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Without the souls of Trouvere, will he aspire to spheres from where he can replicate himself in the ductile state of the ceremonious Energeia...? The naive action is univocal as the first practice modulated in inclinations and lexical motricities, where they die within their fears, failing to hope and convalesce their desecrated wounds congruent in concepts of Energeia, as an arbitrary neologism to move what in itself is not self- scrollable. Vernarth after witnessing Stratonice's intermission decides to run barefoot for those who banish needs on the parental scale of his range. Succeeded by the need of Energeia towards the impudent sense of being enraptured in possibilities, and supernatural substantialities that transported him in the Epistle even to his desiring hands, but in natural causes, and kinetic emotionality in the destiny of the principles of a movement that dialogues by a spinning spin; alembicated in particles of displacement time eccentricity, towards itself in the synonymous statics, providing intrinsic angles to be associated with the rotation of time and Epistolary demands so that the quantum light can relate the energetic spiritual emotionality, with the own dissociated relationship in the spaces of appearance; where it is to be believed that there is a moment of bias provided in the emotional-movement rooted in linear memories of the temporality of the Hellenic mental axis. Everything is proper in the coordinates of the speculating, which is adduced and duplicated in Poielípsis or unveiled generation of relativistic emotions. For this reason, Vernarth naughty importunates this metaphysical precognition, alluding to particles that generate dissimilar inclinations in lapses until reaching the threshold from when Stratonice partially divided its material and spiritual origin into stationary diversity, in meditated phases that will not take place nuclear, but in the polymathy of its exteriorized threshold, and of the emotional mass of its free and passionate matter that concerns its strident and impalpable Macedonian origin.

From this moment on, the intuition corresponds to the angular reinforcement of "Poielípsis", in this way the coordinate of the Souls of Trouvere becomes present, as pseudo images of the Diadochi, involving magnetized radial movements that will lie in the spheres of physical value., in the garb of the Gerakis and Petrobus, who strived in the sense of the energeia of the Epsilon neologism, not to restrict themselves as Aristotle affirms, investigating the being towards a mono-sense in this causal, of such alpha that it says the paradoxical, demonstrating the diversity of optics. Faced with this diatribe Vernarth from the naturalness decides to empower Souls that are part of both topics according to Vernarth, it is to alleviate the potentialities of the acts that apprehend the light of genius that coexists with both. What the entity justified us in unfolding will be delivered by divine intelligence, so as not to reduce the free power of the Epsilon that was extracted in the welcoming presence of Stratonice still withdrawn in the atmosphere of the Voielípsis (substitute scale of relativistic emotions of Vernarth). There are few seconds that can be extended more from a selective argument of trends in the specifications, which could be attributed to dimensions of the Trouvere period of souls, lacking stillness in simulated biological environments, as if they deliberate the naturalness of an expression of who It does not philosophize if something has to detach itself or grab hold of creation to privilege the natural, re-arguing affection when professing, if there is time to express it, so it is intuited what the virtue of muttering simultaneously in the laborious, and in what does not progress. The dynamics of this Poielípsis is to dress the Voielípsis, as an analogous addition of quantum causality and of temporal and timeless Christianity, since it supports a conjugate mix deified by Saint Thomas Aquinas, heading towards the prop in the mega absorption of Christian Aristotelian ideals. The souls of Trouvere will be residents of the indeterminate spiritual mechanics, to deposit effects of the incredulous versatility in themselves, in the sub-aquatic depths that coexist with the geological structure of the cavern of San Juan Apóstol, but in subterranean concomitance, under the same axial coordinate that is sustained sub-geological. Namely; They will coexist as long as the Mandragoron of the Duoverso and its Voielípsis are established, but three hundred and eight meters from its antipode in the underwater base of the Profitis Ilias.

The antithetical line is the verifiable germinability of those vertical events of the plinth settled by the Souls of Trouvere, containing the germinable starch of the growth of the ergonometric stirrup of the Zefian Bolt, which from zero elevation to 308 meters above the Aegean level will form a mega extra parapsychological bilocation, which will be gestated in its uniform vertical chronological numbering, with the pre-Christian Pythagorean and post-Christian representation in the coronation of Carlo Magno, mentioned in royal visions by the Apostle Santiago, in the versant apology of Pythagoras as an entity supra divine, envisioning the scenographic depository, and fragmentability of these three components of this start of the Hellenic Magna in the hydrographic, sub-terrestrial geological and residential basin of the Souls of Trouvere.
The upholstery of the Pythia of Herófila attacks the subtended of the flying buttress that supported the volcanic cavities of the Sub-Patmos, indicating its agreement with the Souls of Trouvere by its disoriented cognitive dissonance, generating paradigms that traced stones that formulated Aquarian sounds, in a dominant tonality by the minuscule machine of light, more distant from the incommensurability that escaped eclipsed in the resplendent major note that becomes monarchical by the hypotenuse of a rectangle in three subdominant angles. This brings about the thaumaturgy of Pythiais, the mother of Pythagoras who, together with Vernarth's Poielípsis, forge retentive songs given the scarce natural light that was only born from some of Trouvere's souls called Poielípsis, in stories of the oracular Delphians. The Poielípsis remains encapsulated from the thaumaturgy of the banal anti-desires that would make it mortal, for a hypotenuse that makes the gift of poetic prayer tangible, prompting the Bio axiom, by fertilizing scaled suspicions of repeated mortality in the banner of risk. Stratonice well points it out:

