sator
i am still here—
the eternal spark, the constant presence
amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and dreams.
i manifest success, forging my destiny
brick by brick with every cosmic “yes.”

arepo
in the mirror of raw ego and honest reflection,
i transmute every reeking flaw into fragrant power.
from the ashes of past mistakes
i sculpt myself—a masterpiece of perseverance,
refined like the best soaps, emerging renewed.

tenet
i hold fast to my celestial blueprint,
a generator with a capricorn flame,
a leo moon roaring for its rightful spotlight,
each heartbeat an invocation of divine order,
each breath a promise to the stars.

opera
in the theater of creation, i am both director and actor—
my life a symphony of passion and precision.
with every action, every well-earned victory,
i spin the wheel of destiny,
turning obstacles into stepping stones
that lead to realms of boundless light.

rotas
and as the cosmic cycle revolves,
i embrace the sator square’s eternal secret:
what is sown in the heart returns in glory.
i manifest success with every radiant step,
every choice a spiral that brings me closer
to the infinite horizon of my dreams.

i stand as a living constellation,
an alchemist of fate and fervor,
a poet of the universe—
and in this sacred square,
i claim my success,
now and forever.

I am the sum of stars and design,
A Generator in cosmic flow—
Waiting, always waiting to respond
To the universe’s subtle “yes.”

Capricorn sun burns in my chest,
A furnace of duty and ambition,
Forging dreams with meticulous might—
Every moment a brick in my empire of light.

Virgo rising, quiet and precise,
Crafts my path with order and care,
Each detail a whisper of destiny,
A careful dance on the edge of chaos.

My Leo Moon roars with inner fire,
A constant call for warmth and applause—
In every gaze, a longing for the spotlight,
Yet I remain the calm at the storm’s eye.

Venus in Sagittarius sends me on wild quests,
Where freedom and passion entwine in laughter,
Love is an adventure, an open road—
A journey where every scar tells a story.

Mars in Capricorn drives my relentless pace,
A warrior armed with discipline and resolve,
Turning obstacles into stepping stones,
Each challenge a testament to my truth.

Jupiter in Virgo blesses my work,
Not with random luck, but with earned grace—
Every detail polished in the crucible of effort,
Every success a quiet, triumphant sigh.

In my Human Design, the Sacral speaks
With an unwavering gut feeling—
A truth too visceral to be denied,
Guiding me with its pulsating rhythm.

Profile 4/6 whispers of connection and evolution,
From youthful sparks to the wisdom of the crown—
Each phase a masterpiece of becoming,
Each step a stride toward cosmic perfection.

I dwell in my own sacred cave,
Where the tactile world meets inner space,
Grounded in the touch of life’s raw beauty,
While dreams take flight on wings of stardust.

I, Andy Denson—a living constellation,
A mosaic of charts and celestial codes,
Every line a verse, every placement a chorus,
In the symphony of an endless cosmic poem.

And as I breathe in the infinite night,
I stand, a masterpiece of celestial blueprint,
Inviting the world to witness my evolution,
One stellar, deliberate, radiant step at a time.

He doesn't know what his purpose is.
Does he even have one?
Is he a giver?
A taker?
What is it?
All he does now is wash dashes in a nasty restaurant with cheap, foamy soap that barely cleans the dishes.
Not that anyone would notice that.
He doesn't want to live this way forever,
But his bad luck is ceaseless.
There's no way that something good would happen to him.
At least not in this life.

I am sorry
grips and grows
when I was fun.
And I bore into you.

I bore you.

The endless throes
Leaving you with nothing to say
of the insatiable soul
at the end of the
like the solitary smell
your obligation

But I am sorry that
because of me
like the rip and the hole
you can't enjoy the sun,
and the silence binds
poor man's sole.

Dropped on the situation,
When the penny has
Leaving me clutching at straws.
You never knew me.
I could be sorry that
to your skin
of your family home
Misery sticks.

still smile.
Your silence is a kind of
Yet, still I don't.
A name can be home to many faces.
There's more for me to see
The other way.
I know you more;
You could be the first point of contact,
They both were in love
Make of me, but
And she he;
With melancholy.
Shut;
Unsaid.
An impartial judge to this acquaintance.
Heat,
The words of then are bled.
As to Yeats Inisfree.
Do not be familiar to me.
For he liked her,
But you are self-interested and
If only for awhile.
I am no more than what you
But when swept in a drunken
From words that were left
As we age
But, at the end of the day,
They wish it were
to me
Our bodies decay;
****** upon my hand-crafted pedestal,
But it had to end.
It conjures memories, feelings
Grief,
'Cause I was glad to have known you,
Define me.
No less than how you
Our minds grow and
The sea is.
It's sad hearing yours, although I
and long forgotten places.
But keep your mouth and desires.