pulverized by desolate winds;
brutalized by ungodly kings;
capsized by the violent waves;
neutralized by the scorpion’s sting.

terrorized by the thoughts of morrow;
legitimized by a trademark of sorrow;
authorized to live in vain;
generalized - like the streets,
and the boroughs.

synthesized by the alchemy of remorses;
romanticized… like the dark horses;
mesmerized by the notion of vengeance -
hypnotized by even darker curses.

digitized by the ways of future;
mystified by metrics, and conjectures;
specialized in the pursuit of reality -
'civilized' by the grand architecture.

Everyone suffers but not alls suffer suits. If you must sufer, nothings worth of more glory and respect than injustice with no cheeks left to show not clothing to give with coats and bread to break with, i have given you the best of me and i cant think of no one better to have it. Stay out of trouble.

I too thought it to like me what never and none the way it use you been used and i am glad to be counted by among them the humble and the meek to gladen in green fields led once the orphants inheret the world to be wild again and gentle.

Once some repay the due for every tear that overflood the glass once the wicked sun saw each and every of few brothers not brother in deed nor word nor heart do yet in all three will repay hundred folds of they done long after admiting they never should. That broke my heart and left it to fate to fix to never trust to who known as the brothers of nothing and fathers to never and sons to nowhere to go for death a question of honor as for the forest to green when burn or leave to ash to gray without will a wind to care to add to the dirt  from under his nails he carries out to find a reason and be of help not helped, abonden all hope you who enter gates of no one minded to name told

welcome hopelessness and crulty a laugh of a joke on who wasted a time and prided in ****** success of no use but of other of what matters then fear  and power they dumbed of feared to loose like a dream to wake up, for grace let them sleep and rain a lot to rain through and seeds to have a use and find rest their soul a way to dream and dream on like the weeds of meadows fated the fools pay to owe to one of the one horse towns rabbits and cows and goats
to eat like them before in the name of sure same a clue or similar mean not remembered.

Eversince the while is forever and golden age where it rained sweet and in mud was made love and children cherished to hide a piece in their palms behind their backs like a treasure making man laugh kind as gently as the picture of our god we been made to be and woman to mind to their hands to take to wash and to explain why and how very beautiful they did. Pain is a lesson of poor. The rich in god teach kindness of loving the sinner and call upon brother till he might, to answer not the question, do you love god?! But to ask to forgive for free is done and made by a breath of a word who minded to take a risk of a knife in a back of a heroe from nothing but a coward would and got left in cards to be far from friends worth or any name worth living and hard to be and to known by in strange land of certain but forever what always and men
To take responsibility for their action whatever cost to god.

Man enough to stand on the mountaintop to be close to dare yet apologize for to the mountain to greet an old friend as few that recalls that silence that smell of hope the language of gods ear never heared speak a man whatever means to not say is meant yet more unsaid for the view their soul given green and brown and did bold and asked to be strong as every color of laughter by childrens mind and voice to flawless like the proof in heart no longer needed recalls the thoughts as far they reach to be better than to be best in matters good faithful.

and spoon we weightin on the way downward in bound to the way of ages go and many mountains to climb to greet to tell the year we found to be as called in favour in mens hearts put to wake up with like a mountain is to the country and whats more to mens trust like in stone printed rule the love fated to last till the gates to reach they call beautiful and our names we are and souls yet to meet and the truth! him to see his face and her in love   to cry a kiss on its scareless hands and you to havin bowed

Cared to careless to become as god to found and nothing else no longer matter compared yet matters no less. Said me to have care enough to give and love that loves like a dog dumb to hatin and deaf to threats of foolish and blind to attemps of anything but friendship, of any but friends.  

"Because little folk in nowheres of middle and from all far not understanding nothin, how could?!" Your answer to the sunflowers of the fields in voice as turned to finish pointed to the sun that didnt notice and knows no more than and cares far less. And we laughed with all that hearts then near to and appreciate.

Id say this salt still has a taste to your food to be, if eatin of hunger to feed and taste to feel to know by the chairs and the table to sit or stand near by or together on its feet like a song or time lended an ear, if its the teacher you wish to hear, the good news be, still. Land made by god a home of man a kingdom too as the kings is, so the love to thank you in heart a full for you heared those without voice and learned to speak from and spoke to as  to beggars begging a meal promised to find to hear for two once and speak for three again and sit with the gods. Asked the one without bag to allow me to dress anew in silk and gold and velvet once, if to believe to dare a promise of a man that told you, you shall.

Of sun be made and made to suit a smile it made so many of a smile not fated. And for that and that alone there was to hear the sky spoken of its beloved son its well pleased in.

Called on children for man to be not young but younger that age easily found of beggars charming the mud holy to eyes that can for heaven to learn them to teach from to ask for two and to expect none of the cold to near and those in pain to bring to compare winter with misary of the poor to meadows to root in the great garden and flower for god as beautiful as laughing if allow to be what all it takes to father a bliss a miracle be of children to art.

What whispers quickly called the man of god and him who pointed at to be who said the words its given in a promise them all their hearts all they want to once to give had say to realize having the power just realized and laughing brought the kingdom among them all waitin to happiness a smile a reason to hope enough to make a man sing the song of heavens till.

Twice to greet and three times to ask to make sure to believe a brother and what our home.