“The signal field has been prophesied today for the Apollo tripod. Having to reencause itself in three parts of the support of the oracles, and in clairvoyance in the pre and post Christian insemination of the gift of the word that redeems man from sin, sub-tenant of the flying buttress, from the interface of the supra trinity of sin as a blood element, and difficult to evade or avoid. Here the Hegemonic energy of Alexander the Great has been condensed in the arch of ideas, pointing out that the diseased body of Antiochus; my father…, is supplanted by that of the to happen all the trances and difficulties that are assumed after the hazardous departure in Babylon. Therefore he has to bring all the corollary prophesied in the death of my grandfather Seleucus in the hands of Ptolemy Ceraunos. Wanting to dress up the irrevocable interference that occurred in Judah by his Diadocos gangs, opting for the effect of his offspring, therefore on his spiritual stretch of energetic residual and static mass, ad libitum that will end when unleashed in his son. All will already be consumed in the pathogenic body of Antiochus, and of the love for my mother where she was abducted, and possessed she sees by retaliation from Alexander the Great for proven insubordinate ethical demands. "

Stratonice walks with the sendal that should be translucent by Santiago of Compostela. As an intra-everlasting geometric raconto, subduing fears that slide through the sendal of the dogma of the architrave, where no philosophy can look higher if it is not allowed, typical of vegetarianism or freedoms that turn green in fears that do not illuminate life. eternal, perhaps from the same Matematikoi who doubts a basis for Adfinitas, to understand limitless limits, taking Pythagoras to the soil of Crotona. Always, someone who is ignored of the linguistic power, he plans to rewind spheres that still weave crossed angles, placing himself in scores to consider as an irreplaceable past. The soul of Poielípsis adopted a Pythagorean conception, in the halters of the livid legions of Orpheus, as if it were his consecrated hypogeum where the high position was, to stir to the embankment where it will merge with the Zefian arrow. This liquefaction should purify all storage of cognitive and circumscribes of those ancestral, becoming reincarnable pre-Christians, who transmigrate in the need of osmosis of universal unity. Atonal music will transmigrate molecules to great sidereal distances, being the same replica of the other eurythmic, in multi-trigonometric periods, vivifying the fractional number residues as souls of the same numeral that finally perish of Pythagorean digits, perhaps at the angles of the Phalanxes of Vernarth or in the oblique crucial moment that slumbers in an elegy, flourishing in those beings that do not Live...! Already under-treated, they will only be souls tired of keeping themselves alive and deprived of their morbidity, in a dissociated cause of immortality that will distance itself from the forbidden abstinences, in liberating exercises of any count that ponders in the coming etymology of the Vita Pythagorae, on the divan of the joys of serving his doctrine, which saves himself, and which will save the Messiah, for those who in the soul have no sacrifice of a lamb that grazes..., nor on the pedestal that goes ahead in the centuries..., pasturing what nobody was capable of ?. The second triad of the oracle of Apollo of the Souls of Trouvere reveal Charles the Great, favored by the Apostle Santiago for the protectorate of Compostela and its spiritual regency, invited Charlemagne from Aachen, in 33 consecutive years of dispute with swords, stating that the Saxons never complied with the treaties and signed surrenders. Charlemagne placed himself at the head of his army on several occasions to fight with his sword against the Saxon danger, also entrusting the troops to the counts when other matters required his presence.

In the second segment of the concave wasteland of the straight ascendant of Trouvere, he crowned Charlemagne emperor of Rome and the Franks, predicted by the Apostle James, in defensive papal struggles and in defense of Christianity. In this paradigm it appears how they are transmitted from the dead ungraspable world, they unite here in the axon of Poielípsis for the sake of the times that occur due to the anonymity of a silence that augured to link, and to know within what the endless intrinsically organic movement is, as well as the biological cosmos in the discovery of the Jacobean route. In what better region than the Dodecanese, he will be fused by twelve apostles, and now the brother of the son of Zebedee; Santiago brother of Saint John the Apostle. Dating back to 778 AD, spreading to Hispania. In the ****** and constant fight against the Saxons, Carlo Magno, entered Hispania crossing the Pyrenees, as a preview of the aforementioned Jacobean Route, everything raged witnessing their overwhelmed squares in the fueros of the Trouveres, who were Pythagorean elite soldiers, who had been bilocated in this post was Christian, preceded by the perfidious Basque in the forests, subsisting separated right here from the progenitors of the Trouvers, who claimed to be the strongest to continue them to Pamplona with Charlemagne. All escaped from Islam, and not a few Christians resented this affront, the dynamics will be reflected in the Songs of the French Gesta, to enter the Jacobean Route on the way to Santiago de Compostela, when the Calixtino Codex, in its book IV o Historia Turpini, the apparition of the Apostle Santiago to Charlemagne is told in dreams, pointing to the Milky Way as a way to find his tomb, which must free them from the Saracens to be able to venerate their relics with the enamels and medallions that they issued in the Apostle's crypt in Compostela. The souls of Trouvere, are beings that enjoyed a short life in the Pyrenees, they enjoyed the fortune of originating a liberator of post-Christian inheritances, mechanized by the exquisite citation of Pythagorean antiquity, behind indigo faded in red blood cells, to dress the sendal of the figure of Faith, freed behind those who should have dressed her as a Codex Calixtinus.

