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FIRST DAY

1.
Who wanted me
to go to Chicago
on January 6th?
I did!

The night before,
20 below zero
Fahrenheit
with the wind chill;
as the blizzard of 99
lay in mountains
of blackening snow.

I packed two coats,
two suits,
three sweaters,
multiple sets of long johns
and heavy white socks
for a two-day stay.

I left from Newark.
**** the denseness,
it confounds!

The 2nd City to whom?
2nd ain’t bad.
It’s pretty good.
If you consider
Peking and Prague,
Tokyo and Togo,
Manchester and Moscow,
Port Au Prince and Paris,
Athens and Amsterdam,
Buenos Aries and Johannesburg;
that’s pretty good.

What’s going on here today?
It’s friggin frozen.
To the bone!

But Chi Town is still cool.
Buddy Guy’s is open.
Bartenders mixing drinks,
cabbies jamming on their breaks,
honey dew waitresses serving sugar,
buildings swerving,
fire tongued preachers are preaching
and the farmers are measuring the moon.

The lake,
unlike Ontario
is in the midst of freezing.
Bones of ice
threaten to gel
into a solid mass
over the expanse
of the Michigan Lake.
If this keeps up,
you can walk
clear to Toronto
on a silver carpet.

Along the shore
the ice is permanent.
It’s the first big frost
of winter
after a long
Indian Summer.

Thank God
I caught a cab.
Outside I hear
The Hawk
nippin hard.
It’ll get your ear,
finger or toe.
Bite you on the nose too
if you ain’t careful.

Thank God,
I’m not walking
the Wabash tonight;
but if you do cover up,
wear layers.

Chicago,
could this be
Sandburg’s City?

I’m overwhelmed
and this is my tenth time here.

It’s almost better,
sometimes it is better,
a lot of times it is better
and denser then New York.

Ask any Bull’s fan.
I’m a Knickerbocker.
Yes Nueva York,
a city that has placed last
in the standings
for many years.
Except the last two.
Yanks are # 1!

But Chicago
is a dynasty,
as big as
Sammy Sosa’s heart,
rich and wide
as Michael Jordan’s grin.

Middle of a country,
center of a continent,
smack dab in the mean
of a hemisphere,
vortex to a world,
Chicago!

Kansas City,
Nashville,
St. Louis,
Detroit,
Cleveland,
Pittsburgh,
Denver,
New Orleans,
Dallas,
Cairo,
Singapore,
Auckland,
Baghdad,
Mexico City
and Montreal
salute her.



2.
Cities,
A collection of vanities?
Engineered complex utilitarianism?
The need for community a social necessity?
Ego one with the mass?
Civilization’s latest *******?
Chicago is more then that.

Jefferson’s yeoman farmer
is long gone
but this capitol
of the Great Plains
is still democratic.

The citizen’s of this city
would vote daily,
if they could.

Chicago,
Sandburg’s Chicago,
Could it be?

The namesake river
segments the city,
canals of commerce,
all perpendicular,
is rife throughout,
still guiding barges
to the Mississippi
and St. Laurence.

Now also
tourist attractions
for a cafe society.

Chicago is really jazzy,
swanky clubs,
big steaks,
juices and drinks.

You get the best
coffee from Seattle
and the finest teas
from China.

Great restaurants
serve liquid jazz
al la carte.

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they serve is Jazz
Rock me steady
Keep the beat
Keep it flowin
Feel the heat!

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they is, is Jazz
Fast cars will take ya
To the show
Round bout midnight
Where’d the time go?

Flows into the Mississippi,
the mother of America’s rivers,
an empires aorta.

Great Lakes wonder of water.
Niagara Falls
still her heart gushes forth.

Buffalo connected to this holy heart.
Finger Lakes and Adirondacks
are part of this watershed,
all the way down to the
Delaware and Chesapeake.

Sandburg’s Chicago?
Oh my my,
the wonder of him.
Who captured the imagination
of the wonders of rivers.

Down stream other holy cities
from the Mississippi delta
all mapped by him.

Its mouth our Dixie Trumpet
guarded by righteous Cajun brethren.

Midwest?
Midwest from where?
It’s north of Caracas and Los Angeles,
east of Fairbanks,
west of Dublin
and south of not much.

Him,
who spoke of honest men
and loving women.
Working men and mothers
bearing citizens to build a nation.
The New World’s
precocious adolescent
caught in a stream
of endless and exciting change,
much pain and sacrifice,
dedication and loss,
pride and tribulations.

From him we know
all the people’s faces.
All their stories are told.
Never defeating the
idea of Chicago.

Sandburg had the courage to say
what was in the heart of the people, who:

Defeated the Indians,
Mapped the terrain,
Aided slavers,
Fought a terrible civil war,
Hoisted the barges,
Grew the food,
Whacked the wheat,
Sang the songs,
Fought many wars of conquest,
Cleared the land,
Erected the bridges,
Trapped the game,
Netted the fish,
Mined the coal,
Forged the steel,
Laid the tracks,
Fired the tenders,
Cut the stone,
Mixed the mortar,
Plumbed the line,
And laid the bricks
Of this nation of cities!

Pardon the Marlboro Man shtick.
It’s a poor expostulation of
crass commercial symbolism.

Like I said, I’m a
Devil Fan from Jersey
and Madison Avenue
has done its work on me.

It’s a strange alchemy
that changes
a proud Nation of Blackhawks
into a merchandising bonanza
of hometown hockey shirts,
making the native seem alien,
and the interloper at home chillin out,
warming his feet atop a block of ice,
guzzling Old Style
with clicker in hand.

Give him his beer
and other diversions.
If he bowls with his buddy’s
on Tuesday night
I hope he bowls
a perfect game.

He’s earned it.
He works hard.
Hard work and faith
built this city.

And it’s not just the faith
that fills the cities
thousand churches,
temples and
mosques on the Sabbath.

3.
There is faith in everything in Chicago!

An alcoholic broker named Bill
lives the Twelve Steps
to banish fear and loathing
for one more day.
Bill believes in sobriety.

A tug captain named Moe
waits for the spring thaw
so he can get the barges up to Duluth.
Moe believes in the seasons.

A farmer named Tom
hopes he has reaped the last
of many bitter harvests.
Tom believes in a new start.

A homeless man named Earl
wills himself a cot and a hot
at the local shelter.
Earl believes in deliverance.

A Pullman porter
named George
works overtime
to get his first born
through medical school.
George believes in opportunity.

A folk singer named Woody
sings about his
countrymen inheritance
and implores them to take it.
Woody believes in people.

A Wobbly named Joe
organizes fellow steelworkers
to fight for a workers paradise
here on earth.
Joe believes in ideals.

A bookkeeper named Edith
is certain she’ll see the Cubs
win the World Series
in her lifetime.
Edith believes in miracles.

An electrician named ****
saves money
to bring his family over from Gdansk.
**** believes in America.

A banker named Leah
knows Ditka will return
and lead the Bears
to another Super Bowl.
Leah believes in nostalgia.

A cantor named Samuel
prays for another 20 years
so he can properly train
his Temple’s replacement.

Samuel believes in tradition.
A high school girl named Sally
refuses to get an abortion.
She knows she carries
something special within her.
Sally believes in life.

A city worker named Mazie
ceaselessly prays
for her incarcerated son
doing 10 years at Cook.
Mazie believes in redemption.

A jazzer named Bix
helps to invent a new art form
out of the mist.
Bix believes in creativity.

An architect named Frank
restores the Rookery.
Frank believes in space.

A soldier named Ike
fights wars for democracy.
Ike believes in peace.

A Rabbi named Jesse
sermonizes on Moses.
Jesse believes in liberation.

Somewhere in Chicago
a kid still believes in Shoeless Joe.
The kid believes in
the integrity of the game.

An Imam named Louis
is busy building a nation
within a nation.
Louis believes in
self-determination.

A teacher named Heidi
gives all she has to her students.
She has great expectations for them all.
Heidi believes in the future.

4.
Does Chicago have a future?

This city,
full of cowboys
and wildcatters
is predicated
on a future!

Bang, bang
Shoot em up
Stake the claim
It’s your terrain
Drill the hole
Strike it rich
Top it off
You’re the boss
Take a chance
Watch it wane
Try again
Heavenly gains

Chicago
city of futures
is a Holy Mecca
to all day traders.

Their skin is gray,
hair disheveled,
loud ties and
funny coats,
thumb through
slips of paper
held by nail
chewed hands.
Selling promises
with no derivative value
for out of the money calls
and in the money puts.
Strike is not a labor action
in this city of unionists,
but a speculators mark,
a capitalist wish,
a hedgers bet,
a public debt
and a farmers
fair return.

Indexes for everything.
Quantitative models
that could burst a kazoo.

You know the measure
of everything in Chicago.
But is it truly objective?
Have mathematics banished
subjective intentions,
routing it in fair practice
of market efficiencies,
a kind of scientific absolution?

I heard that there
is a dispute brewing
over the amount of snowfall
that fell on the 1st.

The mayor’s office,
using the official city ruler
measured 22”
of snow on the ground.

The National Weather Service
says it cannot detect more
then 17” of snow.

The mayor thinks
he’ll catch less heat
for the trains that don’t run
the buses that don’t arrive
and the schools that stand empty
with the addition of 5”.

The analysts say
it’s all about capturing liquidity.

Liquidity,
can you place a great lake
into an eyedropper?

Its 20 below
and all liquid things
are solid masses
or a gooey viscosity at best.

Water is frozen everywhere.
But Chi town is still liquid,
flowing faster
then the digital blips
flashing on the walls
of the CBOT.

Dreams
are never frozen in Chicago.
The exchanges trade
without missing a beat.

Trading wet dreams,
the crystallized vapor
of an IPO
pledging a billion points
of Internet access
or raiding the public treasuries
of a central bank’s
huge stores of gold
with currency swaps.

Using the tools
of butterfly spreads
and candlesticks
to achieve the goal.

Short the Russell
or buy the Dow,
go long the
CAC and DAX.
Are you trading in euro’s?
You better be
or soon will.
I know
you’re Chicago,
you’ll trade anything.
WEBS,
Spiders,
and Leaps
are traded here,
along with sweet crude,
North Sea Brent,
plywood and T-Bill futures;
and most importantly
the commodities,
the loam
that formed this city
of broad shoulders.

What about our wheat?
Still whacking and
breadbasket to the world.

Oil,
an important fossil fuel
denominated in
good ole greenbacks.

Porkbellies,
not just hogwash
on the Wabash,
but bacon, eggs
and flapjacks
are on the menu
of every diner in Jersey
as the “All American.”

Cotton,
our contribution
to the Golden Triangle,
once the global currency
used to enrich a
gentlemen class
of cultured
southern slavers,
now Tommy Hilfiger’s
preferred fabric.

I think he sends it
to Bangkok where
child slaves
spin it into
gold lame'.

Sorghum,
I think its hardy.

Soybeans,
the new age substitute
for hamburger
goes great with tofu lasagna.

Corn,
ADM creates ethanol,
they want us to drive cleaner cars.

Cattle,
once driven into this city’s
bloodhouses for slaughter,
now ground into
a billion Big Macs
every year.

When does a seed
become a commodity?
When does a commodity
become a future?
When does a future expire?

You can find the answers
to these questions in Chicago
and find a fortune in a hole in the floor.

Look down into the pits.
Hear the screams of anguish
and profitable delights.

Frenzied men
swarming like a mass
of epileptic ants
atop the worlds largest sugar cube
auger the worlds free markets.

The scene is
more chaotic then
100 Haymarket Square Riots
multiplied by 100
1968 Democratic Conventions.

Amidst inverted anthills,
they scurry forth and to
in distinguished
black and red coats.

Fighting each other
as counterparties
to a life and death transaction.

This is an efficient market
that crosses the globe.

Oil from the Sultan of Brunei,
Yen from the land of Hitachi,
Long Bonds from the Fed,
nickel from Quebec,
platinum and palladium
from Siberia,
FTSE’s from London
and crewel cane from Havana
circle these pits.

Tijuana,
Shanghai
and Istanbul's
best traders
are only half as good
as the average trader in Chicago.

Chicago,
this hog butcher to the world,
specializes in packaging and distribution.

Men in blood soaked smocks,
still count the heads
entering the gates of the city.

Their handiwork
is sent out on barges
and rail lines as frozen packages
of futures
waiting for delivery
to an anonymous counterparty
half a world away.

This nation’s hub
has grown into the
premier purveyor
to the world;
along all the rivers,
highways,
railways
and estuaries
it’s tentacles reach.

5.
Sandburg’s Chicago,
is a city of the world’s people.

Many striver rows compose
its many neighborhoods.

Nordic stoicism,
Eastern European orthodoxy
and Afro-American
calypso vibrations
are three of many cords
strumming the strings
of Chicago.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
if you wrote forever
you would only scratch its surface.

People wait for trains
to enter the city from O’Hare.
Frozen tears
lock their eyes
onto distant skyscrapers,
solid chunks
of snot blocks their nose
and green icicles of slime
crust mustaches.
They fight to breathe.

Sandburg’s Chicago
is The Land of Lincoln,
Savior of the Union,
protector of the Republic.
Sent armies
of sons and daughters,
barges, boxcars,
gunboats, foodstuffs,
cannon and shot
to raze the south
and stamp out succession.

Old Abe’s biography
are still unknown volumes to me.
I must see and read the great words.
You can never learn enough;
but I’ve been to Washington
and seen the man’s memorial.
The Free World’s 8th wonder,
guarded by General Grant,
who still keeps an eye on Richmond
and a hand on his sword.

Through this American winter
Abe ponders.
The vista he surveys is dire and tragic.

Our sitting President
impeached
for lying about a *******.

Party partisans
in the senate are sworn and seated.
Our Chief Justice,
adorned with golden bars
will adjudicate the proceedings.
It is the perfect counterpoint
to an ageless Abe thinking
with malice toward none
and charity towards all,
will heal the wounds
of the nation.

Abe our granite angel,
Chicago goes on,
The Union is strong!


SECOND DAY

1.
Out my window
the sun has risen.

According to
the local forecast
its minus 9
going up to
6 today.

The lake,
a golden pillow of clouds
is frozen in time.

I marvel
at the ancients ones
resourcefulness
and how
they mastered
these extreme elements.

Past, present and future
has no meaning
in the Citadel
of the Prairie today.

I set my watch
to Central Standard Time.

Stepping into
the hotel lobby
the concierge
with oil smooth hair,
perfect tie
and English lilt
impeccably asks,
“Do you know where you are going Sir?
Can I give you a map?”

He hands me one of Chicago.
I see he recently had his nails done.
He paints a green line
along Whacker Drive and says,
“turn on Jackson, LaSalle, Wabash or Madison
and you’ll get to where you want to go.”
A walk of 14 or 15 blocks from Streeterville-
(I start at The Chicago White House.
They call it that because Hillary Rodham
stays here when she’s in town.
Its’ also alleged that Stedman
eats his breakfast here
but Opra
has never been seen
on the premises.
I wonder how I gained entry
into this place of elite’s?)
-down into the center of The Loop.

Stepping out of the hotel,
The Doorman
sporting the epaulets of a colonel
on his corporate winter coat
and furry Cossack hat
swaddling his round black face
accosts me.

The skin of his face
is flaking from
the subzero windburn.

He asks me
with a gapped toothy grin,
“Can I get you a cab?”
“No I think I’ll walk,” I answer.
“Good woolen hat,
thick gloves you should be alright.”
He winks and lets me pass.

I step outside.
The Windy City
flings stabbing cold spears
flying on wings of 30-mph gusts.
My outside hardens.
I can feel the freeze
deepen
into my internalness.
I can’t be sure
but inside
my heart still feels warm.
For how long
I cannot say.

I commence
my walk
among the spires
of this great city,
the vertical leaps
that anchor the great lake,
holding its place
against the historic
frigid assault.

The buildings’ sway,
modulating to the blows
of natures wicked blasts.

It’s a hard imposition
on a city and its people.

The gloves,
skullcap,
long underwear,
sweater,
jacket
and overcoat
not enough
to keep the cold
from penetrating
the person.

Like discerning
the layers of this city,
even many layers,
still not enough
to understand
the depth of meaning
of the heart
of this heartland city.

Sandburg knew the city well.
Set amidst groves of suburbs
that extend outward in every direction.
Concentric circles
surround the city.
After the burbs come farms,
Great Plains, and mountains.
Appalachians and Rockies
are but mere molehills
in the city’s back yard.
It’s terra firma
stops only at the sea.
Pt. Barrow to the Horn,
many capes extended.

On the periphery
its appendages,
its extremities,
its outward extremes.
All connected by the idea,
blown by the incessant wind
of this great nation.
The Windy City’s message
is sent to the world’s four corners.
It is a message of power.
English the worlds
common language
is spoken here,
along with Ebonics,
Espanol,
Mandarin,
Czech,
Russian,
Korean,
Arabic,
Hindi­,
German,
French,
electronics,
steel,
cars,
cartoons,
rap,
sports­,
movies,
capital,
wheat
and more.

Always more.
Much much more
in Chicago.

2.
Sandburg
spoke all the dialects.

He heard them all,
he understood
with great precision
to the finest tolerances
of a lathe workers micrometer.

Sandburg understood
what it meant to laugh
and be happy.

He understood
the working mans day,
the learned treatises
of university chairs,
the endless tomes
of the city’s
great libraries,
the lost languages
of the ancient ones,
the secret codes
of abstract art,
the impact of architecture,
the street dialects and idioms
of everymans expression of life.

All fighting for life,
trying to build a life,
a new life
in this modern world.

Walking across
the Michigan Avenue Bridge
I see the Wrigley Building
is neatly carved,
catty cornered on the plaza.

I wonder if Old Man Wrigley
watched his barges
loaded with spearmint
and double-mint
move out onto the lake
from one of those Gothic windows
perched high above the street.

Would he open a window
and shout to the men below
to quit slaking and work harder
or would he
between the snapping sound
he made with his mouth
full of his chewing gum
offer them tickets
to a ballgame at Wrigley Field
that afternoon?

Would the men below
be able to understand
the man communing
from such a great height?

I listen to a man
and woman conversing.
They are one step behind me
as we meander along Wacker Drive.

"You are in Chicago now.”
The man states with profundity.
“If I let you go
you will soon find your level
in this city.
Do you know what I mean?”

No I don’t.
I think to myself.
What level are you I wonder?
Are you perched atop
the transmission spire
of the Hancock Tower?

I wouldn’t think so
or your ears would melt
from the windburn.

I’m thinking.
Is she a kept woman?
She is majestically clothed
in fur hat and coat.
In animal pelts
not trapped like her,
but slaughtered
from farms
I’m sure.

What level
is he speaking of?

Many levels
are evident in this city;
many layers of cobbled stone,
Pennsylvania iron,
Hoosier Granite
and vertical drops.

I wonder
if I detect
condensation
in his voice?

What is
his intention?
Is it a warning
of a broken affair?
A pending pink slip?
Advise to an addict
refusing to adhere
to a recovery regimen?

What is his level anyway?
Is he so high and mighty,
Higher and mightier
then this great city
which we are all a part of,
which we all helped to build,
which we all need
in order to keep this nation
the thriving democratic
empire it is?

This seditious talk!

3.
The Loop’s El
still courses through
the main thoroughfares of the city.

People are transported
above the din of the street,
looking down
on the common pedestrians
like me.

Super CEO’s
populating the upper floors
of Romanesque,
Greek Revivalist,
New Bauhaus,
Art Deco
and Post Nouveau
Neo-Modern
Avant-Garde towers
are too far up
to see me
shivering on the street.

The cars, busses,
trains and trucks
are all covered
with the film
of rock salt.

Salt covers
my bootless feet
and smudges
my cloths as well.

The salt,
the primal element
of the earth
covers everything
in Chicago.

It is the true level
of this city.

The layer
beneath
all layers,
on which
everything
rests,
is built,
grows,
thrives
then dies.
To be
returned again
to the lower
layers
where it can
take root
again
and grow
out onto
the great plains.

Splashing
the nation,
anointing
its people
with its
blessing.

A blessing,
Chicago?

All rivers
come here.

All things
found its way here
through the canals
and back bays
of the world’s
greatest lakes.

All roads,
rails and
air routes
begin and
end here.

Mrs. O’Leary’s cow
got a *** rap.
It did not start the fire,
we did.

We lit the torch
that flamed
the city to cinders.
From a pile of ash
Chicago rose again.

Forever Chicago!
Forever the lamp
that burns bright
on a Great Lake’s
western shore!

Chicago
the beacon
sends the
message to the world
with its windy blasts,
on chugging barges,
clapping trains,
flying tandems,
T1 circuits
and roaring jets.

Sandburg knew
a Chicago
I will never know.

He knew
the rhythm of life
the people walked to.
The tools they used,
the dreams they dreamed
the songs they sang,
the things they built,
the things they loved,
the pains that hurt,
the motives that grew,
the actions that destroyed
the prayers they prayed,
the food they ate
their moments of death.

Sandburg knew
the layers of the city
to the depths
and windy heights
I cannot fathom.

The Blues
came to this city,
on the wing
of a chirping bird,
on the taps
of a rickety train,
on the blast
of an angry sax
rushing on the wind,
on the Westend blitz
of Pop's brash coronet,
on the tink of
a twinkling piano
on a paddle-wheel boat
and on the strings
of a lonely man’s guitar.

Walk into the clubs,
tenements,
row houses,
speakeasies
and you’ll hear the Blues
whispered like
a quiet prayer.

Tidewater Blues
from Virginia,
Delta Blues
from the lower
Mississippi,
Boogie Woogie
from Appalachia,
Texas Blues
from some Lone Star,
Big Band Blues
from Kansas City,
Blues from
Beal Street,
Jelly Roll’s Blues
from the Latin Quarter.

Hell even Chicago
got its own brand
of Blues.

Its all here.
It ended up here
and was sent away
on the winds of westerly blows
to the ear of an eager world
on strong jet streams
of simple melodies
and hard truths.

A broad
shouldered woman,
a single mother stands
on the street
with three crying babes.
Their cloths
are covered
in salt.
She pleads
for a break,
praying
for a new start.
Poor and
under-clothed
against the torrent
of frigid weather
she begs for help.
Her blond hair
and ****** features
suggests her
Scandinavian heritage.
I wonder if
she is related to Sandburg
as I walk past
her on the street.
Her feet
are bleeding
through her
canvass sneakers.
Her babes mouths
are zipped shut
with frozen drivel
and mucous.

The Blues live
on in Chicago.

The Blues
will forever live in her.
As I turn the corner
to walk the Miracle Mile
I see her engulfed
in a funnel cloud of salt,
snow and bits
of white paper,
swirling around her
and her children
in an angry
unforgiving
maelstrom.

The family
begins to
dissolve
like a snail
sprinkled with salt;
and a mother
and her children
just disappear
into the pavement
at the corner
of Dearborn,
in Chicago.

Music:

Robert Johnson
Sweet Home Chicago


jbm
Chicago
1/7/99
Added today to commemorate the birthday of Carl Sandburg
Kaycee33 Dec 2012
I still have flashbacks, horrifying and spectral: of conference meetings, projectors and efficiency meetings...corporate metrics, acronymic value cards that read like a Masonic Temple's pledge.. ...honesty, commitment, sacrifice, the dutiful worship of mercury and saltpeter; also customer satisfaction.
           Those flashbacks frequent my mind alot--especially when I am ramming my co-workers into the trash compactor with the blades of the fork truck. They say " ooooh" and " ahhhhh" as if they are getting a massage. They dull my blades with their dull heads.
          I have to ram them with the blades of the fork-trucks, or they will scramble out. They still say things like, " make sure that has a tag,".....and " wear your safety goggles," making chills run down my spine. I haven't put all the workers from the " Do-Wee depot" in the compactor only corporate cadavers and not zombies.
          But I have to forewarn, the zombies are not a threat, it is a few cadavers and the "consumers" that pose a threat to me and what I have built. The zombies are producers, even only if it is moans and putrefaction, but they are good sports, and my only friends.
         Some co-workers, who I was friends with before, I have spared from the compactor--owing mostly to that the part of their brain that was corporate, either fell out on the floor, or was gnawed on by a fellow zombie rendering them good sports and not cadavers.
        I use the building material section to chain them to their previous aisles. Jose, was my best friend, he was shaped like a slug, with a huge lower lip, and slicked back greasy hair, he always cheered me up, how busy it was and how slow he remained. Him and I worked together in the ' outside-lawn-and-garden' section. Even his zombie self has kept his lisp.
          I chain him to the outside lawn and garden section, where he likes to water the flowers. He lunges at me sometimes, but the chain is thick, and Jose is still a cool zombie.
Angry Joe is out there too. He is chained to the 'reach' truck. He is always mumbling about overtime.....or " Im not staying late."
         I have disabled the riding engine, so he just stands on it and runs the fork blades all the way up then all the way down, beeping the horn the whole while. He is the only one I kept, that has some vestige of corporacy in his brain, for the reason that he watches the back gate. The consumers are constantly probing this outside metal fence gate, and Joe has eaten all of them. Don't get me wrong, Joe can be a good sport, when he is not drooling about 'overtime' or ' I havn't took a lunch yet.' He can be quite funny.
          He banters with Ryan from inside 'lawn-and-garden' all the time. Ryan is alot younger, alittle younger than me. He has a mullet(what I call a mullet and he say's a hockey cut) and verily is--before he become a zombie-- the laziest person ever, and now that he is a zombie, well let's just say, I don't have to chain him anywhere, I know where to find him.....at the back gate smoking a ciqerette backwards with his mullet on fire or in the break room. He had the most squeeky voice when he was a human, but now odd fully enough, he sounds like Tom Jones.
         " You ate my cosumer Ryan," drools Angry Joe, " No I didn't Joe, you ate your own consumer," Ryan rejoins in his acapella voice ( I like hearing Ryan's deep zombie voice).
There are others, in the various departments of the Do-Wee Store, but this journal is to relate the first most pressing concern, two cadavers have escaped the compactor.
             The store manager Joyce and her minion(the assistant manager Damien) have escaped. They were ******* humans, and remained so in corporate cadaver form. They hide from me, as I plow through the aisles with the inside forklift. I have used wire from the fencing aisle to reinforce my forklifts. Sometimes a cadaver co-worker will jump out with a price gun, drooling " where is your spootterrrr...."( a safety regulation in the store).....I run them over with great gladness, but then wishing I heeded their advice of safety glasses."Splat."
            I have my theories, on how everyone turned to zombies. It started with over-ocurring routine, which my a.d.d could have been impervious to. But I couldn't have been the only one in the store with a.d.d? But that seems the case. The first day when I showed up to ' outside-lawn-and-garden' it took me six hours before I noticed everyone was zombies. I didn't notice they were zombies until I noticed them in good spirits.
               But the first day of the zombies, was concurrent with the rise of the consumers--ever more dangerous, greedy, and audacious are the consumers. They consume everything in their path, they consume good conversation, good manners, and replace with their mark, which is this....your life with the current moment is to be sacrificed to get them what they need to continue resuming their lives. They do not enjoy shopping, but enjoy holding you in place, consuming you and your values into their value, which has no value at all, since their mind has consigned the present moment that has you and not them, to a number that always has too much value, and they will bring you and it down while you are subject to time and they are not.  
             They turned my friends into prisoners of arbitrary time; and like putting a rabbit in a dank dark basement, with plenty of food and treats and space, it will slowly get diarrhea and die.  Everyday I marked the sunrise, and I would always pay thanks to it, no matter if I was on break or not.  The nine hour day could not ruin me, but my friends being ruined, that started to ruin me.
                       And that is what I believed started all this, nature has no room for two kingdoms of Consumers. So the producers(zombies) were created from the routine of being divested of life, and from nothing they came to produce: producing gases, vile ****** smiles, human  cannibalism, hearty conversation, practical jokes, moaning questions to the infinite sky.... they were created human again, given value, and most of all, I have my friends back, and they are happy again. But, the corporate cadavers that escaped the compactor , put my creation in risk, they look to let in the consumers again, they are up to something...
             But presently with the corporate cadavers gone, and the consumers held at bay, I have my Depot of Eden, I can grow anything, make anything, and soon will be able to ferment everything, especially fuel.   Now monday morning conferences that threaten you to pick it up because there are alot of people out there that want your job( iterated by the frizzy headed gangly Joyce) are replaced with 'zombie dance parties'.  
            " Zombies, what is the first rule of zombie dance party," they reply to me, " dohmp talk bout damp party," then we make a music video.  I let loose a couple of cat's in the break room, and presto, an agile cat make's flesh eating zombies look like Micheal Jackson.  Even I get busy with them, I feel so comfortable with them; dancing to Juvenile "back that *** up,".the best dancer gets to eat the cat...sure beat's listening Joyce's depressing morning pep talks about quotas while I am watching a bird outside the front glass trying to eat a dragonfly, " Keith you paying attention."  I just want to say, " No I am not you frizzy headed gangly walking skeleton key(she is skinnier than the gang of keys jingling on her belt)."    I will find her and put a roofing nail in her temple and her plans.
                The sound of zombies walking in here is music to my ears, like gypsys walking barefoot on a strawberry patch.  I don't know what that has to do with anything, but I like it, and don't care who knows.

