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A shark
afebrile acceded
deep in
shallows there
his teeth
lasted with
anticipation of
her bay
was akin
to high
jinks as
his floridity
was aghast
with achievement
that caught
her so
nobly again.
A shark in infested waters
palladia Nov 2014
did you, even now, hope
to shut your eyes to so huge a crime,
my treacherous one, to think you could
stilly withdraw from my kingdom?
did our love not once hold you?
our ardent vows? or even I, Dido,
preparing to succumb barbaric death?
how could you, callous you!,
take wing to prepare your fleet in winter
—i’m sure to run aground—
when Boreas thrashes against the heavens?
but, if you weren’t pursuing unfamiliar soil
or incited to father a distant nation,
if ancient Ilium sturdily grimed through the war,
would you keep piercing the
wave-washed oceans in your armada?
why do you elude me; is it
because i have acceded irreality?
am i worthless, now?—i implore you!
by these tears, and your troth,
by our wedding vows, and this oath
before ***** we began:
if i deserve anything good from you,
or if you think, i was good enough
for you; pity this household
decaying before us! it was once yours, too.
and if my prayers are still yours,
gut them from my mind!
for now the Libyans and Numidians
hate me! dear Tyre is virulent!
as my honour and once-righteous
stature has vanished, just as i was
about to touch my constellated infamy.
for what destiny, my foreign one,
do you set me aside; ever-knowing
my imminent death?
seeing that only your name endures
from this union, why do i bother to keep living?
am i waiting for my brother, Pygmalion,
to destroy my Carthage’s walls, or a
Gætulian Iarbus to make me his concubine?
if only you gave me a son,
a little Æneas to play in my courts,
a boy to remind me of you;
only then, perhaps,
would i not be so utterly
violated, and
consumed.
quis fallere possit amantem?
who can delude a lover?
a modern reworking of Vergil's Æneid IV.305-330 from the original Latin


I've been wanting to do a translation of the Æneid for a while now; this is the beginning. I've studied that book more than even Latin teachers have - I am versed! - but now, I guess I need to put my spin on things. It was late March 2014 when I was depressed with my life again (It happens a lot, but it helps me feel & understand what others go through). I put myself in Dido's shoes and tried to feel as she would when Æneas just got up and started leaving…your life was pulled out from under you and there's nowhere to go. She was angry and heartbroken. Book 4 is my favourite, and this oration Dido spoke to Æneas somehow landed on my mind and I translated according to my feelings.

I was singing Björk's "Sonnets/Unrealities XI"…and I thought, e.e.cummings's words and Björk's musical representation fit perfectly into Dido's frame of reference. "It may not always be so, and I say, that if your lips, which I have loved, should touch another's..." It's just as if Dido is singing these words from the underworld, after she couldn't take the pain of not having Æneas with her & committed suicide. Dido's looking at Lavinia in Æneas’s arms, and it's killing her more, even though she's already dead. "If this should be, I say, if this should be. You, Æneas, of my heart, send me a little word, that I may go to Lavinia and take her hand, saying, accept all happiness from me." The fates have spoken and there's nothing left for Dido to do but to roam the lost lands with Sychaeus.
59

A little East of Jordan,
Evangelists record,
A Gymnast and an Angel
Did wrestle long and hard—

Till morning touching mountain—
And Jacob, waxing strong,
The Angel begged permission
To Breakfast—to return—

Not so, said cunning Jacob!
“I will not let thee go
Except thou bless me”—Stranger!
The which acceded to—

Light swung the silver fleeces
“Peniel” Hills beyond,
And the bewildered Gymnast
Found he had worsted God!
Hal Loyd Denton Sep 2012
Standing between life and death