Five sections rose along the straight line of the Trouvere pyramidal axon, the base of the liturgical appendix that honors the multidimensional space, with antiphons for the cult of Carlo Magno on the underlying Patmos. Santiago was lacerated in the Holy Land far from his Brother Apostle Saint John, but he came to meet with the Trouveres who came from the rugged Pyrenees. Santiago passed the Strait of Gibraltar and reached Padrón, which is about 20 kilometers west of Santiago de Compostela; there some angels took him to the place where he actively rests. In a boat he arrived..., and always by the Mediterranean he will now reach Patmos, still acquiring the iconography that attempts to find Charlemagne, and a codex that would unite pre-Christians like Pythagoras and Aristotle united in the relic of the taxpayers transformed into three maritime rivers, concerned with a predicted belligerent episode, to say that all roads lead to Patmos, like Locus Sanctus, of all the shepherds who heal their sheep in which they are not of others that are populated with souls white, for the good of others. Thus the souls of Trouvere from the Pyrenees revealed themselves as predecessors of the raiding of the shells 308 meters below the Profitis Ilias, in agreement with Stratonice who would be arriving in Macedonia, where the passing of the centuries would tell him about the Jacobean Route instructed in confronts, and concordances with the airones of the Trouvere, protected by a rectangle in three subdominant Pythagorean angles in the dissipated darkness of the golden indigo of Theoskepasti, in the meridian of Kímolos.
Poielipsis Souls of Trouvere
Cool down
Absorb by nature
To stay awhile
For a little bit longer

As the wind pass by  
The Green Leaves of Natures
Dances through the rhyme
Bask of time

Get awe and wonder
Thrilled in trill
As you would admire
To climb the highest falls

A glance of it
For a foretaste of good time
Would not be a kiss goodbye
It’s a treasure of a lifetime

An hour of silence
Let your dreams remind
While you’ll be captivated
As yourself search inside

It’s beauty
It’s pride
As you are surrounded by
And embraced by nature

created on 11-30-2013

note: Tagbibinta Falls is located in Maragusan Davao de Oro
or  former (Compostela Valley Province).
          A nature made and one of the great tourist spot in Davao de Oro ( former Compostela Valley  Province)
st64 Jul 2013
he says:
I want to hear the sun..
on me

cover the width of a personal compostela
the yellow-and-black bird
branch to branch

square patterns of light
into shades of green
and slant

making headway now
companions on the path
passing by
auburn creature with lolling tongue
            looks with such kind eyes
            glittering diamonds
            sun sits on tip of wet nose
he seems to be saying something...
some evanescent message

thoughts are ventilated
tones of silence seep in
wild flowers in amaranthine bloom
sway in nature's perpetual dance
always moving

what happens to arboreal ghosts
when we prove efficiency by cutting the arms of living trees
          and with it
extended family of foliage?

monk passes slow
nods in quiet greeting
a bare half-smile
   enough to reach
   yet just truncated enough

to prune
is needed /

how many more steps to tread
before *the why
becomes clear?

trod so far
sought so wide
read so much
travelled so intense

this journey alone
proves so arduous


struggled with hidden pain he discovered beneath the layers of happiness....
suffered hunger and thirst along the way....
washed in ***** rivers with no soap....
had to clean his **** with dusty leaves in the eve....
and remembering to eat
what to eat...but berries in the dark

and he cried, oh how he cried
from a place no man should see
such a dark place
demented and wicked souls at the doorstep
of hell
would shrink at

but first
in order to do all that
he had to wrestle with himself
and die inside
he could no longer fail to consent

no wistful little prayers
or wide-eyed flower-eyes

nor awe born in luxury

for all that...

in a little while
you will get what you want
if you give enough people
what they want

pray in secret
in the sun

the boy with the Jesus sandals
walks on

his journey

S T, (thursday:) 4 July 2013
one can find one's yer own backyard :)

enjoying a rare ginger-tea with (deliciously sweet-soured) singed tomato on buttered toast...and listening to this fine song! >>

sub-entry: 'Dearly beloved' - - Fred Astaire


Tell me that it's true,
Tell me you agree,
I was meant for you,
You were meant for me.


Dearly beloved, how clearly I see,
Somewhere in Heaven you were fashioned for me,
Angel eyes knew you,
Angel voices led me to you;

Nothing could save me,
Fate gave me a sign;
I know that I'll be yours come shower or shine;
So I say merely,
Dearly beloved ~ be mine.

Repeat Refrain
I had forgotten the way to the hut that I had traveled to so many times,
so many days. So many moons, I would say. But no one marks moons anymore, except hunters. And I am not one of them. Nor a gatherer.
I listen to old men tell how they felled the stags. I do not believe them.