            I fortified the outside of the store with everything within the store. I grew a garden, with all the fertilizers, and acids and alkilines of outside garden. I also use the garden chemicals to sprinkle on the brains of my co-worker zombies to change their acidity(almost like a hyrdrangea shrub). The purpose to get them somewhat coherent to play poker and darts in the breakroom. I figured out how to make explosives, with the nitrogen fertilizer and pool cleaning acid, well actually HeyZues did, he always eats both, and one day he moaned really loud  " BLOOOONDEEE " ( his nickname for me from The Good The Bad And The Ugly) and  gestured his expanding stomach, he blew up and gave me my first wound, he destroyed my dart board.   I took his head and posted it on the back loading dock, I know there are consumers trying to infiltrate when he sounds off with " BLOOONDEEEE..."  resounding through the whole store (almost like when he was a human).   I created another dartboard, I can create anything here, sometimes I think, that feeling is what........
                But the point of this journal is the two who escaped the trash compactor, Joyce and Damien. They haunted me before and haunt me still. When I leave to venture outside for gasoline for the generators(the only thing I need, not for long hopefully) they run amok. I will see new ' sale signs' in zombie penmanship, and I can see that they have hidden co-workers to have cadaver meetings, where they talk about ' customer satisfaction.'  I can sometimes hear keys jangle, it has to be Joyce, for the sound is to the cadence of her John Wayne walk, like she has been on horseback her whole life.
            Outside is very dangerous. There are many consumers out there.
                 I was outisde in the parking lot, where consumers still wallow around when a consumer asked "which product is better." I had to drop a cinder block pallet on him with the forklift; they are more adacious then my zombie co-workers. Even after a pallet of concrete is forklifted on them, they wave fliers with sale advertisments from underneath.
            Well, this particular trip, I returned inside and was startled by the loudspeaker, it was Damien's voice, the same as before, paging the hardware department. I jumped on the fast slim forklift to hunt for him. There are phone terminals everywhere, and he could be in the upper level offices. I saw Joyce's shape through the window once.
          They are up to something.
Everytime I ventured outside, the store became altered. I even saw a consumer waiting in line with the cashier machine now on. I sent the consumer to Angry Joe, who was due for a lunch break.
          There is a gap in my wire somewhere, I know it.
            I was at the gas station, getting propane and gas, when a consumer was scowling " where is the gas attendant, is everyone stupid or what?" while he was trying to figure out how to pump gas. I disabled the safety pumps, they do not shut off, and do not coincide with numbers, you hold the handle it pumps out as much as you need.
              He was pacing around like a little kid denied recess and suffering from sounds of frolic and kickball--dragging his feet due to the fact he had to pump his own gas, I heard a scraping metallic clicking noise. My eyes were caught by a bright glare on his shoe tread, I gripped my nail gun..... then he dropped the hose and walked back to his car with gasoline gushing as his wake. I saw what it was on his tread, I had no time to flee....it was a push button grill ignitor with the orange tint of a " Do-Wee" label on it......" ****."
              The last thing I registered was the consumer saying " ahhh don't touch me," apparently talking to flames. I woke up in a ditch, the big fork truck and my gas station destroyed.
I limped back to the " Do-Wee" store, and utter horror greeted my singed and surprised eyebrows.
              " Grand Re-Opening, 50% off everything." I squeezed the trigger of the nail gun, the nail harmlessly echoed off the parking pavement at which it was aimed. "They set me up at the gas station. "
               They had to do better than that to separate me from my zombies.

             I entered through the store in a nun-plussed state. I woke out of my unbelieving stupor with the sound of Jose's voice. " Welcome to Doooooo-Weeee....can I eat your...."
            "Jose it's me, who chained you to the entrance?"
         " Dammian, Keeeeeth, they are waiiiting....here's a newsletter...." --he smacked me across the face with the newsletter.
        " I don't want that ****.....' as I clutched the newspaper the loudspeaker went off in Dammians annoyingly over-polite and late-night-voice.
       " Attention shoooppers. all prices are feeeefty percent off, ask our associate Keeeeeth for a 80% discount, he is the skinny deleeecious looking kid with spicy skin, and a boston red sox hat on."
Hundreds of consumers pivoted their heads to my direction. " Hey, that kid has a Boston Yankees hat on."
         " Run Keeeth," zombie-lisped Jose.
           Fifty million imbecilic questions assailed me at once......" can I return this sprinkler for a jacuzzi.....can I get 120% off.....can you come to my house and fix my television for free"-- it was unabashed audacity, survial of the most annoying and repetitious; and the corporate cadavers have let this consuming flood in on me and my poor zombies.
           I needed to find my steed, my inside forklift. It was not where I left it near the entrance.            
        Surely they have sabotaged it. " the riding mowers," the thought uplifted my fading resolve. I darted past wallowing consumers before they could get my scent. I heard a consumer, " you obviously don't know what Im talking about," talking to zombie George, who was munching roofing nails.
         The consumer grabbed me, and said "here he is, this is Keith, he is wearing a Phoenix red sox cap"--panic bit into my brain, this consumers grip was implaccable. The grip that holds the steering wheel tightly driving nowhere fast, with anything in that interstice of commuting, not worthy of manners and the least of which being a friendly wave to 'go ahead.'
           They formed a wall of uttering stupidity, escape was cut off. They scratched at me, hissed, tore at my flesh and screamed demonistically in my ears. I caved and and called the hoard m'am and sir, they choked me, and loosened their grip only so I could tell them " Im sorry, sorry for your inconvenience, take my life and personality as tribute, take my imagination rendered prostrate by these sceptic corporate words that this mouth emits, betraying my personal form, the human element to this lifeless purposeless machine....destroy me, for finding the infinity between letters of corporate law and none between nature's laws......"
        I was almost unconscious, giving a speech to imagined hooded phantoms......" destroy me, for valuing friendship and imagination, and seeing infinity, in the shadow of a letter, eternity in the numeral of a number, and for defying the order to see things as others do....."...." destroy me, for seeing that people are unhappy and trying to uplift people for the sake of seeing them smile....destroy me, destroy my smirk, and add a lifeless smile to my corpse."
              I heard a horn, the riding floor mopper/buffer, it was Ryan, he commandeered the machine with precision-like drunkenness. He knocked down the consumers like twenty pin bowling. " What's up ***** cat," he possibly said, and I climbed to my feet.
         I walked to the riding mowers, and turned the key on the floor model. I sped the main aisle, with caresses of consumers that would be deep clawings at a slower speed. I dodged stupid question, and swerved from unabashed frugality. I turned up the tool aisle, grabbed a battery nail gun.
              " It says batteries are included, but are they included?" I answered with a 12 gauge nail, and resumed my course to the upper offices, that for too long looked down on me and my friends. I climbed the stairs and entered. The office was abuzz in corporate banalities. " Hello, this is Damian how may I help you.....oh helloooooo keeeeeth, one minute.......sir hold one second thaaaanx."
                I aimed the nail gun muzzle at his ugly overly polite mug." I finally found you, I will get the store back in shape Damian...."
          He cut me off, " no yoou woonn't, they are pouring in, we will meet our quota for the year...."
        " Me and my friends
Do you mind if I sit back and observe the process of the lords creation the subject matter is miraculous the beauty is elegant perfect in every scence my baby girl you stole my heart such a thief ain't you, thinking about seductive things we do sinners ain't we, naughty deeds but the intentions is good it serves needs

What pains me is that I have to let go to regrip your sparkling eyes again, got to move fast so quick that I don't miss the chance to clutch you in my arms again, heaven sent such a gift I cried when you was born I ain't even know you back then because, GOD made you for me I picked up your scent, I know from day one you was mine let us age old together bad and boujee like expensive fine wine, my kiss is possessive the beat of your heart is mine let that foreplay tingle down your spine, open wide going deep let me reach your soul ****** our achievement together it ain't *** it's love

I love you girl no *** postion that can top this deposition let me show you its deeper than ***, I'm still into you watch me shift working overtime full time love baby moan out affection go on say the name, our body hum harmony can feel this body heat that steamy love, open wide in deep that creamy love that dreamy love, its deeper than ***, the agony an orgams of how our love make our body shiver, I love you, I love you! I rejoice I could say this a thousand times it's deeper than ***
Help me get this to trending. Wrote this about a special girl
Kurt Philip Behm May 2024
The coach signaled timeout and called the team to the sidelines.  There were eight minutes left in the biggest game of their lives, and they would be playing for three minutes with a severe disadvantage.  They had committed a succession of penalties within a span of less than 60 seconds, and they would now be playing without three men on the field.  In lacrosse this is referred to as ‘Man Down.’  

Usually it’s only ‘One Man Down,’ or at the most, ‘Two Men Down,’ but few watching that day had ever seen a team go ‘Three Men Down.’  This meant that their star goalie T.J. Braxton was only going to have three defenders in front of him instead of the usual six.

T.J. had been playing great, but he now had to play for two minutes with three men missing in front of him and then the third minute still missing one. It was going to seem like an eternity.  The coach looked over at T.J. and he was standing off to the side by himself not wanting to either look or talk to anyone during the intermission.  The coach understood this behavior because he had been a goalie himself and decided to leave T.J. alone — totally immersed within his own thoughts.

As they did the cheer to break the huddle, it was for their goalie …”1, 2, 3, Go T.J.”  What would happen now brought more pressure than any goalie should ever have to withstand.  Even going just ‘One Man Down’ would in many cases result in a goal for the other team.  Going ‘Two Men Down’ almost ensures the other team a goal, and anything beyond that just puts your goalie at the mercy of the shooters on the other team.

    And Tonight There Would Be No Mercy To Be Found

T.J. already had 18 saves up to this point with only half a quarter left to play in regulation. Saves are when a goalie either blocks or deflects an offensive shot from the other team. He had only let in three goals all game, and the score was tied at 3-3.  

Pennhurst was a powerful public school with large and fast athletes.  They had not been playing lacrosse as long as T.J.’s private (all-boys) school, Haverland Academy, but their natural athletic ability and inner toughness were making up for any experience lost.  

T.J. would have to defend his goal missing three men in front of him for two minutes and then missing one man for the next sixty seconds.  It was his team’s possession coming out of the timeout, and it was all they could do being so shorthanded to even get the ball across the mid-field line.  The coach’s tactic was not to shoot the ball now but to stall and to try and take as much time off the clock as they could until they could get more players back on the field.  T.J. stood rock solid in the center of the ‘crease’ in front of his goal and looked squarely at the goalie at the other end of the field. The ‘crease’ was the large circle surrounding the goal that no offensive player from the other team could enter. He seemed to not be following the ball and his coach wondered what was going on inside his head.

Playing goalie is 80% mental, and he was hoping his star goalie wasn’t going to have a melt down when his team needed him the most.  T.J. would normally be very active inside his own goal shouting instructions to the defensemen in front of him and trying to best position them for the oncoming attack.    

               Something ‘Seemed’ Different Tonight

T.J. had entered a new zone, one that he had never been in before, and one that only he could understand.  As Haverland’s lead attackman charged the opposing goal, the ball fell out of his stick. It was immediately picked up by the opposing goalie and ‘cleared’ to a midfielder standing outside and to his left.  The midfielder made one more pass to an attackman, and the ball was coming T.J.’s way with only three defenders in front of him to help stop the charge. The ball was again passed to one of their senior captains and their strongest midfielder.  

He juked left as he faked a pass and then as he cradled the ball wildly, he headed straight toward T.J. in the goal.  When he got within fifteen feet of the goal he stopped, set his feet, and with a violent and twisting motion fired an overhand shot across his right shoulder at the ground two feet in front of where T.J. now stood.

T.J. was now eighteen and a half and had been playing goalie since he was seven years old.  He had seen and defended almost every kind of shot and from every angle in those eleven years. He had just never had to do it before with almost no defense in front of him.  As the shot left the midfielders stick, T.J. reacted.  He took two steps forward and was able to scoop the ball out of the air at ankle height before it was able to bounce off the ground. Bounce shots were more difficult to save, and his accumulated instinct and experience allowed him to get this one and at least for now keep the score tied at 3-3.

T.J. ran behind his own goal toward the end line. With the ball in his stick he was trying to take time off the clock.  Only one opposing player chased him, and he was able to do a 180-degree spin, avoid that player, and run back out in front of his goal.  He then cleared the ball, the entire length of the field, to a midfielder standing in the far left corner.  T.J.’s team had the ball within thirty feet of the opposing goal with only two minutes left to run in penalty time.

T.J.’s offense decided it was time to step up and play big.  They managed to take a full minute off the clock with uncanny passing until the referee finally called stalling and gave the ball back to the other side.

As the ball came back in T.J’s direction, two of his penalized players retook the field.  They were now playing with only a ‘one man down’ disadvantage and for only sixty more seconds.

The opposing team set up in a perimeter in front of his goal passing the ball from man to man and then behind T.J.’s goal in an attempt to unbalance a still weakened defense.  As the ball went behind the net, T.J. rotated inside the crease never taking his eye off the ball.  He thought they were setting him up for something sneaky because his fundamental blocking skills on normal shots were so strong. More than anything he didn’t want to give up a cheap goal, and he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out that his suspicions had been correct.

As they passed the ball back and forth behind his goal, an attackman turned and tried to lob the ball over the back of the goal, and T.J.’s stick, to an opposing midfielder who was charging the front of the goal from about twenty-five-feet away.  They were hoping to catch T.J. mesmerized in what was going on behind the net and then reverse field and go in the one direction no one ever expected — over the back of the goal.  

It didn’t work!  As the ball left the midfielders stick, T.J. jumped high in the air and intercepted the pass in the shooting strings of his goalie stick.  He then spun around and ran directly to the out of bounds line to his right. It was beyond the defensive box, and he stood there waiting for someone to challenge him.  He was again trying to take precious seconds off the clock to get his team back to full strength. Although a goalie, T.J. was the fastest player on his team and that speed was like money in the bank to a team that was struggling and in trouble with time running out.

He managed to get the penalty down to twenty two seconds before he finally dished the ball off to another long stick defender and then quickly moved back in front of his goal.  That defensemen got across midfield just before another penalty would have occurred for not advancing the ball.  With only seventeen seconds left on the penalty, the offense passed the ball to the four corners looking for a man who was ‘hot’ (open) who could take the shot and finally break the tie.  With only three seconds left in the penalty their best attackman, John Erasmus, took the ball in his stick and with his left hand fired a side angle shot at the right side of the goal.  It was a great shot, but their goalie made a heroic save. He was also a senior and had transferred into Pennhurst two years ago from a Lacrosse powerhouse school in northern Maryland.

With both teams now at full strength, the ball went back and forth for the final five minutes with very few shots taken at either end.  The ones that were taken were weak and from great distance, and both goalies easily picked them up and started the ball going the other way.  Each shot was critical now because the game was tied with time running out.  Possession was more important than losing the ball to the other team by taking a poor shot.  As the lights shone brightly high above the scoreboard, time ran out in regulation.  The game would now go to sudden death overtime, and it would become about the strength of the face-off men and how hot each goalie was going to be.

    It Was Now About The Face-Off Man And The Goalies

In sudden death, the first team to score wins!  No second chances here it’s do or die time, and everything is amped up to an entirely new level.  Many times, the winner of the face off at midfield wins the game because everything is geared towards that one shot, and the pressure on the opposing goalie is tremendous.  Unless the goalie can isolate himself in a ‘zone of invincibility,’ the chances of blocking a shot in overtime due to a lost face off are not very good.  Just like in the NFL, where the coin toss often determines the winner in overtime, the face-off is like that coin toss only with skill and not luck determining the winner.  T.J. thought back to all the coaches and mentors that had brought him to where he was standing tonight.  They were all somewhere up in the stands, and they were all living and dying with him tonight in the goal.

      T.J. Decided That Tonight It Would Be About Life

The Captains met at the middle of the field as the referee explained the rules of sudden death.  All who were listening thought that the term was aptly named.  They shook hands again and ran back to the huddles on their respective sidelines.  Both coaches gave their overtime strategies to their teams, and they did one more cheer before retaking the field.  Both face off men walked slowly toward each other at the center mid-field line and stared each other directly in the eye.  

The physical disparity between the two players at mid-field was huge.  Haverland’s best face off man, George Arle, was 5’6’’ tall and 160 lbs. Pennhurst’s face off man, B.J. Radford, had been an All-State quarterback on the football team and was 6’3’’ and 225 lbs.  Although Lacrosse was not his primary sport,  he had played it for the last four years and by anyone’s account he was a ‘stud player.’  The skill in taking face offs is unlike any other in Lacrosse.  It’s more similar to recovering a fumble in football or picking up a loose five-dollar bill dropped on the floor in Penn Station in New York.  It’s uncontrolled mayhem with the skill to do it only evident to those who have been there. And it’s those players who know painfully well what it takes to win the fight for the ball.

Although T.J.’s face off man George had had a good season, he always struggled against players that were that much bigger than him and usually lost the ball.  The ref. positioned the ball between the two boys sticks who were both crouched down and ready at mid-field.  The whistle blew, and George lost the ball as B.J. picked it up and charged right over George’s left shoulder.  He was headed in a straight line right toward T.J. who was standing fixed and ready in front of his goal.  B.J. passed the ball to a midfielder who kept it only a second before passing it to an attackman who was off to the right of the goal.  The attackman looked to his left and faked a pass to his right.  He then spun around and with all his might fired a bounce shot on an angle from the right facing side of Haverland’s goal.  

T.J. stepped forward, scooped the ball up on the first bounce, and in one fluid motion flipped the ball out to a defenseman on the left perimeter. This player cradled it inside his long stick as he took off down the sideline and across midfield.  The defenseman made a pass to a middie on the extreme other side of the field who then passed to an attackman. This man ran around behind the net and came out on the other side in front of the goal, shot the ball, but it went wide right.  The other team was closest to the ball when it went out of bounds, so it was Pennhurst’s possession, and it was coming back T.J.’s way.

Their goalie cleared the ball left to a long stick defenseman, who in turn made a long pass directly to an attackman, and the ball was once again in the oppositions stick less than thirty feet from the goal T.J. was defending.  This attackman had no intention of passing.  He put his head down and charged straight ahead toward T.J.  As his coach was screaming at him to pass, and it the midst of five defensive players, he fired off a shot.  It came at a side angle, and, with all of the players surrounding the shooter, it was hard for T.J. to see the ball come off the kid’s stick.  

When T.J. finally did see the ball, it had passed the head of his stick, and he was just able to get a piece of the ball with the bottom of his shaft. It was just enough to deflect the ball upwards and over the goal and into the chain link fence fifty feet behind the crease.  On instinct alone, T.J. ran after the ball and being closest to it when it went out of bounds, he picked it up in his stick and slowly walked forward. This gave his midfielders time to transition back up to the other end of the field.

T.J. was living on borrowed time.  Making one save in overtime was huge, but making two, and one with only the shaft of his stick to save it all, was stretching the limits of whatever luck the team had left.  T.J. easily passed the ball to an unguarded defenseman who ‘walked’ the ball up-field and then tossed it to a midfielder just in front of the offensive box.  

The offensive box is the restrained and shorter ‘boxed-out’ area right in front of the goalie and where most shots are taken, and most goals are scored. The midfielder made a pass to his left to an attackman, who tried to make a long looping pass across the face of the box, but it was intercepted by one of the oppositions long stick middies and passed quickly to another midfielder as it transitioned back again towards T.J. This time the ball was coming straight at T.J., and it had taken less than five seconds to get there.  His team was not set yet and this charge could be the end of it all.

T.J.’s team had been caught napping in an uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty.  Pennhurst’s top midfielder again had the ball, and he was charging at T.J. who had only two players set and not the normal six in front of him to play defense.

Surprisingly to T.J., this player then made a pass to the extreme right corner and that attackman ran behind T.J.’s goal giving his defense more time to reset.  This player then made a pass to the left side, and it was once again in the stick of their best midfielder, Matt Makritis.  Midfielders, or Middies, as they’re often called are many times the best athletes on the team.  They have to play both offense and defense and run the entire length of the field while their shift is on. Makritis was a high school All-American, and he was charging at full speed toward the left front facing side of T.J.’s goal.

                       T.J. Was An All-American Too!

T.J. was also an All-American and had recently been on the front cover of ‘Inside Lacrosse Magazine’ and featured as the #1 player coming out of High School Lacrosse that year.  He thought to himself that all of that press would be meaningless if he allowed this shot to go in.  The opposing midfielder continued toward the crease unguarded, got within ten feet of the goal, and fired point blank at T.J.  No fancy bounce shots or behind the back this time.  This shot was straight at T.J.’s head, and from less than ten feet away. T.J. caught the ball in the fat part of his goalie sticks net.  It didn’t stay there though.  The power of the shot caused it to come out of his stick, in what is referred to as a rebound, as it rolled ten or twelve feet out in front of the goal.

A second midfielder then picked up the ball, and not lifting it from the ground, fired a shot right back at T.J. This was more like a golf shot than a lacrosse shot, and T.J. struggled to see from which direction the ball was coming.  As the ball came back at T.J. at a severe angle, headed toward the left backside of the net, he stretched his body out like a goalie in the NHL.  Doing a full split in front of the net, he was able to get a piece of the ball with his right cleat and deflect the ball off to the left side of the goal. As the ball rolled harmlessly toward the far side of the endline, the referee blew his whistle.  The first three-minute overtime period had ended.

    They Had Survived Sudden Death For Three Minutes

Both teams huddled tightly with their coaches and trainers.  This time though, T.J. didn’t leave the crease at all.  He was leaning against the goal with his back turned to the field. It was almost as if he was talking to someone you couldn’t see and totally immersed in a world of his own.  There are several times in a man’s life that define and underline not only who he is, but who he will then become.  This was one of those times for T.J.

                                 And He Knew It

Both teams wearily took the field.  The pressure of an extremely tight game, and then surviving one overtime period, had taken its toll.  As the face-off men bent low and readied for the ball, T.J.’s back was still facing the field.  When he heard the whistle blow he spun around and it was like someone twice his 6’2’’ size was playing goalie.  He seemed to fill the entire net with his presence and there was an ‘aura’ coming from him that surrounded the entire defensive end of the field.

Once again, George lost the face off to the All-State quarterback and star midfielder, B.J. Radford.  This time however, the look on B.J.’s face was different.  Although fairly new to Lacrosse, inside his chest beat the heart of a champion.  He almost stepped on George as he picked up the ball and headed straight over the mid-field line and directly at T.J.  This senior captain had no intention of passing, and he was going to ‘ice’ the game for his teammates and fans.  B.J. was not known as a great shooter but more for his defensive skills. He was a great athlete though, and this charge was not to be taken lightly by anyone on the defensive end of the field.  

                 B.J. Knew This Was His Moment

Without stopping or setting his feet, he raised his stick above his head and shot the ball toward the right corner of the net at over ninety miles an hour.  T.J. saw this one all the way and caught the ball in his stick.  He then ran out of the goal and passed B.J. who was still coming his way as he charged past him and headed straight down the field.  T.J. was out of the defensive box and headed toward the mid-field line.  He was looking at nothing in front of him except the opposing goalie who was now staring at him with an incredulous look on his face inside the opposing crease.

Everyone there that night had their mouth’s open in awe.  No one expected the goalie to ever make the final break, and no one watching had ever seen a goalie possessed with such speed.  The other team was in awe too and just kept watching him run. They were all guarding open men who they were sure T.J. would eventually pass the ball to.

                                  He Didn’t Pass

When he crossed the midfield line, the fans went wild and stood up.  One of his midfielders had the presence of mind to stay back behind the midfield line so that an offsides wouldn’t be called.  In Lacrosse, you always need at least three men back plus the goalie in the defensive end.  Once T.J. crossed midfield, one of the midfielders had to stay back.

T.J. approached the offensive box in front of their goalie with only one thing on his mind.  He had been acutely watching this kid all day and he had noticed one thing.  This was a fundamentally sound and ‘play up’ goalie and one would who would rise to the occasion when the heat was on.  He had transferred into Pennhurst only two years ago and based on his great skill, he had gotten them this far.  He had one weakness though that T.J. had observed — he couldn’t handle the off-speed shots, especially over his left shoulder.

The left shoulder is opposite the goalie stick’s head if you’re right handed. In his case, the only weakness that T.J. had seen,
other than his struggle with off-speed shots, were those directed high up and left.  Like a changeup in baseball, the off-speed shot often confused the goalie’s timing and could cause him to over or under react at just the right time.  T.J. continued to charge the goal.

By this time, two defensemen from Pennhurst were running from both sides to get to T.J. before he could shoot, but his speed was too much.  As he approached the crease from the right side, he raised his stick above his head.  He threw his lower right elbow at the goalie as if executing a shot.  His stick-head never moved, but the goalie bit on the fake.  He waved the head of his stick high right and then easily lobbed the ball over the Pennhurst goalie’s left shoulder.  The referee blew the whistle — the game was over —and T.J.’s team had finally won.

The other goalie dropped to his knees and then put both hands on the ground in front of him.  T.J. went over and picked him up saying: “You may have lost on the scoreboard tonight, but you never gave up. I’m proud to have played against you.”

Haverland had just won the State Championship, and most watching said it was the greatest goalie performance at any level that they had ever seen.  T.J. was voted ‘Most Valuable Player’ of the game. In the fall, he would be off to a top 10 Lacrosse University where he would major in Criminal Justice and take his goalie skills to an even higher level.

T.J.’s coach told him after the game that you can play lacrosse for your entire lifetime and never be able to play or recreate what you just did.  His future college coach, who had been in the stands watching, came down on the field and put his arm around T.J. after the game and told him the same thing.  He went on to say: “T.J., I had my whole speech ready before you went into overtime.  I thought I might have to come down here and tell you that although you lost — you lost really well.

   T.J. Did Not Want To Believe That Losing Well Was Really Possible!

“You had made all those heroic saves throughout the game for your team, and if you had to lose, it would have been a great way to do it.  The only problem with my prepared speech is that you didn’t lose. As I watched you in the goal with your back turned to the field as the second overtime period started, I said to my assistant coach Dave, who’s over talking to your folks, that our new and future goalie is in a zone that few can ever get to.  He will not be scored on again tonight.  Tonight, and for however long this game lasts — he is truly invincible. And I don’t believe I’ve ever used that word to describe a player before.”

Many years passed and one day T.J got an email from his old high school coach.  The coach told him that once again his school, Haverland, would be playing for the State Championship and he wanted to run his pre-game speech by T.J. before his boys took the field.  It was short and to the point.  What he wanted to tell the boys was: “It wouldn’t be the number of players on the field but who those players were and what was coming from inside their hearts that would make all the difference.”  He then went on to tell the story of T.J. in the State Championship Game that took place over ten years before.  

Some of the boys had heard the story, but all were in awe listening to the emotion and passion in their coach’s voice as he retold the story again.  It was like replaying that game with the current Haverland players and right before the most important game that most of them would ever play.  

Haverland won the State Championship again that day and many of the boys said that it was the pre-game speech about T.J. and his team’s overtime victory that fueled their desire and commitment to make it happen.  It was also a close game, and with two minutes to go the score was again tied. Five times during the game they had gone ‘one-man’ down but had only allowed one goal to be scored during those five uneven possessions by the other team.  Haverland was then able to strip the ball from their opponent twice in the final two minutes and convert both into scores — ending the game at 7-5.

Along a lonely hallway in the back of Haverland’s new athletic center hangs a plaque with the story of that night so many years ago.  But to T.J., and all the members of that legendary team, the thing that hangs highest — is their refusal to lose.