I heard her voice speak it was the same as the one I heard as a teenager now it haunted me because I
Know the one who loved her most is gone from this world what he wouldn’t give to hear her talking and
Just to see her walking something we think nothing of this majesty this beholding of a golden glorious
Moment far greater for mortal eyes or mortal ears to hear it has to compare to that of hearing your
Baby cooing no matter who you are the melting begins innocence has stirred the elemental atmosphere
Something so small outweighs convention the enthralling overtures dismiss all contrary notions so is this
So only a woman has spoken but not so the under tow of so much value and worth has been released
This static measureless wonder bids you to stand and view the high tide that will soon be washing over
You love formed a pack your heart and her voice would form a continuum yes an in its special light it
Would eventually rival the sun and outshine it because it could pierce the depth and shine in the richest
Place of the soul a boldness that was beholden to trust the very sight of her was the guiding star to
Affection’s hidden store house many were the escapades where in the most colorful wardrobes such
Was the entertainment of love’s casting the high splashing in this deepening well that surges with the
Emotions no longer in check it has set itself to sail on the unbounded sea that only true love can and will
Ever know the touch of the human hand the tiniest movement has set in motion that truly will swell into
The windswept far reaches of discovery of another human beings inner longings and thoughts the
Stronghold has been encountered it s heights has been acceded the calling the longing has been heard
And accepted the hearts are now entwined the future is in irreversible ****** nothing can slow or derail
This juggernaut there is no power greater than love but so many play with it as if it were just a trifle
The one who stands on a far off shore either by death or some other means that has broke this joined
Union will attest to you with the greatest eloquence of it worthiness it never diminishes it is a mettle
In its own right of unbreakable strength it can never be corroded and its venerated glory is that as an
Intangible it is indestructible so when I heard this beloved ones voice it was in the forever now he who
Loved now without a body has not stopped loving he has now been given the freedom to love without
Limitations a mortal now a king a master of all intentions his thoughts rule and bow to only truth the
One higher glory that is known by nail prints of his own uncommon love so in this realm love is revered
And honored lost a love you couldn’t lose its not lost its just growing in the brightest tomorrow
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
Past the green copper bell-ed,
Thru the the single trees, un-felled.

Do you see that solitary-sentinel chair,
Empty? No, not.
Can you not see the sweep,
The vista, the poems hanging about,
Ripe for the plucking from the quiet,
Nestled in the soil, on the wings of gulls,
Who do not fly, but let the wind keep them
And their cargo, standing-still, in place,
Awaiting my attention, my need.

You read less and less,
The more and more I write.
It's ok, I understand that.
Blessed to have found the spot,
Where the poems make a crowd,
And the giving is good and healing, easy.

A long as there be ten righteous,
The Lord acceded to Abraham's plea,
***** would not be destroyed.
I am less demanding,
For I am just human.

As long as but five,
Acknowledge the caring,
Lick my wounded words like vanilla,
Is that too much to ask?

If but one finger points and marks it
Read, is that not sufficient to let this
Battle be ended, tween ego and truth,
Pride of craft, and, weak craving for attention-no-deficit?

If it be, that only the sea grasses, rooted deep, sway,
On the beach, a few feet from where, the chair spends its days,
Clap their hands silently to
Acknowledging the harvesting of the words,
That too will be noise enough to satisfy
The Lord who tendered them, all this, to me
For safe keeping, and giving me no choice but to write,
If but to honor all words, and their creators,
Each and every one.
See my photo, to better understand....The photo now changed, but if you would  like to see it, message me and I shall return it to its place of honor...
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2014
Past the green copper bell-ed,
Thru the the single trees, un-felled.

Do you see that solitary-sentinel chair,
Empty? No, not.
Can you not see the sweep,
The vista, the poems hanging about,
Ripe for the plucking from the quiet,
Nestled in the soil, on the wings of gulls,
Who do not fly, but let the wind keep them
And their cargo, standing-still, in place,
Awaiting my attention, my need.

You read less and less,
The more and more I write.
It's ok, I understand that.
Blessed to have found the spot,
Where the poems make a crowd,
And the giving is good and healing, easy.

A long as there be ten righteous,
The Lord acceded to Abraham's plea,
***** would not be destroyed.
I am less demanding,
For I am just human.