I am a wayfarer, to use the archaic words I used to love, the words
I had forgotten, the words of time in eternity, the words of orange leaves
on towering pin oaks, the words of circles of shadows settling on Gavarnie, of snowfall in the Pyrénées. Sever Spain from the Continent.

I had lost the language of the *****, spray-painted sheep scampering
over gray-bouldered cirques on mountaintops, boulders turning into mountains in the shadows, in the fog, in drifts of snow. There are no words for this now. Bleating sheep drown them out, and yapping dogs.

There are no words for the radiance of transcendence. “Climb higher,”
I hear them say. Higher into the haze of clouds. Cirque: circle, circus. Acrobatics on hillsides, balancing acts on rockslides, skimming streams in hard-toed boots. I had forgotten the way to the words, far behind me.

I have come to a gate, a steep stile in shadow. No sheep can pass. Nothing looks familiar; nothing looks strange. I saunter in a cloud
of unknowing. I had known the words: worn, smooth as stone unscuffed by hard-toed boots, slick as snowmelt. Slide from France into Spain.

This is the path of Santiago de Compostela, the route of St. James, who said, “Do not be double-minded, brethren.” I cannot remember if I have been double-minded in my travels. I had forgotten the way. If the words do not come, which mind sees the threshold; which mind circles the fog?

What passes, what begins when we travel? I do not look backward.
The way lies ahead, waiting, wandering away from the words. Splotches
of lichen sprout orange and green. “Go no higher for safety.” No higher.
They do not mention exile or ecstasy or the straight path of radiance.

The cirque circles my words in mountain shadows. I must unlearn
the art of travel, adrift in broken fields of stone. I had forgotten the way to the hut. Rocks obscure the path. Light ensures the path leads upward. Nothing is lost. Words hold their weight. Stags dance above me in fog.
Verás la maravilla de camino,
camino de soñada Compostela
-¡oh monte lila y flavo!-, peregrino,
en un llano, entre chopos de candela.

Otoño con dos ríos ha dorado
el cerco del gigante centinela
de piedra y luz, prodigio torreado
que en el azul sin mancha se modela.

Verás en la llanura una jauría
de agudos galgos y un señor de caza,
cabalgando a lejana serranía,

vano fantasma de una vieja raza.
Debes entrar cuando en la tarde fría
brille un balcón de la desierta plaza.
When they were on the skeptical air, they seemed to feel greenish bunches fallen on the hooves and the frogs of the Alikantus helmet that was appreciated in contrasting imagery in the "V", ignoring possessions in the four patrimonial endowments, to ensure the runaway Supramundis that was waving galloping detached from the tapestries and pictures of Messolonghi. The bed of the plants of Kanti and Alikantus was cracking at the nail of the whitish lunula of their hooves that multiplied behind the substance of Carlo Magno, mounted in his Bayard with four sections riding on the impulses of their caps, in the direction of his cavalry by the Jacobin route upon reaching Zaragoza. The holistic robbery and his ingrown nails were ungulating on the nearby trees in some of his riders, in order to be able to mount them raised and prevent them from ambush. When they supported the third sighting and its third phalanx, chestnuts ungulated in the distal areas of the helmet and of the palfreys that were going to Messolonghi, reducing the number of their fingers, thus in this way they could become dogmatized before the rough ground, and their tendencies in the spaces of Elliniká leptá apó diastima, “Hellenic minutes of space” towards the shortest time of the minutes that allows them to be relocated before reaching Messolonghi. More past than the marked footsteps on Compostela, it was before heading them, marking himself with the anticipated quantum of speed already acquired by Carlo Magno's Bayard, which he carried on his dorsal due to the footsteps of other similar ones that supported him. In the scene of parallel convergence, the troops of the beasts were crossing in different spheres of quantum time, in the adversary of Carlo Magno.

The anatomy of the place was distinguished by the crowds of their marked footprints, and some chestnut frogs repopulating in the contour of the hooves of their hooves, redistributing the impact zones to reestablish themselves, to do the same of their bones in global anti-components. organic materials, to encapsulate and ring them in the fibrous components of the Zefian Virolifero, which had a seismic impact on the collagen of its parallel and on the retracting of the coronary band of its hooves, to extravert energy that will sustain the curbs, before riding back. by all the heights that besieged them, as if they were thousands and thousands of herds bringing their archaic verses from afar. When they felt the repercussions of monstrosity, they found themselves surrounded by feeling themselves in the magnificent metropolis of the chestnut trees, offending the embankment with great impulsiveness in the burnished clouds, paying tribute to Vernarth, and his entourage who glorified them as they navigated together through the skies of Greece, in the semi-human herds of Apollo who went out of their way to lose themselves neurologically, when their feudataries sailed through the atmospheres of the Cyclades, under a pensive aeromorphic figure that appears commenting:

Says Vernarth: “after listening to this amidst the luminous clouds, before taking me from frequent acrobatics, before me Raeder suspended from the heights, he invited me by reciting some odes before heading to Patmos. He briefly illustrated us in quotes about the Messolonghi poets. Raeder, holding firmly to Petrobus's legs, was concentrating, and he was excited, but at the same time very delighted to be coming to his land very soon. Thus the verses would fill him with great spirit to start a new stage. After being very well received by the routes of the temperate sigh, the present wind would take them to Kissamos / Crete, where they will remain flying in the irascible spree of celebrating a great event when they land on this great island. Then they would leave for Kalymnos and Kinaros by the route of the Cyclades, to finally establish themselves in the Dodecanese dominions. Perhaps venturing in boldly by being sublimated by the tiny mists blowing from the Metelmi wind, with the unnoticed shifting Mediterranean climates of the exhausted eastern.

