you is palpable surprisingly soft, sensual, tender. Beauty in your eyes is something amazing, uniquely beautiful, it is very beautiful bewitching magic. Very beautiful and indescribably pleasant feeling. Your wonderfully beautiful image easily and tenderly touches the very thin and barely visible strings of souls. Thereby causing a particular vibration melody of true love, thus it finally fall in love with you.
So beautiful and boldly, effektnaya.1 000 000 000 000 000 000 one likes you and the infinity sign to boot. From you comes and ****, ****** glow of love and lust. You set a new world record for the beauty. That can not be achieved. You're beautiful, socialite. You synonymous with beauty. Perpetual Standard and *** symbol in the history of mankind. Absolutely beautiful. As you perfect every millimeter of your beautiful body. The jaw droops and lost the power of speech from this incredible beauty. You just do not be offended please forgive me if something goes wrong. But from such a beautiful appearance as yours in males powerful ******* of the *****, boys and men commit themselves in underwear. Infinitely wonderful. Sexuality in the entire universe. To the extent that you are sexually even clothes are not needed. Are you for the happiest and luckiest man in the world. You is Jackpot. Flash, full house. *** symbol. Synonymous with beauty and ideal. You are so beautiful is amazing. you just look ****, sultry predator. You're the sweetest. From you comes so powerful, ****, ****** energy. you indescribably beautiful. You are spectacular, juicy, ****. M, sounds cool, mega cool, drums, lyrical rap bit. As a platinum and gold vinyl disk, you super-duper hit. You bestseller poetry and prose. You are my princess. Queen. The Empress. Goddess. Higher creation of all universes, fields and dimensions. I think so. On the doge to what extent may be beautiful woman. It's amazing. The queen of my mind and heart. Your sweet image fills my soul light, beautiful love and lust. You have such a gentle bubble skin. Your good looks forever won my heart and my mind. You are beautiful in its own way. You are endowed with rare beauty at all times. Fashion model. Just the thought of you excites and charms. You are a masterpiece of nature and of God himself. Your endlessly surprising beauty, the rare and surprising, the most beautiful in the history of mankind.
You **** lioness. you just flame sensual passion. I admire your amazing beauty. You're amazing, perfect, you're perfect. I think so. Your flesh is sweeter than sweet. In bed, sultry lioness.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

Winking doubled 3 and by 3
he was down by a the an at
the very steepness of the grocery
outlet's little outlet shunting
to passersby his handy vanity(and they liked his dog and saiding so they drooped a coined palm and flatulated giddy tinklings

     he later utilized to *****

I was panting
as my feet continuously
pounded against
the asphalt,
the steepness of the hills
sending shockwaves through
my calves.

The crisp air and dusk lighting
enveloped me,
the steady beats from my headphones
isolated me.

I moved 'round the multitude
of pedestrians
with relative ease,
feeling as if they were all
paying me as little mind
as I them.

My sweatshirt shielded me from
the cooling temperature
and simultaneously trapped
beads of sweat to my forearms,
the rest dripping steadily down
my shoulder blades,
off my forehead, my breathing
evening as I hit my rhythm.

The lights from the honking cars
and various restaurants and bars
illuminated my pathway-for-one
as I snaked my way north.

My mouth dried out as
my body had near hit its limit,
as I am not exactly in marathon shape
(to put it nicely).

Yet still I pushed,
a mind-over-matter-moment
as I tried to decide on a
definitive destination.

I wasn't sure whether
I was running from something
or toward something;
all I knew was that my blood
was pumping,
my mouth was inhaling fresh air
into my lungs,
my skin was sweating and shivering
as it kissed the wind;
all I knew was that I was
running,
all I knew was that I was
alive.

As my
heart pounded against
my ribcage,
the start and the finish line
suddenly mattered so much less
than the seemingly endless
stretch of sidewalk
underneath
my
feet.

I knew that I was running;
I knew that I was alive;
and that was all I needed
to know.