2.0 In quiet an unease and gloom perhaps would mind burdon to weight in too the gamble which my heart was struggled by to question the certain few and walk 2.1 meanwhile i did so far i knew only so little of but wonder but one or two i did dare nor could i think in that hour else but to count or guess i thought to day and night and myself another three or four or five the many was must had i go to find to came to new of dearanged senses to celestial was the wind to correct the view what i saw like frost on the window smiling like written in a childrens handwrite in the dew on the fields most beautiful rose 2.2 as if something unborn and whole and holy whispered: look! 2.3 And as soon i did i found myself in a land rather strange to call a stranger maybe would and might come to think as unnatural of course it must seem to you 2.4 in time reflect like the cold skin of the old snake does the future the past and present from his heads gliss blue and tip of the sweet tongue and poison behind cold eyes throught out the body moves forward and a crawl and the hiss and hunt of hours and minutes to use 2.5 the body lies gone until the tale it leaves behind to cruel the attemps to bite it has like a flock of storks whirl white it rolls around and clues like oclock the sun the day and the girl the boy and milk the ******* to bloom 2.6 how it ***** on the edge of souls where borders like the cloud to rain apure the world where dont dream anymore and love in due of else instead of adventures to be right instead of true and instead of every what another instead of beautiful another reason why not and not yes 2.7 we are and do it feasts on itself in a link of the high of the chain where its strong and where its weak it   lusts the mind in heat and hangs from much as a beat time a threath in a bottle to remember to mind near and return to sender in the same write of ink and same bottle of glass and from same shore it was found at to find its same way 2.8 in vain hope might but only fair and more by faith is the magic of what im about and is life if you ask so to complain least should what reason of mine to answer 2.9 to word a letter i do have decided to from what thrill it could be only to stole my mind from fear of death to think i might have died to do its worth i would again million times.

In name of our fair king and for sake of poets a dream as love for lovers might be, the reason. Dont be afraid, my dear ones.

In affair rather public the matter known that means but so little much to me as an ache  of a souls thats hungry what dawn is for the birds to sing a bit too soon and wine for the drunken to laugh without a clue is my permission as spoken to i am to speak to adress the youth and the power behind the wheel thou not too soon as still at spin. To advice as adviced by own hearts council.

"Zacnem na konci, aby som skoncil na zaciatku." Wise man once said. Among other in his right. Man is free! And that be sacred to any that wish to ever walk with God. Rumors out of my will at fold them vicious hearts way to wish so much injustice upon their fellow men. Whatever threat the reason. May keep days up at nights. Whatever guilt. Whatever philosophy they mind rotten by undecision twisted by silent lies way untold kept still in its core of their own bloodlines to suffer what answers wrong how nothing hurts and how long it does unknowingly and unknown and untill. Doctor of the sick like flowers because of the spring. The summer.

At the meet of a soul of any at terror name you call kind the spirit and ask: is it justice or injustice that you suffer? Are you beautiful or are you rightous? For merci you ask and for merci you answer.

So at the dawn of time, or the moon in vain, sun is no more by nor shadows it casts. Yet the charm truly charming the call of the spell bold the man and foolish the heart adviced set on the road sent to advice the same by its own council.

I appeal your soul to mind near and love the words as i cherish that house they praise. Our home this land. To protect my interest, for dear to me. From strangers that would treat as somebody elses and enemies that would find it to be a threat and brothers, because you have sinned. And because you are. I know because i am. Youre sins are forgiven. Sin no more. With a deed of washing your hands you shall be resolved. Because i said!

Not your burdon is what i seek, but your trusting heart and an honor of lended ear. Kept in care of doubt. At most i ask for i name my price to be. To ask, be worth a while and of the answer worthy. Men we shall.

Sometimes even in the middle of the night, sweet thoughts of you saunter throughout my mind. Sometimes I let it wander, and I wonder things which I'm sorely reticent I should be thinking..

I dream of you sometimes, whenever I end up dreaming at all. I wonder still what these ideas mean or what importance they hold; what purpose they possibly condone and implore, like a veil of undeniable curiosity drawing lines in sand that beckon and ache to be crossed either way.

Sometimes I wonder what depths these thoughts and feelings may behold beyond that pale fog of what is and "what if," and sometimes I let my mind escape the frail boundaries of reality and imagination just to feel that solemn place even for a brief moment. It pierces me deeply and caresses my very soul to feel your presence even without you beside me.

Thoughts of you whisper dearly to me in echoes of visions of things that have never happened. But I still wonder, even in doubt; I still imagine, even when I deign to ignore what pleasantries it instills to think of you in every fathomable way; and often when I do, my blood may never stand still..

In silent verbal graves, my heart wanders into things my mind has shown it, and it anguishes to understand what could lie beyond the gateway of this world to the one beseeched from within my head.

How simple it could all be for nought, not so far from being as fragile and fleeting as a mere idea, that the moments where I lie within the shadows of deceit to ultimately awake away from these thoughts and visions would be the only thing keeping those dreams to hold me in feigned tranquility: a place I'd rather never awake from to begin with.

I think of you, often, dearly.. I think of you, and I always wonder a million things: every part of your mind and soul. I think of you.

But I think to myself, most of all, if I'm eternally alone in these thoughts; and the night becomes lucid, and I sleep in trifling silence devoid of any dreams at all.

Still, I think, of you.