The Sibyl Tiburtina supports Raeder gathering him to her arms and telling him: “You will receive my warmth that will imprison the house of the high priest, whose scene will be represented in Procoro on its corresponding neutral folio. Succeeding in expletives from the past, which was no longer intended or harassed at him. The Armas Christi will once again swirl with the Souls of Trouvere from the last irascible recesses of the Eolonimi winds in the holistic of all the winds that named Vernarth. "Your children will not live again, the military Macedonian will hear", their physical resurrection will flee from the unconverted taking place after the tree of Mars when they liberate the innocent fallen from the versicular belief, which segments the ray in its half where no minute will be able to hit him "

Antiphon of Triburtina: “Son of David they will give us the consorts, by setting the table in the center with the newly molded bread, and his authority will not have to distribute it into the pieces of an earthly life that allows them to bring it to their mouths. We will all be converted singing all the fantasy of giving what should never have remained in our hands, even if they have never been greedy for him. "
Codex XXII - Ultramundis Messolonghi
Chapter XVI
Vernarth Third Finale Fragment, Apud tertium final

Vernarth, runs ripped from himself, after himself, to try to stay in this Parapsychological Regression. His bewilderment was imminent. He was seen in this regression on Nevski Avenue, Saint Petersburg, and in the province of Yekaterinburg, looking for vestiges of the Tungus tribe.
Peter I Alekséievich or Pedro I of Russia, nicknamed Peter the Great Moscow, May 30 / June 9, 1672- Saint Petersburg, January 28 / February 8, 1725.) 1 son of Tsar Alexius I and his second wife Natalia Narýshkina and successor of her half brother Teodoro III (Fiódor Alekséievich), was one of the most outstanding rulers in the history of Russia, belonging to the Románov Dynasty.
He ruled Russia from May 7 (April 27 C.J.), 1682, until his death, and before 1696 he did so along with his weak and sickly brother, Ivan V of Russia. It carried out a process of modernization through westernization and expansion that transformed Moscow Russia into one of the main European powers. He married Eudoxi Lopujiná, with whom he had a son and, in second nuptials, with his servant, who would take the title of Catherine I when he succeeded Pedro after his death occurred in Saint Petersburg on February 8, 1725 as a result of an infection in the bladder.

"... It was reading Vernarth in a tourist magazine when I was on a visit to the region, previously I was in Moscow and its surroundings ..." The parapsychological regression trip, followed and resumed another course with Destination to the Iberian Peninsula, on the Jacobean Route Through Santiago de Compostela and Vigo, in the latter, place passes to see the remains of the crypt of a friend killed in a Crusade. Here the remains rest in the Pereira mausoleum .Continuing his tour in Portugal, Lisbon. In Lisbon, old and melodic Afro Fado, on the sheets hanging from the illustrious houses, saw his escapades continue, rummaging bookstores and offices to get to the rooms of Amalia Rodrígues and the bohemian Lisbonense, who asked for more of his presence than the bartender himself placing port wine on the tables that cover their cork oak tables.

Does your regressive session continue, and was the doctor in charge asking if it was within your will to wake up and end the session? .Vernarth ...; He says with a gesture of his right hand, clutching his left wrist, that he wanted to continue and did not know if he would come back from himself. Which caused the doctor a strange and worried sensation, so he asked for a break before this unusual and abrupt situation. The windows of the room vibrated remarkably low, as if the thick strings of a cello intended to leave everyone diminished, to feel nothing more than himself, the very experience of a simultaneous True Warrior in mere compartments of a life that has currently disturbed him live without being part of any!

The session continues:
"... On a ridge in the middle of combat, Vernarth crosses for more below the positions of the Persians, on him and some like Mardiath, leader of his squad in Tire. Accompanying him, they could feel the thousands of sound frequencies crossing each other. Metals whistling with bowed, high and mid-frequency waves crisscrossing with spears as they skidded off the muffled wheels with their burnt axles.  The herds of fortified elephants, huge towers of ivories slicing bellies and cutting the flag,cloths next to their embalmed suns. Mardiath protects him from the rear, to evict him from the hundreds of boisterous spears, which were intended to target their commander. The Xifos sheared the chins of the almost annihilated Persians. Some of the Greek mercenaries shone with great pride the totemic animals of war to tune the Hellenic ones who cut off everything that was put before them. ”
They continue chasing the peal of spears that no longer spaced more than the shadow of their companions. The ringing of the voices that cut the metal rattle winds continues, diverting the coral trotting of the Macedonians with those of the cavalry, which faster than the others echoed the soon to take of causing always close wounds, where nothing was already with their defense weapons.

Vernarth says: With me there will be nothing ... anything more than how much will be counted, nothing more than being eternally brandishing our Xiphs. Medea ... full sorceress, tell me that I have to bet more than multiply my forces, without being able to unite with your potions of my right breastplate yet?