Would you come with me
Riding across the jungle of our myths
From the deepest of our souls
To the wild and unreached grounds

You were scratching for freedom
Overlooking our supreme wisdom
Past the steepness of our efforts
Is this finally our landing port?

We fight and haunt our shadows
From the shores to the summits
Bits of our past reach the offing
To the wild and endless grounds

You were scratching for freedom
Overlooking our supreme wisdom
Past the steepness of our efforts
We finally hit our landing port

Greenery full of life
sits atop hills
beneath a moody grey sky
lush shrubs, bushes, trees
a sight lusted over
by people like me
a guilty pleasure
for those from Michigan suburbs
stationery, observing humans
the fast moving traffic below
semis rushing to make deliveries
people getting to jobs they hate
or don't mind
in outfits they aren't comfortable wearing
road rage
accidents on the highway
houses sit atop them
steep backyards
even they wonder
why anyone would live there
people can fall into traffic
their steepness is not something they can help
flights flying overhead
humans making it to events
thinking they are so important
living a life of privilege and ability
nature is peaceful, kind
unbothered, it's number one hobby:
people-watching.

We often have so many misfortunes in life,
We get used to being used by pain’s might.
But if we hold tight,
Regardless of life’s hardships,
Or the steepness of our plight,
We just might keep sight
The fortunes only seen at night.

If you ask me,
The sun’s beauty cannot compare to that of the moon.
Stare at the blazing sunlight,
And I’ll watch you go blind.
While I gaze at the moon’s eyes,
And one day have nocturnal sight.

Sometimes it’s hard to follow the light
When your surroundings are bright.
But it’s easy to find the spark
When your days are dark.

each within each
becoming thick
becoming flower

most petals
most aggressively
****** brutal

through smooth throbbing
of broken smoothness:

back little unsquare
hips fully
plush between
chipped fuzz
electrically quivers

with arrow
deeply notched
pink roiling
steepness through
mouth rolling
tongue over

river over
of scarlet
rill

steam drunkly
burst kiss
kissing
into musk musk musk;

(very short swollen and rudely
dancing brokenness of
lips parted over lips
parting to leap
cherrymuss
of motile body
biting bed sheets
not wanting to
"     scream     "

hang me a poem through the mouth of night the slender smolder of cold
imprecise light that it might build into a thin strip of almost bursting
  intense colour(purpleandred). it might suddenly stagger up the
   common heap of sky--through the cheeks of white neatness--
    the blithe cursor of brutal dawn, spilling with such brinding
     creepness of light the thighs of earth full of lancing steepness
      all the wriggling of life shall commence with body lathered
       of youth in stupid love of dumb *** there will a coronet
        of hot dew wreath the pistils of flowers and the dirt
         will speak the rich secret of life in colours innumerable;
          the bending of words upon always quiet paper
           cannot meet with them the fullness of their
            drooping incantation(and lips cannot
             say with always talking mouths
              how deftly the primness
               of their serene
                majesty
                 is,

                  '

                        ,


             '

                                ,




    '





                                                           ,

An Awful Harvest

I went a hike up to Wawa in Montalban and up the mountain roads. Here I was to go past the peaks of Mt Parawagan, Susong Dalaga and Mt Lagyo plus others. The road had been improved by engineers with trucks and plant equipment. I wanted to hike a big circle right back to the beginning. This was possible a few months ago but not now due to the building of the Pamitinan Dam. It will take four years to do this and flood a complete valley near the peaks. A guard told me no entry by the construction site. I talked to a head engineer and he told me more details. The dam will be eighty metres tall or deep more than the Kaliwa Dam of sixty four metres. These are big structures. Hikers wanted to hike from Wawa to Casili by the newly improved mountain roads but the dam construction stopped this. In time a new road will be built above the dam level replacing the old road. Even if the road is built in a year the dam will still be unfinished so still no entry.