The possibility of being invincible would stay inside T.J. and all who were there to watch him play that night. He learned that at the end of the streak where luck ends, sometimes you have to enter that zone …

                                 And Just ‘Will It’ To Happen.
its a blue Monday
after Super Sunday
Americas 45th funday
yesterdays spectacle

the dip is done
the broken bones
of buffalo wings
fill giant glad bags

the ridged ripples
of broken Doritos
scattered on the floor
wait for a vacuums hum

dead soldiers rattle
a melodious cascade
the aroma of flat Bud
plunge into recycle bins

ribbed Trojans
dripping bagged ****
rim plastic trash cans
confirm an ****'s frenzy

the game forgotten
commercial reveries remain
seared into the briney mush
of compliant olfactories

collective hallucinations
successfully branded
a new and improved
global consciousness

Madmen Shamans
ebulliently channel
transactional zeitgeists
from the ripped boxes of
Best Buy plasma screens

Monday morning
water cool scuttlebutt
the planet is buzzing about...

Google's cool slap
of IPod clad automatons
the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire
Apple's brave new world is next
("meet the new boss,
same as the old boss?")

we all dug
rolling with Eminem
through the glitzy
streets of Motown

How cool is 8 Mile?
The hoods lookin good
angelic chorus lifts spirits
Swing Low Sweet Chrysler

The artistic types
faun over
the graphic beauty
illustrious aestheticism

moving story line
the epic journey
of the worlds
greatest brand

heroic product marketing pros
rival Jason and the Argonauts
sojourning trans-formative odysseys
of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life

holding precious real estate
of living imaginations
infecting hearts and minds
of future generations

realizing
everything
ends better
with coke

The State Farm Pre-Game
Jimmy Johnson's new coiff
jawed away with his old boss
rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones

A poignant embrace captured in
living color on grand jumbo trons
lording over a cavernous palace
a new stadium for Homeboys

Jimmy J asks Jerry J
"Why you overpaid
for The Boys New
Crib?"

"A billion 4,
a palace for the masses".
Jerry breaks some news
with an impish wink.
"No expense is spared
for the peeps."

"I always make out,
get a good return. I
make a profit. Ain't
America great."

This year Super Bowl
went Hollywood
and installed
a long red carpet.

Mike Strahan, collared
Harrison Ford.
Bagging his greatest sack
on a dazzling red rug.

"How many Super Bowls
is this for you?"
Strahan whistles
through his gaped teeth.

The aging Indiana Jones
came to promote his new flick,
"Cowboys and Aliens"
(I'm told an early Cannes
favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert,
the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy.
Romo blows another one
throwing an interception in overtime.
The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown.
Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians.
All of Texas weeps.)

Indy
coolly quips an answer
whipping with sarcasm,
"after today, one."
yuck yuck
lol

Strahan continues
to stalk Ford like a
scrambling quarterback,
"where will you be sitting?"

Ford shrugs
"dunno,
somewhere
up-there,
I guess",
he points to
the lofty
luxury boxes.
Royalty sits
next to God
in Jerry Jones
house of the
people.

Ford dons a green scarf.
He's down with the Pack.
Another sunshine *****
in the seat.

Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones
arrive in time to hear
Keith Urban sing
"Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?"

"He's alive
He's free
Who wouldn't
want to be me?"

Indeed who?

The parade
of heroes
continue.

The walking,talking
little S Corp, LLC's
dance their way
into the stadium
on resplendent
cushions of red.

Terrific brands
all earnestly
questing to
urgently
deliver
messages
to promote
themselves
and plug
shameful
products.

A Black Eye Peas
teaser
blinks onto
my giant
flat screen.

Will I Am
a black man
in a blacker mask
marches down the street
zapping people
with a ray gun.
(fascist culture is so cool, a
little light on liberation,
but **** does he look bad as all get out
in that leather rumble don't **** with me
outfit)

Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks
that he yodeled three tunes
at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids;
T Boone and the Big W among them.

Quick cut
to Jamie's
new movie
Rio.
(I wonder if its
about Mexicano's
crossing the river?)

Wealth
Power
the perfect
image of ourselves
take a pill

I am Limitless
a new movie?
I've seen this one before.
I think I'm watching it now.

Just Go With It
Adam *******,
Jennifer Aniston
Americas sweetheart
teamed with Americas
kosher jokester.

He looks hot
in his droopy
pretend
don't give a ****
orange sweatshirt
and acid washed jeans.

Jennifer's ****, legs
what can you say
about America's sweetheart?
I think Brad Pitt
made a big mistake.

Bill O
is next.
Posturing,
arm wrestles
with the Prez,
shadow boxes
with the Big O.

"Muslim Brotherhoods
Rendition
Mubarack goes off the reservation
knows where the bodies are buried"
***!
***!

(Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear?
Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue?
Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?)

Bill O's drive by continues,
"Obamacare,
why do Americans hate you?"
Great journalism by this Fox ****.

Bill O is
haughty,
arrogant,
disrespectful
a despicable bully
and a self serving blow hard.

(My bladder is busting.
Its a great time to take a ****.)

We escape to
the freshness
of Owen Wilson's
smiling face,
playing two hand touch.

His bent nose
shining
he trots about
Jerry's field
carefree as a child.
(Is this a pitch, pass and punt
contest for A Listers?)

Other stars
join the light fun;
goose cheerleaders
give the cabana boys
hand-jobs
and themselves
a well earned blow-job.

Its an **** of photo ops
product placement
a sizzling collection
of dancing brands
prancing on the gridiron
of the New Cowboy field.

Ashton Kutcher
peeks over the shoulder
of a tweeting W.
I'm impressed
W knew
how to use
his thumbs.

Mrs. W's
permanent smile
was clearly visible
from the stadiums
cheapest seats.

Condie sat
way to the right
quietly stewing
lamenting
lost opportunities
of a gig as NFL
Commissioner.

On the stadiums floor
the frenetic dancing
of the
bumping
brands
fast
approaches
ecstatic elation.

Hollywood's version of
Whirling Dervishes; is
immediately stilled
as the solemn portion
of the program
commences.

The Declaration of Independence
is read by a bright galaxy of stars
accompanying armed service personnel
and other diligent American's.

"We hold these truths
to be self evident"

"United colonies
levee war,
dissolve bounds,
our day of allegiance
lives, fortunes and sacred honor
freedom is common sense,
free, equal, united"

CEO's
imprisoned
in Jerry's
luxury boxes
overcome
with
emotion
pound fists
on the glass
smearing
cocktail sauce
on the windows
of the suites.

Illegal
Chicano's
bravely
step forward
with rolls
of Bravo
and Windex
to wipe
it clean.

The focal point
of festivities
seismically
shifts like a
tectonic plate
almost as large
as Jerry's Stadium.

The stampede
of cheers
thunder like
canon shots,
the patriotic
ramparts of
militant
free market
capitalism
supplants the
shallow frivolity
of consumer slavery.

We are
compelled
to kneel
to celebrate a
Eucharist of
nationalism.

My partner explodes,
"Can't watch a football game
and view it for what it is,
a ******* football game."

The Fox
broadcasters
dedicate
this segment
of the show
to our military.

I squirm in my seat.
Sorry,
but the declaration is about
free people in free societies
not militarism.

Next up
dis old cowboy
Sam Elliot.
He knows
how to speak
the language
of real football fans.
Finally, a man of the people.

Sam introduced the cities.
He starts with Pittsburgh.

"Built on steel
a place where
terrible is good
these are the
enduring qualities
of this great American City."

The Steelers
make a timely entrance
onto the floor of the stadium,
as millionaires erupt
shaking their terrible towels.

Sam's
fuax
folkism
for
Fox Sports
continued.

"Green Bay is Title Town
the people never quit.
Crafty veterans are winners
exhorting all to greatness"

Images
of Lombardi's
toothy grin
fills my 72 inch screen.
A visitation by
America's Saint,
the sanctifier
of all competition
anoints the proceeding,
the quest to claim
the trophy named
for the games
very own
Archangel
of the
Gridiron.

The extended gig of
Lombardi's ghost
has haunted America
for over half a century;
has reportedly been seen
stalking the stage
on Broadway.

The anointed
Packers sprint
onto the field and
millionaire cheese heads
taking big bites out of life
erupt in cheers.

My hi def wide screen
made by Sharp reports
Battle of Los Angeles
opens 3/11/11.
The Chicago Code
premiers on Fox
sometime in March.

Walter Payton
Man of The Year Award
is presented
to an NFL Player
watching the game
with the troops
in Iraq.

The millionaires
don't cheer,
but the Fox announcers
are verklempt
overcome with patriotism.

Michelle Lee,
star
of Fox'***** show
Glee,
poses in front of a
sanitized choir
in blue uniforms to sing
America the Beautiful.

The beautiful song
is but an opening act
for the musical centerpiece
Star Spangled Banner.

The cameras cut
to a smiling W.
He can't get into Switzerland
but ******, he won't be turned out
of JJ's OK Corral.

Christina Aguilera
takes center stage.
She mounts
the silver football
crowning the
Holy Logo of the NFL
to sing the hallowed
Star Spangled Banner.

She fumbles her lines!
She forgot the rockets red glare!
The Steelers are crying.
The Packers are angry.
Ice melts from the stadiums roof.
The foundations of Jerry Jones
new stadium shakes.

A fly over of 4 fighters in formation
appears to be unaffected by the flub.
The planes do not crash.
They stay in formation.

The pilots spare Christina
a strafing and drone strike.
The republic remains
secure for now.

An unfamiliar announcer
addresses TV land.
He offers an apology to the fans
who cannot be seated.

The fire marshals
have revoked
Jerry's seating plan.
Greed got the better
of this man of the people.
Cowboy Stadium
is overbooked!

What is happening?
Is this America?
An ATT commercial
arrives just in time.

ATT has a new plan for America.
They encourage us to live social
with the new ATT AG.
Free market solutions
always work best.

Michael Douglas
reads another
patriotic exhortation.

"United we,
see the journey
of Acme Packers
as our journey."

"We see the resolve
of US Steel
as our resolve.
Big dreams
believe the best
journeys are
celebrated together."
(I'm down with that.
Whats good for Jerry Jones
is still good for me.
Right On! Check this stadium.
Power to the people!
It may not apply to the people who
will not be seated but tough nuggies.
This is America ******. Everybody
can't be seated at the table.
Even if they paid for their seat.
This ain't Red China.)

Neon Dion and other inductees
into the Football Hall of Fame
tosses the coin.
Steelers' call tails.
Heads it is.

At half time
The Black Eyed Peas
descend from
an upper Valhalla.

Still attired in
black fascist threads
The Righteous Peas
start wailing as
white metallic minions
dressed as
Imperial Storm Troopers
gallop to surround
their idols.

Precise formations
goose steppin bops
choreographic steps
the visceral *****
perfect counter-point
to swabbles of wiggling Peas.

Slash,
Guns and Roses
guitar hero
gunslinger
strode on stage
winging
this gal of mine
in choreographed
unison with
the leggy
Fergie.

Pumping it louder
the spectacle incites
the dancing
Imperial minions
quick steppin
and fetchin it
as Usher descends
in white unison
to leap and dance
over nasty
black peas.

The Gods
are descending
upon us.
Their words
have become
flesh.

The BEP's bleat
"kids are dying
wheres the love?"
Art does mirror life.

The neon hearts
of cheap
glow sticks
light up
the time
of our lives.

We are
cubed box heads
happily dancing along
the 50 yard line
answering China's
resounding drum
of frantic proletarians
bashing away
neocolonial disgrace
during the opening
ceremony of the worlds
greatest Olympian
display of
the pounding will
of an emerging nation
arriving on the world stage
with urgent insistence.

In America
we party on
every night
swiping
revoked
credit cards
for express lane
exits at the
local Walmart.

We are proud
highly personal
bar codes!

We refuse to be
marked down and flung
into discount bins at a
Tupelo Dollar Store.

Our light of life
flashes across screens
directing the trading pits
at the Chicago Board of Trade.

Each Super Bowl Sunday
souper bowl beggars
collect canned soup
for hungry Americans
at the local Shop and Drop

begging for larmen
boxes of Kraft
freeze dried noodles
and cans of Progresso
the feast of kings

A triumph
of the
Will I Am
BOOM BOOM
Says
Will I Am

I finish my bag of
Cool Ranch Doritos
and lick my partners
fingers clean.

Music Selection
Steve Miller,
Livin in the USA


2/7/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)
Victor D López Dec 2018
You were born five years before the Spanish Civil War that would see your father exiled.
Language came later to you than your little brother Manuel. And you stuttered for a time.
Unlike those who speak incessantly with nothing to say, you were quiet and reserved.
Your mother mistook shyness for dimness, a tragic mistake that scarred you for life.

When your brother Manuel died at the age of three from meningitis, you heard your mom
Exclaim: “God took my bright boy and left me the dull one.” You were four or five.
You never forgot those words. How could you? Yet you loved your mom with all your heart.
But you also withdrew further into a shell, solitude your companion and best friend.

You were, in fact, an exceptional child. Stuttering went away at five or so never to return,
And by the time you were in middle school, your teacher called your mom in for a rare
Conference and told her that yours was a gifted mind, and that you should be prepared
For university study in the sciences, particularly engineering.

She wrote your father exiled in Argentina to tell him the good news, that your teachers
Believed you would easily gain entrance to the (then and now) highly selective public university
Where seats were few, prized and very difficult to attain based on merit-based competitive
Exams. Your father’s response? “Buy him a couple of oxen and let him plow the fields.”

That reply from a highly respected man who was a big fish in a tiny pond in his native Oleiros
Of the time is beyond comprehension. He had apparently opted to preserve his own self-
Interest in having his son continue his family business and also work the family lands in his
Absence. That scar too was added to those that would never heal in your pure, huge heart.

Left with no support for living expenses for college (all it would have required), you moved on,
Disappointed and hurt, but not angry or bitter; you would simply find another way.
You took the competitive exams for the two local military training schools that would provide
An excellent vocational education and pay you a small salary in exchange for military service.

Of hundreds of applicants for the prized few seats in each of the two institutions, you
Scored first for the toughest of the two and thirteenth for the second. You had your pick.
You chose Fabrica de Armas, the lesser of the two, so that a classmate who had scored just
Below the cut-off at the better school could be admitted. That was you. Always and forever.

At the military school, you were finally in your element. You were to become a world-class
Machinist there—a profession that would have gotten you well paid work anywhere on earth
For as long as you wanted it. You were truly a mechanical genius who years later would add
Electronics, auto mechanics and specialized welding to his toolkit through formal training.

Given a well-stocked machine shop, you could reverse engineer every machine without
Blueprints and build a duplicate machine shop. You became a gifted master mechanic
And worked in line and supervisory positions at a handful of companies throughout your life in
Argentina and in the U.S., including Westinghouse, Warner-Lambert, and Pepsi Co.

You loved learning, especially in your fields (electronics, mechanics, welding) and expected
Perfection in everything you did. Every difficult job at work was given to you everywhere you
Worked. You would not sleep at night when a problem needed solving. You’d sketch
And calculate and re-sketch solutions and worked even in your dreams with singular passion.

You were more than a match for the academic and physical rigors of military school,
But life was difficult for you in the Franco era when some instructors would
Deprecatingly refer to you as “Roxo”—Galician for “red”-- reflecting your father’s
Support for the failed Republic. Eventually, the abuse was too much for you to bear.

Once while standing at attention in a corridor with the other cadets waiting for
Roll call, you were repeatedly poked in the back surreptitiously. Moving would cause
Demerits and demerits could cause loss of points on your final grade and arrest for
Successive weekends. You took it awhile, then lost your temper.

You turned to the cadet behind you and in a fluid motion grabbed him by his buttoned jacket
And one-handedly hung him up on a hook above a window where you were standing in line.
He thrashed about, hanging by the back of his jacket, until he was brought down by irate Military instructors.
You got weekend arrest for many weeks and a 10% final grade reduction.

A similar fate befell a co-worker a few years later in Buenos Aires who called you a
*******. You lifted him one handed by his throat and held him there until
Your co-workers intervened, forcibly persuading you to put him down.
That lesson was learned by all in no uncertain terms: Leave Felipe’s mom alone.

You were incredibly strong, especially in your youth—no doubt in part because of rigorous farm
Work, military school training and competitive sports. As a teenager, you once unwisely bent
Down to pick something up in view of a ram, presenting the animal an irresistible target.
It butted you and sent you flying into a haystack. It, too, quickly learned its lesson.

You dusted yourself off, charged the ram, grabbed it by the horns and twirled it around once,
Throwing it atop the same haystack as it had you. The animal was unhurt, but learned to
Give you a wide berth from that day forward. Overall, you were very slow to anger absent
Head-butting, repeated pokings, or disrespectful references to your mom by anyone.    

I seldom saw you angry and it was mom, not you, who was the disciplinarian, slipper in hand.
There were very few slaps from you for me. Mom would smack my behind with a slipper often
When I was little, mostly because I could be a real pain, wanting to know/try/do everything
Completely oblivious to the meaning of the word “no” or of my own limitations.

Mom would sometimes insist you give me a proper beating. On one such occasion for a
Forgotten transgression when I was nine, you  took me to your bedroom, took off your belt, sat
Me next to you and whipped your own arm and hand a few times, whispering to me “cry”,
Which I was happy to do unbidden. “Don’t tell mom.” I did not. No doubt she knew.

The prospect of serving in a military that considered you a traitor by blood became harder and
Harder to bear, and in the third year of school, one year prior to graduation, you left to join
Your exiled father in Argentina, to start a new life. You left behind a mother and two sisters you
Dearly loved to try your fortune in a new land. Your dog thereafter refused food, dying of grief.

You arrived in Buenos Aires to see a father you had not seen for ten years at the age of 17.
You were too young to work legally, but looked older than your years (a shared trait),
So you lied about your age and immediately found work as a Machinist/Mechanic first grade.
That was unheard of and brought you some jealousy and complaints in the union shop.

The union complained to the general manager about your top-salary and rank. He answered,
“I’ll give the same rank and salary to anyone in the company who can do what Felipe can do.”
No doubt the jealousy and grumblings continued by some for a time. But there were no takers.
And you soon won the group over, becoming their protected “baby-brother” mascot.

Your dad left for Spain within a year or so of your arrival when Franco issued a general pardon
To all dissidents who had not spilt blood (e.g., non combatants). He wanted you to return to
Help him reclaim the family business taken over by your mom in his absence with your help.
But you refused to give up the high salary, respect and independence denied you at home.

You were perhaps 18 and alone, living in a single room by a schoolhouse you had shared with Your dad.
But you had also found a new loving family in your uncle José, one of your father’s Brothers, and his family. José, and one of his daughters, Nieves and her
Husband, Emilio, and
Their children, Susana, Oscar (Ruben Gordé), and Osvaldo, became your new nuclear family.

You married mom in 1955 and had two failed business ventures in the quickly fading
Post-WW II Argentina of the late 1950s and early 1960s.The first, a machine shop, left
You with a small fortune in unpaid government contract work.  The second, a grocery store,
Also failed due to hyperinflation and credit extended too easily to needy customers.

Throughout this, you continued earning an exceptionally good salary. But in the mid 1960’s,
Nearly all of it went to pay back creditors of the failed grocery store. We had some really hard
Times. Someday I’ll write about that in some detail. Mom went to work as a maid, including for
Wealthy friends, and you left home at 4:00 a.m. to return long after dark to pay the bills.


The only luxury you and mom retained was my Catholic school tuition. There was no other
Extravagance. Not paying bills was never an option for you or mom. It never entered your
Minds. It was not a matter of law or pride, but a matter of honor. There were at least three very
Lean years where you and mom worked hard, earned well but we were truly poor.

You and mom took great pains to hide this from me—and suffered great privations to insulate
Me as best you could from the fallout of a shattered economy and your refusal to cut your loses
Had done to your life savings and to our once-comfortable middle-class life.
We came to the U.S. in the late 1960s after waiting for more than three years for visas—to a new land of hope.

Your sister and brother-in-law, Marisa and Manuel, made their own sacrifices to help bring us
Here. You had about $1,000 from the down payment on our tiny down-sized house, And
Mom’s pawned jewelry. (Hyperinflation and expenses ate up the remaining mortgage payments
Due). Other prized possessions were left in a trunk until you could reclaim them. You never did.

Even the airline tickets were paid for by Marisa and Manuel. You insisted upon arriving on
Written terms for repayment including interest. You were hired on the spot on your first
Interview as a mechanic, First Grade, despite not speaking a word of English. Two months later,
The debt was repaid, mom was working too and we moved into our first apartment.

You worked long hours, including Saturdays and daily overtime, to remake a nest egg.
Declining health forced you to retire at 63 and shortly thereafter you and mom moved out of
Queens into Orange County. You bought a townhouse two hours from my permanent residence
Upstate NY and for the next decade were happy, traveling with friends and visiting us often.

Then things started to change. Heart issues (two pacemakers), colon cancer, melanoma,
Liver and kidney disease caused by your many medications, high blood pressure, gout,
Gall bladder surgery, diabetes . . . . And still you moved forward, like the Energizer Bunny,
Patched up, battered, scarred, bruised but unstoppable and unflappable.

Then mom started to show signs of memory loss along with her other health issues. She was
Good at hiding her own ailments, and we noticed much later than we should have that there
Was a serious problem. Two years ago, her dementia worsening but still functional, she had
Gall bladder surgery with complications that required four separate surgeries in three months.

She never recovered and had to be placed in a nursing home. Several, in fact, as at first she
Refused food and you and I refused to simply let her waste away, which might have been
Kinder, but for the fact that “mientras hay vida, hay esperanza” as Spaniards say.
(While there is Life there is hope.) There is nothing beyond the power of God. Miracles do happen.

For two years you lived alone, refusing outside help, engendering numerous arguments about
Having someone go by a few times a week to help clean, cook, do chores. You were nothing if
Not stubborn (yet another shared trait). The last argument on the subject about two weeks ago
Ended in your crying. You’d accept no outside help until mom returned home. Period.

You were in great pain because of bulging discs in your spine and walked with one of those
Rolling seats with handlebars that mom and I picked out for you some years ago. You’d sit
As needed when the pain was too much, then continue with very little by way of complaints.
Ten days ago you finally agreed that you needed to get to the hospital to drain abdominal fluid.

Your failing liver produced it and it swelled your abdomen and lower extremities to the point
Where putting on shoes or clothing was very difficult, as was breathing. You called me from a
Local store crying that you could not find pants that would fit you. We talked, long distance,
And I calmed you down, as always, not allowing you to wallow in self pity but trying to help.

You went home and found a new pair of stretch pants Alice and I had bought you and you were
Happy. You had two changes of clothes that still fit to take to the hospital. No sweat, all was
Well. The procedure was not dangerous and you’d undergone it several times in recent years.
It would require a couple of days at the hospital and I’d see you again on the weekend.

I could not be with you on Monday, February 22 when you had to go to the hospital, as I nearly
Always had, because of work. You were supposed to be admitted the previous Friday, but
Doctors have days off too, and yours could not see you until Monday when I could not get off
Work. But you were not concerned; this was just routine. You’d be fine. I’d see you in just days.

We’d go see mom Friday, when you’d be much lighter and feel much better. Perhaps we’d go
Shopping for clothes if the procedure still left you too bloated for your usual clothes.
You drove to your doctor and then transported by ambulette. I was concerned, but not too Worried.
You called me sometime between five or six p.m. to tell me you were fine, resting.

“Don’t worry. I’m safe here and well cared for.” We talked for a little while about the usual
Things, with my assuring you I’d see you Friday or Saturday. You were tired and wanted to sleep
And I told you to call me if you woke up later that night or I’d speak to you the following day.
Around 10:00 p.m. I got a call from your cell and answered in the usual upbeat manner.

“Hey, Papi.” On the other side was a nurse telling me my dad had fallen. I assured her she was
Mistaken, as my dad was there for a routine procedure to drain abdominal fluid. “You don’t
Understand. He fell from his bed and struck his head on a nightstand or something
And his heart has stopped. We’re working on him for 20 minutes and it does not look good.”

“Can you get here?” I could not. I had had two or three glasses of wine shortly before the call
With dinner. I could not drive the three hours to Middletown. I cried. I prayed.
Fifteen minutes Later I got the call that you were gone. Lost in grief, not knowing what to do, I called my wife.
Shortly thereafter came a call from the coroner. An autopsy was required. I could not see you.

Four days later your body was finally released to the funeral director I had selected for his
Experience with the process of interment in Spain. I saw you for the last time to identify
Your body. I kissed my fingers and touched your mangled brow. I could not even have the
Comfort of an open casket viewing. You wanted cremation. You body awaits it as I write this.

You were alone, even in death alone. In the hospital as strangers worked on you. In the medical
Examiner’s office as you awaited the autopsy. In the autopsy table as they poked and prodded
And further rent your flesh looking for irrelevant clues that would change nothing and benefit
No one, least of all you. I could not be with you for days, and then only for a painful moment.

We will have a memorial service next Friday with your ashes and a mass on Saturday. I will
Never again see you in this life. Alice and I will take you home to your home town, to the
Cemetery in Oleiros, La Coruña, Spain this summer. There you will await the love of your life.
Who will join you in the fullness of time. She could not understand my tears or your passing.

There is one blessing to dementia. She asks for her mom, and says she is worried because she
Has not come to visit in some time. She is coming, she assures me whenever I see her.
You visited her every day except when health absolutely prevented it. You spent this February 10
Apart, your 61st wedding anniversary, too sick to visit her. Nor was I there. First time.

I hope you did not realize you were apart on the 10th but doubt it to be the case. I
Did not mention it, hoping you’d forgotten, and neither did you. You were my link to mom.
She cannot dial or answer a phone, so you would put your cell phone to her ear whenever I
Was not in class or meetings and could speak to her. She always recognized me by phone.

I am three hours from her. I could visit at most once or twice a month. Now even that phone
Lifeline is severed. Mom is completely alone, afraid, confused, and I cannot in the short term at
Least do much about that. You were not supposed to die first. It was my greatest fear, and
Yours, but as with so many things that we cannot change I put it in the back of my mind.

It kept me up many nights, but, like you, I still believed—and believe—in miracles.
I would speak every night with my you, often for an hour, on the way home from work late at
Night during my hour-long commute, or from home on days I worked from home as I cooked
Dinner. I mostly let you talk, trying to give you what comfort and social outlet I could.

You were lonely, sad, stuck in an endless cycle of emotional and physical pain.
Lately you were especially reticent to get off the phone. When mom was home and still
Relatively well, I’d call every day too but usually spoke to you only a few minutes and you’d
Transfer the phone to mom, with whom I usually chatted much longer.

For months, you’d had difficulty hanging up. I knew you did not want to go back to the couch,
To a meaningless TV program, or to writing more bills. You’d say good-bye, or “enough for
Today” and immediately begin a new thread, then repeat the cycle, sometimes five or six times.
You even told me, at least once crying recently, “Just hang up on me or I’ll just keep talking.”

I loved you, dad, with all my heart. We argued, and I’d often scream at you in frustration,
Knowing you would never take it to heart and would usually just ignore me and do as
You pleased. I knew how desperately you needed me, and I tried to be as patient as I could.
But there were days when I was just too tired, too frustrated, too full of other problems.

There were days when I got frustrated with you just staying on the phone for an hour when I
Needed to call Alice, to eat my cold dinner, or even to watch a favorite program. I felt guilty
And very seldom cut a conversation short, but I was frustrated nonetheless even knowing
How much you needed me and also how much I needed you, and how little you asked of me.  

How I would love to hear your voice again, even if you wanted to complain about the same old
Things or tell me in minutest detail some unimportant aspect of your day. I thought I would
Have you at least a little longer. A year? Two? God only knew, and I could hope. There would be
Time. I had so much more to share with you, so much more to learn when life eased up a bit.

You taught me to fish (it did not take) and to hunt (that took even less) and much of what I
Know about mechanics, and electronics. We worked on our cars together for years—from brake
Jobs, to mufflers, to real tune-ups in the days when points, condensers, and timing lights had Meaning, to rebuilding carburetors and fixing rust and dents, and power windows and more.

We were friends, good friends, who went on Sunday drives to favorite restaurants or shopping
For tools when I was single and lived at home. You taught me everything in life that I need to
Know about all the things that matter. The rest is meaningless paper and window dressing.
I knew all your few faults and your many colossal strengths and knew you to be the better man.

Not even close. I could never do what you did. I could never excel in my fields as you did in
Yours.  You were the real deal in every way, from every angle, throughout your life. I did not
Always treat you that way. But I loved you very deeply as anyone who knew us knows.
More importantly, you knew it. I told you often, unembarrassed in the telling. I love you, Dad.