Medea replies: It must be applied with the woodcutter's hatchet ax. She hardens the edges of the banner, flaming, and the feather that moves the plumes that will be reserved in the squares of your energetic blasphemies. It has already welded your breastplate more than a feeling of longing. She was watered by the sacred steam of the Bumodos and its waters. I am here in full dispute; you can now anoint your throne with squares for more centuries by commenting to the right of the regular rules.

Brisehal in Advance

“They were all in full swing of the latest outbursts of onslaught from both sides. Vernarth gallops across the right side over the spearmen and archers, when suddenly everyone is paralyzed at the sight of a giant shadow of an oversized dog appearing to them from the rear. Some dropped their weapons; others restrained themselves and did not know what to do ... it was even notable that they did not hear the voices of their Persian commanders.

In the immensity of their over proportions, the fusion of reality appears in that of an almost unreal animal that stood between them to intercede and protect Vernarth. Was "Brisehal", which was suspended with its quadruple legs over an area of more than two square kilometers?

It came from Dasht-e-Lut. After Brisehal bellowed and the troops of their self-contemplation were depopulated, they were emerging from the empty Wagnerian Gaugamela. Brisehal with her Anubis-headed mountain, began to move it and shake the space between earth and sky, like the hope of some parishioners to enter the garden-kingdom of Heaven. Before the day trembled with the movement of her trembling footsteps, Brisehal shuddered on both sides and stepped in front of Vernarth to preserve her. When her entire body shuddered, she eliminated the remains of parasites that fell on the insistent achemenids, on their smallest heaps that were seen to be liquidated with the greatest effect of their rotating forces.

They were immense thunderclaps that even scrubbed up to the spheroid clouds reddened by their rising. He turned from left to right as if wanting to exile them to the Desert of Lut, as if to tube his pro generation by the bundles of optical rope or high-density fiber, which could cohabit with Vernarth in his odyssey of the Horcondising (Vernarth lineage paradise to Gaugamela).

From Horcondising; Sudpichi, on the streams channeled like proliferated mirrors, illuminated the sky of his region like haloes of light showing each outcome of the Intervention of this enormous Dasht-e-Lut dog on a huge colorful screen by the celestial air of the nearby clouds.

A guard says: Our Lord Vernarth, is under the protection of Brisehal, just as we with his memory are his succession, we owe him great respect for his bravery and repercussion of his ancestry. I continue from here of the Tower seeing his operations of greater spirit, for the protection of his great heroic sign!

Brisehal, is introduced on the cavalries of thousands of horsemen of the Persians, on hundreds of groups of mounts that flew over their heads the cataphractic armor, also elephants that did not give truce but, the most devastated were the failed cars, which were totally annulled by the bellowing and fierce contortions that Brisehal gave angrily without stopping. From this moment on, Vernarth, who already had contracted wounds, was amazed by this mass of fright in the eyes of the Falangists and the movement of strategies already aimed at deserved success, ******* the huge hordes remained, prey to their fear and undeniable defeat. early.

Alejandro Magnus says: “This Victory has no concordance with others that I have overcome. I must imagine myself supported by the support of my land and my collaborators. Undoubtedly, the tendency of those who have left their sparse sweat on this plain tend to exaggerate, it gives room to further commend the victory of my commander Vernarth and his supporters. The only thing that we can affirm for sure is that our adversaries grasped at the expense of their resources, is that even though they are tremendously superior in quantity to those of the Macedonian army, they were disintegrated at this moment by our overwhelming powers.

Ellipsis Darius III in Arbela

“… In July 331 BC, the army of Alexander the Great would cross the Euphrates River, entering fully into Mesopotamia. At that time, instead of marching south on the river to reach Babylon, where Darius III was supposed to have fled, he chose to head north, crossing the entire Mesopotamian territory until he reached the Tigris River in the second half of September. At the same time, Darius III had marched north to Arbela, just over 100 kilometers from the vast Gaugamela plain. Unlike what happened in the battle of Gránico and the battle of Issos, there he could deploy the full potential of his troops to envelop Alexander's and annihilate him… ”.

Darius III says: Being in Arbela, I should never have disobeyed The Astros. When they moved and I couldn't look at them because of their immigration, I never believed that the nebulae that would cross in front of my eyes would be the chivalry commanded by Alexander Magnus, and the infantry by Vernarth joined Etréstles. Now I see him with his glasses in his hands drinking Nepente in the twilight with his comrades surrounded by Zeus. I meanwhile ..., I still think that I should never have abstracted myself from the last portion of Betelgeuse's movement when he circulated around the border of the emblem of his seduction to the adorned orion belt.

At the time of knowing the movements and tactics of the battle of Gaugamela we find the same problem as always, the veracity of the sources of knowledge, whose account is very similar to that of the battle of Issos. According to this account, Alexander and the cavalry galloped diagonally and to the right, to avoid the caltrops and the failed cars and avoid being flanked by the Persians. Consequently, the Persian cavalry on the left wing moved in pursuit, aiming to overtake the Macedonians and envelop them. However, the Achaemenid horsemen did not realize that in doing so they had separated from the center, where a hole had been opened that allowed them to reach Darius III.