I saw a sign saying beware of UXO Unexploded Ordnance. A local man told me about this, of how the military was looking for it and would defuse any found. His details matched much of what I’ve heard before, like finding shrapnel in the soil. The sign was for the road improvement and dam construction. Sleeping shells waited to knocked awake and ****.



The digger, bulldozer and plant drivers need to be paid danger money. No joke. The area they work on is a small part of a huge World War 2 battlefield. An awful harvest litters the land with unexploded ordnance being buried in the soil having not detonated. Mortars, shells, bombs and other things; these all need locating and safely defusing by the military.



People live in the area and many have found live or exploded shells. The live shells are complete and the spent ones are in varied sized pieces. On my hike up there I was given a piece of one five five millimetre shell from a local. This was in two parts, the biggest weighed many pounds. I estimate between one in four and six fired never exploded. On the stone mountains like Mt Lagyo the shells and bombs will explode on impact if the detonators are triggered. In soil covered peaks the shells can just dig in and don’t go off. The army went up to Mt Lagyo looking for unexploded ordnance. They found nothing.



The road that has been improved and widened would’ve yielded many unexploded munitions. I’m curious how many were found and wonder how many thousands still hide unfound. Sections of the trees/grass by the road are taped off. This is for safety of any munitions and also due to the steepness of the terrain.



The local people within the valley are being moved away and compensated for thus upheaval. Their valley will be inundated by what is now a small river in coming years. Any remaining homes and unfound munitions or Japanese tunnels will be underwater.



Every time I hike the area from Wawa to Mt Mataba to Timberland to Casili I read about or am told or shown evidence from the war and battles; that old actions from 1945 has outlived the people of that time be it locals or soldiers. History is not old and boring black and white photos. An rusty Arisaka rifle with working bolt or blasted shell fragments tell more than any story or photo ever could. Only fate and God knows the unnamed soldiers names now.



When the dam is built I wonder how many unfound unexploded ordnance and dead Japanese soldiers will be now forever unfound? I suspect many thousand Japanese soldiers are buried on those peaks. Remember, these hills are the first high ground above Manila. This was the start of the high ground battles that went on for hundreds of miles at several huge mountain ranges. It was Tier 1 fighting equal to anywhere involving hundreds of thousands of opposing troops, of which tens of thousands were killed.



Now the 1945 legacy is coming back to bite us. Not just buried shells on a dam construction site but the risk of them still exploding when not even found. This is due to corroding fuses. Buried bombs in Europe have self detonated several times. I’ve been told of two large unexploded warplane dropped bombs, one near Timberland and the other near Mt Parawagan. Both need to be found again and professionally defused. History is never boring; the lethal harvest is a testimony to their dastardly deeds.

through the lips of
the horizon
a purple parasol
of attenuated *****
  spread, flagrant is the crepuscule.

these are the exiled
  in the heliotrope world:

trees saluting the length
  of sprinting air to calm
  these undulations -
  painted are the leaves
  with blame.

lips sinking to find answers
hidden underneath the
derelict of sweat, noisome moan
after quieted breathing,
heavy with the undeniable boulder
  of craving's weight -
  tongue naked, freeing itself
  from the oubliette of flesh,
  finding what is still to be
   tasted in a covetous harvest,

it is indeed strange to be here,
  in this absolute hour
  of absent resoluteness.
to deny want and embrace fullness,
my eyes ***** these visions
   and then dive through steepness.
  no words have to be said,
  only their significations
   held secretively as roots
  are unseen flourishing in their
    obligations to this flower,
    your flower

  underneath the twilight
   of bodies crossing each other
  out, love's derivatives
    ensue.

o do you divine nudely fingers of immutable almost Spring divide me?

more or less than myself when

arrives (shaking) the uncommon
coronet of your rain hair

(that dances)?(i do not go out to receive it my hands stay closed in night(my fists are very tight with darkness whose only breaking is hidden in your wet steepness of easy rain



falling


forever

Only your affection give such feelings as love and happiness. It is striking, powerful, attractive appearance. Great grace your body has no equal. Higher praise and points worthy of only your divinely beautiful body.