As long as but five,
Acknowledge the caring,
Lick my wounded words like vanilla,
Is that too much to ask?

If but one finger points and marks it
Read, is that not sufficient to let this
Battle be ended, tween ego and truth,
Pride of craft, and, weak craving for attention-no-deficit?

If it be, that only the sea grasses, rooted deep, sway,
On the beach, a few feet from where, the chair spends its days,
Clap their hands silently to
Acknowledging the harvesting of the words,
That too will be noise enough to satisfy
The Lord who tendered them, all this, to me
For safe keeping, and giving me no choice but to write,
If but to honor all words, and their creators,
Each and every one.


See my photo, to better undertstand...
Writ a year ago, when I picked poems from the air, there for the taking like fallen fall leaves that decorate the world, this September   chilly and chilling Monday...bless y'all for liking this so much...really physically and mentally blocked, for many reasons so I repost the old ones when appropriate...
topaz oreilly Nov 2012
She unaware, acceded to the invitation
his deeds would haunt her,
a restaurant and laughter
an  after kiss followed by her gnawing  expectation.
internalised, fear of commitment.
She in turn absolved  lingering impressions,
where bare stone walls only cherish
the wherewithal to survive future loneliness undetected.
Sunpreet Arora Sep 2010
With empty hands, the scared souls
Are dead inside like broken bones
With plastic dreams, the shattered ones
Are done believing that there's life alone

Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****


When you're living in the world so high
with things unworthy of attention
There's none better than to embrace death
For it seems the only solution
Coz those who tread the path of life
are usually sacrificed and

Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****


The sun would wilt your soul
The wind would stunt your growth
The earth would hold your arms
until they aren't yours anymore

Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****


With nothing more left to say
the silent have acceded the throne
Those who were in the battle of speech
have been the ones who've gone
For life is a struggle to death coz

**Its hard to believe there's more to life
when the skies turn tragic *****
Chimen Jan 2014
Let me tell you a story
About a girl
She had tears in her eyes,
But she acceded like she was fine
She had this story, and you could feel the pain in her heart
When the sun turn to moon
The night become her life
She was lying on the bed
Another sleepless night
Where she wished she had someone,
Someone that would listen
So she drifted to sleep
Were only her wish was
“let me tell you my story”
The Celestial Spirit of Vernarth began to walk through the Castellum from Horcondising, after the parapsychological regression in its conclusive auction and purgation. It loomed at the Horcondising Keep; here all toilet modules, food, and medicines were well equipped, except for the inks and writing papers that were totally exhausted. Here you can see his mother Luccica, who was in a position to scribble and write on an upstairs desk, and in the other hand she had a rosary of liberation, which anonymously appears before her purgation in the presence of the protervative spellings that still wander through the cells and bedrooms of the Castellum from Horcondising. His mother is seen crooked over the voices that polished the eight moons that she had designed for her son Vernarth since the very machicolations of the Castellum, but now with a rosary of liberation. It was clearly seen in the leaves written by her, which said that “My son abandoned his arms, now in fluids of holy water, symbolizing real chimeras for the Matacanes, to those who read his life verses in our Castellum, in Gaugamela and Patmos”. Vernarth, mostly Hellenic, awaits to manifest healings for all creation, pouring water from moon storms on Rhodes, and lighting Matacanes wall light at the door of the Messiah stand.

