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Connor Jul 2018
Eternity is closed !
- come back another day with
flower smears for eyes and sincere
passion on your
palms          (weathered)

I need another Russian Doll -
Princess to frequent curtains
fashioned from fire & lead
equaling out to crimson folds
which mysteriously call to
the mystical hierarchies of
imagination

Silent requirements signal beneath the steps
which welcome
one (a stranger/
an Ibis-Beak cane & dark coat
stamped with August rain)

They arrive unexpectedly, as if to play the game
of cliches, they carry promises fashioned in foreign ports
tapping my knee
instead of my shoulder
having only known or recognized
entombment
                               (there is no hyperbole which lacks within
                                Nature's haunted heavens)

My strange visitor leaves / glass umbrella
in hand / to privacy / our brief interaction begins & ends with simple eager undertakings implemented
in the afterword  

What is in another's contemplation of me?
whiling in manifest Theosophy -

- Thought form -
Primal child-rage / whisp of violet smoke &
inksplotches abolished, mutually panting.
Our decorated
four-legged hunter
has arisen and impatiently
craves for the Earth to partner at last with
the Sun

..The Sun a blazing dime
I can smell crispness
in the air
Is there a natural virility to the fertilities of the inductions of space time’s continuums?  Is this a microcosmic phenomenon or more dependent on the depths of pervasion of its macrocosmic relativities.  Perhaps there is a unifying field theory we are not yet aware of which explains how it paradoxically is a little bit of both.  Regardless, given the fact that there probably was no beginning to the universe then quite literally an eternity has already passed.  So why then, given our understanding of the physics of physical interaction, is not all in a state of complete entropy?  
     This afore mentioned fecundity must exist.  Further in it’s quite likely the cause of physical existence as we know it.  I have a theory: This creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.  Ushering in a new 500 billion to trillion year cycle of physical existence as we know it.  Further again, perhaps the implosion’s contraction’s revisions are the cause of the atomic structure of matter we experience during this new physical cycle.
      The thought of such quantum leaps to me for the intensities of physical matters existence and catalytic capabilities.  
     Granted your not going to find these speculations touted as fact in a Wikipedia excerpt.  The answers are in fact unknown.  I’m merely being hypothetically thoughtful with what I’ve learned of possibilities prospectus.   Given these truths allow me to hypothesize further.  
     It seems to me that the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny were created by a conceptually reflective derivative (or perhaps antiderivative on the interpolations of integration) of functional physical mechanics.  That perhaps the creative force behind their inception (similar to the afore mentioned natural inductions of space time’s continuums) was the physical realism of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy.  
     Consider, the planet we’re on is revolving at approximately 60,000 miles per hour relative to the sun, the solar system we inhabit is revolving at approximately 500,000 miles per hour around the center of our galaxy.  Our galaxy is traveling at approximately 1,332,000 miles per hour through space with our local group of galaxies and revolving at approximately 216,000 miles per hour around the center of mass of this group of galaxies.  All this to give you some conception of the kinetic actualities of our planet’s trajectory’s extant as a projectile.  We have an almost incredible amount of potential or kinetic energy that is generated by our physical velocity through space.  Although we don’t seem to be aware of the impending preponderances of this realism as tellurian denizens it is nonetheless fact to our intellectual relativities.  
     Once again perhaps the actuality of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of the actuality of this phenomenon are the impetus behind the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny.  We don’t know for certain how the first amino acids were formed.  Much less how these acids in the primordial soup made the quantum leap to living existence as biological organisms.  Once again I hypothesize it was a conceptually reflective derivative (or antiderivative) of the creationism behind functional physical mechanics.  e.g. the natural inductions of space time continuum and the quantum leaps created by the implosion’s contraction’s revisions of our big bang.
     By now you may be wondering why I have extrapolated these hypothetical scenarios about the physical creationism of our universe and the perceived similarly analogous state of organic and biological origins, so I’ll tell you.  I hoped it might make the dissertation I’m about to make on the fecundities of the corporeally preternatural and perhaps metaphysical inclinations of our sentient race easier to comprehend.
     With the advent of biological organisms the diversity of physical existence has apparently exceeded its physical complexity.  Understanding has evolved.  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integral forms.  Being a firm believer in evolution this phenomenon makes me wonder: Is the impetus behind the genetic anomalies that influence the seemingly positive nature of natural selection’s progression a pervasion from the social contiguities of a species? Perhaps a random occurrence with no discernable precedent?  Or, more likely even, the equivocal nature of the superior essence of the ontological state of the beings involved?
     Though many believe that it is truly a random occurrence I have a tendency to want to believe otherwise.  That just as there is a natural fecundity to the induction of space time’s continuum there is a positively oriented inclination integral to evolutional progression.  A sort of élan vital on the orthogenesis overtures.  Granted it is somewhat dependant on the phenological nature of environment but improvements occur which have little to do with the ability to cope with the weather.    
      So is there such a thing as élan vital as it relates to ethology’s entelechy?  Is there any benefit for humanoid demagoguery in pursuing zoomorphic zoolotry as a social contiguity?  Can we actually make accession to transcendentally existential ascension?
     The obvious answer would appear to be yes, at least in partiality.  Maybe we’re incapable (at present) of assimilating incorporeity ideology’s non-corporeal states and existing as godlike disembodied spirits (who perhaps have not lost their proclivity for corporeally preternatural being) but social relativities are an evolving state.  Truly the better we treat each other the better off all will be.  Now I’m not talking about being a bunch of fawning sycophants or schmaltzy schlep-it-ness schmucks, more like the swanky saunter obsequious diligence could indentured servant sail lend to all.  Not given because it’s mandated but because it’s the essence of social contiguity’s evolution.  Granted the individual must remain sacrosanct.  Our metaphysical prowess is at best hypothetical.  Actual magic is not a tool in our kit-bag though I aspire to such everyday as I attempt to be teleportation real with my telepathy to the demons I appear to be confronted with.  I site clairaudience clairvoyance on the vicinity victuals of vigilante villain, the propinquity habitations of harbinger’s harangued, the proximity parameters of perimeter’s peripherals, why I’ll even throw in the objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iotas of self inductive interstitial extrapolation, and if that doesn't get it I'll talk about the embark embargo extraditions and the extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortions.  The thought of such spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.  Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation on the terrestrial equestrian.  Tellurian terrene!!
     The obvious realisms of all of this are that we are indeed capable of making these quantum leaps armed practical magic.  I say lets fecundity get down to it.  Exserted protuberances of erotica erectile errantry, the vibrant volition of verve.  I’ve had enough of vapid flatulence and insidiously sinister archaic.  Mankind’s inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his demise!!!  We’ll become theosophy’s theophany incarnate, the ecstatic euphorias of corporeally preternatural’s enigma entity on the identity crisis!!!!
Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues
Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness
Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues
Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness
Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues
Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness
Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues
Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness

Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues
Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte
Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues
Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte
Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues
Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite
Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league
Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite

Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau
Panoramic imagery empiricist
Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show
Ontological somatalogy lyricist
Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know
Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist
Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back ***
Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
Re-post
Devil's elbow blues
He’s trick, like enrapturing
Wherein lies the paradox of his pantheism parapet’s paragon
Extraversion embezzlements and euthanasia extortions
Diction’s enunciation echoes of opaque opulence
Its redolence a savory waft
The evolution of psychic clarity’s élan vital
Bizarre dichotomous augur the singer’s aural austerity
Gypsy Queen, his guitar’s moniker, romanced aimed intention
Elaborate elliptical empathy endeavors for posterity’s predication
Pandemically  phatic  propriety venerations
Their apex crux axis beyond finite solution
Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma
Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix
The individual must remain sacrosanct
Traipsing through the fallow furrows of assimilation’s xenobiotic barratry
Like capillaries' capricious and intravenous intrepid
Incalculably sensual beyond emotion’s expression
Impetus intrigue's intuitional verve
Ethology’s entelechy, theosophy’s theophany
Zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities
Futurity's corporeally preternatural fatidic
My sad attempt at social contiguity after reading poetessa diabolica's
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1268186/bella-donnas-intrinsic-nuances/
Oh to be so artistically aesthetic as she
He’s trick, like enrapturing
Wherein lies the paradox of his pantheism parapet’s paragon
Extraversion embezzlements and euthanasia extortions
Embark embargo extraditions
Diction’s enunciation echoes of opaque opulence
Its redolence a savory waft
The evolution of psychic clarity’s id conclusions
Bizarre dichotomous augur the singer’s aural austerity
Gypsy Queen, his guitar’s moniker, romanced aimed intention
Elaborate elliptical empathy endeavors for posterity’s predication
Pandemically  phatic  propriety venerations
Their apex crux axis beyond finite solution
Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma
Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix's vertex vortex
The individual must remain sacrosanct
Traipsing through the fallow furrows of assimilation’s synthetic synthesis
Like capillaries' capricious and intravenous intrepid
Incalculably sensual beyond emotion’s expression
Impetus intrigue's intuitional verve
Ethology’s entelechy, theosophy’s theophany
Zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities
Futurity's corporeally preternatural fatidic
Elan-vital's apotropaic apotheosis
importunacy
Cosmogony of My Emotions: Teleological Theosophy of My Personal Theology
Death cannot defined. Being of ultimate consequence it is above causation, yet reigns supreme as an effect. It can only be affined: Aqua, Ignis, Terra, Ventus , Umbra, Lucem/ Hydro, Pyro, Gaia, Aero, Erebus, Aether, all swirl in dead languages spoke a thousand years ago yet they all have been read by our generation in our youth.
The veil of death is a tabernacle in which only the high priest returns from walking, all others are drug back rope around their solar plexus. All paths of death are two fold.
First, from the feet of the Teleologic Cosmos of Emotion we grow towards the Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. From the abyss we stare at the knees of the concave exterior of healing. Like the twins of June, hate and pain, are the two closest modes to death, but not the most direct. I feel fear is the ultimate neighbor of death. The flow of Consciousness lies first in the womb. Concealed from the light, darkness sheilds us from the illusion of Illumination. Hate feeds into pain as Pain feeds into hate, like a sibling rivalry. The knees (pain and hate) bend not to cushion the feet (death) but to stop the pelvis (fear) from shattering under the weight of the back bone (Stillness).