I'm just waiting for you. You're all I think about. Empress of my subconscious, in my inner world, dreams, and memories you everywhere. I'm just waiting for you forever. You are my only eternal idea that helps to live in this world, my beautiful emotion and amazing feeling. Just like you could look forever and initiate an fall in love. Life without you is unthinkable, impossible. Believe me, I know this for sure, your beauty shines gently honey, golden light and brilliance. Your beauty is a powerful hypnosis.

You're enormous. You are the supreme Goddess of beauty, love and eroticism. For me, you are a supreme being of all universes. Vlastvuesh and commands you of male minds and hearts. Please do not take offense at the truth, but you are so beautiful that you do not even need makeup, so natural and beautiful can look only you, but you are also very powerful ****** desire, arousal, only enthusiasm, madly obsessed I just you. Your voice sounds more elegant than the violin, more touching than the piano, it is easier than the harp, thinner than a triangle. So amazing, **** shine your beautiful skin, it is the perfect, sweet, juicy. And your perfect figure, perfect. You are irreplaceable and priceless. You're the most important thing, the most precious thing in my life. Your infinitely amazing, impressive, external and internal beauty releases you of all animate and inanimate. So amazingly passionate, your beautiful body - is a powerful magnet attracting a huge number of affection and passion. You are perfection, your beautiful figure to the extent perfect that you do not even need clothes. I am struck by felling, and do obeisance, taking off his hat in front of your royal authority, for me it is a great honor and a privilege to be next to you, you are my idol and autograph I memory you take and the hearts of his keep, exposing of honor place on the altar in his love, where only you everywhere, I am your eternal, faithful fan. You have no equal, I adore in you everything. You are the supreme, absolute aerobatics. You are beautiful and perfect image, which you can imagine. It looks so beautiful goddess. You are the supreme good, the enjoyment and pleasure in this universe. I put bezumilliard points and infinity sign in the bargain, your unique beauty. You're beautiful to the extent that you immediately feel like getting married, and live with thee all eternity. Your tantalizing sexually exciting figure keeps my mind completely under your control. You thermonuclear *** bomb baby boom. You are all what they want to see my eyes. Your gentle saldko-**** voice is all you want to hear my ears. The smell of your skin, it's what I want to breathe. I breathe only because you're near me. When you are near the heart of love often knocks. And the excitement level of your beauty reaches the highest degree. Oh how beautiful you are and how I love you, that's all I want to tell you. Your luxury flesh and soul is all that ever wants to feel my flesh and soul. Your love is all I want to feel from you forever. You are so beautiful, just lovely sight. You are much higher than blue blood. I'm addicted to you only.

You sexygenic, photgenic, moviegenic. Steep babe. It is unrealistic beautiful. Drooling flow of men from you only. Resist such as you simply useless. Your sweet laughter, your smile ****, soft look, perfect dress, fought on felling everybody. Do you relish the most juicy, sensual, tender, feminine passion. You are my love, emotional outlet. You are absolute, supreme steepness. The eternal novelty. Unbearable, too, in the highest degree, is beautiful and **** look beyond just you. You're in the highest stage of evolution, you are the most perfect, you're my idol, my ideal is the true and authentic embodiment of beauty. You **** ****** glow of love and passion. Your body brings to the highest level of excitation. You are very soft and feminine. You 1,000,000,000 Interest luxury, precious, unique, eternal value. All the good moments in life are associated with you only. Your sweet caresses and kisses is a very powerful drug. You are the most valuable gift of the universe. You're gorgeous in any type of image frame, everywhere, always and everywhere. In you is palpable surprisingly soft, sensual, tender. Beauty in your eyes is something amazing, uniquely beautiful, it is very beautiful bewitching magic. Very beautiful and indescribably pleasant feeling. Your wonderfully beautiful image easily and tenderly touches the very thin and barely visible strings of souls. Thereby causing a particular vibration melody of true love, thus it finally fall in love with you.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

Looking like white cotton ***** pulled and stretched
Til they are thin as gauze and wispySpread across the morning sky
With other clouds that ripple like enormous corduroy.
I see them as I step out on my daily sunrise walk.
Up sloping streets, down slanted lanes,
I revel in this twilight of the night time.