The world was enriched by your journey. You do not leave behind wealth, or a body or work to
Outlive you. You never had your fifteen minutes in the sun. But you mattered. God knows your
Virtue, your absolute integrity, and the purity of your heart. I will never know a better man.
I will love you and miss you and carry you in my heart every day of my life. God bless you, dad.
You can hear all six of my Unsung Heroes poems read by me in my podcasts at https://open.spotify.com/show/1zgnkuAIVJaQ0Gb6pOfQOH. (plus much more of my fiction, non-fiction and poetry in English and Spanish)
its a blue Monday
after Super Sunday
Americas 45th funday
yesterdays spectacle

the dip is done
the broken bones
of buffalo wings
fill giant glad bags

the ridged ripples
of broken Doritos
scattered on the floor
wait for a vacuums hum

dead soldiers rattle
a melodious cascade
the aroma of flat Bud
plunge into recycle bins

ribbed Trojans
dripping bagged ****
rim plastic trash cans
confirm an ****'s frenzy

the game forgotten
commercial reveries remain
seared into the briney mush
of compliant olfactories

collective hallucinations
successfully branded
a new and improved
global consciousness

Madmen Shamans
ebulliently channel
transactional zeitgeists
from the ripped boxes of
Best Buy plasma screens

Monday morning
water cool scuttlebutt
the planet is buzzing about...

Google's cool slap
of iPod clad automatons
the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire
Apple's brave new world is next
("meet the new boss,
same as the old boss?")

we all dug
rolling with Eminem
through the glitzy
streets of Motown

How cool is 8 Mile?
The hoods lookin good
angelic chorus lifts spirits
Swing Low Sweet Chrysler

The artistic types
faun over
the graphic beauty
illustrious aestheticism

moving story line
the epic journey
of the worlds
greatest brand

heroic product marketing pros
rival Jason and the Argonauts
sojourning trans-formative odysseys
of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life

holding precious real estate
of living imaginations
infecting hearts and minds
of future generations

realizing
everything
ends better
with coke

The State Farm Pre-Game
Jimmy Johnson's new coif
jawed away with his old boss
rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones

A poignant embrace captured in
living color on grand jumbo trons
lording over a cavernous palace
a new stadium for Homeboys

Jimmy J asks Jerry J
"Why you overpaid
for The Boys New
Crib?"

"A billion 4,
a palace for the masses".
Jerry breaks some news
with an impish wink.
"No expense is spared
for the peeps."

"I always make out,
get a good return. I
make a profit. Ain't
America great."

This year Super Bowl
went Hollywood
and installed
a long red carpet.

Mike Strahan, collared
Harrison Ford.
Bagging his greatest sack
on a dazzling red rug.

"How many Super Bowls
is this for you?"
Strahan whistles
through his gaped teeth.

The aging Indiana Jones
came to promote his new flick,
"Cowboys and Aliens"
(I'm told an early Cannes
favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert,
the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy.
Romo blows another one
throwing an interception in overtime.
The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown.
Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians.
All of Texas weeps.)

Indy
coolly quips an answer
whipping with sarcasm,
"after today, one."
yuck yuck
lol

Strahan continues
to stalk Ford like a
scrambling quarterback,
"where will you be sitting?"

Ford shrugs
"dunno,
somewhere
up-there,
I guess",
he points to
the lofty
luxury boxes.
Royalty sits
next to God
in Jerry Jones
house of the
people.

Ford dons a green scarf.
He's down with the Pack.
Another sunshine *****
in the seat.

Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones
arrive in time to hear
Keith Urban sing
"Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?"

"He's alive
He's free
Who wouldn't
want to be me?"

Indeed who?

The parade
of heroes
continue.

The walking,talking
little S Corp, LLC's
dance their way
into the stadium
on resplendent
cushions of red.

Terrific brands
all earnestly
questing to
urgently
deliver
messages
to promote
themselves
and plug
shameful
products.

A Black Eye Peas
teaser
blinks onto
my giant
flat screen.

Will I Am
a black man
in a blacker mask
marches down the street
zapping people
with a ray gun.
(fascist culture is so cool, a
little light on liberation,
but **** does he look bad as all get out
in that leather rumble don't **** with me
outfit)

Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks
that he yodeled three tunes
at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids;
T Boone and the Big W among them.

Quick cut
to Jamie's
new movie
Rio.
(I wonder if its
about Mexicano's
crossing the river?)

Wealth
Power
the perfect
image of ourselves
take a pill

I am Limitless
a new movie?
I've seen this one before.
I think I'm watching it now.

Just Go With It
Adam *******,
Jennifer Aniston
Americas sweetheart
teamed with Americas
kosher jokester.

He looks hot
in his droopy
pretend
don't give a ****
orange sweatshirt
and acid washed jeans.

Jennifer's ****, legs
what can you say
about America's sweetheart?
I think Brad Pitt
made a big mistake.

Bill O
is next.
Posturing,
arm wrestles
with the Prez,
shadow boxes
with the Big O.

"Muslim Brotherhoods
Rendition
Mubarack goes off the reservation
knows where the bodies are buried"
***!
***!

(Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear?
Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue?
Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?)

Bill O's drive by continues,
"Obamacare,
why do Americans hate you?"
Great journalism by this Fox ****.

Bill O is
haughty,
arrogant,
disrespectful
a despicable bully
and a self serving blow hard.

(My bladder is busting.
Its a great time to take a ****.)

We escape to
the freshness
of Owen Wilson's
smiling face,
playing two hand touch.

His bent nose
shining
he trots about
Jerry's field
carefree as a child.
(Is this a pitch, pass and punt
contest for A Listers?)

Other stars
join the light fun;
goose cheerleaders
give the cabana boys
hand-jobs
and themselves
a well earned blow-job.

Its an **** of photo ops
product placement
a sizzling collection
of dancing brands
prancing on the gridiron
of the New Cowboy field.

Ashton Kutcher
peeks over the shoulder
of a tweeting W.
I'm impressed
W knew
how to use
his thumbs.

Mrs. W's
permanent smile
was clearly visible
from the stadiums
cheapest seats.

Condie sat
way to the right
quietly stewing
lamenting
lost opportunities
of a gig as NFL
Commissioner.

On the stadiums floor
the frenetic dancing
of the
bumping
brands
fast
approaches
ecstatic elation.

Hollywood's version of
Whirling Dervishes; is
immediately stilled
as the solemn portion
of the program
commences.

The Declaration of Independence
is read by a bright galaxy of stars
accompanying armed service personnel
and other diligent American's.

"We hold these truths
to be self evident"

"United colonies
levee war,
dissolve bounds,
our day of allegiance
lives, fortunes and sacred honor
freedom is common sense,
free, equal, united"

CEO's
imprisoned
in Jerry's
luxury boxes
overcome
with
emotion
pound fists
on the glass
smearing
cocktail sauce
on the windows
of the suites.

Illegal
Chicano's
bravely
step forward
with rolls
of Bravo
and Windex
to wipe
it clean.

The focal point
of festivities
seismically
shifts like a
tectonic plate
almost as large
as Jerry's Stadium.

The stampede
of cheers
thunder like
canon shots,
the patriotic
ramparts of
militant
free market
capitalism
supplants the
shallow frivolity
of consumer slavery.

We are
compelled
to kneel
to celebrate a
Eucharist of
nationalism.

My partner explodes,
"Can't watch a football game
and view it for what it is,
a ******* football game."

The Fox
broadcasters
dedicate
this segment
of the show
to our military.

I squirm in my seat.
Sorry,
but the declaration is about
free people in free societies
not militarism.

Next up
dis old cowboy
Sam Elliot.
He knows
how to speak
the language
of real football fans.
Finally, a man of the people.

Sam introduced the cities.
He starts with Pittsburgh.

"Built on steel
a place where
terrible is good
these are the
enduring qualities
of this great American City."

The Steelers
make a timely entrance
onto the floor of the stadium,
as millionaires erupt
shaking their terrible towels.

Sam's
fuax
folkism
for
Fox Sports
continued.

"Green Bay is Title Town
the people never quit.
Crafty veterans are winners
exhorting all to greatness"

Images
of Lombardi's
toothy grin
fills my 72 inch screen.
A visitation by
America's Saint,
the sanctifier
of all competition
anoints the proceeding,
the quest to claim
the trophy named
for the games
very own
Archangel
of the
Gridiron.

The extended gig of
Lombardi's ghost
has haunted America
for over half a century;
has reportedly been seen
stalking the stage
on Broadway.

The anointed
Packers sprint
onto the field and
millionaire cheese heads
taking big bites out of life
erupt in cheers.

My hi def wide screen
made by Sharp reports
Battle of Los Angeles
opens 3/11/11.
The Chicago Code
premiers on Fox
sometime in March.

Walter Payton
Man of The Year Award
is presented
to an NFL Player
watching the game
with the troops
in Iraq.

The millionaires
don't cheer,
but the Fox announcers
are verklempt
overcome with patriotism.

Michelle Lee,
star
of Fox'***** show
Glee,
poses in front of a
sanitized choir
in blue uniforms to sing
America the Beautiful.

The beautiful song
is but an opening act
for the musical centerpiece
Star Spangled Banner.

The cameras cut
to a smiling W.
He can't get into Switzerland
but ******, he won't be turned out
of JJ's OK Corral.

Christina Aguilera
takes center stage.
She mounts
the silver football
crowning the
Holy Logo of the NFL
to sing the hallowed
Star Spangled Banner.

She fumbles her lines!
She forgot the rockets red glare!
The Steelers are crying.
The Packers are angry.
Ice melts from the stadiums roof.
The foundations of Jerry Jones
new stadium shakes.

A fly over of 4 fighters in formation
appears to be unaffected by the flub.
The planes do not crash.
They stay in formation.

The pilots spare Christina
a strafing and drone strike.
The republic remains
secure for now.

An unfamiliar announcer
addresses TV land.
He offers an apology to the fans
who cannot be seated.

The fire marshals
have revoked
Jerry's seating plan.
Greed got the better
of this man of the people.
Cowboy Stadium
is overbooked!

What is happening?
Is this America?
An ATT commercial
arrives just in time.

ATT has a new plan for America.
They encourage us to live social
with the new ATT AG.
Free market solutions
always work best.

Michael Douglas
reads another
patriotic exhortation.

"United we,
see the journey
of Acme Packers
as our journey."

"We see the resolve
of US Steel
as our resolve.
Big dreams
believe the best
journeys are
celebrated together."
(I'm down with that.
Whats good for Jerry Jones
is still good for me.
Right On! Check this stadium.
Power to the people!
It may not apply to the people who
will not be seated but tough nuggies.
This is America ******. Everybody
can't be seated at the table.
Even if they paid for their seat.
This ain't Red China.)

Neon Dion and other inductees
into the Football Hall of Fame
tosses the coin.
Steelers' call tails.
Heads it is.

At half time
The Black Eyed Peas
descend from
an upper Valhalla.

Still attired in
black fascist threads
The Righteous Peas
start wailing as
white metallic minions
dressed as
Imperial Storm Troopers
gallop to surround
their idols.

Precise formations
goose steppin bops
choreographic steps
the visceral *****
perfect counter-point
to swabbles of wiggling Peas.

Slash,
Guns and Roses
guitar hero
gunslinger
strode on stage
winging
this gal of mine
in choreographed
unison with
the leggy
Fergie.

Pumping it louder
the spectacle incites
the dancing
Imperial minions
quick steppin
and fetchin it
as Usher descends
in white unison
to leap and dance
over nasty
black peas.

The Gods
are descending
upon us.
Their words
have become
flesh.

The BEP's bleat
"kids are dying
wheres the love?"
Art does mirror life.

The neon hearts
of cheap
glow sticks
light up
the time
of our lives.

We are
cubed box heads
happily dancing along
the 50 yard line
answering China's
resounding drum
of frantic proletarians
bashing away
neocolonial disgrace
during the opening
ceremony of the worlds
greatest Olympian
display of
the pounding will
of an emerging nation
arriving on the world stage
with urgent insistence.

In America
we party on
every night
swiping
revoked
credit cards
for express lane
exits at the
local Walmart.

We are proud
highly personal
bar codes!

We refuse to be
marked down and flung
into discount bins at a
Tupelo Dollar Store.

Our light of life
flashes across screens
directing the trading pits
at the Chicago Board of Trade.

Each Super Bowl Sunday
souper bowl beggars
collect canned soup
for hungry Americans
at the local Shop and Drop

begging for larmen
boxes of Kraft
freeze dried noodles
and cans of Progresso
the feast of kings

A triumph
of the
Will I Am
BOOM BOOM
Says
Will I Am

I finish my bag of
Cool Ranch Doritos
and lick my partners
fingers clean.

You Tube Music Video:
Black Eyed Peas
Joints and Jam

2/7/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)
Ken Pepiton May 2018
Sunday, May 06, 2018
4:51 PM

Failing for lack of power is a fear crop.
A fear crop.
An odd thought.

Not the seed nor spore, but the fruit.

And fruits have seeds in themselves,
All men, I say again,
wombed and un, should know that by now.

Freedom of information act fact, informed
men know when to fight and when to sow and when
to reap the crops we've sown
in our mortal moment
gone with the wind.

Not mine.
The wind is in my inheritance,
True proverb.
I troubled my own house, fouled my nest
with all the rest o' youse ab-users of life
ignoring forever like that could never happen here.

It did.
The voices in your head are never all evil
if they use words.
In the total accounting of idle words
some significant percentage
may
carry meaning forsaken.
Such may be redeemed
much as one would redeem the time.

One of us.  One of our mortal kind.

Dear reader, we say again, we ain't Legion nor his kin.

We are words once spoken in jest among fools who repeated us
meaninglessly, oh my God, you know. Per se. No ****. **** happens.
All the ****** time,
and **** and God, those two get overtime of idle utterance instances.
Though a statistically measurable deme
does redeem a significant some of those two
in true beliver
dying breath
honesty. God, they say, and die.

By my leave, I say,
I am the definition of a free entity accepted in these books.
We are voices. Messengers.
Some of us were wicked, twisted as wicker
or wire bundles. Some of us were true pass words.
Some were true rest words,
rest rooms were so named
for that wonderunful feeling we all get
when **** happens

at just the right moment

in the book. Great ideas gravitate to clean rest rooms.

this is a new book right, this reader is
whadayacallit

Vetted.
What does that mean. You know right idle heard words are
meaning less
power less.
Vet me. Am I one of those ideas, good to the core, caught up in fairy
tales fed the T.V. generation, the Boom beyond the bomb?
After school freedom and duck and cover drills,
we watched cartoons, aimed twenty short years earlier
at the wanters and wishers and workers and worriers
of the thirties, not at us. W


e Boomers, as the media hipsters have always known us,
the off-spring, often unwanted and ill-begotten, of the Greatest Generation,
the one that won the contracts to build all the bombs in the world,
tax-free.

Those cartoons from the thirties with Entertainment Tonight plots and cameos of
Hollywood stars who were Grandma's age,
that Cowboy Bob on the local VHF
(unaffiliated or independent, hard to tell a diff)
showed to us, the first middle class latch key kids in centuries,
those cartoons were meaningless, prewar propaganda
unless we match adult laughing recoging the exaggerations,
The Betty Davis eyes and Frankly M'Dear bigears
"Grandpa, who is that guy with big ears and a skinny mustache?"
Clark Gable, wow.
Who knew the "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a ****" guy had jug-handle ears?
It was diversity in the desert. My big ears no longer made me bully bait.
I have superior hearing and star power.
From my kindergarten years I have known.
I am included, my flaws are not flaws at all.
That don't give a **** guy
and I have big ears to hear better with, so
we know more. Good fathers teach their big eared sons such facts of Nature.

Take care. Don't get puffed up. Knowing too much
will fill a head with hydrogen and the brain in it rots,
intrixically.

Are we powerless? If you say so? No.
I am in control, graciously demands
no load un-bearable with Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice.

(Note: not fire water white lightning. This is
Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice. Al Capp's
Personal Stash of Greatest Gen Synthetic Absynthe.
Used to **** hippie wanna-bees in farm country,
Like DDT for apple worms and skeeters,
Atom bombs for all colors of thinkin' right (but white),
Gen-you-wine Joy Juice,
Kick-a-poo Joy Juice revived many a faintin' pilgrim
follerin' John Wayne down the dusty trail,

Play me one o' them somebody done somebody right
songs,
there must be a million lying idle in blue puddles o' all kinds
of imaginary
ref-use.

Referee.
Job's Daysman betwixt us, we win. His call, not mine. I thought I lost for sure.

I was powerless, let me testify.

No. We think different here. If you are not stupid,
you are not powerless. If you are stupid, then you are powerless,
but but but
If you think you are powerless, you are not stupid. God knows, right?
Stupid people seldom see themselves powerless past the standing
under peace that's beyond understanding meat-mind-wise.

Dunning-Krueger. Again.
Feedback please, this is one of many in the theme of redeeming idle words, for fun and profit.
Kafersuseh One-Dimensional Beams II; In this environment of preservation of links and communication with each other, Raeder, Petrobus the Pelican and Alikanto were in a state of maximum stillness and complacency, they were enjoying the reality that was experienced with the child. Raeder unexpectedly leads Petrobus out of the barn and begins an exploration of the rolling nativity event. Here he takes hold of the gold-jade rings and takes flight towards the upper part of the stable, where he can see from above that it did not look like an ordinary stable, rather it seemed like a seat of the Faith where he observed that some prowling on the roof cherubs, they jumped and crossed mimicking the same gestures that Joshua made in his manger. Impressed, Raeder approached them and began to share with them, flying over where they could do it with their new friends. After a while, Alikanto joined them, who also enjoyed these games precisely, but did not see the Cherubim. He only saw how the two of them jumped but was surrounded by a large concentration of flying Lepidoptera. At the end of the night, when dawn begins, everyone retires and goes to their tents, not knowing what to decide for the next day. The tired Apostle next to Vernarth was glorious with joy after having recalled this episode of the arrival of a Messiah who would transport them from this stable to Gethsemane where his native Aramaic jargon had to enable him to generate synergy between the areas of the Gardens of the Olive trees and Gethsemane, to concatenate the entire phylogeny He only saw how the two of them jumped but surrounded by a large concentration of flying Lepidoptera. At the end of the night, when dawn begins, everyone retires and goes to their tents, not knowing what to decide for the next day. The tired Apostle next to Vernarth was glorious with joy after having recalled this episode of the arrival of a Messiah who would transport them from this stable to Gethsemane where his native Aramaic jargon had to enable him to generate synergy between the areas of the Gardens of the Olive trees and Gethsemane, to concatenate the entire phylogeny He only saw how the two of them jumped but surrounded by a large concentration of flying Lepidoptera. At the end of the night, when dawn begins, everyone retires and goes to their tents, not knowing what to decide for the next day. The tired Apostle next to Vernarth was glorious with joy after having recalled this episode of the arrival of a Messiah who would transport them from this stable to Gethsemane where his native Aramaic jargon had to enable him to generate synergy between the areas of the Gardens of the Olive trees and Gethsemane, to concatenate the entire phylogenies a new bonding relationship between species that were appropriate and endemic to the region near the stable at Bethlem to be inter-inseminated on banks of the Gethsemane slopes, so that linguistics would begin to absorb Joshua and go for a closer shortcut towards the classification of the traditional and omnipotent variants that migrated through the Olive Trees, to renew and preserve the Aramaic or Aramaic languages ​​of a shared origin now, for the omnipotent salvific languages ​​that were to be redirected in Gethsemane. Once leaving for the city of the eight gates, Raeder continued to sway on the roof with the Cherubim, rather they were already inseparable until he received an order from Alikanto that they should hurry back to the stores. He leaves but some mischievous Cherubim follow them and escort them to the tent. The next day at dawn they stand in front of them serenely as if they were still in Kafersesuh. They prepare the camels and the belongings, to resume the return to the final grand opening of Judah; to initiate the trades of reintegration of Saint John the Apostle to the surrealism that predicted him to split poles in his former exile and reintegration, under an early departure to revive the cathedrals of constant ringing and constant vibrating in the bells of Jerusalem and Gethsemane. everyone rides, the Hexagonal Birthright and King David tighten the incisors of the camels heading towards the new door that they took turns opening once they arrived in Jerusalem. Raeder and Petrobus arrived late, flying from the top of the caravan alongside the Cherubim who now guarded them. While the Crickets consumed all the laws that were incommensurable with the litanies of Angels that waited to unroll from In dextro qui non ad altare. "On the boast of those who did not have to reach the altar"



Paraps XXVII

Messiah of Judah IV part

Miracle V- Gethsemane / Aramic Phylogeny

They leave Bethlehem undivided in the Giant Ungulates. Of the seven spaces in the column, the last one that was occupied was the seventh where King David went. Of the five remaining spaces, the Cherubs went, they were playing with Raeder and Petrobus; they showed off with their adventures flying towards elevations of the majestic Sun. The Cherubim tinkled with colors of Abrahamic angelic beings involved in the worship and praise of the Caravan. The Cherubim are first mentioned on the route back to Jerusalem with the large turnout of bumblebees, bees, and wasps all flying alongside Raeder, Petrobus, and Alikanto. They would all stay for up to half a mile before reaching the eight gates and resuming their course to the Garden of Gethsemane. They were surrounded by Debkas dancing in their Aramaic phylogeny. The bumblebees were encrusted by the hills loaded with echoes outside of man...., placing themselves to the east of the Garden of Eden in rows of Cherubim with a flaming sword that turned on all sides to guard the path of the tree of life. Ezekiel describes "four living creatures" as the same beings as the Cherubs, each having four faces that were like a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle, and each one was tetra-winged. As for their appearance of them: "there was in them the likeness of man" These used two of their wings to fly and the other two to cover their bodies, under their wings they seemed to have the shape or resemblance of a man's hand that resembled the Aramean phylogeny that linked environmental and organic pollinations of Lepidoptera that were carrying the fertilizing spheres to reach the angiosperms. The Christic language was inaugurating the fringe of the frolicsome land that awaited the inauguration of Linguistic Phylogeny to attend to the decrees for the perenniality of the language that relates Gethsemane with the Olivo presses, the Cherubs beating their wings to reach Father Abba. With the flashes of the Apocalypse, the Cherubim danced happily, magnifying the presence of the Apostle in the Hexagonal Birthright with the holiness and power of God, This is one of their main responsibilities throughout the abbey and members mobilize to meet one of the twelve apostles with propaedeutic assonance attached to the twelve Giga camels, in addition to singing praises to Yahweh they also served as a visible reminder of the majesty and glory of the Messiah. The Apostle says by parapsychological regression: "A fascinating route on foot in Jerusalem begins at the top of the Mount of Olives and curiously leads us to the route that will be taken after the evangelical legs of the camelids that will take them to the Holy Sepulchre, Continuing through the Damascus Gate..., here the camelids became restless! Very close by, the topography of the top of the Mount between the route at the foot of Bethany and Jerusalem was perceived, the Garden of Gethsemane crammed with Angels appeared to us..., Joshua's prayers in Aramaic are felt slipping into camel snores as pleas are heard before his arrest in the Garden." Here at that moment, it happens that the flies arrested the apostle, taking him to a specific sector of the orchard where sacred water and humid wind continue to flow, having olive trees growing in the embossed garden with enormous oil press to border them by olive oil pipeline to grace the Lord in laurels from Daphnomancy such a holistic form of divination by which it is intended to make predictions using laurel leaves and branches chewing them before and then lighting them towards the crackle of the consecrated fire of Gethsemane Aramaic that lit paths and feet of Joshua. also carried on its four wings the Cherubim four laurels on each laureate wing.Thickened by palmistry energy, they walked towards the main entrance of the oil press, They arrive in the surroundings of Gethsemane surrounded by Daphnomancy of laurels carried on their wings by the Seraphim, Bumblebees, and others who would be in charge of inseminating the pollinating particles in the angiosperms, thus rescuing minimal words and verbal serial in the words that were transferred from the stable Kafersuseh in Bethlehem so as not to lose the Aramaic word, thus being redistributed to Gethsemane by the Lepidoptera and Bumblebees, wasps and bees. This inter-organic phenomenon would re-couple the verbalized accents of Joshua in middle age and in the unborn in such a way as to preserve the Aramaic dialect, to re-clone the same groupings and intentions as the environmental phylogeny of the dialect in a ritual culture that would redact with insects. and Cherubim, to re-enchant all the pluralities that would be arranged in the Garden to energize the salvific and appearing oil pipelines of the image of Saint John the Apostle, King David, Vernarth, Etréstles, Eurídice, and the rest that make up further from the seventh camelid until reaching the latest; the Fifth Cherub that will be the scribe present together with Pedro and the two sons of Zebedeo, only one with the one nearby in great courage, San Ioannis. His Holiness Joshua used to say: "Abba..., Father, all things are possible for you, take this cup away from me; But not what I want, but what you want. Joshua came later and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter: Simon, are you sleeping? Have not you been able to watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you do not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. Again he went and prayed, saying the same words. When he returned, he found them sleeping again because their eyes were heavy with sleep; And they didn't know what to answer. He came the third time and said to them: Sleep now and rest. Enough, the hour has come; behold, the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Get up, let's go; Behold, the one who delivers me is approaching." From small lively henchmen lights were seen to greater discontent..., they were the executioner, attached to the broken hostile leaf of the laurel that fell on his back "In flames and crackling in all his offspring "The anticipated visions were fertilized by the Cherubs that anticipated events in the chronological life of the apostle having to do with his life as an apostle and evangelist of the new succession after returning from exile. He came close already entering through a path, that was a road where the rows of pipes were that crossed the Getsemaní subsoil. Fifth Cherubim of the Septuagint: "As a scribe of the Hexagonal Primogeniture I make reference to two hundred years before the birth of Jesus, a Greek translation of the Hebrew scriptures developed and became widely accepted as a legitimate (even inspired) translation. Tradition relates to how King Ptolemy II of Egypt established a vast library in Alexandria. However, it was not complete, and he wanted to have a copy of the Hebrew Scriptures in it. Ptolemy sent representatives to Jerusalem and invited the Jewish elders to prepare a new Greek translation of the text. Seventy-two elders six from each of the 12 tribes of Israel came to Egypt to fulfill the request. And as your Santiago, you will write with me the allegory that will shine brightest in Alexandria. Thus they were led to the lonely island of Pharos where at the end of 72 days their work was completed. King Ptolemy was pleased with the result and placed it in his library. When the task was completed the translators compared everything and it was discovered that each one was miraculously identical to the others. The result later became known as the Septuagint (from the Greek word for 70) and was especially popular with Greek-speaking Jews for centuries to come. Hebrew was displaced and Aramaic prevailed, which is the New Testament language that will influence the eclectic of Aramaic as a language that was also ascended with Joshua to heaven to communicate with all the preaching of his Father in the sacred phylogeny with Lepidoptera and his entourage "I am sitting on the last camel, and I know I will be the first."