Adapted to the new ways of my mother's demon of lust wedding sloth and gluttony. Sin is the seat of unconscious control, or lack there of like a drunk blacked out asleep, already anticipating his next drink. Hate is Ache followed by ate. Pain and hunger are two sides of the same page. What can I say, everything happens for a reason. Even if I feel it was treason yet I'm no regal prince, nor a Mercury lying closest to the Solar, I drenched myself in my own masochism: physically mentally spiritually, and had done so for years. The basis of your emergency alert was quite founded, yet not without ignorance. Yet to me, you felt i was going to rise through fear to descend into pain and find my new year 25th, death. But the beauty is in my birth with one hair on my head I left the manger a man, no wig, feeling for the first time while the police speak to my mother searching like the warriors dispatched of Herod. My blood spirit is free, having saved Adam through the pyramid  I dethrone Satan by the sip of the crown of the feathered serpent. Yet you hate he who fell. I fear the vile nature of the burning fields respecting the ignitor of the flames as the sole cause of err that lead or Savior to accomplish who no one else could. For without the fall of the unholy, wingless, cut from tip to tip, Iesus-Yeshua-Judah would not be your most beloved. Without the pain of Christos (the annointed), Khristos (the enlightened) would not achieve ideology of the cosmos. Pain rises to fear shortly, and shifts into hate in confusion as siblings squabble, as I had done internally for a decade. Yet through the gift of the heart heavenly Saul is able to see the life lesson to use the lower part of our mind to find the Big Blue. Pain ascends into love if and only if death can bounce like glue. If you aim for the Sun and the Moon you can only be a child of astronomy, yet you showed me my dreams to buy you a ring of Saturn and hand it to you on a Sunday. I believed my pain laid plain and bare could convince you of you're convictions. My mission in the deepest recesses of body was for you to give into your fears so we could slip into the underworld of sin sipping red wine until the mounring in my heart rose Rex by the fading starlight. I dream to live a lye, basic as alkaline, I wished to be a battery. I saw myself freed of my woman battering heritage ceasing the cyclic self fear that posited the ferocity of my fore fathers, due to the love of a woman most beloved and true. I felt you could be the instrument to my Burning Lyre, my love Plutonic I felt my crow caw. As I held you in my arms singing with you in harmony, setting the bond between the viscous cycle of Pain, paying dues with Hate, to rise like smoke to face fear starring death in the face like a shadow below. The night sky black with how to Know, twinkling with the star light of Love. Only above the vault of heavens clung Joy, Hope, and Live.
Without poeticizing further, what I term the Basement of Abasment consists of Death at the roots (red inverted triangle) rising into Hate (orange w/ red center) and Pain (tan w/ red center), with the connection of Pain and Hate forming a cross with the direct bond between death and fear (yellow w/ small red center).
Proceeding up the towards the chain of being, leads to what I call the equator of emotions. Cling/stillness/resolve is the grey region connecting all body's of feelings as the Moses, the leader of the Exodus and the appellation of the celestial globe. It binds Love and Know laterally to one another, while connecting the Vault of Virtue to the Basement of Abasement.
The Starlings
outside my window
sing a song
of no regret,
there is snow
on the ground
and little food
to be found,
but that's okay
because today
the sun is out
and the sky
is clear,
it is very warm
for this time of year,
and if the
theosophy
doesn't blind me.
I know I'll find me
a weapon to use
to fight these blues.
Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues
Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness
Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues
Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness
Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues
Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness
Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues
Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness

Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues
Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte
Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues
Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte
Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues
Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite
Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league
Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite

Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau
Panoramic imagery empiricist
Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show
Ontological somatology lyricist
Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know
Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist
Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back ***
Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
Ominous phenomenon portrayal spontaneous synchronous
Exponentially extemporaneous
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
this day made no sense apart from
   being polite to a surgery
receptionist  and downing a bottle of whiskey...
  birds? spring? colours? can i just go back
to england imitating alaska? the more i age the more
i realised: **** day! bring on night!
   and it's not like some horror movie scenario...
i'm not even conjuring vampire
to sell them to you...
   i just think my eyes are sort of: too distracted
                   by the light?
a bit like: am i serious about
buying this vacuum cleaner?
should i be serious about
buying this vacuum cleaner?
   i'd love to live in a matriarchal society,
turn all cannibal and ****,
go shrimp! go!
          swing *******! bite the railings
while you're at it!
            let's see if a gypsy tooth plops out
of your jaw, so we can cast a magic spell
turning the lead into gold!
the ****?!
             oh **** me, i'd love to live in a matriarchy...
it would mean that i wouldn't have to be a man
and have this social construct of
pampering to women... i'd be a lion
with a harem of females hunting...
             need a fridge? go **** yourself...
need a toilet? go **** yourself...
           need a blender? go **** yourself:
chew on a terminte mound...
                to be honest i have a fetish for the chance
to live in a matriarchy... it's almost like what islam
concerns itself with theocracy...
      i'd love to live in this wendol society...
    look how much less you need in a matriarchy!
i'm watching it going: giva'h more giva'h more!
            tazmanian bush-wacker aussie...
   god... i'd love to experience a matriarchy more than
i'd care to support a theocracy...
that's like patriarchy: or what's called
                                              second generation...
islam has nothing on me, i want to
experience a matriarchy... the amazonian
    queens 30ft women doing the new zealand
rugby team's haka!
   oh please let them have it! let them have
women football teams... i'll really want to ****
them afterwards!
                              what is man is what
allows man to internilise his emotions up to
the point that he's playing poker...
               what allows women to be women is
volcanic outbursts of unsolicited emotion...
                 funny how the genitals play a part in
the whole affair... or don't... whatever...
i woke up early today and thought to myself:
****! not enough whiskey!
        theocracy is just second / third generation
patriarchy...
                      there's nothing else to it...
imagine islam as it was originally...
     a matriarchy under the guidance of mohammad's
first wife... who was much older than
him and wrote the first koranic verses...
Khadijah...
                      mohammad is a ***** compared
to Khadijah, the matriarch;
mohammad is just a ***** teenager compared
to her...
               well... her stock did come from the myth
of the origin of the Arab race... namely from
Abraham's concubine...
                    hence the weaving of the walking
h
          arem...
                   oh forget it! the west does something
similar to a niqab... when was the last time you
spotted a beauty that fills the pages of a style
magazine on the street?
                             last time i spotted one?
i wanted to **** a donkey.
                               the end.
        the niqab is like a mobility scooter for women
who won't be stolen in the light of day
by some rich patron who suddenly forgot his
fetish for ******* choir boys...
                   let's level it out!
                     she was the literate cougar that wrote
the better pieces of the koran...
          after she died... the koran started shrinking...
i actually think that
  the last surah was written by Aisha...
                         so who wrote it, if not women?
this is a classical example of a matriarchy -
muhammad was just a useful idiot...
                well apparently he was illiterate, he couldn't
read and he couldn't write...
  like that joke about the police in england:
one can read, but can't write, the other can't read,
but can write...
                                     we have plenty of useful
idiots around here, what does the left mean in
western society when there is no economic policy
to support it? i come from the east,
                     what does the left mean in western
lands mean these days?
               well... if theocracy is only a second / third
generation patriarchy
then second / third generation matriarchy clings
to theosophy... a sort of oops-e-daisy: just one step
away from turning the whole thing into an aleister crowley
inspired movement... and where does that lead?
pi zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ah!
Vernarth says: “We will be able to find in this path of Light that is my life, what is the wood that stretches and upsets the material surfaces in the gifts of God, with the prevailing low water of the minimal plastering of rainfall, but if in the flow of astonishment that will leave us all in the breath of knowing how to be and understand, which is my hand directed by Vitruvius, and that his interval measures do not cease to outline everything that can or could generate cracks that cross the rules of Survival, where everyone who is a survivor of the Arbela Site, will be identified as an unfolded constituent of all solid material, providing the minimum percentage that will make up the majesty of a revived heart. Vitruvius remains with me ..., and his hands sustain greater fantasies that reside in the divine architecture that will be the origin of everything that existed and will exist. The long wattles will extend in the new layer that resides between the Kidron Valley to Gethsemane, and from Nazareth to Eilat, and that those who walk around will winnow footsteps that will later lead them to Bethany, and that Alexander the Great ... my General! Will be protected by the holy mantle of Mashiach, after we are both released from this mega Purgation. That the magnitude of the planks and the broad-headed nails will be hammered by the antlers of the Uilef, and that the utopias will make me see from above and it will be like being on the shoulders of Brisehal or the Colosso of Apsila so that wattles be always and permanently sprinkled by my prose of advent and passion of my Redeemer. I am prepared with the edge of my Xiphos ..., every day I cut a piece of my arm! As I heal again, I fissure the meats that closed, letting the softness of my skin be the skin that restores the nail that will slice the second rows of concession arteries, so that they are assimilated to the third that could reach the same way as those received by the Mashiach. The length of the miracle is imperishable and the nails with a small head will make the break where they will not be finally nailed, interweaving the preparation vines that will cover my arm and that of Alexander the Great, more distant from the third arteries that still bleed, so that they are prepared in the fourth row of the syntagma group in the arteries that will be those that hold posterity carrying everything with my sectioned dexterity, but always holding onto the Xiphos behind the brilliant mortar of Arena. Nothing exists, everything only existed for the first entelechy of Zerubbabel when rebuilding, and our Redeemer uttered that everything will be turned into pieces of stones with bones of long wattles that would extend to the layers of clay being his tomb, that yes passing through the mortar that will make all mankind redo the sawdust of the whole earth towards the devastated earth. In this way, the four rows of arteries will lie in the preparation rows with my right arm burning when I first touched the Empyrean taking me with it from 775 BC. C. until the time of the first century of the Era of Our Lord ”.