Knowing there will be a show to take my breath away,
I climb the rubbled hill that separates our steeets
From those across the access road. It’s very steep
And I place my feet with caution on the narrow path.
It would’t do to slip and tumble down the rocky *****.
I walk the ridge-line - half a mile - avoiding
All the off-road tracks that scar the tumbled surface,
Making daring runs across and up and down the steepness

First the bottom of the clouds turn Cotton Candy pink,
Just at the horizon line of jagged, distant mountains.
Then as I watch, the color seeps across the other clouds
Until the morning sky resembles bubble gum.
As quickly as it comes, it fades and takes a golden hue
That gradually turns pink to gold, as the clouds
All change their dresses.
The indigo of the pre-dawn sky plugs in to nature’s power
And the sky begins to glow a neon azure blue.

A flash on the horizon line announces the
First shimmer-glimmer of the sun
As it wakes up and stretches arms across the sky,
And all the pink and gold goes home until tomorrow.
At which point I do the same.
         ljm

i've crossed the widest oceans
made of violent waters of the deepest blue
watched the glittering fish swim beneath me
and listened to them sing their soothing tunes
their songs, while beautiful in nature,
none of them I found to be true

i've climbed the highest peaks
made of weathered ground as cold as ice
watched sunrises flicker against sheets of white
and memorized their steepness in price
their colors, while beautiful in nature,
none of them I found to be paradise

i've walked the endless prairies
made of yards and yards of dry weeds
watched flocks of silken butterflies take flight
and witnessed a million tiny ant legs stampede
their freedom, while beautiful in nature,
none of them I found to be freed

i've explored the darkest caverns
made of massive black granite tombstones
watched the leftover light be snuffed out
and felt the fearful chill in my bones
their emptiness, while beautiful in nature,
none of them I found to be alone

i've been climbing
this same mountain
since
my day one
the stones
that hurt my knees
are stones
i've placed
the steepness
of the journey
are the degrees
i've set
the accuracy
couldn't be more true
and the stumbling
i've encountered
has been provoked
by me.

Just like the mountains
We both had climbed
You and I
Sky high
Will Heaven
In forever
Be ours to conquer?

Right up the steepness
Your hand in mine
Braved the wild
Through miles
Bring me near
The One we fear
Forever is here

-ADAM

Northwest of Athens, once lost in the polis of religiosity and pagan worship, Lochnith followed the shoulder to find her on the cliffs of the Acropolis, where they had lost each other, after two thousand years since Theodosius would repeal by decree the Eleusinian rituals. Of rejection and unprecedented glimpse, Aerse was reclusive in her excessive desire to eliminate herself, being for both an unreality because he had possessed her by the neck devoid of the omphalos, causing the avalanche of their bodies and souls towards where they would supposedly perch on him. divine and Dionysian eschatological path leading to the Diokitís of Vernarth, supposedly going to the derivation of a catastrophe in existential decline but immortal Vernarthian, being a rhythmic hemlock with his Aquenio, who carried him from his right chest, for any pretense of being triggered to the encounter of Persephone, without her or he knowing why Eleusinus festering with Lochnith and Aerse as a single concentric whole in quantum beings of the dodecahedron and octagonal by straight or transversal line, which slipped away in the hypotenuse where the serpents were implicitly conceived, leading to relapses when they went to Aerse and wound up in his Hypomorphic spelling and Magna Mater conclave Mistérica, under the organizational power of his ministerial redemptive slogan and bordering on the intricacies that arose in sub-genres of himself procreating exultation in Vernarth's analogues, which were prolonged in eschatological purges and disagreements of the cult objective that must twist from the gender womb, but in magnetism of positive polarization and in a plethora of tendency that would eternalize after the cessation of assets decreed by Theodosius.