Vernart says: “my adolescent gaze must be reborn with that of my father Bernardolipo; a whole Chamberlain, making himself free and a supporter of the baronies that were part of the servers of my servants…! Although now to climb his cabinet I have to raise my knees higher before the amplified step, calling us all to try to be closer to a new bell to call us to dinner, as an entity of pride of its architecture defined by pen, ink and white sheet to mention. The mother I have to mention; My mother Luccica, rests not condemned or corrupted before her flesh, rather perfectly united with her spirit that envelops her free of sin, so that her company would be of complete solitude in our Castellum, we will continue to be in conformity with spirit, because our mansion is a beautiful spirit of things, life and peace, that our esplanade holds hunger and cold indifferent to solitude, cooling and pleasing the company of its own cold, rising from the first rays of the day, as well as rising from the first pinches of graduated ink , fellowshipping in the corrals where my father already lived according to his life among debtors, mortifying what he has not been able to mount on his steeds that inhabit his senses, leaving not so far to greet them in the morning free of the sins of not greeting, even when the least space is left to think of him as a joint heir. Because the laments sob, and others are born in the virginity of the light of the world with other lines Luccica can scarcely write, writing her co-age spirit, manifesting itself foolishly when suffering perfection; manifesting itself as everyone's delight, although ringing with anger at not freeing itself from a glorious freedom. Not all sing to the tune of the disability of putting strength of the grapheme of posterity, rather we are blind to put hope, but of patience that we arm ourselves losing value by having it. Our will is of holy value when doubt and fear entertain us, according to all the things and purposes that irreversibly surprise us. I do not know where I have to walk here in this tower, because I know that myths of the unknown will fall according to the fact that I am his son, being the first-born of all men in the world, speaking of who among many intercede before tribulation or anguish, That strips me of all spirit, still asking for it and justifying that I keep talking about them, but that I was gone for a long time. For this reason, venerated mother, wake up from this frozen cell of the keep, because I am jealous and I believe that neither death nor life will fill the dead suspended in your room, who support more lives with their angels adorning their bindings and paragraphs, with principalities that go increasingly so far more than close to come to please you. When your name is tried in real vices to increase, they are being stripped of the sons of the principality in which they shine from afar, but with our feet dancing on the despotic brilliance and not of the hollow that still does not fill my heart for you”

Emerging from the last lights of the Castellum from Horcondising, Vernarth bids farewell to his reign, leaving his mother Luccica in the company of three Angels who mined her with sallow light amber mistletoe. However, she will remain frosted on her desk with ink at night and by day, so that when the day ends, she will draw ink from the darkest night to continue writing to him that she can already be without Him! Near the Necropolis of Hallenika in Rhodes, a statue of Peltasts stood, shielding the place where the “Vas Auric” Auric Medallion would sporadically rest, which came between bilges now inside the Eurydice. It came predestined with the sacred amber robes aleonade, to make up for the between Peltast mediators who guarded them, to deliver it to its Commander Vernarth.

The Apostle Saint John says: “Jews like us in exile did not see reasons restored in our union and tradition; we resembled a diaspora that did not derive voluntarily, according to events that occurred in my case in Judah at the hands of the Romans. The Alexandrian Jews form on my part certain Israelites scattered in my prayers, leaving us where the radiance of our faith makes sense and dispensed power to us. My economy is to create furniture that will live in laborious houses, even among those Jews and mercenary soldiers, freeing themselves from prejudices and clothing that represented them alone and fragile, being sensitized by the diaspora. The world separates itself from the matter cell, clinging to the consciousness of unity of dispersed Judaism as a sacrificial cult, to cater to those who write history more distant than a synagogue without a Rabbi. When bad winds blew there, they often made the situation worse for those scattered in a foreign land. At the end of the Hellenistic period, there were Jews in Persia, Mesopotamia, Syria, Phenicia, Pontus, north of the Black Sea, Cappadocia, the rest of Asia Minor, Egypt and Cyrenaica, Carthage, Greece, Macedonia and Italy. Now I am in Rhodes with the Vas Auric, to trace the true image of Judas Thaddeus, my co-religious in pursuit of an intellectual and theological religious activity of edifying centers of prayer and universal unification, here in the Hallenikka Necropolis, where some Davidian Psalm, it will be in more regions right here documented in my precession as a parallel religion to Hellenic situationism. Their religiosity is felt, and even remains open in a proselytism that causes the indefiniteness of the half-convert and that implies a risk for the identity of the Jewish religion as support of a people with not a little original conscience”