Cosmic thought crossed the four brains of its component of unfolded time, after being attracted by the foolishness of the thoughts that traveled without generational limits of Tikun, in such a way that the thoughts that were fixed on the orthogonal of infinity were detached from time imperceptible with the summation of the loss of the unknowable space of the abstruse of the Vav Hei Vav, creating the total dissociation of the past from the peristyle of time, leaving the future numbed in the antiquity of the Hellenic past, but reviving it in the passing of the transgression mean, between the antitragus of the head of the four assistants of the Vav Hei Vav, to transfer them through the shell of each one in their inner ears when sizing what will pass silently through their cognitions and in their Over Being, or Quantum Being that will take them along paths from the 700 years old to the first century in the constitution of Hera in Olympia, and rather towards the recalcitrant subjection of the stones that made it up to be subject to the nurse nomenclature of the understanding of the cosmic thought of Vernarth, who had slender few sponsored in all the naturalities that tried their mimicry, doing nothing else what has not been noticed far from it, from where the natural deformation of cosmic thought will bend as it is transcribed in all the textual evolution of the four united minds of Vernarth, Alexander the Great, Saint John the Apostle and King David. The luminescence would be attracted by all the rivers in the Vernarth Opera with the Bumodos, Eygues, Lethe, Euphrates and Nile, Acheron (the river of sorrow), Cocytus (laments), Phlegethon (fire), Lethe (oblivion), and Styx. The Bumodos would be the stigma of the pain of the Thymus of Vernarth that would be even more active and sensitive than his heart, and the Eygues that would be his faithful companion that would help him to promote the pains of lost loves with Wonthelimar, when the haze and storm left him alone in the sugary sand with labyrinths and the contact of the last frictions of his loved ones, leaving only messes in a Siddartha that would tend to be tempted by humanity, making us believe that nothing is more powerful than the propensity of evil to have in the constitution transgenerational family, to remain anchored in Ha-Shatán's slander, harassing immanent relics of the worship of man who settled on the banks of rivers in the expectation of quenching their thirst for wisdom or for the Vav Hei Vav, as a portal of entry of the trip around the world that unites us with our encore adventures, that are always united to the past of the upper ***** and that does not leave us any second of the present in his waves of contemplation as a Hoplite man in the fantasy of his dreams, managing to make the rivers of oblivion or Lette propitiate the future that will not make him forget what in the past was an underground part of the currents of a watery thought, what is The verb will be and should be the subjugation of those around him who harasses himself.