Aerse eminently half-dead with Vernarth, was after the compromise of repolarizing what was semi-human splendid into semi-gods from a bi-gender, which coalesced in a retrograde regenerative cult, to achieve reflorals in all the springs of the world, where they could be seen with Persephone in a Finnis that distanced himself from the ultra-earthly towards a dowry of profusion and disproportionate wealth, but not categorized as a mystery, rather as an unknown of a super method when poking the lanterns where no luminescent reflection of Aerse could be found by Lochnith, after getting lost in the polychrome figures of the acrotera, lying in the watery nitrosities of their rift and steepness of the acro cliff.

Biotics will influence Systematic Eleusis, of supernaturalness for all hydrogenated active elements, as prebiotics of the unknown remnants of the great sepulcher of humanity, where the true hecatomb of July has to be raised and a hundred oxen arranged in the new beings of the transitional oasis. The meager will of the annals will multiply in millennia of obscurantism, leading Lochnith towards a late, but exciting management of harassing in the search for Aerse, in a clear exo-mystery, already in the jaws of a night shouted by the reefs of Demeter for those who know about Persephone...?, even though it is an inventive fallacy of the addicted spirit in the correlation of rite and lineage. Every night that he convalesces, he will look insomniac in the servile promise of divinity in a visage that is undressed in his winepress and the festival of Boedromion, towards the born corporal position of a hierophant who dies from this mold and in which he does not renew Boedromion himself.

The iconography of Aerse was reflected in majolica transfused in the Eleusinian streams when Aerse was seen walking from afar floating in the meadows of the knoll, where he set himself up as cryptography of the lost cycle of the cliff when he separated from Lochnith, being able to expose his treachery mythologically and truly transcending epic, relating to the treaty between Zeus, Hades, and Demeter, for the rescue of Persephone, and after being dented on the beginning of the arcane that arose from that amorphous symptomatology. Aerse carried the stripped-down serpents still on her body as if a divine wind had to seek her out so that they would come out by themselves and unguarded, through lost eyes and secret testimonies resting from anarchy from where there is and will not be an Archon or governor, who in rapt trouble improvise a second after the third parties that cause amazement to see you in a process that could not have it of cursed detection.

Aerse, beginning as a Canephore intruder, came to meet her Adonis Lochnith, after the excesses of the self-inferred hypotheses by following him at the command of the gnosis consciousness in her detailing the Kikeon that made her psychotropic ally pale, from the closure of mineral light that was devoured by the numinous portent of the Mashiach, in the presence of herself on dominical or relative to the numen manifesting in eternal powers, before the numinous presence in the hieratic, from a man who looked at her fatherly or in the crass profile of Damien Hessiano, plotting in colossal and fascinating stealth. Here she surrounds him but does not come close and falls out of love, as a dilemma and granting herself an initiation towards a portal of twelve lunar months in Eleusis, for cyclical years and births where they bounce back to meet in the childhood of pre-pubescent that made them known as Aerse and Lochnitt. Here in the greatest trance of life in both beginning, it surpassed all the twists of the gestated penumbra that separated them by shaking of pain and confusion, still being divergent remains of leftover and uncooked serpents of the escarpment of the acropolis, until a meeting of the astonishing divine fire, and libertarian in two martyrs' tenderness that is purely re-propelling them back towards a new end, and muddy shine in a found paradise where the sea unfolds by masculine conscience, and pious is ratified in each flash of a striate, and of rediscovered calculometry in pairs of loves divided by the pendulum of the one who will only unmask the one who drives him away in his dominant ******, and in the misguided space of hieratic seducing in molecules of celestial structures, and urban public and private lawsuits that have never been crude, nor in ablution of simile sacraments of pagan gods, nor everywhere or whatever their dismembered remains parading I know through the creeks of Cefiso.

found in yellow pine
highness or lowness in tones
steepness of a roof, pitch