Ellipsis Prophet Elijah: "They were on Mount Carmel when I summoned the faithful of Baal, Asherah and others. I summoned them to seal a new pact on the slopes that pointed to the howls in Jezrael from where a prolonged and accursed drought was lamented. At the moment all the congregants were absorbed before the imprecation that he made before Ahab asking for the abandonment of Baal and finalizing the 450 pagan prophets, they called Baal in several days and nights and did not answer, Elijah, mocked him saying "Call him with all your might Maybe he fell asleep and needs someone to wake him up." The people gathered on the mountain and then Elijah told them: "You have to decide, If Jehovah is the true God, follow him But if Baal is the true God, follow him. Let's do a test: the 450 prophets of Baal must prepare an offering and call their god, I am going to prepare an offering and call Jehovah. The god who responds by sending fire is the true God." The people accepted. Elijah put his offering on an altar and poured a lot of water on it. Then he prayed: "O Jehovah, let the people see that you are the true God." Immediately Jehovah sent fire from heaven to burn up the offering. The people shouted: "Jehovah is the true God!" Now Elijah said, "Let no prophet of Baal escape." That day, They killed the 450 prophets of Baal. Then a little cloud appeared over the sea, and Elijah said to Ahab, "There's a storm coming. Get your car ready and go home." The sky was filled with black clouds, the wind blew and it started to rain very hard. The drought is finally over. Ahab took off in his chariot as fast as he could. Jehovah helped Elijah to run faster than the chariot. But were all Elijah's problems already over...? Here the god Aiónius rained down in the crystalline waxy dews of the Horcondising proclaiming eternity in the presence of an ascended Merkabah like Elijah. The drought is finally over. Ahab took off in his chariot as fast as he could. Jehovah helped Elijah to run faster than the chariot. But were all Elijah's problems already over...? Here the god Aiónius rained down in the crystalline waxy dews of the Horcondising proclaiming eternity in the presence of an ascended Merkabah like Elijah. The drought is finally over. Ahab took off in his chariot as fast as he could. Jehovah helped Elijah to run faster than the chariot. But were all Elijah's problems already over...? Here the god Aiónius rained down in the crystalline waxy dews of the Horcondising proclaiming eternity in the presence of an ascended Merkabah like Elijah. The ground shakes and initiations of the Aramaic roots appear after the intervention of the fifth Cherub and the prophet Elijah on Mount Carmel, the Phylogeny is testified with links that flow between subterfuges of re-dogmatized civilizations for ignoring their pagan languages ​​and creeds. In this genealogy were the bumblebees, bees, wasps, and Lepidoptera scattering all this stormy rain before they all reached the arenas of Gethsemane with the perfect connection between the idiomatic form, and the interspecies communicated with the vivid expressions where so many times the strings of Joshua circled the Gethsemane tapestry. No doubt here these species will establish the DNA and molecules for successful genetic derivation in an evolutionary environmental testament to the establishment of pollination in the Garden.

Phylogenetic dogma: The coincidences in morphological and embryological themes will be located in the orchard with a great genetic relationship and evolutionary resemblance. to that of the orchard to eternalize the concatenations of both topographical niches, in such a way as to root the Aramaic in all organic elements and not to provide the great prevalence of an eternal pacifying-luminous discourse in creation that does not perish, but rather is reactivated with these procedures in a new phase that the Apostle and Vernarth will inaugurate by reestablishing the premature hegemony of the garden, as a link between birth and resurrection. From the ratio Nazareth – Bethlehem / Kafersesuh – Getsemani. Of these diversifications, the key to the trees and their adaptation to the environment and the new Methodist dogmatics will appear, to adapt it to the material and immaterial elements as a paradise habitat in Judah with adequate species aware of their own self-preservation and self-evolution at the service by Joshua, Says Vernarth: "In Greek mythology, Ilithyia-Eileithyi is our Hellenic goddess of births and midwives. In the cave at Amnisos-Crete, she was associated with the annual birth of the divine child, and her worship is connected with Aeneidaon the earth-shaker who was the chthonic aspect of the god Poseidon. My divine child has similar "Behold the Fifth Miracle" coincidences both in a cave or stable. Ilithyia is seen with the torch-carrying light for the children to come to the world of the Messiah. Now we will shake the garden from its nascent oil ducts, we will have the salvific light that will flow from the hypos secretion of candlesticks with olive oil, anticipating a new messianic verdict, where we will populate the abyss of the earth as a great similar light that will accompany us in Shemesh philosophy. Sun, witnessing to the Messiah and conciliating ourselves with his instructions as it was in Jezrael and now in the garden". Bern Aramic Element from Bethlehem is felt in the messages from the fields of Moab, after the death of Elimelech and Mahlon and Chilion's children, leaving Naomi alone, Alone among the ears of grain. Lepidoptera would begin to fly throughout the lands of Judah after this distressing event. From the separations of the fields in the hot afternoons, Ruth could be seen in the fields and in Hera firmly united to Naomi, where each fence after another will go into the other in the name of Jehovah. Ruth gathers the corn and ears on purpose with the sheaves among the reapers and overgrown sheaves to make the sustenance of a past life of famine brought by Naomi's cries. Then Ruth, after gleaning the grasses, thanked Boaz, looking into his eyes intently, being able to see in him how to lift the hay and run it to the world of the midwives to feed the newborn children anointed by Ilithyah as well, so everyone will eat the pottage and They will satiate until they are very satisfied. From this land of spikes will come the celebrations of Shavuot and good grace for the stay of the Hexagonal Birthright in Gethsemane. The histrionics and ranchers of these lands are making a great contribution to this phylogeny (with the consolidation of the Aramaic language in the garden). Ruth appears saying: "Look at the field, we are all in it, we have water and enough heat from the Shemesh ignition, to give the spikes to grow here is the refuge of Jehovah who gives us his protection making us an equal part of his children to sustain us. I feel great pride in being respectful to Noemi, she will help me with ears of corn that will migrate to Gethsemane with the imminent visit of the Apostle Saint John. The Bumblebees, Bees, and Wasps will be satiated, they will provide the nutrient food to those who will have to make the communications in the garden. "Blessed is the food that she gives you by harvesting it, preserving it and lavishing it"A great archaeological hereditary axiom begins to be evidenced in this agriculture transmitted from the field to the expression of epistemic-emotional areas that represent endocranial and buccopharyngeal molds of sheep that intervene with tillage and weevils. Here the beloved rhetoric of the weevils will intervene with personal wings from the basic strut of their emotions, attracting signals in the fields and images described by flocks of insects that migrated from this passage in the Book of Ruth in order to relay them with phonetic signals that go beyond the spike that is rather a settlement or a current Kibbutz, to mold or settle archaic civilizations under an idiomatic link that will attend the phylogeny as cephalization of invertebrate animals with those of kind of support,

Phylogeny in Gethsemane: The **** Erectus crossed paths with multiple pieces of evidence of adaptive pro-evolution beings, Neanderthal/**** Sapiens. The children of Israel wrote parables, epistles, verses, stories, and books..., their phonetic vocal tract spoke of storms and environmental factors between heaven and earth "Great noise outside of us, but little silence in us." What is elemental is the larynx that has only pronounced the image that denounces a concept evoking the minimum sound in the different positions of its instrumentalized mega sound. Speaking to us how language varies according to history and the civic-environmental environment, instructing us on its threshold and caste as it detaches itself through aerial effusions from the statement at the laryngeal level. It authoritatively collects the intervals of vocalization and relationship with agriculture in all its dimensions descending through its internal panels but rising through our parietal emotions outside of herself. The little of the air that the world has left to continue digesting temporarily have it to let air flow that is possessed in mechanically inert particles, and not in sanctified prophecies with corollaries of miracles. Inherences have made of a super existence of those who still do not perish by the hand of a monarchical mandate, even the mute swallow air is suffocating and contaminated halves while others redistribute them for those who need to sit at the table to collect the unleavened and share it with what the rest. "Here resounds the echo of my Christic body". That in Aramaic will syndicate much more than the phrasing in its blood, grapheme and phonemes or stylistics that is the commotion of vibrating beyond the deep ground reverberating with the grace of its divine statement". Joshua resists spikes and olive leaves simultaneously disposing of us in his arms as his children, he is a sheep in his arms lactating hydro-milk of sustenance from his creative verb. "a strict fact of preserving Aramaic and not misleading them by turning the pages of history". The Aramaic must be incorporated so that Joshua, after more than two thousand years, can see that He is still here walking from one place to another to tell us that He is still here, only suggestive of your walking, plagiarizing your larynx in the sound of His expression and shepherding. The sheep are quadrupedal..., more mammalian than a man because its statement is always reflected in the bases of its skull for the rest of its offspring as a biblical expression, under all the rainbows of the cherubim, together with the children surrounding them in identical intention. **** habilis–**** Sanctus, which is a process that has a charismatic base and peripheral anatomical volume for the exposed part of the sternum by confusing them with each other, not altering their structural or functional complexity. From the potential of Lepidoptera and winged weevils, the phenotype will emerge that will relate and relativize the mechanics of Aramaic or the Aramaic method of not losing the gibberish because it is divine, as well as it is exalted and laryngeal torque to those who possess Aramaic blood and body, since its motorized mysticism is to devour minimum words with maxims in a whole of ranges and sounds of the field, dialoguing: "Come to my field, here the ears of corn and weevils will speak more than the mechanical potential of Your Voice". They continue through the Ruth field integrating phonemes in small verses that go from the shelter of words and that refer to settlements of which they do not speak only suggest the presence of Jeheová without being present, but if after being with his stomach satisfied parodying activities in the field with his plectrum made a reality in a transgenerational poetic-hydric whole of ancient peoples who no longer speak..., "They only express wisdom in ****** agro-phrases of spikes and olives in all their songs." After walking through cobbled and narrow streets that are now full of runes with Bedouin fumaroles..., it is such a walk through an avid heart of alkaloids and lipids; touring synagogues and evoking an outstanding barrage of pilgrimages without knowing how many more will escort them in our attempts. The walls that protect Jerusalem are witnesses to many battles that have been fought "in the name of God". As well as the ground that speaks for itself, without a doubt the Mount of Olives can be seen from Jerusalem beautifully but not, in the same way, the other way around. The forests whose fruits contribute positively to the economy of the region, in addition to symbolizing strength, security, and prosperity, give hope in the journey of history the same as nothing that tires of the same. The Garden or Garden of Gethsemane, a name that alludes to the olive mill used to extract and process the oil according to the Gospels, The Lord came to Gethsemane with his disciples to dedicate some time to prayer, but since the atmosphere in Jerusalem was one of hesitation and high tension due to the celebration of the Jewish Passover festival due to the context of the political and military occupation of the Roman Empire, Jesus was very saddened and began to get distressed...holding on to the branches every time he felt an olive near his denoted fingers. Etréstles says: "All the physical, exalted and psychic forces of Jesus here stink digging into the organic tissue, experiences that go beyond the intellect..., it is the proper and unequivocal admissibility of military feet walking on the ground after meditation and recollection. From today when the lights between shadows will fill the limits of the orchard with connection, They will have to graze on the Gigas ungulates when the atmospheres have to make the tribune grass grow on their idyllic evangelizer to have it for tomorrow in the meditation of dawn. All the pros and cons will have to get lost with prayer guests that will inhabit spaces that will not intervene in human reason. Meditation with the Cherubim in the hexagonal primogeniture and weevils interpenetrating divisions of time that is obtained at the end of a calm, and being able to offer with imagination the inclemencies of having everything just beginning. That is prayer, it begins cyclically and then returns to the beginning, without leaving us comforted to finish what the circle of lapse of the meditative circumambulation does not enclose. Saint John the Apostle expounded: More than pain and concern, After praying, he regained his strength and courage to face the vine with disappointments and betrayals with the courage of hopeful dignity. But more than this atavistic-anthropological complex it is salvific integrity that the verb saves the term, through the vibratory prayer of sound and perception of words and more with the Aramaic sound that narrows like the streets of Jerusalem, to distinguish biases in praising essence in the elements of noise almost to the harmonic limit of a sound perfecting itself in a psalter or a parable, which emerges from its oropharyngeal fret, leaving without expiation the abrupt change of Hebrew thought and doctrine, together with the external sound emancipating in the perfect cacophony of its inner vibratory howl beyond the ritual that pleases our insufficiencies by having an Abba. He sanctifies and purifies because he is substance and the dawn of a new earth that lies in the garden of prayer, and all the times that they have to get up to grab the Bible and watch as an indivisible interloquy in me prostrated each time I get up and speak with my Abba being attentive to lock me in his dimension. The food that returns and feeds back is the lineage provided with justice to inhabit the body that synthesizes its protean oratory, the food that you go there from a breeze and from revelry puts all its outfits on the tables to sit around is the lament that smells of seeds that evaporate from the hands and the heat of the holy field. The food that speaks of inviting so many to sit next to us is the one who was least thought to be lacking in love and should not be prepared, being the indicated one who would eat everything until he was satisfied, leaving nothing in the compote or in the yeast, because from it the food that satisfies will persist only for those who have the excessive spirit of the famine of those who can be quenched. Gethsemane is a flowery field where intoxicated Lepidoptera and Angels who only have one mission fly; "Give food to those who owe the desire to eat and nothing else because the rest that suggests it is abstention, and this will be procrastination of the verb that ceases to create endowment even wanting it, because all the sustenance of life can cease by risking bread and came more than to consecrate Health! Rather, it is due to the nourished devotional circle of the action of lavishing the circle of Son-Father granting the establishment of hunger-satiety to forge genetic and paternal seeds to recirculate them in the chain of procreation. Eurydice speaks: "My body undulates like a peg towards my beloved Joshua, I come from the figurehead of a ship. I went to Jerusalem to look for flowers that pour aromatic to bring and exalt their words tied to their feet. I was late and I lost my way, unable to find my way back. I only saw that from afar some lights in the northern area of ​​the orchard lit up like olive cyclers exploding in the air in nocturnal fireflies that swarmed together with the Lepidoptera..., they guided me here. But I repeat, when I saw the lights it took me back to when I was little in my distant Greece with Orpheus when he managed to sleep on Cerberus near Lake Styx. But I reiterate..., beyond the lights I have been able to see how the weevils are framing and plotting your words, my beloved Joshua, that the auditors will be able to help the square and interpret for many more than thousands of years, taking us with pre-recipients that allow us to feel their voice and hear it as far away as if it were closer than the olive branch that caresses their face. But I reiterate, I never thought I would get lost, I am even arriving as if I were from the figurehead of my ship, I always wanted to be close to the world of light of the Olivo of Barnea genetics like this one that has led me to meet it" Eurídice heads to the holy place, when it approaches, the Fireflies and Lepidoptera come out to pick it up, they allied themselves with the twisted shadows of olive trees, sharpening in clear harmony with the mirror archetypes of the dark foliage reflecting the green shadows on the wild fruits,

Just eleven days before the ekadashi of the full moon, the phenomenon of the harvest took place, which happens after a year of the abundant harvest of olives and another in which the harvest is small, here the change of nuances and corrugated textures is evident in the countenance of the olive trees without it being possible to think that this phenomenon will necessarily take place on a biennial or triennial basis. It was suspected and was known that the developing fruits would go to this event through their hormones and substances that intervene in their growth, acting as inhibitors of the differentiation of the buds, for which many of them would change when they were transformed into flowers to make them into the wood, from this process it was deduced that alternate bearing occurs when grass and gospel are lacking. The actions aimed at promoting ascending harvests in years that correspond to load, through the care of the planting of meditation and the abandonment of it in the years of discharge contribute even more, to accentuating the vecería in the doubts of faith. Some varieties of olive trees are more frequent than others, so it can be guessed that a genetic component is generated in this phenomenon. On the other hand, there will be the Christian cultivation technique, reducing the frequency of rotation, such as irrigation or the early harvesting of the olive for the tables that need to have it on their tablecloth. In such a way that this phenomenon will help the genetic phylogeny to reinsert lost expired words of antiquity in the emanation of the wisdom of God, through the universe acting as a great Drupa or peach that will assimilate being the amygdala that will allow sent vibrations to nod when they connect with the soil plagued walking and retraced the Messiah bringing us to his land with words in Aramaic of sacred salvation and his ancestry of word surveyor worker; which will allow us to transfer some appropriate spirit possession from him to Patmos when we return. Says King David: "as the Olivar de Barne species of the old husk will serve us for the Morning harvest with its fat percentage helping us to sustain the Shemesh fat of the new Sun to brandish winds that will hide the nocturnal haze of the waning moon. All as kings we have been baptized with oil in our solemnities, also coins traded in Kar to pay their benefits with the allegory of Yotam, in the Book of Judges to choose the king of the trees..., refusing the olive tree because it had to produce oil in the Menorah are the two tiny but large olive branches that illuminate the great temple of life. Now we will need it because the eleven days come before rescinding the cessation of Aramaic as a lost language, rather reimposing it as an entity of its channel with a gesture-light and space that hears or listens in repeated Aramaic oropharyngeal systems, and voices when lamenting in Hebrew happily the passages of the Torah with the same meaning and channeling source of the Pentateuch, to repast in the Barne species and transcend in its science together with its Katapausis phylogeny in the monastic cell of San Juan in Patmos next to Vernarth." Euridice kept giving atomic spouts and impulses at his feet to get to Gethsemane soon. Upon arrival, he insinuated how the Cherubim were pruning the Olive Trees next to the Hexagonal Birthright. Everyone was preparing for the olive tree festival in the Garden. He almost reached the end of King David's itchy speech among the Roses of Sharon, more than the cobbled one that a Cherub was replying to him so that nothing would waste being heard by his listeners on the Prow figurehead. It arrives and carries the odoriferous trans-essences in Astragalus, to begin with, intuitive adoration for each barefoot step that each petal and particle of its essence took, revering the base of the invested Messiah, reaching the perfect triangulation of balsamic acid and thorns with increased Aramaic of reviving the Barne Olive Grove Trail,



Paraps XXVIII

Mashiach of Judah V part

Miracle VI- Gethsemane / Maasefa

In this chapter preface, in particular, the revelation of three fundamental phases of the outcome of this chapter of Judah by the will of the god Aiónius in all real events and not, because the submithology that concerns us is of living relevance and is not experiment. Here Ezpatkul will enter Dóntiakul or prominent Augrum or Oro teeth turningScarabaeidaedemarcating the Vóreios Vóreios throughout the Horcondising region bilocating it in Encinas de Patmos borers, with such frenzy...!, that from there they would draw the strength of the north winds and the Olivos Barnea.

a) The subsequent phase after the Stable in Bethelem (Kafersuseh) will entail the neurochemical conformation of energies subtracted from visions of the stable, exclusively from the roof incontinenti of the intervention of the Cherubim with their four wings like the Lepidoptera (butterflies) incurring an original nexus messianic equipped with pheromonic sensitivity and chemical activation in the pollinations of bumblebees, bees, and wasps to regenerate the species of Olive Barnea consolidated the language and perpetuate it as a dialect of Messiah-Abba.

b) Phylogeny is subtracted from this phase itself as a relationship between species or taxa in general of tree species and wild plants. Although the term also appears in historical linguistics to refer to the classification of human languages ​​according to their common origin, the term is used primarily in its biological sense. The symbiosis of both interactions will intervene in the juxtaposition of "Joshua is born-dies in the interval" when he is born in the stable" but his analogy with Gethsemane and Golgotha, the two "G" will recreate the salvific miracle and anticipation of the Scourge that he will suffer but the Hexagonal Progeniture (Men and animal and insect species) will intervene with salvific action from the caves to rejoin the dry bones of Maasefa humanity. It also saves us from Shibboleth, identifying the members of a group in a kind of password) that appeals to changes in the use of phonetics in terms of difference and aspires to reorder social disagreements, caused by conflicts even of lost concomitant civilizations and their socio-cultural niche patrimonial, therefore from Aramaic as an anticipated signal thread of a beginning of communicative intention and preservation of messianic language)

c) The physical, mental, geophysical, and spiritual elemental energies will mutate the adherence of the Aramaic dialect with the pollen duct generated in the Barnea olive species, creating a relationship of chemical change in them deified in favor of a new "Bern of Vernarth" with the interaction of the isotope that will generate the inclusion of a proton that will mutate the chemistry of divination and connectivity with him (Heavenly Father-Abba in the Garden) in such a way that the methodological lines of anticipation will prosper on the night of the abduction by Sayones before being taken to the Lithostrotus to be flagellated to interpret the power of his gospel.

d) And for a consequent and emeritus synchronization of caverns in conjunction with dry bone Maasefa, triggering the awareness of the awakening of protection before, during, and after the events that occurred at the culmination of his death. This will delve into the three chemical sediments interacting with each other, the Aramaic language enchanting the univocal and eternal root to always have it in Gethsemane, the revelation of phylogeny as a determining entity for the consolidation of the geophysical-animal world, and the transcendent soul that intervenes between the stars of the everlasting creation on Crescent Moon eleven days earlier with Sun-Shemesh astonishingly at the debasement of the human species and all of its feelings of unconfessed loss of existence.

e) Experiencing and surviving indecisions and fears of recognition of exposing and externalizing the calls of caverns have allowed us to escape from threats, but from there towards a reverberation in the same tune of Calvary, in the sockets of a skull sheltering you to serve and look from the optics of shining with the flow of ears of wheat in your dreams. Gethsemane and Golgotha ​​are the set of double "G" that generates endo-trauma in the throat and in its global skeleton bone set wanting to revive the call of the Messiah, from the Neck of Heaven rising roughly up your throat, forever and for the Centuries. of the Centuries.

f) The plectrum led me to write this paradisiacal essay in this chapter (it is the same depressive unconsciousness of having a body already abandoned without a Soul, but in my own without understanding anything), this tends to describe how history teaches us that there are phenomena difficult to capture with certainty, the masque of extra mediumistic sensitivities emerging from where our conscience does not discover what spiritual power does canonically the intuitive divine exponential or the external machine of multiple systems of serial spirits that besiege us and show us their Ether and that rarely can we actually be able to enter them from deep inside from their activation data to our hyper cognition, and their level of travel leading us to abandon our abstraction.

They were all stationed on the northeast *****, Eurydice arrived with her essences full of little birds surrounding her, she could not hold them due to the invasion of these surprising birds. They were all sitting on the stones of the garden, they were all leaning their heads on the Svein Tzora stones. Says Vernarth: "The stone of Gethsemane", on grains and crystals they are soaked with spheres of the stone of the Mashiah. She showed them meekness in the face of the hardness that could be distinguished compared to limestone or clay, full of sedimentary grains that devastate igneous from where some voices of her holocaust were left over, compared to marrying corporeal materiality in the Aramaic syllable embedded in a stripped bustle and silent, of everything and little petulant organic element coexisting in its amorphous figure. This graphs the consonance with the demonstrations of passion for his followers by embedding himself in a stone with multiple and sharp cuts like taking out the atoms in a grenade with his law of 613 grains that are enough to stipule them and to break the lithosphere of the messianic referendum in his sacrificial law. in the lithostrotes. No barrier will stop us to overcome this lithosphere that separates us so coldly from the rebirth of a body that takes root beyond the cracks of Gethsemane since the olive trees grow on the same stones, pretending to be in a mansard. The will of destiny under a stone, admits arrogant worries to startle that "He was there, and his destiny condemned him", but "My Abba, if it is possible for this cup to pass from me; but let it not be as I want, but as You want...", equivalent to telling of stones for all the cups, as long as the will is of the Abba", thus the stones are lightened, and our pride weighs less than the subterranean immortality. Saint John says: "Which is agony, it is nothing more than holding in our dreams the heavy shadow of its burden. The stone does not fit through the interstices of dreams but its image weighing in the symbology of being part of it, more than all hailstorms being the scene of sin near the disciple family and their despondency that runs where a curtain circulates towards the Resurrection. The large drops are large grains of the pomegranate in the Via Dolorosa, being large stones falling from the universe rubbing against the Sun and the Moon, falling on Him as well. Today on this day that he confesses tribulation of an eternal night that he never clarified..., It will start to rain, interrupting itself for days running backward, since several syllables remained un catechized before rising from where the wind of Elijah called him Mashiach. Revered Mashiaj, always close to you jumping from the red sea such a pomegranate as the food of a Father between waves of his sea! Again we are in the celebration of Holy Week and we have thought it appropriate to write this work on the stone of Gethsemane with a gifted scene that was his arrest, caused by the petty betrayal of all the Treacherous in the world. Mashiah, lonely in his full youth of thirty-three years in Aramaic verses succumbing to the arms of his Abba, .. He takes him and wraps him in his arms to defend him from the darkness shedding blood and tears on a cracked stone, beyond the skies that predecessor grenades in his hands revealing will that surpasses the levels of being rescued more times. There is a bitter taste of fruit, of course, but it tastes like a red planting of the dry red rock that is not emanated from anything but that if it brings us the generous hand that ceases pain and affliction, that produces sweet sleep even having wrought iron entering through your carpals and tarsal feet. With the pantomime of our morbidity we stretch our arms on your crucified cross but without awareness of the ******* test of not experiencing the iron in our questioned soul, without crucified skin in the epidemic that the beast of punishment gave to his skin between screams and hoarse cries that if they slip towards him, rather under the acíbar of a hammered heartless glass inert and stone that runs towards the west looking for the voices of his pious mother. The sip of the sunset was ingested in the sadness of my life that begins to be reborn every time it was lost and lifeless without feeling it as mine. I sleep vigil on the flames of the stand in the stones of the fire, and I sleep because others will not wake me up on the edge that cuts my game in flames. What cowardly courage accumulating in a depersonalized spilled heart..., what hours will have to pass without feeling them to date the entrance into his body of burning iron towards the sacrifice and not the sacrifice. "Let it continue here in this pebble with the shape that bears fruit because it will not burst with impatience, but rather with tears of pomegranate grains." What stronger aloe than seven days in a row turning to my usual sweetness sin to finish them abandoned without savoring it. For the first time since I returned from exile, I understand that his Aramaic smells like wisps of fruit and hundreds of syllables that are..., whipped like mega words that smell like his upright trunk in solitude and abandonment. Its trunk like mine is stone of tree bark, of vile whips lost in the frieze of its temple breaking its head bark, weeping its moans in full reconverted hopes of a hidden Ziziphus crown. They are nailed to a purple wisp of pomegranate, defeating the ailment of those who dared to martyr him in the pain that runs through his icy strata..., not sifted even by brave poor people; as it is to say by the voice of the wealthy spirit helping you. "Being prepared and No,