Etréstles with Vernarth go to Eurydice, before descending into the bilges, they begin to found the ventral conceived from the word of Judas Tadeo “Yehuda; Praise be to God”. Judaizing verb in Veronica, or true image of the Via Dolorosa, among some apocryphal documents another historical and definitive truthful current is mentioned.   Detailing the aforementioned image in the shroud of the woman who seconded Jesus in the Sixth Station. The apostle Judas Thaddeus, is warned along with the auric image, providing confidence and praise of stands that walked in the murgas of Rhodes, before the iconographic variety was present with the image of Joshua overflowing by the Auric Avas, levitating among the circular margins, transforming into his banner with maces, which represented his martyrdom escorted by a sword or Shamsir, in the shape of an Arab cutlass; This being attributed to his beheading, but close to a hagiographic fatality.

Saint John the Apostle says: “Saint Jude Thaddeus the Apostle; He brought the Mandylion (Canvas of Edessa) to the court of King Abgar V of Edessa, to heal him. Being actually Thaddeus of Edessa, but the iconography was rectified by mistake. With a flame on his head at Pentecost he symbolizes us embroidered with a Chrysoprase, the green gem of his praise. Right here in these damp platinum chrysoprase bilges, it is that they emerge by themselves as an integument stamped in the peripheral curves of the Vas Áurica, they are attached to the Mandylion, frisked to my clothes to take them to the Hallenikka necropolis. Ulterior Vernarth and Etréstles pilgrimage carrying the mass of Vas Áurico of solid gold, groping him before taking them with decisive worthy praise to be brought before the sight of others who prospect to be before dark in the necropolis "

Saint John the Apostle continues: “Before dividing as Hexagonal Birthright, we went to Tsambika and others to Hallenikka. We head to Tsambika which is located on top of a hill on the east coast of Rhodes.   Bowing down to the praise of the iconographic and religious corridor of Mary. Here is the golden legend of Rhodes in Crete, of Rhéa and Cronos, for their ******* and mythological manias. We insist here we pass first to walk towards the heights of Tsambika, bordering the nature. Earthly possession of magnificent iconographic blessings”

Right here Demetrio Poliorcetes, acceded to the island, completely failing, resolving everything with high peace, with the mediation of some Greek polis. The military of Demetrio Poliorcetes left a large amount of armaments, for this reason the Rhodians sold the solid material and turned it into treasure to build the Colossus of Rhodes. In this same way the Primogeniture, thus began to gather the estates to summarize the hagiographic heights of the Vas Auric and the Mandylion together on both sides, for the final departure to Patmos. Being the necessary time that allowed them to be in this open, those who accompanied him in silence discovered new silences that amended the rotations that the Vas Auric medallion gave, exhibiting the half circumferences of a new world, with the organic body community of San Judas Tadeo, doing praises of a tender being to the Hexagonal Birthright who escorted them to save the world.

Eurydice parapsychological channeling:

Eurydice says: “Tsambika was left by the route located on the east coast of Rhodes before reaching the town of Archangelos, we passed through a cypress forest. It is said to be the origin of the name that is due to the word "Tsaba" (Spark) and refers to the history that involves the discovery of the icon of the Blessed ****** of the Nativity at the top of the hill. This icon turned out to belong to the island of Cyprus and was immediately returned to its place of origin. But the icon would reappear over and over again at the top of the hill, so they decided to build a chapel in honor of Panagia Tsambika. The miracles that the ****** worked were many, among them blessing with a child the women who prayed her and could not conceive. Since then there is a tradition of calling the child born by the ******'s work, Tsambikos if it is a boy and Tsambika if it is a girl. Right here our Hex Birthright will procure the votes for Rodinense culture. We went to the town of Archangelos to a delicious gastronomic with Barley breads and Pure Wine, Akratismós the locals told us, taking small pieces of the basket with figs and olives, decorating them with tagenites cakes, continuing later with more Wine and Steamed Ariston with stews and fish for lunch, which were arranged on small tables with zoomorphic legs. Women ate after men according to tradition, but now it was all of Aristotelian virtue, for immanent actions and passions of the soul; being able this time to dispose ourselves to perform the best acts and do well and always better, according to the right reason that is chosen from an intellectual disposition called prudence here in Archangelos; in charge of uniting us in knowledge and action”
Vernarth says: “Aristotle was the teacher of Alexander the Great and me too; in his virtuosity we learned the exercise of forgiving habits, with training, with experience and time to exercise it in them. Furthermore, with the tasks in accordance with virtue, being by themselves agreeable and as virtuous men judging righteously; this is how happiness shines for the Stagirite Aristotle; where our teacher was born. Herein lays his inspiration in living and acting well, the activity of man being good in it: beneficial, pleasant and happy, so it is directly related to virtue and the actions of the chaste man. In this reflection, virtue as a way to prosperity, the efforts to achieve them, will be analyzed, and some of the intellectual and moral virtues established in the moral philosophy of our master thinker will be described. Especially with your Eurídice delicacies, thank you for putting them in our hands in this kitchen here in Archangelos "