In this way, the words ran in the sorry speed of the harassment of the immobile Ha-Shatán but fiercely restrained by what surrounded the verb as in the meadows of Ein Kerem that was surrounded by the contours that made her not fatigue in the gaze of the heaven, when everything that was close was in fullness with the organic nature that contained it, and everything that was summarized from the rhythm of the Hexagonal Chapel of the Shepherds in its rhythm, like a swarm between winds that carried pollinations in the first words that they contained themselves from the latter to later reconnect themselves by means of the buckles carried by the offspring of the lambs and the primordial respiration of the Cosmos, which they said above all as a verb that sprouted in the seeds themselves that were escaping from their reproductive capacity. Vernarth already knew that he had little time left to be near his Hoplites and that the ocean of arrows that would fall on his destiny would be from bittersweet Theosophy that would fall on the back of the herd, like Manna that would emancipate itself in tons of languages that can define the Thought that may pre-exist. Perhaps thinking, but anchored in the turn that contains him, between words that would no longer be writing or any wisdom that reduces him, rather the gesture of the Peri Kosmous that would transmit something to us through those who do not speak or indicate ..., rather of the same abstraction of all the Pelicans that would advance by the vital energies that wear away the concepts that sway between the waves by the Aegean seas, and of the silence that of this same thing already begins to lose the horizon in the gaze of your observer. Nothing was friction that generated words that could be the sustenance of an Era that was spent for more than seven hundred years in the hands of the oppressors who would waste it in seven seconds, leaving everything in the hierarchy of a reality as the Plan of the Spare Universe. called Duoverso, which was precisely the simple river that joins both Universes lying between themselves as the appearance of the river Acheron or permanent misfortune, imagining ourselves in every bad good fit to balance our thoughts where the first will be offshoots of the Vernarth principle, until four o'clock. arteries that prosper to reach an occult knowledge, where every being that walks twice the same way is not the reality of the times in which every day the footsteps of the Mashiach are seen from Bethany to Ophel or from Ophel to Bethany, like an anthroposophic hill and foundations that will make the city of David seven hundred meters high, carrying this peristyle in the gallery of time, going through the majestic iteration of the journey of the imperceptible quantum being seven times in a row with the seven long paths of the rebound between Bethany and Ophel, on the very promontory of Saturn reviving them in the narrow promontories that make you see that thought is more than a sacred place to remember what is dear, which is precisely what is to be appreciated and observed when some steps escape and are not of the forged walk of the Mashiach from Kidron to the Tyropoeon; towards the escarpment that would put the relays of the new sheep that will also graze on Patmos, and that despite the turns of antiquity will be the strip between the ancient era and the Middle Ages, as precepts of the sacred mountains that will grow in the eschatological of the advent of Thuellai when Profitis Ilias was the source of synergy in the figure that will unite them among the evil that grows Vg The Golgotha and the sacrifice *** Bei Himnom, proceeding with Zion of the Earth and David, as a precept of the plains of forgiveness in the Moriah from where Abraham, already provided with his “Hey”, mediated and possessed the benevolence of the Maker to bring to life to his Son Isaac, to shelter him in the rubble in everything that was not of his patriarch's fruit, and then it could be reissued in the nobility of an epigram that would be the return to Ophel after having crossed the circumflex of the word used in this paragraph, to continue through the mountains that will be the emphasis of Patmos, constituting the square for its defense and blocking all the walls of history that will be carriers of all the threat of installed evil, making them the systemic forces reluctant and doomed on the southern ***** of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem between Tyropoeon to the west and the Kidron Valley to the east dominating the ill-gestated shadow of Ha-Shatan.
Enthasis
Norman Crane  Oct 2021
Theosophy
Norman Crane Oct 2021
lightning flashes
blue veins, illuminated sky
seeing the world as it is
organic, epidermis of the mind's eye
thunder is a muscle
twitching as the demiurge dies
pellucid skin—
I—
revealing heaven's bones—
know—
the universe is empty
we are on our own

— The End —