Maasefa Stone Powder: "You are made of stone and you will become stone" were the words of communion in Gethsemane of the stone of the Mashiach's prayer, indicating the expression of freedom and cessation of the oligarchy of belonging to the doctrine of the world of dimensional physical slavery, and its intertwined solidity of stones that the priests elaborated in the catacombs in times of consecration of loved ones towards a centile universe of Orthodox spirituality. Here are the stones carved like the Sanhedrin that met in the building known as the Hall of Carved Stones (Lishkat Ha-Gazith) for this purpose it will be the conservation of ossuaries of the high authorities and common citizens, having the prerogative of the Maasefa that has to consist of collecting the bones of all those reduced after a year in complete secrecy in the assigned catacombs. Through this immediacy of low and recondite spaces grows the vague wandering of precepting in approaching the salvific redemption awaiting the projection of the expired ancestors in the source of eternal life accepted by the Mashiach (Messiah), to shelter us in his illusion in beautiful brotherhood before to be resurrected. The Hexagonal Primogeniture would go by way of making the nucleus of nearby songs of the oratory of the orchard towards an honorable mention of elaborating concavities in the geology of the orchard, so that the alliance of the Aramaic verb of cloistering and devotion of the members in each stony cell, and the explosion of the Aramaic verb speaking infinitely of the Father-Son analogy. In such a way that translucent particles will be spread by the rhizomes of the Olivos Barnea species; deriving to Bern for the posthumous tribute of Vernarth considered Champion of conservation and cenacle of living and extinct organic bones, such as the aforementioned case of the Apostle before gathering as elemental dust of Joshua's Maasefa prior to the completion of the withdrawal of the Garden of Gethsemane. Shofar, sistrum, harp, and cymbals resonate for the wise night and its star sign before starting the excavation works in the nearby veins to conclude the Maasefa. They all sleep together that night touching each other's heels in the matrix phase to start a day with the strength of the stonework from left to right for the allegory of the Menorah that never leaves the magnetized night. They rise at twenty minutes to four to begin the ritual, an hour and a half before sunrise they were in the stratum of purple dawn on layers of divinity tinged with the conscious subtlety of the creator in our levitating being. Its consequences arise before their bodies continue to evolve towards the hegemonic process on the stratum of the nascent mineralogy that was going to intervene, being oratory of the Mashiach or synchronic Messiah. Beneath it, Vernarth would begin to pierce looking for the dimensional spaces of the search for his physiognomic extension adaptable to everyone's and evolutionary memory that separated the entrance of the Shemash and Selene over the glasses waiting to be filled and drunk at noon. Eleven days before the Ekadashi (full moon) began. Thus, in this way, they would sculpt the poked catacomb in twelve simultaneous rocks that were in a perfect limbic diametral circle of the plotline of the orchard with their physical displacements in congruence with the moon and consciousness that agrees with it, like that alert of that fateful night in which was kidnapped. In perfection with the oscillating vibration that is expanding in front of the dorsal cold of the stone analogically when the Mashiach vibrated in physical magnitude and in the absence of alert, more emotional if after talking with his Abba. The tremulous line she encompassed was widely displaced further since she was transported into the Edicule isotope as an element of flight, escape, detonation and resignation, being able to find nature configured in the fuss of a great variety of isotopes of different mass. the one in a large part will exceed in the cumulative gasified reaction, and in cathartic events that will occur at fifteen o'clock on Good Friday when the prophetic events and the mischievous changes of evidence of the cataclysm expire on the cross and hands. The eclipsed sun, storm with depressing losses, and tragedy for a world that will sleep more than seventeen hundred years to the right create the consciousness of being in more than two conscious places, with the minimum and childish aspect of the remaining second that is divided between the before and after the physical and physiological abandonment, beginning a final episode and conclusive torment that precedes a culminating beginning. All this transformation of the enclave and energetic dimension allowed them to synchronously pierce the sedimented rocks that were thus sustained in the timid energy, generating higher will field electromagnetism. Thus, in the sinkholes, everyone was drilling, they would be of the same mass category as the isotopes to manifest the energy and its dynamic charge, such an occlusive energy mass that would explode on the day of Golgotha's martyrdom. Preceding this energy phenomenon underlies the symmetry of the magnetic field created synchronously with words emitted in comparative Aramaic words with reminiscences that must serve in the twelve caverns of the garden in conversions and exchanges of exhalations of bees, bumblebees, and wasps of the curved universe that transits in the explosiveness of the lines that approach the dislocation ratio of the vibrations and their sound frequencies. Globally pollination as a genetic element of the fresh chlorophyll macerated as kinetics in elytra of Lepidoptera with the indications of connecting the clan with the aforementioned electromagnetic energies. The interaction of the fields within the system will be induced between Golgotha ​​and Gethsemane, they will establish here electric charges that will produce gases and liquids that will intervene in the entire lithosphere that unites both portions of soils, this created the interaction of particles establishing the undermining of rocks with basin-shaped Calota de Calavera, due to the geological conformation of the radius that surrounds both predicted areas. From this standard, the caverns will be improvised in the garden, magnetizing the vibration areas that depend on each other. The search Interrelates a magnetic and electrical phenomenon between both zones; the impulse to anticipate the premonitions of the Mashiach is derived, and how he was going to endure such torments towards his illustrious body in such a way as to retransmit it electromagnetically between the transmission bridge of the Garden and admission to Golgotha. This will unleash all subsequent supernatural and geological phenomena during the day of his torment and delicacy that will be glimpsed by decree of an execution damaged humanity exposed to orthodox fanaticism, causing a sensitive correspondence between the transmission of faith and the dogma of attending to the work physical and mystical legacy to protect for successive generations in the species Berna Olivar, ratifying correlation of the majestic and axiomatic cultivation of preservation under the catacombs and unalterable progeny of concelebrations of the eternal relation of a coalition of prosapia united to the shock and conscience of Christian Eternity. This gravitational potential energy will associate the Aramaic multi-effect towards all the attendees to confer, dialogue, assimilate and consent towards a supra lingual organic and historical heritage dynamic channel, on the basis of a monumental act of consanguinity in front of all will, "Here are all alphas over omegas." Creating complex harmonic movements between the caverns of impiety, but with a perfect and renovating equation with the redeemed Prayer in Aramaic towards the universe in quasi-face-to-face degrees, but not verifiable until the ritual of saving prayer is concluded. The chain reaction of this divine particle will be the opposite reaction tax of the active consolidation work area tensioned between the pilasters, Golgotha ​​and Gethsemane, both are started with "G" and if you turn it in any direction surrounding it you make a perfect skull of no more than twelve kilometers, whose distance in a direct line would certainly be crossing the eternal vision through ocular concavities, demonstrating levels of analogy and esoteric analysis. The extended reciprocity and supra value of divine consciousness are latent, from where the emission of the word and the will is born "the Calota or head skeleton" in the sense of reduced material and the corpuscle of antimatter that would come to be where the universes intersect in the elite of direct mercy (one has already happened, but another sphere of the difficult concavity has yet to travel..., only a Messiah will have to cross it when it returns to us again). This Eclipse of the Messiah of the Sun is a dark aspect of anemic light, torment, and three Maries, vindicating itself in this token of superficial passion in the Garden and antimatter rooted in the anti-particle, which evades this great event by lavishing its blessed spiritual figure with a charge of ambivalent theological antimatter; of egregious trust and bipartite univocity but fainting for the dark mercy on Golgotha ​​and light in the Garden of Gethsemane. "His body trembling and the Earth also" Shibboleth was getting up to distinguish members of a group such as the tribe of Ephraim, whose dialect lacked a sound (S), unlike others such as the Gileadites, whose dialect did include it. Shibboleth is a spike and also celebrates the fertility of the wheat crops and all concomitant species of the natural and endemic species of central Judah. And the Gileadites took the fords of the Jordan River to Ephraim, and when one of Ephraim who had fled said, Shall I cross over? The Gilead asked him, Are you an Ephraimite? If he answered no, then they told him: Well say "shibboleth". And he said shibboleth because he couldn't pronounce that luck. Then they laid hands on him and cut his throat. And so died forty-two thousand of those of Ephraim. however renewing when released by the contending magnetic forces that made Virola a whole that surrounds Gethsemane and Golgotha ​​as a magnetized tunnel of great mystical conversion for purposes of adaptability and preservation of renewed fertilizations of bumblebees, bees, and wasps in view of a commonwealth conforming and spreading in all spheres of faith and apotheosis from the pre-act of the Messiah's refuge to the judgment and punishment of his truth. After expunging their scourge in a dazed journey, they will fall with great similarity to the verb "Betrays and Forgives", the Universe in its creation renews everything, because that is how it has been written since the beginning of the Universe and by whoever dictated it." Shibboleth, will reconcile differences of understanding without prejudice and differences of geographical, anthropological, lingual mentions, cultural and divine verticals. "Our informal culture is preserved within village houses by resisting the scourge of victorious death, within the cave that protects us in its infinite mercy and commiseration" Maasefa and The Valley of Dry Bones collide at the appointed time the Svein Tzora, "the flintstones", to kindle the fire of the Messiah. The thunder was such that it made the seas decant for rivers and thunder on the terraces of the houses and fire on the banks of each unfulfilled prayer! Everyone gets up, each one leaving each cave of his ordeal, and goes to the meeting of the Dry Bones. The tradition of gathering the bony componential that has no soul all deviates towards the request of the flesh for its soul. As the account of the Prophet Ezekiel, five hundred years BC There are many outstanding remains of bones, this would resume in Gethsemane for the offspring of the Messiah's son caste, the Cherubim with the Lepidoptera twenty meters from the Svein Tzora donating light and heat to begin the ritual of dim moonlight. It is already a crescent moon and dim green lights shine through the beautiful dim green branches that light up the dry land of the beloved orchard on the face of the wasteland Calvary. The advantageous meats that began to butcher the bones raised the desire to start ultra fast in the oropharyngeal area, to endow solemnity and fulfillment of the prophecy of the sacred language of the Aramaic lingual group in tune with the vibrations of sound waves of the wind in romance with the blows of the fire towards their faces. In this way, the spirit of Jehovah was adhered to reunite the primary words of reunion of the edicts of Bethhelem, with the visions of Joshua so that the stable in its language emits the immortal edict from the very stable Kafersuseh to Gethsemane. Now everything was holy energy in union with the lands that made the compost fertile and his word was fulfilled, The valley of olive trees was reconverted and prayed complacency, everyone tried in the attachment of clan and twilight in the accidentality of the event, the new reason will not deprive of anointing the past-present in the realization of the joy of remains with bones, of laughter with laughter, of a patriarch with veterans, of offspring with their offspring, with the greatest thing than a hand covered with a great spirit over a valley where only distensions and candles should fit in each one of them. with Joshua's visions for the stable in his language to issue the immortal edict from the very stable Kafersuseh to Gethsemane. Now everything was holy energy in union with the lands that made the compost fertile and his word was fulfilled.



Paraps XXIX

Mashiach of Judah VI part

Miracle VII- Gethsemane / Meshuva Basics

The kicks of the feet begin. The twelve Giga camels stand up with their paired toes beginning to peel off the fat deposits of the remaining six camels with hoofed nails. They tore the epidermis with their fingernails to spread fat and oil into the lamps of light they need to distribute from the Full Moon in each palm of each component. The moon was in cacophony, it walked everywhere and imagined itself in the court of King David, drowsing in cubicles at the first light of the second sleep in the morning. Undivided they walked in procession through the source of the change in the socio-religious paradigm that kept them united, they were Raeder and Petrobus, Alikanto with a golden mount on his small back, the Lepidoptera, bumblebees, bees, and wasps, they tiptoed silently over the first level of damp wind at dawn, many of them perched on the backs of immune camels to ride with them to the reestablished Gethsemane starting point. In their phylogeny they collaterally impute the taxonomy that belongs to the camelid genus, which is a taxonomic category that is located between the family of Judah and the Middle East in the buried ecclesiastical species; thus, a genus of a group of organisms is propitiated, which in turn can be divided into several species. As ungulates as well as strictly herbivores, their musculature differs from other proboscideans in that the legs are attached to the body only at the upper thigh, instead of being connected from the knee up by skin and muscle, therefore it will be very easy for them to connect with flying insects so that they do not have to kneel. While the six sectioned the tanks of another six, and so they will continue to be stationed and intervened until their superficial wounds heal before leaving for the return to the port of Jaffa. On this long journey until dawn, they must stand on their footpads to resist the final farewell cult of the twelve caves, as they emerge from the placental sites they had developed with the Primogen to empower the vestigial area of ​​the rescued Aramaic word. This will be to grant and scale prosperity by having the signs of vitality intertwined, with each reminiscence of calls and responses of messages for the "Propitius Esto Humanity" that is projected in the secular future. This will be generated by external stimulation each time the intention to communicate with the ceremonial of existence-life-deaths-fullness is presented, thus the voice of the greatest incisive devotional forces will resemble, grabbing or grabbing the smallest voices that can even be overlooked or not understood when the Golden Gate of Jerusalem is inaugurated. From the very top, the Gigas species can be seen walking with six candlesticks, these species cross their artiodactyl locomotion towards a fluctuate on the flames of the candlesticks towards the rock of Mashiaj. While the other camels were recovering from their wounds, they looked with their calm eyes and were very aware of the proselytizing nunciature that channeled the reactions of the Hexagonal Progeniture, thus being absolved of the commitment of the prayers for the new launch with the atmospheric ordering ceremony in Getsemaní with the voices of the Messiah, with the framework, volume, and reverberation to flood with light and sounds in all the geographical areas that have not had a subscription. As the Giants trod the grounds with their hoofed nails, Vernarth and Alikanto, Saint John the Apostle, King David, Eurydice, Raeder, and Petrobus (The Hexagonal Primogeniture), made solemn vows before such an episode. It was not long before dawn and even Selene disputed with other stars of the envelope to shine more for such a great event..., as it is surprising at the moment that everything would seem of stillness and gestation of winged embryos appearing from the top of the Bern Olive trees near the Cherubs. They came with the Mashiaj who brought them new charities..., he could be seen in a deep field in two light bulbs of his white tunic, full of gold and blue lace, with Lepidoptera around him throughout the journey distilling crimson celestial radiosities.  Meshuva white cloak descended through the fronds of the olive trees lit and previously illuminated by the northeast ***** of the orchard, the Cherubim and Archangel Miguel and Gabriel came with decided parallelism by six-folding the interpretations expressed by the Lepidoptera, for the purpose of consolidating the institution of the north side of Gethsemane as a sanctified area of ​​Aramaic prayer and devotion of absolute naturalization of the classification of the Cherubim and Lepidoptera as winged tetras and Cultivators of the phylogenetic transmission of the pollen-orchard on the opening of the gynaeceum of the Olivo Berna, in the Valley of the Olives, and taxonomic choice by hierarchical order of the species and geo-referencing of the asteroseismic corridor of the narrow pass between Bethhelem and Gethsemane. On the tops of the olive trees were the Cherubim and the Lepidoptera, they fluttered through the flowery ramifications intertwined with the Messiah's tunic that came descending with an accent of graceful Torah, then the dawn of pre-dawn fireflies re-blooms on his face..., they brought a million beams of another thousand groups of beams to be born among the first luminaries of the day. The Lepidoptera ascended through an oval interval and in a spiral path through the petiole until the fifth generation of Rapa or Eskimo with forty flowers with four white petals in phylogenetic synchrony with Cherubim and Lepidoptera with four elementary portions to deliver the fundamental membrane that will generate the physiognomy of the Messiah between the transposed ones, and blond, ruddy lights of the Messiah's face with the cross-like texture of themselves on their shoulders of Capernaum dew. The Esquimo or the flowers would grow in clusters of between ten to forty flowers in perfect series depending on the variety, each flower would also have four white petals, a little pulpy facing each other in a symmetrical cross, and the flower will bring in the center an orange-yellow hue of an arboreal sphinx that would be filled with clusters that will transform the appearance of the oil-bearing tree, giving white brushstrokes to the olive grove before stingy gallantry glances. Each flower will supper from its captive pollen for approximately one week, so the flowering phase of the olive trees will turn before a brief duration, but of a messianic lapse with the cyclical lives of their idyllic Syriac Aramean. The female and hermaphrodite caste will bring you the biblical universal pollen with tremulous stamens and surcharged pistils traveling more than nine and a half kilometers from Bethlehem of the "Kafersuseh" to the orchard. Before the majestic pollination, the archangels Michael and Gabriel will invade two percent of the gynoecium of the flowers, giving way to the Meshuva candid cloak, full of white apotheosis petals. Vernarth rushes to the ground and rolls around between the petals filling his entire body and face with thousands of them, leaving many of them transfigured in the oily fruit of the Palate Universe between the ring finger and the index finger with an accent of Purification of the Mikveh, floating like neutron orbit of Life and Micro Universe only to be entranced by the presence of the Messiah in his white robe of petals.  Coming down with Bernese Petals strawberry trees in his white tunic, the Mashiach rushes to Vernarth, takes him, and tells him secretly: floating like neutron orbit of Life and Micro Universe only to be entranced by the presence of the Messiah in his white robe of petals. Coming down with Bernese Petals strawberry trees in his white tunic, the Mashiach rushes to Vernarth, takes him, and tells him secretly:

Mashiah: "Only you..., in each one of these white cells you are..., and in those that you are not in my remembrance, it is reborn as the fruit of the Bern Olive Tree. Over the cup of this species I heard your prayer, I know who you are and gratitude for resisting this lymphoma so nobly, I took it out of your soul when it was confused with the fresh breeze of the grass that feeds the fungi of pain. Immerse yourself in this Mikveh of columns of white petals from Bern, here the voices and words of Aramaic will run in a row to the right to sip white in my thoughts of the Gospel, with your miraculous grace by returning to me John the Apostle being exiled by Domitian. Come to me walking on this unleavened bread with Bern olive elixir and let's drink Hanukkah wine and its vital dawn that boils with each sip of the glandular thymus and your sore chest in between. I am tired, I come from far away, but I have taken this road from Emmaus to lift you up. Arise and come to My Vernarth." Vernarth erects his purified column with the petals emulating the Mikve "Purification", he predisposes himself to the Holy path of the Meshuva "Return to God". So from today Vernarth is born and revives to continue his journey back to Patmos. Mashiah says: "The why of the naive deviation will **** them and the complacency of the fools will destroy them. Your own wickedness will correct you, and your apostasies will rebuke you; Know therefore and see that it is evil and bitter that you should forsake the Lord your God, and the fear of me be not in you." Vernarth says: "We will be loyal and under these leafy trees Bern I will proclaim to the north saying; that we walk towards merciful fidelity and declare all together! We know that  My Lord will heal us of our infidelity, that is why we have come here because You are our Lord God." St. John the Apostle replies: "The lion, wolf, leopard, will **** us, destroy us and tear us to pieces because transgressions and apostasies have invaded in great numbers..., my beloved Mashiach, we have already got rid of the deception and we want the Meshuva back to your ether. of the accomplice desert with the aromas of the flying weevils that the Aramaic lexicons bring us from Kafersesuh to re-graft them into the eternity of your word that crosses the entire universe. The world has sinned against you, the apostasies are innumerable, and we are here to lovingly honor your name. So my people were determined to push me away even though they call them to the Highest, none at all exalts him. I will heal his apostasy, I will love them freely because my anger has departed from them" The Garden was eclipsed by the cardinal points, it was delineated by a Cherub from South to North, for the main border that passed through the zenith where the Mashiach would order the promontory of the dependent rock of the placental rocks that coexist with the twelve inhabitants who had erected them with their eyes closed and opened by the light of Faith. The border that Vernarth and the Apostle nominally saw, was connected with the new division of the world of the stagnant word, and in the new route, it revived in a perfect cross from west to east towards the paleo trill of the Palestinian Eagles loaded with incense and sawdust from the felled Olive Tree for the furniture that they used as input in the lavish boasts of the Romans. The magnetized needle will crack the back of each of the members,"O Kýrios tha epistrépsei se mas, tis rízes tou Kósmou, ópou krémetai ta skoupídia tou" (The Lord will return to us the roots of the World, where its concrete debris hangs). Then this voice takes from the inconcrete state, aligning the excellence of the north of the Messiah, together with the iron of the blood plasma of Vernarth and the Apostle to be magnetized towards the north in the sublime magnetized cardinal. Shemesh-Sun King order of cardinal parallelism is thus established; north: north or boreal ruled by Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, South: Meridian or Austral by Etréstles and Eurydice, East: East, rising or rising ruled by Raeder and King David West: West or West. In this way, the insects and animals, declaimed the sunrise of the Sun to the Levant before each cup of the Chalice synchronous with the intercession of the cross to the tangential of the horizontal that extends to the west when both phases of the solar cycle are aligned with the departure of the Bread and discharge of the Messiah from his time in the cloister. The Alikantus and Petrobus animals will be ruled by the Northeast and Northwest, while the flying insects will be ruled by the Southeast and Southwest.

Etymological ellipsis of Ancient Nordic Civilizations: The east-west perimeter is considered as the axis of the abscissas in a geographic coordinate system, the axis of the ordinates would be described by the north-south line, which corresponds to the axis of terrestrial rotation. This composition generates four angles of ninety degrees that in turn are divided by the bisectors generating northwest, southwest, northeast, and southeast. Thus the Rose of the Winds is demarcated by the Esquimo del Olivo flower in perfect harmony with the circumference of the horizon. This will attract the lines that intersect verbally and non-verbally, by the abscissa that delineates the guideline of the Rock of the Messiah overflowing with total generosity to shine in the caves at dawn, to sprinkle them with the rays that they lack due to the supposed static latitude. In order to parody the line of the lethality of the Norse Gods by being tangential to this new alignment of the earth axis and laterality coordination, only through the Apples of Asynjur can they hope to revive until the final destiny of the Gods. This Nordic parallelism goes back to us in the chapter Vernarth Chapter II - Animal of War in Tel Gomel, where Asgard is mentioned, which in Norse mythology is the one conceived on earth, it is a rainbow bridge, Bifrost, which connects it with the paradise. This etymology will cross the genesis of the plotline of the entire Hellenic epic in the first chapters until it is reiterated here in this Messianic epic with the demarcation of the limits in Gethsemane, that marks the guideline that intersects the exact point of the Aramean Prayer Rock for the diction of the words and cosmogonic interrelationships of cultures and the sparkling use of the atavistic language before the year 332 BC and even after, to project with the temporal line of the regressive line of parapsychology after 1820, in the Spanish Revolution of this same work. This demarcation has intertextuality in coordinates of time-history, to make this unpublished Gethsemane map the timelessness of archaic civilizations, which have applauded and venerated all cycles of life and fall under the same precept of cardinal laterality, acclaiming a God who he flowed and created the North whether he lives or agonizes, but if he wants to revive he will have to come to his threshold of quantum departure "The Garden of Gethsemane" to be projected with the timeline of the regressive line of parapsychology after 1820, in the Spanish Revolution of this same work. This demarcation has intertextuality in coordinates of time-history, to make this unpublished Gethsemane map the timelessness of archaic civilizations, which have applauded and venerated all cycles of life and fall under the same precept of cardinal laterality, acclaiming a God who he flowed and created the North whether he lives or agonizes, but if he wants to revive he will have to come to his threshold of quantum departure "The Garden of Gethsemane" to be projected with the timeline of the regressive line of parapsychology after 1820, in the Spanish Revolution of this same work. This demarcation has intertextuality in coordinates of time-history, to make this unpublished Gethsemane map the timelessness of archaic civilizations, which have applauded and venerated all cycles of life and fall under the same precept of cardinal laterality, acclaiming a God who he flowed and created the North whether he lives or agonizes, but if he wants to revive he will have to come to his threshold of quantum departure "The Garden of Gethsemane"



Gaugamela

Palace of the Camelids

The roosters of Persepolis sing again. Its disloyal resonances and deadly gloom came from seventy kilometers from the Iranian city of Shiraz, province of Fars, near the place where the Pulwar River empties into the Kur (Kyrus). The Rooster specters came mounted on the houses of the twelve Giga Camels..., recovered from the remaining six. They came to withdraw to take the path to Jaffa. The House of Camels began as preservatives of the immunity required to be in accordance with the sanitary ellipticals and adaptation to the exit of Judah. They were bound for the hemicycle of the Lepidoptera consorts united with the specter camels Giga and the Early Birds that will give the first row in the game of the Primogen, after seven weeks in Judah. Knowing that the phylogeny of Animalia is of wide versatility of this super being of the desert Animalia that will agree on the departure of all and repatriation of the hexagonal Primogen except King David who will enter the Celestial cenotaph in Jerusalem escorted by the Cherubim. From Tel Gomel came reverberations of sonorizations of the last metallic rattles of swords and howls of Macedonian infantrymen colliding with each other with their pernicious weapons. While these screams reverberate like an anvil falling at ninety degrees on hailed pieces of perspective of the Achaemenides..., their families already had to say goodbye to their family plains, since many lost their souls cracked from inhaled mutilating curses. Today a miraculous event would occur from the high sky a Dorus Hetairoi would fall that came flaming with fire. And from the northwest side, a Sarissa spear fell that intercepted in the immediate vicinity of Joshua's stone-forming neat Cross lit with the brightest star. It was nothing less than the vehement fire of Meshuva that brought with it drops of water from the Jordan with the Image of the Baptist, to make the hierarchical gravitation on the ponies of the Camels that at this point had all the dominance of the plague of the sufferings that They could cause a great impact on the twelve camels due to an endemic outbreak as a result of some leprosy in the surrounding area, causing higher contagions to those who ride them. The panorama was one of total rhetoric consonant with Tel Gomel, "Gaugamela Palace of the Camels". This paradox came to resent the reciprocity of magnificence of these camelids in the perfect analogy with Gethsemane, for this purpose to agree with the ghosts of Shiraz shortly before the great battle of Gaugamela began in 332 BC. C. equating the lands arranged before the plantar areas where these divine species continued to bring the sense of war around sensitized, converted into battering rams of mustangs crossing the auscultated portals of the Garden in an agony of interlude. Over the soft roar of Tel Gomel came maidens in white tulle with semi-cross dresses, serene and chaste from the plain of the Palace of India were the wives who married the commanders of Alexander the Great. They were from the war lineage that also came to concelebrate the farewell of the Animalia and Hexagonal Primogeniture. Today the seven miracles come together in a perfect line of the Apeiron, which of all things identifies this first principle with the "indefinite" or "unlimited." Considering that the constitutive principle of things was the Apeiron, which is neither water, nor earth, nor fire, nor air; It has no concrete form, it is infinite. The cosmos is born, develops, and perishes within that "ápeiron" in Gethsemane. This existential infinity of the beginning of the world is born from this feat in Gethsemane, affirming that only this immaterial element nor any other of the so-called elements will bring the ápeiron nature of the Garden in flames of love from which all the heavens and elements that are in them are generated in Gethsemane renewed towards the infinity of love of Joshua. Now, starting from where there is a rebirth for things, reconstructive destruction is also produced there, giving rise to needs; in fact, they pay each other by blaming and retributing for their injustice according to the disposition of time speaking of these things in rather pastoral terms, these maidens come in their feathered chariots from Sisellas of Tel Gomel for the blessed ones who club the underground of Tel Gomel and Bumodos, among cosmic rinsings of the Apeiron of the Messiah beyond its origin in the Kafersuseh (many births under a single great multivalent spirit among thousands of stables of origin and powers of Dimensional Beams, where the master lord worships from the trapeze hanging from beam to beam). The fireflies, bumblebees, bees, and wasps, resemble the profiles of the hollows and hills that were hidden before the figure of all this nascent profane world, more grandiloquent than migrating and fitting the engineering of the great beams that support the structural sky predominantly on supine and flexion. The World, after decompressing, dragged the linear orographic cords of Gethsemane, puncturing the cords of the rocks and its messianic average lithosphere, in this way it opened twisting in the inertia that toward the rock puckered a fist of guidelines that distilled in later moments and of adaptation of the inertia to adapt with the dynamics of the Aramaic emerging from the mouth of all the olive trees Bern after yawn and slime of trapped dust. Vernarth says: "With my Xiphos I will establish life beyond the burning of wounds, come worms to snack on your meat Hoplites, come now..."I am Hetairoi..." and I usually die several times over the worst pains in the jaws of ambrosia with Hestia but I do not tolerate that others suffer pain beyond my control. In the minutes that the horns of the wind besiege, the living Garden of the jailer will be freed from us, constrained to uncover the insidious and opaque sphere of solitary confinement, that deprives us of knowledge even being embarrassed about the same death and not attentive to it that blooms on the plethoric thorns of Saracen alcohol" On gigantic dimensions, the insects copulate the shadows directed on the shadows of the Giant Camels thus beginning the departure of the Aramaic Huerto converted into the new palace of the Animalia, despite contending pretense of pollen on each particle of the Mashiach's concretions now on the platform of the Palace of the Camelids and on the Holy hummus of the Garden of Gethsemane. The Apostle Saint John says: "anxious urges to go to the other side of the evocation and have to look at other tree species with water from the universe that irrigates the world in the swamp"... He appears sitting on his golden Petrobus cloud with Raeder... Raeder says: "I will go with miraculous airs and terrified of themselves of our own miracles, bathed in the water from the flow and from the head of Petrobus, we will supply water where there is none, but he has no mention, only the instinct of those who need him. I have to hang myself from his Jade Ferrules that carry his web-footed legs. Now is the time to continue at some point in the line of the twelve ungulates after these seven weeks in Judah" Eurydice intervenes: "I will get on the camels and talk with them about why the line that leads us will never separate from Gethsemane. We know that we have to return from Jaffa to Limassol to remove the Mariano gold medallion that was bathed in the bottom, and that Procorus awaits us immersed in the aroma of the Garden. I keep a crack in my heart where a Bern Olive tree grows, and that of its sprouts that are populating the houses of Skalá and the heights of Patmos" King David: "I will proclaim over the baptismal airs, and that the ghosts of Shiraz will raise Olive trees from the balusters of the avenues of Berna, to raise the props of passageways that lead to the heights of Agamemnon creating the kingdom of Mycenae in mythology that will propitiate the sovereignty of all of Argos. This was ingested all of a sudden in the triad of the Hebrew, Aramaic, and Hellenic worldview, to triumph over the excess of external knowledge that they had and will have to be kept in my cenotaph full of wandering aromatic weevils" Etréstles states: "the emanations of the Sun and progression of other suns will always be the adjective that will make us be part of every particle of land here in the Garden, Messolonghi, Limassol, Rhodes, and Patmos.

Also after this episode appears Campaspe, one of Alexander the Great's concubines. She came on behalf of all the maidens and concubines who were betrothed to their commanders in India. The beauty of this noblewoman is renowned. Campaspe says: "We were all going to be Sovereigns, but the face of expiration was always in front of the Commanders of Alexander the Great. The outfits we wore were only black and had scents from Palacios de Gaugamela. The cold that is born from another leads me to possess those of others that are not the ones that bring me here. I was given into the hands of a painter who portrayed me but the true meaning of the warm mustard lands of Gaugamela is in the heat of the wasteful pleasure of the solitude of spaces, there is no greater striking and curative good than the one that has come from Vernarth to Tel Gomel, paraphrasing the sensuality and sadness that continues to manifest here in the hovering hoofed hands of the ghosts of Shiraz, bringing to greater confusion to unite all the forces of the world for all the blood that has not been emancipated or renamed" The gray mist of the Garden on gum resin mourns, the insects moan the test of the triangulated pollen that Campaspe disseminates in its nascent genome, and the twelve camels begin to turn on themselves along with their insulting long and prolonged snores. The hillsides snort in procreation in the whistles of the fresh air disputing the attire of the Bern Olive Trees that ebb from the elongated bands of their white dresses *******. The Mashiach was leaving between the gray strips of naked nubiles. The weevils followed him out of the caves of the previous character of Golgotha, and the Lepidoptera emitted voices in ancient Aramaic similar to the event of Bethany in the hands of Lazarus contracted to immortalities in the shreds of his shroud turning green in the hardened olives in an epitaph never chanted. Gethsemane became a mezzanine scale of Persian architecture, but of a channel of the affront of a high premium measure, Mashiach in each of the four wings of the Lepidoptera and Cherubim, frolicking in the emulsion of the phrases exuded by the aerial rounds of the insects that were compressing the new cycle of language, together with the candle overflowing with pearlescent matches running through the thin flannels of the Mashiach's farewell together with the foamy secretion of the Olive Tree and with the dominant beam of Kafersesuh. Vernarth and the Apostle close their eyes already mounted on the camelids, they take a slow walk on the mezzanine that suggested walking through rocks and desert lands. Everyone was already mounted on each of the Giga camels, leaving Gethsemane flooded with insects, birds, and blades, clouds of Pollen over the fumaroles of the quantum.