Euridice continues: “Hesperisma, slipped through our hands when my father Pelias, at night, brought us closer to his dialogue with the myth of Jason.  In metal or terracotta containers that entertained us. We could use bread cakes as plates, but earthenware or metal bowls were more common. The cutlery we use at the table: the use of the fork as an unknown, it was eaten with the fingers. They helped each other with a meat knife and a simile spoon. Pieces of apomagdalia bread we could use to take food as napkins, to clean our fingers. We felt grace in our ears from Aulos, like bells calling us from Panigia Tsambika. We stretched our fingers towards some chestnuts, beans, toasted wheat grains or honey cakes, responsible for absorbing alcohol and prolonging the drink ingested. Some locals, who accompanied us from Archangelos, inaugurated one or more libations towards a pean as a simple prayer to Apollo, generally in honor of worshiping Dionysus as well. The libations obeyed certain rules: the number of libations per person was not limited, but the invocation was not done without libation, after the meal and before drinking, the participants' heads were covered with ribbons or garlands of ribbons. A Greedy inhabitant saying: “In Archangelos he mentioned in his ancestors; where they had poured egg yolks, oysters and scallops, as soon as we were rid of this world, we sat down to drink, dancing by the powers of the ferments of the distilled ingested with some bakery delicacies: Like the Daraton, without yeast, which was flat as a cake.   The almogee, coarse country bread, which was made on the farms.  The phaios brown and unrefined bread. Syncomiste, black bread for being made with non-sifted rye flour, was known for facilitating intestinal transit and dietary wheat bran bread. Thus ends the address the greedy Archangelos "

Saint John the Apostle adds: “It reminds me of how Yeshua healed the woman who suffered from Hemorrhoid. Thinking just like Jairo; prominent as one of the chiefs of the synagogue of Gerasa, in the ancient Decapolis, at the beginning of the first century of our era. He met Jesus of Nazareth when he was speaking in what is now Gilead, northeast Jordan. Jairo thought it would help him to heal his daughter, still believing she was dead. While Jesus is still in dialogue with the woman he has cured from Hemorroisa, some men from Jairo's house arrive and say to Jairo: “Your daughter has already died. Why bother the Master more? “Having told him, Jesus, who has heard what he has been told, looks at him and encourages him with these words: "Do not fear, only manifest your faith." He asks him to show him where his house was. While there everything was with great regret and consternation, Yeshua tells them that the girl has not died, that she is only asleep, the incredulous people scoffed knowing that she was dead. My teacher Yeshua, makes everyone leave Jairo's house, except Pedro, Santiago, the girl's parents and me, also allowing me to stay here. In this place we hear from the Aramaic-Syrian expression "" Talithakumi ". Where we could observe how the girl began to walk, seeing the extravagant joy in the girl's parents and other people. This episode makes me warn that we walk between situations of sociability that only admit to committing ourselves with equanimity that the facts of a plausible authenticity strike attesting to those who meet those who love in an unquantifiable way for the religious social feeling. We committed ourselves to being born to see the logic of being witnesses to oneself, but not to what we do not witness more distant from those who do not see them after their death, not being ourselves. Creation today here in Archangelos makes us witness to being in the midst of families that sigh for a Talithakumi for all those that one day the prodigy of existing will carry them beyond a resurrection, are pre-classified for a biological phylogeny, being externalized and extended further afield. Of our own taxatives, In this way they will have tiny beings and courage that speak for them, because when a person is resurrected with this energy, Creation is resurrected with all the creatures that are inborn " The Hexagonal Primogeniture rushing down a beehive, after having dined with the Tragones of Archangelos, they go back to the voids of history that appear before them on some cliffs, saying:

“At the beginning of the 4th century BC, all the Greek poleis, regardless of whether they were bigger or smaller, began to mint their own coins, sometimes pictorially represented by the name of their communities: Ástaco for a lobster, Melitea for a bee, Selinunte, for a celery leaf. It is from this same conception of Aristotelian Virtue, that this regression has the motive to humanize and integrate Creation and its little creatures, from a chaos of death like the daughter of Jairus, being able to reborn a new cosmogony with a sub-cosmogony between myth and myth. Relative concept of reality, resurrection occurs and does not occur, because the divine primordiality of being resurrected will also exist delegatedly, as a being again reborn, perhaps with the same essence component re-obtained,but within an order that admits creation of Creation in a world that does not recognize Chaos as deep and empty, rather generous to grant the magic of the irrigation of the energies of Yeshua, already constituted as an ambivalent chaos computer. Titanic continues phenomenology, taking us to dimensions that share recapitulations of their nature among themselves, to once again contain compendiated and resurrected beings, who socially walk the face of the earth resurrected and fragile subtle in an ordered but sensitive land, and with voids of integrity and chaos that could restrain it. Zeus and Tartarus, almost like poetic prototypes, would appear in storms of evasion of credibility towards creation and its genesis, subtracting the secondary intention that consolidates the grateful world of restructuring, saved by an unknown superior deity, to whom the springs are prominently unleashed. And the blades of the Hellenic time mill”
Chapter *** II
Vas Auric / Rhodes
Hex Birthright in Hallenika
Fresh home from therapy,
     and resonate with zeal
**** air cerebral cogs a turn'n
     analogous to rack and pinion wheel

hence attempt made to bare soul,
     sans thru poetry re: veal
ling avidity, asper barreling neurological
     daily kos loaded truck full

     heading toward figurative
     lifelong landfill deposits
     on weekly ******
     logical session I unseal

manipulating bothersome issues
     controlled via bot size thumbwheel,
which grave undertaking i.e.
     professional counseling allows,

     enables, and provides opportunistic
     gradual process at selfheal
ling oft times necessitates
     reviewing silent Virgina reel

comprising the story
     of earlier life piecemeal
akin to a slapdash montage
     chronicling existential ordeal,

now referencing adenoids
     (removal first mention within
     poetic endeavor, when young boy)
     loosely linkedin with nasopharyngeal

pseudo oral palate
     highway tucking each meal
     across miniature bridgework,
     ma late mum meekly

     acceded to doctors orders,
     said operation sub
     sequently deemed unnecessary
affecting negligible decreasing nasality

     predicated on split (bifid
     or bifurcated uvula), viz laryngeal
utterances finds me speculating
     speculating now, whether taking kneel

ling pose possibly coo dove
     wrought divine intercession
giving me super powers ideal
for fighting off being bullied

     gloating this instant imagining
     bringing beastie boys to heel
actual reality visit my kid self,
     a most convenient scapegoat

socially withdraw puny size lad
internalizing hateful barbs glom
     ming up significant emotional gearwheel
inferiority complex predominating

     supplemented with cumulative
     anger, a potent feel
ling exacerbating anxiety prone disposition
     courtesy chromosomal
     (pop'n mom genes) art of the deal.

— The End —