Vernarth says: in the hour that I ate of the black roses and their petals, I must savor the conversation that I had to have with the nature of our military training. Our strategy has oppressed the erratic tactics of the adversaries; the pressure of our Macedonian lancers disrupts the formation of the troops of the satrap Bessos, who end up losing the initiative and fleeing. In the center, the phalanx Me, Mardiath and Etréstles, together with the hipaspistas we will advance slowly but surely, gradually pushing back the Persian units. Brisehal has stood out above the outstanding lightness of the harassed Commander Satrap Maceo, annihilating all attempts to completely discredit him, of which his figure of high countenance was thus tainted. With the sweaty blizzard of the afternoon back then the fully grained shadow of Brisehal migrated to his Dasht-e-Lut desert from where he was confined by command of his allegiance to Vernarth forever and ever where both will always be seen at dawn play and jump.

At one point, after long resisting the burden of the Macedonian sovereign, Darius III makes his worst mistake. As happened in Issos, he gives up the battle when he was not yet decided for either side and flees, progressively dragging with him the rest of the nearby troops. In the face of this movement, Alexander immediately pursued him, and for a moment it seemed that the life of the King of Kings was coming to an end. However, the desperate call of Parmenion, who can no longer resist the fight against the Persian horsemen, makes Alexander desist from his persecution and allows Darius III to escape. When they were abandoned by their king, the Persian army became demoralized and ended up fleeing or surrendering, thus confirming the disintegration of the Persian Empire and the coronation of Alexander the Great as lord of Asia.

The end begins in a new beginning, Vernarth limps along the external bank of the Bumodos with his pectoral reopened and his back with purple colored diaphragms bellowing his resistance. He was accompanied by Kanti and, Etrestles and Mardiath who helped him endure it. They take their steps and approach the store where Valekiria was waiting for them; his consort to apply the sedative ****** essence with waters of the Bumodos to calm his pain, and later return from this great epic of his "Parapsychological Regression" that was soon to culminate.
Paul Hansford Apr 2018
All round my hat I wear a lot of badges,
all round my hat, for many and many a day.

A disc of abalone shell from New Zealand;
a jester’s mask decorated with four glittering glass jewels (Venice,
though we weren’t there for the carnival) :
the Stars and Stripes, given to me in New York
in the weeks after 9/11, when you could hardly move
for huge examples of the national flag;
three lions, for England;
a bull, for Spain, even though I hate bull-fighting;
a liner (Alaska Cruise,2000, but we've done other cruises) :
and a gold-coloured jet plane, for all the journeys we have made;
a small badge of a very large statue, Christ the Redeemer (Rio) :
the seashell of St James, with his special cross on it
(Santiago de Compostela, though we didn’t walk the Camino) :
a very tiny badge of the ****** of Guadalupe in Mexico;
and a shiny gold-coloured outline of a dove
(Carcassonne cathedral) representing the Holy Spirit;
King Kong, my biggest badge, appropriately:
a smaller-scale hero, Winnie-the-Pooh, a gift from my daughter:
a koala decorated in crushed opal (Australia) :
a stripy cat on a tartan ribbon (Edinburgh) :
a dolphin from the Azores, though we didn’t see any there,
(but we have seen dolphins, so it counts twice) :
a miniature cookie-cutter in the shape of a moose (Canadian rockies)  
– but it would make impossibly small cookies;
a toucan (Costa Rica) and a puffin (Iceland)
admiring each other’s beaks;
heroes of the Revolution: Chairman Mao, bought in Beijing:
the Hồ Chí Minh League of Youth badge (Vietnam) :
the star representing Yugoslavia,
though even when I bought it
Yugoslavia was no longer a country;
the face of Che Guevara, looking handsome and intense (Cuba) :
and not forgetting the daddy of them all,
Lenin, on a red and flaming star;
the Hand of Fatima (Tunisia) for luck;
and the Eye of Horus (Egypt) ,
because you can’t have too much luck.

And if anybody asks me the reason why I wear them,
they remind me of places – and people – that are far, far away.
HeWhoExplores Sep 2019
Guided by thick blankets of fog; Morning-time

Anxious thinking remains her close ally during this journey

The wooing of the spring winds clamber fourth

And as the dire dredge towards Santiago de Compostela carries on; she stops

Her pursuit of a goal takes a momentary crash

This heroine remains nameless, but only to a select few

As she paces along the lonesome road, where silence sleeps

A single tear, channelled from her right eye; falls

Her map makes for confused reading, a blinded book

Darting around for new meaning, a whisper of life is summoned

A townie owl, a juvenile of sorts

Sits atop a moss laden branch, its eye’s so wide

And in this moment of hesitation, the circular sun rises from its slumber

Bursting to life with energy

The road awakens

A passage? Perhaps

She marches on; hopeful

The Holistics of the ethnonym of Heles was saved by Vernarth and Etréstles, when the flood of Helén that came on Heles was shuffled. Here the inquisition is connected with the gravity potential of the elapsed time with the gravitational hydro of the bottom of the Marmara. The mechanics were marble dust that fell through the timers to the Seventh Heaven, inverting the one-way urns that were already being destined for Heles. This double urn symbolized by the laurel of infinity over the finite, it mechanized the fall of the origin of heaven in the court of the angels, from where they had horologists to pay for the urn for Heles, but as this was rescued by Vernarth, the urn it would finally be awaited in the depths of the dreams of the Marmara. Here the longitudinal precision of the marble sandbank that contained Heles defragmented was necessary, to later materialize it in the second Urn under the fold of the sea where his horology was synchronized with the sane cries of Nefeles, which Vernarth could not bear when he saw that his body it was turning into red blood cell marble. Heles, seeing his mother like this, inverts the receptacles of condensed air to emit and separate the red blood cells from the marble of the urn of Heaven, and then transfer it to the marble urn of Marmara.