Paraps  ***

Ghosts from Shiraz to Jaffa

VII part -Mashiach of Judah Miracle VIII

They leave Jerusalem with the mountebanks of Shiraz, they were ghosts of the plectrum, the wine, the roses, and the fireflies sleight the path of the twelve camels until the intersection with the Cenotaph where King David will stay with the Cherubs of Kafersesuh. They were Epi ghosts that basked in the footsteps of the camelids. They went in the cessations of the bent nails and plants of the areas of the marquee of the other four ghosts that accompanied him. They were tightrope walkers with water wheels of wheel balances with tutelary ropes, some with a stilt of opprobrium from the monetary wealth of Judas Iscariot and the last propelled by a caper that governed all the others on the wings of the Fireflies. Removed from the road that leads to the Kidron valley falls on them all two thousand five hundred years with clay tablets from Persepolis, they were phonetized with the plaintive nightmare of the tortuous poem of Tirazis; which is currently Shiraz in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Primogen, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. When they began to be with them in the cove, the acrobat ghosts were seething with the desire to prevent everyone from being saddened by the party from the orchard that was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, telling little stories in their ears. of the travelers. which is currently Shiraz in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Primogen, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. When they began to be with them in the cove, the acrobat ghosts were seething with the desire to prevent everyone from being saddened by the party from the orchard that was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, telling little stories in their ears. of the travelers. which is currently Shiraz in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Primogen, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. When they began to be with them in the cove, the acrobat ghosts were seething with the desire to prevent everyone from being saddened by the party from the orchard that was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, telling little stories in their ears. of the travelers.

Hydro Saltimbanqui: "I come from Roknabad (also known as Aub-e Rokní), an underground canal that brings spring water to the city from a mountain ten kilometers northeast of Shiraz. Here I have to mend propellers and water ropes to do my acrobatics on the water with general songs from the poems of the Poet Hafiz. When we bite our tongues we repair it with the verses of Hafiz's Koran, there are three hundred creeds, three hundred hectares to irrigate with my wheel the sadness of those who cannot have the gifts of the rivalry of Black Mount and White Mount to overestimate the vividness of the caravan that trembles with uncertain doubts on the way to Jaffa" Saltimbanqui de Báscula utters: "We are Epi ghosts, greened in reverie with tutelary ropes to jump through the trapeze of photometric units of the heavy Almería of the highest Mirror of the Sea. Here we look from the same that will be boarded on the barge that will take them back to Limassol. Curiously, the same ship from Lepanto that sleeps in the swaying of the sea and arms of Anaximander in a new awakening from the lethargy of superstring theorizing, here is the intrinsic speculation of science since this is not only purely empirical research." Anaximander says: "First..., we do not have the agreement that string theory is not ultimately correct and in the future in some verifiable way. Second, we propose a purpose of the order of string theory that is necessary for science and its importance going even beyond the scientific to also project on the metaphysical and the religious, right here in this order of greater what to do attached to the string that leads me to Patmos. Saltimabanqui de Báscula responds: "metaphysical and religious legitimacy, here we are making knots in the tow rope that will inaugurate a new masonry in the verifiable futuristic gaze. Here is the original fiction of continuing to raise the necks of the ants above our optics. We will jump over these two ropes but we will fall on intervals of physical placental caves that were born from the neo-embryo in the Twelve Caves of Gethsemane in a late primordial germinal process. The micro phonetic vibrations will have to raise us above the hunger to continue and leave King David in his cenotaph gored on his hips by the Cherubim marking his holy horns that are confused by the blunting of the cuneiform scratches of his epigram. Between theoretical magic and exotically as associativity of substance causally of poetic song and multiverse, believing in the ghosts of Shiraz, such dreams injected to sublimate Aeneids that lamented in the stones of the bottom, even being independent of their material origin. Multi universes, multi paraphrase for those who have to adorn the word "Rosa with the noble long dress of him to the cliff of Ebdara when Vernarth acclaims his brother Etréstles, he comes with the Charioteer from Messolonghi. Rested and resolved to head for Tel Gomel, He comes with his horse Kanti to keep him company on this crusade. Kanti braved the Cliffs of Crete, and was subservient to Markos Botsaris, 1821 (Royal Hero of the Liberation of Greece in the Turkish Invasion, Koumeterium Messolonghi-Xlibris USA), until in the afternoon he approached from a herd of beautiful stallions to the. This was heard by Etréstles and he seized His horse to have more than a Life from His company, more than a lost lost aroma of His natural mother to reach the indicated one who treasures it". The ghosts attribute quantitative passages before leaving King David, and then proceeding to Jaffa and getting ahead of the ship back to Cyprus; Limassol. They were all hyperkinetic bowls leveraged by the terrain that went on the **** of the histrionic mountebank presaging contours of the temporary filigree that each one made them smile at the carriage with oxidizing wheels, still being immaterial beings but alive in their vapors of portent wading the serous bile that they emerged from the glasses in their allegories. They did not stop their footsteps or their phonetic figures undulating over the caravan that had already passed Jerusalem. The areas, volumes, and lengths were fully covered by the Ghosts of Shiraz, the mountebanks ran along the banks of Ramallah and it was winter, the city received them with winds and inclement weather from the southwest alternating with cold and dry winds from the northeast. The mountebanks went like master geometers to condone the fuss of the caravan by devising a dodexagesimal system. (Twelve Centuries of Ultra Nocturnal Geometry, and Shipwrecks in the Lighthouse of Alexandria).Positioning the number 12 as a base, to measure the times and angles that they needed to avoid the voluminous rains that lashed the caravan. Incredibly, the volumetric position of the plantar legs of the camels seemed like wheels that turned without stopping at any anti-circumferential radius, turning some clouds into a wicket that enclosed them like a quadrilateral of the flock of God in the high semicircle of the waters that pretended to fall as axiomatic staffs in the beard of Euclid tempering his elemental construction. The linear position of each of those who were mounted was a perfect ergonometric based on the Muladhara pressing four purple petals on pressing Vernarth's Achilles heel that was dimensioning the triangulation of Ramallah with the lichens that were housed in his sword Xiphos at the apex jet that carried the dodexagesimal cartography. In the same position, it seemed the Apostle Saint John carried the rosary in his left hand in geometry that stretched across his nose and feet in a thirsty adonis triangle of one hundred and twenty degrees of the sextant widening his spectrum to align with this Primogen. This is how the stars and planets are positioned in celestial spheres with the gravitation of the Olivos Bern revolutionizing curved and flat equations that intuited to go beyond the crossed pirouettes that the mountebanks did all along the road, even further than those on the withered oil road purposely unquestionable systems that the Ghosts of Shiraz intended to establish. Ghosts of Shiraz; These Persian Epi ghosts started from the axiom and ideal abstract entities relating models of austerity and lyricism that fluctuated in the lines and planes of movement of the clouds, with the counterpoint of the plantars of the Gigas leaving marks in the sand like Morse point, Vernarth diluted his bones to settle them near the tarsus and accommodate it at the end of the vertebra of the Muladhara (Chakra of 4 petals) making a sub-technical geometric function to preserve the plasmas of darkness that were also diluted to arrive at night near Jaffa in the surroundings of the isometric fire existing in each one and in two dimensions..., but being born from a common one. Raeder and Petrobus had their rims floating full of dusty and dense mania on their faces with rubber from shards that had been released from one of the stunts of one of the mountebanks when colliding with the basic postulates of the Ghosts of Shiraz, deducting spaces that undulated like snakes. within the isometric fire that dazzled them with white-hot humor of the last drops of the Shemesh codifying in absolute intuitive measure, more distant from any dimension that is Consciousness destroying planes and spaces that multiplied each other as members of another geometric conscious dimension. Arriving at the Ben Shemen crossing, everyone suffers collective hypnosis, the ghosts manage to embodied in each of the components of the Birthright but omit a great factor. They relegated the Hexagonality of the genetics of this caravan, the ghosts not knowing how to calculate the area once they were being intracorporeal within the members, thus having to leave before the last dislocated Shemesh ray threw the ashes of the Gehenna, for this supposed reason of leaving them condemned to recycle the human species for the purpose of reproducing sacred human beings, but being servile to whims beyond the immortality of the miscalculation that led them to Karim Khan's citadel, surprised with their image of thick stone walls and circular towers in the heart of Shiraz. This gave them a warrior aspect contrary to their fame and history: this was a city famous for two thousand years for its culture, with its gardens and its poets, now if in a plot by this beautiful odalisque trick that attracted the guide of the ecstatic and bilocated ghosts, in a bad moment of extradition towards a bad context of epi ghosts not yet defined in foci of apprentices boasting of laurels of weak and doubtful ideas that still swarmed within his white heart, trying to reach Vernarth's as a former Hetairoi commander, today turned into mystical servile. In such a way they are complicated as "Sufi" ghosts, being, in reality, the genetic spectrum of the double ax that carries the double-cut of today..., of the sacrament of Medea in Abdera. Pro says a ghost from Shiraz (embarrassed): "The Universe is a sea that longs for dry shores, without sea, and without other wet longings..., no possible maiden could Try to dry it with her hands of stars... Who calms the crying of the Universe ...even so..., a simile remains floating like a verse among his dreams" "How can I make of my dreams another dimension of the universe if he is silent and does not make me float in his sea...how can I make it possible for the points of his stars to fill the spaces that have revealed him...and that have made circular shores without a sea between fogs" "I walk alone and nobody sees me... I do not wake up in candles that smile and accompany me... between days that turn into mornings on the shores of the solitude of the universe, that nobody embraces him..." "Now the days tremble with almost falling on themselves, they come out alive from their own loneliness of satiety and fullness... of whoever appreciates them in the mist... being able to surrender in attentions in Ben Shemen".

Creating a sequence that bends the heads of the ghosts filling translucent physiognomies between a cold past and super frozen future, from a classic mechanic that from now on would depend on dice thrown by the Third Ghost of time. Here a relativism would be opened to those who want to see the past in the orchard in an unstable particulate present, leaving far from the splitting of both parts of the archetype of today as a subdivided clash of several times that allowed the remaining phantasmagorical specters to be integrated, taking over history on a plural axial axis that prevailed in the time of a supposed number line from a vector aligning itself towards the compass of distance, that shines between both hemispheres of the north and of the minutes that go to the right and the solid-gaseous seconds that almost burst in the walls of their own liberated beings. The four Shiraz ghosts had time differentials before this event with the caravan verifying the simultaneous strut between the two pairs of ghosts between four dissimilar but idyllic ones that made them here at this point be ignored and annulled between two relative nomenclatures of physical structure. The durability and classification of these micro-times of the epi-ghosts would make the database that Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth will accumulate with their eyes closed, each surpassing himself in the debatable areas that concern estimating the occupation of physical spaces in some of them at their consent so that one of them could embark to Limassol. This simultaneous and relativistic multi-active line encloses events and quadratures of spaces in the cinematographic space of parapsychological regression, such a link of physical images slowed down in evolutionary and cognitive memory, passing from the conduit of memorizing events to expectations and their set of absolute figures not pigeonholed but if approaching the universe in prehensile scales of those who value them. present and future more as a pattern of departure to the unique future "today" by space of spaces. This unified three-dimensionality would mark the mathematical space of the attempts towards the future of the adjoining camelids of the ghosts of Shiraz for ownership of time among all with a single identity that cries out for an unequivocal will to rearm, although the winds of the partition that separates The word of God and the believing observer towards the ***** with a believer from a historical past in obscurantism, leaving and entering a new world whose notion is to spend connected and handcuffed in dependent systematization with great causes, although the static feels isolated from the dynamic, asking it to unite with the ghosts and the others, even though they are inferior forces under the line of the generous gaze and parallelisms of the attentive viewer that suggests more openness received, delegating circumstances to all physical, emotional, spectral dimensions and mental-spiritual, flexing the hierarchical emotional states of night and day. They all fall asleep embraced in quilts and lamb saddlebags, making it possible for them to approach the Ghosts and sleep next to them, embracing each other with strength decanted from some frames that hang from their masks, showing the vibration of being favorite children of the Mashiach, absorbed in the Kidron Valley. Quadrupled and cloistered in self-consciousness scattered like an iceberg behind the submissive thoughts that aspire to be tied to more invaluable time. Our Abba has us more tied to an absolutist past and future, looking at his calendar divided in such a way that the day that strikes the shadows of an incisive past always fits so that it always smiles at us in the best light signal of who and with whom repair damage of varied wounds that travel through the times of times always hurt, to and from borders of a remote anachronistic. The ghosts are always tetra fast they are marginalized to the sound of greater acuity, fleeing in Rishon Lezion to wake up a little further from the rays of the stationary Sun that from now on always surfaced in the degraded eyes of the mountebank prowling around the fairs of those who know how to wait, to make a treat under the pretext of Faith and hope that exempts the Cardinal turned into a flower decorated in white. Shvil of the Angels; The fast epi phantom tetras were emaciated they lost their north and could not walk, they were energized by the radiosities of the earth that rules over those who lent divine graces if their feet rested on the tapestry of those who threw their footsteps at them in winter now near Jaffa. The Shvil Angels were angels who were on the route that cordons off the pilgrimage of Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, they were full of flowery Bernese Olive Trees that served as floral arcades at the entrance to this thousand-year-old port. They were three, when they walked, they always spread out so fast that they seemed to be six but they ended up averaging the quantum of three for each of the components of the Birthright, which from today would be the great circumcision event of the Universe, to make it part of that one day they will have to dissipate the rhombuses of the fragmented beams of light on the way to the sky so high, in the name of the phrases that never tire of looking eternally at the incautious years, which belong to our father through Exo galaxies in the total company of invisibility and cautious time relativity. This beautiful Semitic sea shore indicates and invites us to reach its salty Hebrew waters of Yofi, reinforcing the phonetics that runs madly through the border hills with their hearts in their hands when foreigners appear in the name of plausive phylogeny. That brings them a bearable piece of the farmhouse from the Universal flood, for this is that the ancient Canaanites have to receive them with the table served to entertain them with winter flowers in Jaffa. The Hellenistic tradition relates the name to Iopeia, which is Cassiopeia herself, mother of Andromeda. After Pliny the Elder the name is connected with Joppa who was the daughter of ******, god of the wind. Where Vernarth locked his shield Áspis Skoilé to shine in the bilges of the Eurydice under the pentagons of his shield's bronze layer whenever he approached the Dodecanese when the Auriga descended from Andromeda on the back of an oarsman battered by storms away from his home galaxy. Thousands of years BC its merchants glorified themselves with their baskets full of goods and merchandise for its inhabitants who today pretended to be pharaohs who contributed to the marine corners along the coast that today seemed to open with more new waters reborn from the capers of the swells founding thus the omens of embarking to attack and submit to the omens of sovereignty between Judah and Hellenic lands, to work with noble trees in their armories and utensils of which they traversed an honorable part after the maintenance of the emblem of the last portion of Alexander's libertarian triumph pole Magnus on the Phoenicians at Tyre. gazelle) in Joppa (Jaffa) and later how near this city he has a vision in which Yahveh told him that one should not distinguish between Jews and Gentiles while ordering the removal of ritual food restrictions (kosher) followed by the Jews. The Shvil of the angels distanced themselves from the appetite of this station without reaching them and not making them drink salt water from Jaffa, so they resorted to Petrobus, which a few meters before reaching the port summoned a large number of Dodecanese Pelicans who were waiting for them in great celestial flocks that hovered happily over the sky welcoming them. The pelicans levitate from a risky juggling act on the caravan and headed out to sea collecting saltwater, then they went through the initiatory path of Shvil and reconvert the salty water into sweet with hazelnuts so that they would have holy water to insolate it and serve it in canteens of the temple guards of the Canaanites who were waiting for them to distract them, making them believe that they were other Syriac lands as in those of Asherah that in this act perhaps it would be good for them to sponsor the Hexagonal Primogeniture. But the trails of angels confederated before the noisy crowds and Ptolemaic lemurs that scrambled into the empty spaces that remained. After this grave siege, Vernarth shouted to heaven with the force of Phalangist tradition himself, and hailed heaven for the good of freeing them from their definitive income to Jaffa summoning the Hypastists; elite warriors, and spearmen so that they would hem the portal at her Jaffa entrance for others who were never from nowhere and out of nowhere, only blocking her from her perfect theological heritage and memorial conservation plan upon return from Judah exit, to embark with destiny through the sulfurous ponto that will scald them in temporary waters towards the Cyclades and then to the Dodecanese, succeeding in inhabiting them wherever they were and whoever arrived with foreign promise. At nightfall in its first nubile shadows, the Shvil appears to them with these three angels dressed in ivory white, each one with a book in each hand and in the other a candelabrum giving signs of ultra-interpretive catechesis, allying itself with silica in combination behind the vision of the charms of propagated knowledge. Earth and sky in the second angel washing off the Semitic dew of Jaffa anguished with teachings of sleeping well and waking up, to walk in the lands that wish to seize the senses of those who are called not to be oppressed, behind bars of the morbid and illiterate Panavision of angles of hasty entertainment of the angels when they were called by the Regent Angel, simply relaying information easy to take to their hearts in faint powers and paradisiacal punishments, before falling into a thorny forest plowing their tongues into furrows of afflicted human charges and then earnestly redeem them with the judicious power of Hashem. Vernarth agonizes over the matter of seeing them so tender and so fragile allowing her to gently row towards him. Finally, these three rules of the Shvil Hanael are presented; "talking to them about hindrances stuck in the literary cabal of grateful fulfillments for all". Vernarth alludes to a desensitized subject and is also far from any Sub Yogic disciplinary doctrine. This led him to stand behind San Juan, frightened protecting himself from everything around him, he was seeing in front of the upper left side that Zebedee was, San Juan's own father calling him! Saint John the Apostle says: "Justice allows us at this time to alleviate ignorance if the riddles allow us to only seek the answer, Hashem will not be here..., it will only be an emotional catharsis due to a Shivil or merely ideological passage, which moves our prayers without sense taking us definitively to the coffers that are rearmed one after one after the mistake. We are faithfully interpreted by them but we detest our regencies with the Eschaton when we all try to follow its light of resounding density towards the sky, prophesying to follow it without getting lost in It..., held on its glossary shoulder. On the claws that are released from the dazed angelic prey correcting its wavering vision, unraveling the living presence of damnations or salvations in Eden with your bare feet or hell with no departure time "Inexplicably some Praetorian soldiers of Domitian appear, who would be restricting the departure of the triacontero bound for Limassol, curiously they were the same ghosts of Shiraz that continued to represent such a bad event, just like when he was expelled to Patmos by Domitian in 95 BC, of size was the hubbub produced by the Shvil angels with impracticable ideologies, who opposed such spectral imagery, in such a way that they replaced their figure with that of another fellow Hellenic who wanted to embark for Patmos, the other members were fully incorporated into the ship that cavorted on pirouettes as it carried them proudly to a new ocean. Around the last drops that jumped in Jaffa on the coastal rocks, others appeared when the last divided and scattered drops were going to shine the navigation temples, thus it is possible to board the same ship that brought them from the beginning of arrival from Limassol to Judah, which transited from Lepanto. They reappear in the plenipotentiary chapel offering a ceremony that would return the messianic hindrance to the Angels of Shiraz, to return to their former positions within the itineraries of biblical characters that tend to become adulterated in the game of the loss of consciousness of the Escaton, probably requiring that everyone has to make pilgrimage routes for all humanity confined and liberated by themselves. The Saltimbanqui finally manage to jump on the boat to sail to the Dodecanese but the Shvil of the Angels remained where other celebrities will require them to redirect them to the Shvil Escaton.



Paraps XXXI

Second Hijra to Patmos

VIII part -Judah's conclusion

What can be perceived by the Universe of Judah would be in a Universal Eye of photochemistry within the phosphorescence of the spectrum of the Jaffa bay that magnetized the visible sprinkling electricity, within the visible field of the photon in the same bay, which is responsible for elementary particle guarantor of quantum manifestations of the electromagnetic phenomenon. Carrying electromagnetic radiation of gamma rays over the entire atmosphere of Jaffa, X-rays, ultraviolet light, visible light, infrared light, microwaves, and radio waves, causing the ellipsis of Radio Moscow on October 29, 1929, right there presenting itself from the future to the present before hijra to Patmos.

Ellipsis Radio Moscow 1929 – Parapsychological Radio Regression:

"Radio Moscow went on the air on October 29, 1929. And this, its first broadcast in a foreign language, would be in Greek to be heard by everyone in Jaffa. Radio Moscow bulletins expressed great unease over the recent rise to power of the dictator Adolf ****** in Germany during the 1930s. An unintelligible visionary fumble of daphnomancy was considered, predicting the persecution of the Hebrews and extermination of themselves for which Saint John Apostle immediately tuned in common with Vernarth the instant he was hit by this radio wave of number twenty, nine of Jaffa's exit edict. The visible fantasy of this would make the audio listeners uncomfortable towards the behavior of certain intermittent swings that made the natural light of Jaffa intermingled with luminescence, with the waves and photons in presumptuous duality to dominate Vernarth's behavior when invaded by this flash of prophetic invasion. The Apostle's observation spheres made it faster to climb and try to sustain this invasive radio wave that crossed time thousands of years from the year 1929 to the year 165 AD. C. approximately that it traveled with a great speed of infinite wave to a great percentage of microseconds. All this information alerted the native son of Capernaum, worrying too much about this ethnopolitical situation. Here the microwave was refracted, undergoing a change in direction that collided with the ship, in its floating basal portion, due to the fact that this wave propagated at different speeds considering that the medium in which they were moving was clearly wood, but propelled by a large transmission vehicle through the winding water to the massive hull. Doing and plotting what would make them move immediately to go to Cyprus; Limassol. The speed of the radial wave was parked on the sails and that of the hull due to the chromatics of the water that lightened its refraction through the facets of the sails, and the cap bizarrely acted as an exponential concave angle propeller motor and overheated. A quick brawling radio wave appears in Vernarth's tongue; Says Vernarth: "Anti-Semitism is a matter of ******* benefiting from slavery and vast insubstantial ethnic resources, not allowing to relate the advance of ancient and primitive civil social immigrations that migrate to sociopolitical statuses, already pampered since their arrival in the Rhineland during the Roman Empire. The Jewish community prospered until the end of the 11th century after the First Crusade, having to go through a long stormy period marked by massacres, accusations of ritual crimes, various extortion, and expulsions. Their legal status was degraded and Jews were prohibited from exercising most trades. In the 18th century, Enlightenment philosophers such as Moses Mendelssohn were outraged by this miserable condition and launched a campaign to denounce it. However, the road that led them to Emancipation was long and lasted nearly a century, after which the Jewish community was integrated into society. Their assimilation allowed an economic and intellectual success that aroused suspicion in certain sectors, also giving rise to anti-Semitism with the coming to power of Adolf ******'s oligarch in 1933, putting the Jews on the margin of German society. Extensive persecution was followed by deportation and then extermination during World War II. After the war, the Jewish community slowly reconstituted itself thanks to the support of the German federal government." This time enchanting with lamb's blood coined on its cornices to sprout them for all those who had to endure the enigma of departure towards the straight desert as a property of the radio waves exhibited here as a dogmatic whole dusting in the geometric regime, which testifies to a whole "That the Robe of the Savior shakes all the structures of critical-political thought and brilliance of race." Producing objective intellectual blood, which would join the Social Christian party in Germany in 1930. But every elementary thesis would promulgate the emphasis on the centrality of social democracy, of bringing to Patmos a great task of dividing by time by traversing the timeline providing Joshua's solid One-Dimensional Beams at Kafersesuh, for the protectorate of the holocaust and sacrifice and introduce premises of emancipation and abolition of the subterfuge of marginalized social fields, devoid of interethnic social guarantees and the heel of Semitic roots. This natural property is excepted by the breed of San Juan Apóstol; Zebedee's son consists of carrying this to the most informative substantiality up to Patmos to keep them organized. From this dialectical propagation, great shadows arose, interposing opacities that showed many Jews falling into concentration camps at the exact moment of expropriation of their real estate. Naked bodies can be seen only with dark shadows with small signs of imperturbability on their cut faces, staying in the gloom of Conviction, with some photos of their children in relative proximity to the deadly impression of last death rattles and undermined fading pointed expressions, appearing in the rictus of their wives with narrow condemnatory anguish falling on them from the same Cell of the stormy Escaton, that transcended under semiotic history; the resurrection of the dead, divine judgment, heaven and eternal happiness with God or damnation and hell. Here is a perfect archetypal case of the disconcerting radio wave pouring novelty and satisfaction before the curiosity of the listeners, but it was a "newest Revelation at the same time, being objectivity for the cell of San Juan and for the immanent protectorate", which designates the dimension mundane and temporal opposed to transcendence. Because many Christians have become incapable of conceiving the "other world" as a consistent, real reality, and have transferred to this world the hope of a full and happy life. In this "immanentization" evangelical theologies of prosperity incur both, which see in the Christian faith as the means to achieve material well-being, Vernarth closes a blind when they were already walking on the magnetized corvettes of the sea, without feeling how the sea besieged them,...saying himself: "I keep looking through the hole of my ignorance, and I manage to see the dictators in monochrome displaying their diffraction banners lights, a key to ethnic oppression "in black and white" and the turned ones going through the crack in the trails of the Hebrews with their suitcases and belongings, lost and surrendering to laments united to the Messiah. In holistic combined, centered to the extent of a third screen produced in alternative light and dark bands, in the Lepanto nave when everyone learned vox populi about the radio phenomenon in non-transistorized tubes in frank romance with the old age of their practices. End Ellipsis Radial Radio Moscow. The phenomenon of interferences of a natural nature continues, bringing joy to their ruined hearts, they all sang Christian songs that made vertical lines appear on their faces between both melted cheeks. Leaving them incidence of fasting light to signal as thrones of lighthouses that illuminate the skies of the Messiah's seas, putting themselves before them millions of light-years from the side that now they could see him. The angles disperse and affect the light of the Messiah of the Our Father at twilight, falling on the others like the same conclusive Gethsemane leaf of the Bern Olive Tree. Flowing the light on the matter that sheltered the ship to Limassol, industrial energy was constituted in all the directions of the superficial optics, generating reflections in weak interferences that oscillated like immobile remnants of radio waves still active. This phenomenon made Brisehal appear from the bottom of the sea; the giant of Dasht-e-Lut, approaching to protect Vernarth and the Hexagonal Birthright. Generating a dynamic global hetero internal light in the navigation radius of the ship, in a more parsimonious speed than in a more relative one, frustrated to try to synchronize the flashes of the Xiphos sword of Vertnath Hoplite that allowed him to use it as a sextant, to arrive at the Cypriot destination. In this void of energy by another replaced, a speed imprint of the same void arises with lengths of movement of underwater waves caused by the giant Brisehal, to displace them in washings of the Adonis in accordance with the Sword of their master Vernarth ephebe. Dispersing evaporated droplets from the desert of Dash-e-Lut that remained in the cloacal zones of his ears polarizing defensive crystals from the hyperactive environment, and in force of the Phalangists scourged in Gaugamela who still writhed on the diaphanous immaterial land that continued in heated conflict, until the coexistence of the oppressor ceases. The parallel rotated worlds follow each other unrotated, being disturbed in another dimension mediated by the aware consciousness, which lacks any neutral rationality. They would be only attempts going through crystals of the Faith..., mastering projectile salutes of malevolent brotherhood, immersed in a maximum intensity of breakage and crystalloid rupture, which flows from the Messiah's lens in angles of subaquatic darkness. All of this atmosphere self-absorbs, leaving divine rabbi light tele-transferred into stored energy reaction levels, whose capacity would exceed one billion cubic meters due to the rupture between the chemical bonds caused by radiant energy, dissociating molecules by the effect of sublime light from serious sounds of immanence, and redefining itself as the interaction between one or more cells of mass of light against a molecule nomad target. Also appropriate for the extreme radicalization that marine plants would suffer, which also sailed expelled from the disturbed radical seabed of Jaffa.



Hellenic Existential Hypnosis

Arriving at the central retention of the Aegean Sea between parallels 36-38 of latitude and meridians 24-26 of longitude belonging to the periphery of the South Aegean, an abduction of an amnesic trace of the Alexandrian magnetic period occurs, which made them realize the that they had deviated from the Limassol-Cyprus destination, having to turn degrees to redirect to Limassol. This was exercised and subdued by the Alexandrian period that in its immanent chronology sought to remake an existentialist stance, which descended from the limits chained by the depressive effect of the aura after their death of his sister Cleopatra. This whitish aristocratic parapet of Zeus invaded them not auditing to govern the schizophrenic supply, having to redirect the course to the other side of the Cyclades. Sovereignly Vernarth takes the helm with great Greek breath, creating shields of redemption in arts and sciences of the Hetairoi aristocracy, under meso-urban science-politics replaced by Christian devotion, making the Hellenic language a romantic Aramaic in the potential to prevail the existentialism of the hypnotizing oneiric dream of a silly banquet served by the hordes in all the slopes that transported them between the enigmatic underworld of Panhellenic language, and with re culturization of ephemeral uncrossed lines that subtracted their dramas of disturbing knowledge depriving them of the neuro-motor and adjective of the main return value for the origin of the reconquest of the Triacontero in Limassol. This Hypnosis brought consequences of the Leagues called Diádochos 'successors' of the ancient generals of Alexander the Great, and of the sons of the general hegemons (called epigones,) that at the unexpected death of Alexander the Great in 323 a. C. distributed their empire, disputing power and hegemony over their brothers with various pacts and six wars that lasted twenty years. A political system was then established until the start of the Roman Empire in the eastern Mediterranean in the early 2nd century BC. C. Prone to this contingency, Vernarth turns to Hypnos and one of the thousand children he had with Pasítea, who urged them to cohesion this Hellenic Inertia, quantitatively making the immortality of the image of Alexander the Great to bring each of the ex faithful commanders thus refounding Vernarth his Hellenistic Encyclical, for the purpose of escorting them to Limassol and protecting the lineages and infants who were in their puberty in Greece asleep soon to be an Agoge, after great war campaigns and abandoned agreements as an example of the snowy lineage in his Mother Olympia, and Sister Thessaloniki and children waiting passionately for him. And also in the Empire of Sudpichi-Chile, Luccica with the court of her familiar stoic resistance ingests the opiates until her Vernarth takes her in those arms, from her own and imaginative marshland lagoon gathered at the Itheoi Gods. The disintegration of Macedonia and Greece into subregions catapulted again the appearance of Clovis who says...: the river Lethe in the underworld liquefies your memories, and cleanses your mind permanently. That is the branch of a poplar tree from the underworld, from my father Hypnos. "Lete is not a place where you want to go swimming... but if you change the rudder for your honorable mind". This achieves that one of the sons, among thousands of Pasítea, committed himself to Clovis, to dissipate this existentialist contingency, claiming the appeal of family reunion and imperishable Hellenic constituent ancestry, under the hypnotic and hegemonic phenomenon that polished banners and panoplies in Greece, Macedonia, and Asia Minor. As a subsidiary exception, they will satisfy what was reissued by Ptolemy, one of Alexander's childhood companions of whom some authors venture to say that he was the illegitimate son of Philip II. He wisely quickly seized Egypt and hastened to create an enduring state by declining imperial ambitions that he considered unrealistic. He was one of the main opponents of the imperial cause thus becoming one of the founders of the Hellenistic world. Unusually, the commanders of Alexander incontinent to his excessive dipsomania of glorious hierarchical power, demystified Hetairoi's harangue, generating in it a Hypnotic counter-conception, making these sedative steps to delegate the religious Vóreios Dei..., which had only known how to redirect itself later in the classic tonnage Gaugamela of his great Hoplite Commander Vernarth. This grayish super mass of uncontrolled winds and increased lightning proto idolatrous forms salivated in the same Hellenistic family, whose postulate was to multiply the family over its geopolitical dominations in other nations, unifying them as a family geo-clan rather than in the seas that do not divide the water-land, Rather, they unite moralistic and cultural hydro-parental resources of the world that is a concomitant part of "The devouring cyclone of mythological dignitary entities, and other races that flee from the honest chronogram of historicity and its reconstructive past-present." Square meters of great cyclops mouths were floating in the air, it inspired Vernarth to make the green grass of the sea reborn like plankton that made a compulsive propensity to exalt Chloé's presence; being an Epi Phantom that always sparkled among the nebulosity as a reserve of Universal Consciousness, geo-measuring the Hellenic consciousness with a black bandage over his eyes, so as not to sully more sprouts of green chlorophyll and photochemical mass of the phenomenon, amassing only Cyclops electrogenic beasts that had to burn on the bolts and runaway embers of dissident light to leave in some memorable way, or beg some Sanctus to do his bidding wandering into acquiring the square feet of tiny, almost unidentifiable beasts that appeared simulating the viscous green water of the river Lethe in the contracted underworld. The existential holistic in the ship produced depressive lags, lack of self-esteem, and factors of loss of the ego, therefore each one who pointed with his index, distended from some silos in the hands of opiates that would denigrate the oneiric in those who tried to flee from their own collective weeds..., fleeing from himself, stagnating and freezing in stretches of dreams of gross loneliness and indelible fantasy..., what the extravagant hypnosis sought to occupy in them with its decrees of mortality is a beyond adulterated in some benevolent indications and psychic reactive alertness. When the soft brilliance of the same flash was shown on the faces of Alexander the Great and Vernarth in the six wars that took place with the Diadocos without flashes for twenty years..., only in twenty seconds would Alexander the Great appear on the deck of the Lepanto ship, dressed in a crimson red costume, covering his Hellenic silhouette up to his allegorical half-torso. From here he urged them to culminate the hypnosis in a deep world in an unbreathable statue of colloquial rhapsody..., pay attention to this... everything continues normally, and Vernarth leaves the helm to honor him with a hoplite Khaire and as a congener of Christian Shvil, so philanthropic and deferential as was Ptolemy, and Vernarth himself in Tel Gomel and Bumodos herding greenish glosses to open them towards the new Magno-theological empire. Metaphysical of the profile of the wise dervish that appeared in Limassol as a sapphire rosary entangling itself in physiognomies and rises of hope in the average Gen, when approaching the latent peninsula of Eurydice's gold medallion. Judah was suspended in the Giant Ungulates munching on the bags of herbs that thickened in their Palestinian snouts, the sphinxes of the birds continued to grow with their wings to shelter blasphemies from their prophets, and Judah wailing in the intraosseous of those who traveled leaving Judah, but never departing from the Aramaic cells of Gethsemane lost from Hellenic Existential Hypnosis.

Vas Auric conceived himself judicious before Spílaiaus when observing that Vernarth was leaning towards a practical meeting of a feared Hellenic crisis based on omnipresence, and all the material-immaterial face that is bloodily arranged in ****** foundations stipulating its very Submythological constitution. All that was a trend within the similar horizon that should be imposed with the appearance of Wonthelimar; as a direct seer of practice continuing the pre-ontological process, and why not say it of someone who does not even think and totally excludes himself from its composition or being part of... rather being a ration of the subjective segment and correction similar to the god Spilaiaus articulating its dynamism under the predominance of the concept of the sapphic verse where it puts knowledge at risk, and speculate on each component of the Itheoi gods, possessing themselves within the torrent of theology under ethical evaluation, differing from the mythical leitmotif, as dissipator of contention and beings that think organically of the material ethereal substrate. Vernarth silently concurs and prepares to postulate the anti-ethical Submythological existence; tending to demystify their Ethos or Conduct, aspiring to envision structures of undervaluation of the same, and flaunt visions of what originates from superior and then yearn for the hierarchy that is not imposed, but rather is a consequence of subsistence apparatuses that put essay its longevity and validity in sevenths, missing four to reach Sapphic foundations, and scaling Mythologies that could facilitate being under the position of the Demiurge or poet cultist of verses, perhaps superior to the crimping of any system when a judgment of true root or incautious origin is put. All this Hellenic atmosphere relied on the ethos links between Vernarth and his lord Spílaiaus, after rearranging pre-ontological (vorontologischeas Heidegger says) knowing his skill and tenfolds as he conforms to the ascending tenth of the eleventh of the sapphic. After this, Wonthelimar would appear to be the object of transcendental challenges and interpretations of the world that give rise to the same thing after not being in Spílaiaus' speech with sapphic verses.

The statement of becoming will be the cause of the gods of the Itheoi after the physiognomy that will spoil the Vertical of Gaul in the very genesis of Wonthelimar. Undoubtedly there will be chilling events of axiomatic transfers and metempsychosis that will be elucidated from the helminths that Spílaiaus will spill through the bark of possession. This mysterious orphic enchantment will be billed by Wonthelimar from the separation of Valdaine emerging alienated over the mountains of Ardeche, transmigrating euphony and reduced justifications that were united with the Helminth reminiscent and reincarnated by Vernarth. Perhaps it was a verme-worm that was classified on his arm moth-eaten in elongated elder veins to parasites of certainly commendable colonies and vehement and lyrical idiomatic apogees. The balusters will continue to be amatory componential in Vernarth for being composed of Heidegger's plinth and imagining oral linkages with the patronage of his eternal mother Luccica who will awaken as always in all presumptive psychophysical and atoning Zionisms with eloquent perspectivism and millionth re-trance, consisting of the putrid ***** arm of his Abrahamic split physics, dissociating in his body, separating and alternating with the dexterous spiral Aorion bracelet existing between the armband of Sagittarius and Perseus, liquefying in indissoluble modular stratagems for three bodies, plus the one that accompanied them dealing with their posthumous individualities in triplets. Singular unconscious metempsychoses brought their dexterous arm picking him up repeatedly from the discursive hives of Wonthelimar, to convince them and tell them that they had not seen the Hexagonal Progeniture for some time, unimpeded that brought him from Ardeche in lasting ensembles and concerting grays senses looking at the valleys of Valdaine in pilgrimages towards the expectant Patmian plains. Its expiration was reborn from the appendages of the water lilies that were seized by embedded lumbar powers, and mentalized in related memories that subsist in digressive reincarnations and longings, re-advancing with revived intelligence to indoctrinate themselves with the elevation of an emetic absolutist consciousness free of greater breaths of judgment is constant waste and reciprocity of cabinets, which were started from an initial discipline already transmigrated,The transitory glow of Exomis hung over some stones that were close to the Perivrachiónio or metal armband that multiplied in the three brazils of Vernarth, Wonthelimar and finally Spílaiaus that was bordered by the Acacians and Nothofagus that were covered with water lilies and peduncles cordoning off the livestock, full of thrones to conquer them almost after having lost calculations of the plasma that was innovated from a Hetairoi by reformulating itself from an incendiary bullfighting essence to its deltoids by detonating hatred in its croaks. All this clairvoyance was veiled for the clothing of the Exomis that was automatically placed in transition when the leaves of the deciduous led him to temporize in Wonthelimar in tender attachments. Distorted would be achieved with ****** healings next to the brave tributary, leaving in the vanguard and with starts from all the carriages that took the condemned to Halicarnassus to be truncated together with infallible Canephores in disgrace to their executioners, browsing all the oak branches of the Wonthelimar joint that had been sheltering from its head, sticking to ancient ruts of souls in pain over the sleeping Nyons. the brawl symbiosis of the Megaron was exhibited with the "M" united with two inverted "Vs", Wonthelimar conceptualizing himself on the eve of early buildings and phobias fragmenting into numerous odes in Thessaly, which were already beginning to re-agglutinate attracted from a majestic image of Hellas, under the pretext of Hellenistic consummations as a vocational and primitive institute race of Alejandrino Magnus derived a few nautical miles to board towards Patmos. The ship crossed the sea conceptualizing itself as the most universal being that revived in the Triacontero, appearing among all the waters as a nubile surf that spoke to each other with words Mageireméno Kefáli Votánon, "Head cooked with herbs". Speaking in primitive erudition alternated and swells with forty feet in territorial Argonauts making similar corvettes like the Gulf of Tarnetino, possessing distant comparisons with sixty miles of the base that colonized Wonthelimar for new sources when encrypted in the Megaron. They persevere leading the Immaturas Polis that would be documented in Patmos and in town halls of the assembly with ****** ceased battles climbing to a great height from the cogitative of the Megarón temple and Theater of Epidaurus, under three shadows of adjoining water lilies and the Spilaion Apokalypseos.

As will be seen in this demonstrative synopsis of the hemicycle Theater of Epidaurus working in the stars for the nations of Asclepius together with Wonhtelimar, that is how migrated melodic sessions and Parapsychological palmistry sounded with burdensome marks of intervenors expectorated in vast when impelling on the Koilones and softened bleached bleachers where each one was shouting to all the winds the advent of all the auditoriums absent by past and future generations, acclaiming lives in salvific voices. Here Spilaiaus from his stomáchi or visceral will point out the stinging nettle that he will invariably scheme whenVernarth continues to weave the plot of transmigration to the CartesianUnderworld as an apocryphal late Aristotelianism, mechanizing the existential dualisms of Hades with formulas, psychotropic and geometric tricks, granting them permission to bequeath habeas corpus theologies, coexisting in the first instance with Etréstles de Kalavrita, who would establish the term of definitive transmigration of Alexander the Great so that the Diadochos andWonthelimar would contend the final and disciplinary action of revocation of the high arrest, trans humanizing the sovereign as a Macedonian next to the hexagonal Primogeniture finally very close to Saint John the Apostle andVernarth in the vicinity of the Megaron Spilaion Apokalypseos. Spílaiausinvokes: "Neolithic alloys, they corresponded to the Medea and Hypnos eras, among all of them being aerial, visionary and northern lights that traveled to my redoubt to sprinkle them in river waters on the night of Agios San Ioannis.From here the Kanthillana with Greco pilgrimage, portentous gusts where the wind is amazed when entering the concavity that is lost in nature of time and qualitative content, unusually being an organism of outburst and cytological drama together in trickery and radiocarbon tricks due to vicissitudes, and actions that have dated my radiation from the radioactive carbon in these caverns and insulted carbon spaces fourteen in more than fifty million radiometric years. From here, my Vernarth, everything becomes insignificant and all the levels of expression slide down the armband, differing three levels from where I have been able to hear the truth of your sound kingdom, which emits gestures that are neither music nor harmonious directions in any worldview where it should place everything that no one can perceive by the senses of nature more enormous than any resurrected mortal. This is how the Itheoi genres are a drastic irrationality that is responsible for restoring forgotten beings, almost Hellenistic humans who speak through languages ​​of their gaze, and museological splendors of which they only reprimand metaphysics as an understanding of the Void such as the Judaic Kli or Hellenic Kenosis, which goes evidencing immersion by transferring futile understanding and hermeneutic pontificate times of Kantillana and Olympus, Patmos and Horcondising. Thus all beings when referring to Vernarth will be nothing more or less than the same in the company of the science of a future that will eternally coexist with the constitutive past of an active present called "Submythology" everything that does not contain parental relationship in koilones and of his greek spiritual stratum, It will be kenósis and Kli of parental pairing with the significance of erratic mobilities in what is interpreted as sporadic mourning, given the universal change, therefore, atmospheric. In the second Trilogy, the Triacontero goes through the Othónes of Naupactus, to Limassol. The ship was attached to the Ziziphus of the Moshiach's crown back from Jaffa, Walking the deck of the ship getting exasperated to revisit Kourion. As the adrenaline subsided, he crashed the port side keeping them in retinas of spheres of fire that came out of the ponto, enlarging such crapulous spheres that they had traveled to the sea through the Kouris River, but been kidnapped by Brisehal who assaulted them and put them on his back esplanade to swim to the peninsula of the current Akrotiri where the ogre carried him as floating globules to inhabit the sands of Cyprus. A tremolo mortar and sinewy essences of the Falangist faction will be established. Together they walk through the arena with Brisehal, being able to observe that it was coming from above and from a great Alikantus glide to meet him. Now, this trilogy of distinguishedAnimalia superheroes was made up of who would escort him to listen to the legions of Greeks from Mycenae who besieged Kourion. When they walked along the edge of the beach, several artists crossed in front of them carrying Avant-grade instruments in their hands, accompanied by miners and forgers of goldsmiths. Everything says to prosper in the Aegean and Greece for a new Paraps ***- Forests of Hylates, Gold Medallion Second Hegira to Limassol. Spílaiaussensible in his necromantic arts would be immersed in an absolutist language of relatives to welcome Vernarth, shelter him, and feed him after Highs and Lows that commemorated all the possible truths and falsehoods that he had to avoid from the final Prolegomena or final speech of the Trilogy, aiming to be located in the highest part of the Kanthillana to face its Greco-American world lineage in wetlands or taigas that would move great cycles of the Caucasus with the Meltemi towards all the grasslands and steppes, bringing vast multitudes of gregarious Hoplites to live together by the floods of the Paleolithicstragglers, to go back to the sinister prehistory that is based mainly on the names of the towns with writing they gave to the "barbarians" who invaded them. Zeus-God (Jovis in genitive) that is, Zeùs patér in Greek, Jupiter in Latin, Dyauspita in Sanskrit. He is opposed to mere demons or secondary gods (Sanskrit devas, daeva Avesta, Lithuanian devas, Gallic Devo, Latin Deus-divi), who derive from the "luminous sky" (the day = dyu,dyo, dies, diei). He will make the sacrificial background of the coming euro-American scene, thus creating the liturgical syncretism of survival by venerating all those who dwell in soulless bodies in the latitudes of Kantillanaand Olympus. From this gregarious candling emanating primary physical forces of submithology; in which man (****) lived. Man is mortal (Marta-, martya- in Sanskrit), son of the Earth-Mother (Mata-prithivi in ​​Sanskrit, Gê-méter in greek). This dualism, only outlined at the level of the primitive into-Europeans, gains consciousness overtime when the mature age of evanescent humanity (Jaspers' Achsenzeit) is reached. In discrepancy of mythological root antagonism, it is bringing chronological and obituary rhythms that will live to delight us with their own gesture from Hellas and Anatoliamainly to Patmos and Horcondising, Sudpichi, Chile. The conductive cycle will have a great impact on Spílaiaus, dimensioning itself in Aristotle, regenerating the first signs of infra spelean humanism in cultures that have nowhere to lodge their vast parallel heritage in more than a distant pre-classical and classic threshold, procreating the only dissolute world striving aggressively in Vernarth Hellenic's Trilogy II.
Messiah of Judah
Poetoftheway Oct 2018
how do you know (when a broken human can be fixed)


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2644586/how-do-you-know-when-a-human-is-too-broken/

supermarket checkout line, so lazy broken down dressed,
I’m probably arrestible for disturbing the peace,
my haired piled, and held together by a broken clip,
makeup at home in
a drawer labeled ‘why bother’
my t shirt, don’t please look too closely,
yesterday’s coffee spillage outline
only mostly gone,
and the skinny jeans that felt inappropriate
ten pounds ago,
now looking semi-completely ridiculous

is this a tv show?
wallet, a twenty and a single,
who knew a pound of ground blue mountain
cost the better part of the the twenty
in that case no need for a gallon of milk
and *** a box of chocolate frosted donuts
silently slid far far away,
evidence of a guilty plea of irresponsibility resignation

short $2.42 (cut up the credit cards)
and no convenient pit to fall into
when the teenager cashier snickers,
when a sam elliot voice says here ya are,
stammering a no, a thank you, and thinking getaway direction

truck safely, made it,
knock on the window
sam elliot soundalike is a lookalike as well
standing outside with my wallet in hand,
two heads taller than my ex-petite figurine

more stammering ******* could I look any stupider

but inside a piece of brown shopping bag torn
with ten whole digits
I’ve never seen prior to this disaster
saying call when you want to return my $2.42

turns out he got, no, he is glue and paste,
an eraser man for fine lines and sad times,
and a lasso to keep me held together,
a pocket red handkerchief hanging half out
of his back pocket, never without, calls it his tear catcher

pulled out that too tight blues-blouse
from back of my closet
that still complements my complexion,
wear it ever time that day rolls around

just dumb luck ain’t much of an answer
so I’ll rephrase, dumb luck is in the everything
cause his number was 917-242-2424
and he is a gambler in matters of the heart

bust his ***** when he says he’s a lucky man,
reply he ain’t got no luck at all
compared to me on that daft day

and every daft day thereafter
I glue his lips shut to mine, no escaping,
and paste a new $2.42
into his wallet
when he is sleeping mine,
no erasing our lines,
just redrawing them deeper and finer,
just making sure my
dumb luck is working overtime
ah, christ, what a CREW:
more
poetry, always more
P O E T R Y .

if it doesn't come, coax it out with a
laxative. get your name in LIGHTS,
get it up there in
8 1/2 x 11 mimeo.

keep it coming like a miracle.

ah christ, writers are the most sickening
of all the louts!
yellow-toothed, slump-shouldered,
gutless, flea-bitten and
obvious . . . in tinker-toy rooms
with their flabby hearts
they tell us
what's wrong with the world-
as if we didn't know that a cop's club
can crack the head
and that war is a dirtier game than
marriage . . .
or down in a basement bar
hiding from a wife who doesn't appreciate him
and children he doesn't
want
he tells us that his heart is drowning in
*****. hell, all our hearts are drowning in *****,
in pork salt, in bad verse, in soggy
love.
but he thinks he's alone and
he thinks he's special and he thinks he's Rimbaud
and he thinks he's
Pound.

and death! how about death? did you know
that we all have to die? even Keats died, even
Milton!
and D. Thomas-THEY KILLED HIM, of course.
Thomas didn't want all those free drinks
all that free *****-
they . . . FORCED IT ON HIM
when they should have left him alone so he could
write write WRITE!

poets.

and there's another
type. I've met them at their country
places (don't ask me what I was doing there because
I don't know).

they were born with money and
they don't have to ***** their hands in
slaughterhouses or washing
dishes in grease joints or
driving cabs or pimping or selling ***.

this gives them time to understand
Life.

they walk in with their cocktail glass
held about heart high
and when they drink they just
sip.

you are drinking green beer which you
brought with you
because you have found out through the years
that rich ******* are tight-
they use 5 cent stamps instead of airmail
they promise to have all sorts of goodies ready
upon your arrival
from gallons of whisky to
50 cent cigars. but it's never
there.
and they HIDE their women from you-
their wives, x-wives, daughters, maids, so forth,
because they've read your poems and
figure all you want to do is **** everybody and
everything. which once might have been
true but is no longer quite
true.

and-
he WRITES TOO.
POETRY, of
course. everybody
writes
poetry.

he has plenty of time and a
postoffice box in town
and he drives there 3 or 4 times a day
looking and hoping for accepted
poems.

he thinks that poverty is a weakness of the
soul.

he thinks your mind is ill because you are
drunk all the time and have to work in a
factory 10 or 12 hours a
night.

he brings his wife in, a beauty, stolen from a
poorer rich
man.
he lets you gaze for 30 seconds
then hustles her
out. she has been crying for some
reason.

you've got 3 or 4 days to linger in the
guesthouse he says,
"come on over to dinner
sometime."
but he doesn't say when or
where. and then you find out that you are not even
IN HIS HOUSE.

you are in
ONE of his houses but
his house is somewhere
else-
you don't know
where.

he even has x-wives in some of his
houses.

his main concern is to keep his x-wives away from
you. he doesn't want to give up a
**** thing. and you can't blame him:
his x-wives are all young, stolen, kept,
talented, well-dressed, schooled, with
varying French-German accents.

and!: they
WRITE POETRY TOO. or
PAINT. or
****.

but his big problem is to get down to that mail
box in town to get back his
rejected poems
and to keep his eye on all the other mail boxes
in all his other
houses.

meanwhile, the starving Indians
sell beads and baskets in the streets of the small desert
town.

the Indians are not allowed in his houses
not so much because they are a ****-threat
but because they are
***** and
ignorant. *****? I look down at my shirt
with the beerstain on the front.
ignorant? I light a 6 cent cigar and
forget about
it.

he or they or somebody was supposed to meet me at
the
train station.

of course, they weren't
there. "We'll be there to meet the great
Poet!"

well, I looked around and didn't see any
great poet. besides it was 7 a.m. and
40 degrees. those things
happen. the trouble was there were no
bars open. nothing open. not even a
jail.

he's a poet.
he's also a doctor, a head-shrinker.
no blood involved that
way. he won't tell me whether I am crazy or
not-I don't have the
money.

he walks out with his cocktail glass
disappears for 2 hours, 3 hours,
then suddenly comes walking back in
unannounced
with the same cocktail glass
to make sure I haven't gotten hold of
something more precious than
Life itself.

my cheap green beer is killing
me. he shows heart (hurrah) and
gives me a little pill that stops my
gagging.
but nothing decent to
drink.

he'd bought a small 6 pack
for my arrival but that was gone in an
hour and 15
minutes.

"I'll buy you barrels of beer," he had
said.

I used his phone (one of his phones)
to get deliveries of beer and
cheap whisky. the town was ten miles away,
downhill. I peeled my poor dollars from my poor
roll. and the boy needed a tip, of
course.

the way it was shaping up I could see that I was
hardly Dylan Thomas yet, not even
Robert Creeley. certainly Creeley wouldn't have
had beerstains on his
shirt.

anyhow, when I finally got hold of one of his
x-wives I was too drunk to
make it.

scared too. sure, I imagined him peering
through the window-
he didn't want to give up a **** thing-
and
leveling the luger while I was
working
while "The March to the Gallows" was playing over
the Muzak
and shooting me in the *** first and
my poor brain
later.

"an intruder," I could hear him telling them,
"ravishing one of my helpless x-wives."

I see him published in some of the magazines
now. not very good stuff.

a poem about me
too: the ******.

the ****** whines too much. the ****** whines about his
country, other countries, all countries, the ******
works overtime in a factory like a fool, among other
fools with "pre-drained spirits."
the ****** drinks seas of green beer
full of acid. the ****** has an ulcerated
hemorrhoid. the ****** picks on ****
"fragile ****." the ****** hates his
wife, hates his daughter. his daughter will become
an alcoholic, a *******. the ****** has an
"obese burned out wife." the ****** has a
spastic gut. the ****** has a
"****** brain."

thank you, Doctor (and poet). any charge for
this? I know I still owe you for the
pill.

Your poem is not too good
but at least I got your starch up.
most of your stuff is about as lively as a
wet and deflated
beachball. but it is your round, you've won a round.
going to invite me out this
Summer? I might scrape up
trainfare. got an Indian friend who'd like to meet
you and yours. he swears he's got the biggest
pecker in the state of California.

and guess what?
he writes
POETRY
too!
Purcy Flaherty Oct 2018
I was treated like the VIP,
A cat and a big fish,
A hook and a big Six,
whilst visiting madam bow-peeps
rotisserie of *****,
Always receptive,
Wearing open silk
working 9 to 5am.
With a little overtime,
hot funk never satisfies,
She had the way-with-all
to feign, delight; even interest,
before negotiating the price,
Two shekels,
She was classy,
kind of slick,
she tickled my ears
for nothing more than kindness,
a small token in exchange for a smile.
She popped on a tune,
as she took off her dress.
The petting started
her two hands tugging with the zipper of my jeans.
A woman's touch... Ha HA,
the rich sultry kiss of *****,
tight and tasty;
***** like a ripe tomato,
Sugar fried and drunk.

She opened her legs,
her hair smelled like shampoo,
She was on her belly,
knees tucked up
as I took in the fruit,
deep holes filled with **** and shabby fingers,
hollow spit and angry poison,
head spinning to the groove,
loud and high,
The bed squeaked
and a single light bulb dangled
like a loose tooth,
Ten minutes and
two ******* love songs!
Sick and spent up,
I got dressed to leave,
I said with a poke,
"I couldn't get laid,
Not even in a ***** house!"
And now I'm back in the cold again,
only dirtier.
Another old poem
The inspiration from William and Don G

— The End —