After 1500 microseconds, Heles grabs Alikantus's tail and jumps onto Kanti's back, who was waiting for her to surface. She was dressed in white marble chaff adhering to her silhouette, remaining totally safe with her index fingers on Alikantus's forehead at the end when she just opened her limestone eyes.

Vernarth says: “in the Codex Raedus, I made the twelve hours of Carlo Magno's clock tangible, near Compostela. I have only kept prudence facing Heles with Etréstles from the bottom of the sea, leaving the bulbous granules, after his soul regenerated away from the marble oxide in the tin gap that could take it to the real quantum future, far from the receptacle that was emptied to arrive at the enteric complement of his organic and admirable Hellenic body, exchanging and measuring the countenance of the Akashic field, where the locality of the Strait of Dardánelos tacitly was upset with that of the Hellespont. For what it meant that the globality of Heles was followed by the torrent of water in the middle of the colonnades that brought it to the surface, where Hellespont already shone with another name of the Cosmic Sea "

The places and times, the characters, and fantastic animals were rooted in the mention where all things were induced towards a theoretical foundation, based on the love of quantum entanglements or (entanglement basis), to give ballast that binds the particles that are to it. own from where the independent particle persistently comes, which will drag the names of Heles and Helén for thousands of millennia, through this intertwining of two colonnades that represent the duality of Kanti and Alikantus, with Vernarth and Etréstles. They made the macroscopic purpose of the Kairos tunnel, where the pre-Helladic anticipated the revolutionized time of the Kairos when the Hellenes already carried the visionary overtaking factor in their genes, to help this sponsorship of Vernarth's Romantic Submitology in the Hellespont, from Vernarth's home run where the stars and Kafersesuh's Lepidoptera straightened up.
Dardanelos Mátia
Like an army from the Great War catapulting
out of trenches to battle blindly with enemy
machine guns and mortar, tourists take fire
on the Great Plaza of Salamanca. We line up
to sip ruby-red Rioja, savor eyelash-thin slices
of jamon, spy on the antlike antics
of the maneuvering crowds, who cross
the square in bunched-up patterns
of inscrutable geometry, of indirection.
They traipse from here to there and
back again on reconnaissance, as castanets
click cacophonously off the concrete plain,
and conversations carry skyward to the sun.

On the walls, bas-relief profiles of Spanish heroes
populate a paneled paean to celebrity, to spirit's might.
St. John of the Cross, Cervantes, even Quixote himself
look down upon us in one-eyed stares of forced patronage,
unwilling participants in the guerrilla tactics of sharing
their World Heritage riches with the disinherited of the world.

Conspicuous by her absence, St. Teresa of Avila
levitates above the maddening mobs to reach
the outskirts of her interior castle, which houses
myriad rooms of virtue that no ordinary mortal can
attain. Her destination: perfection, tilting at
the immense spiritual windmill in the sky. She blesses
me as the waiter carries another tray of wine, endless
libations for the infinite thirst of adventure, discovery,
and the spoils of travel. Winking at Cervantes,
I turn into a temporary resident, unlikely scion of Spain,
and masticate another wafer-thin portion of jamon.
My taste buds dance the flamenco in delight. I sigh.

O how Hemingway loved this sacred soil, his soul
tangled in the bullring, with its ovals of blood and sand.
Newspaper in hand, he stands in the stands to watch
the horses and woo the Spanish black that wraps
around the ring. Mind and spirit settle into the nosebleed
section on concrete benches that radiate heat
in the afternoon. Soon death will follow, not for them,
but for the witless bulls, fierce, innocent victims
of the blood lust of war. Who has nostalgia for this now?
Who kills the monstrous beast within? It rages and rages,
pawing sand, seeing red, seething with hatred
of its tormentor, thinking -- no, feeling -- only "attack."

I have followed the trail of Santiago de Compostela
longingly in my mind, peering over the Pyrenees from
the French plateau that self-abates at the foot of the peaks.
I watch pilgrims scramble through Roland's Breach,
a toothless gap planted in the middle of saw-tooth summits.
Through it shines a light to beatify Iberia. I stand on
the plain, St. James' clam shell firmly in hand,
my walking stick crooked as a branch bearing fruit.
Ahead, only spectacle and absolution await, incense
swinging through the nave like smoke from a failed
mortar round. We stand in waves of penitents, praying
that Santiago still curries favor for the faint at heart.
War is hell, say the toungeless bulls. Listen to them bellow.

— The End —