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n)Ethno-spirit and Biodiversity (Diogiversity)

Given its ethnikos factor and contribution towards a common origin of multiethnic and languages, in values and traditions, its morphological factors of Verthian sub-mythology, are provided with content, features, colors, and textures of neutrality, focused on a biosphere ecosystem, where the air conditioning, flora-fauna will make Sub-mythological Biodiversity, where the beings that inhabit it and will be in the range of evolution of mythological living beings, whose diversity of genetic seizures, will adopt natural and compound patterns, but always predominant in the biological pattern and organic. Wandering the world in desert places, in alloys and classified plant compounds, emptying their species through the hollow of the atmosphere and through the green grasslands in the reviving surviving evolution of organisms and species that for the first time see each other as a biotype between rocks and plantations, reciprocally among themselves, and extemporaneously generating mythological genetics heritages. Considering millions of years in evolution with explosions of multicellular and fossilized species extinct in massive and occlusive memories. Inert matter and geological strata will make millions of years converted into microseconds in the Verthian Biodiversity of the Duoverse, in a Psychic and spiritual Universe, emerging in all macroscopic perspectives and parapsychological regressions. Impact They will cause the maturity of all the diversity of externality and sensations in new topologies of anonymous universes and species of biodiversity, under a pillar of culture based on the Sub-Mythological biosphere process, encompassing all mythological species where the hope of Life and Super life. Transforming systems of functionality under the protection of spontaneous generation and in a matter that is availably underlined in the mountainous tissues of the mechanics of the subset of the air mass, water, climatic biospheres, and biogeochemistry, that in the unreal juncture of, and inter-procedural reality of carbon, that factor the species key and specimen disclosure, in the collection and in sinks, water drains but without carbon. encompassing all mythological species where the Life expectancy and Super life unfolds.

Hyperdisis, the galaxy connected to the Duoverso, in its biotic diversity, reinsert thick clumps of Nothofagus Obliqua forests, in waste processes, to domesticate the Leiak ethno-forest species, as balance nutrients and repair the disgraceful disgrace of unnatural toxicity and fragile of the agrosystem, maturing cultures and preventive pollination in succulent transfers for purposes of food webs and the environment. Making the appearance of species more effective and perceptible, reunited in community chains of coherence, to amortize low-resource needs and distance economic-political impacts, in view of new base resources and the sustainability of balance of allopathic crops, for the good of driving the extinction of plagues or flagrant excesses not converted, Hyperdisis has a mass of inert matter that creates accesses of resilience, for salinity, rainfall, and human adaptive mythological innovation, given its versatile opening of complement and generation of substances, for the convenience of living beings and No. Having adopted in the context of mythological Galaxy, related to beings of light comparable to distant elements, by means of Psychic Trisomies and tell transportation, for energy sources and soil and water mechanics with Leiak, constituting molecules for the simplification of phenomena of exacerbation of chronic diseases and endogenous. Forests and parks of Hyperdisis in the symbiotic open air, for more airs in microbiological space, in the intimate portion from greatest to least challenge of elements exclusive of antinomies of hieratic human bio culturalization, in a showcase of communities with an interest in technologies and renewable empirical usability, each part doing its scientific role and biodiversity in the portico of its home. As a hieratic quality, presenting amendments that are glimpsed and more existing, although it passes before our eyes without a Carbon Footprint, figuring logical mathematics by sponsoring its count more than a shadowy synthetic body, anticipating super-appraisal measures, averaging them in tiny theological portions, with varied and dissimilar levels of genetic habitats and alleles or heterozygous in the taxonomic functionality of reproductive and approving biological elements. The wealth and abundance of this item are delegated to Leiak, in all the revolutionary processes of the oak forests and the high mountains,

Within the gasifications of Cinnabar, there was Carbon in its Life cycle, being Zefián; the curator of the Duoverse, destined for a lifetime, under Universal and intergalactic effects. Claiming innocent beings with greater attributes of predation survival in the ecological chain, with the mix of Tsambika and Theoskepatis, granting multidirectional dynamic residual matter for green energy emissions. Feedback quantifies offset options in carbon circulation, offsetting multipurpose CO₂ inventory. Through the darkness Zefián and Vernarth traveled in the streets of Rhodes, and in Tsambika looking for the distilled portions of the carbon and sulfur emanated by the Cinnabar. In the same way Etréstles in Theoskepatis initiating with the Archpriest by virtue of the honors and the rubies of accumulations of water mass and of sulfur and carbonated air, which hung over the low sky of Rhodes and Kimolos. They were going to the Necropolis of Hellenika, when the gnostic rampages were glimpsed in the surrounding slab, minting half of the gold bars for the great goldsmith who erects the conventionality of having the physis imperturbably established, as a matter of patriarchal character. They entered Helleniká and the souls that wandered were ringed under crescent-encrusted rings, lavishing the independence of the night in the hands of Borker, which was reflected in the capitals of a mausoleum. Borker is consistent in saying that he is free in Helleniká, In the myth of the dustbin woodworm of the frieze where Etréstles perched next to Zefián's strap, who would manipulate the gold and alabaster chain, to pull its ascetic and rubies from it, approaching a final night in the astronomical autumn, in the last parapsychological regression of the god Vertumnus, which would embody the expiration of the Helleniká friezes by Kashmar branches decayed from vegetation and the tears of the Etruscan god Vertumnus. Making the branches of the Kashmar, the epithet of heraldry in the noble metals and woods of the autumn, and the mountainous temple of the one that follows the equinox in the meridian of seven days towards the southern and northern hemisphere. in the last parapsychological regression of the god Vertumnus, which would embody the expiration of the Helleniká friezes by Kashmar branches decayed from vegetation and the tears of the Etruscan god Vertumnus. Making the branches of the Kashmar, the epithet of heraldry in the noble metals and woods of the autumn. They enter the Necropolis of Helleniká, by upper and lower trays, cordoned off by obelisks in a series of petrified labels, in the square sections of the convergent ones and the linearity of the central pyramid, where they sponsored all the sectors of the stones of the prismatic geometric body, next to some piloneos that flanked the third of those that were in the figurative memory of funerary monuments of Vernarth. In harmony with the radiosities of the Cinnabar, they purged the carbon emanations in the intra-bodies of petrified breaths, expanding in the segments of frenetic life of the behavior of the inert matter, crushed by the organic, polishing the degrading character of the excavated prayers, under a superfluous shade. It was already dawn, Etréstles and the Archpriest broke the loaves to deposit them in the bowl of the Day, stretching in the arms of heaven under the gargle of the god Vertumnus who forged from the materiality of Jupiter. Vernarth nodded his head to the movement of the winds that cut the profile of a Citarista yawning on the frieze that raises all the crowns of the princes of the living-dead, making them part of the royal occasion, preparing petty spaces and tyrannies for devouring vassals in Helleniká, from the lair of his rib one, sees Diogenes of Sinope emerge, splitting with his doctrinal staff all the Isthmian paroxysms, which declared the cell of his life as Diogiversity.

"There were murmurs of astonishment at the surprising response of the wise man because no one dared to speak like that to the king. Alexander the Great asked: "Why do they call you Diogenes, the dog?", To which Diogenes replied: "Because I praise those who give me, I bark at those who don't give me, and the bad ones I bite." Again, more murmurs, but Alejandro was not moved by those answers and said: "Ask me what you want." So Diogenes, undeterred, replied: "Get away from where you are, you cover the sun for me"..., Vernarth replied: "Look for him in the bones of those who refused to die and fear beyond expiration who rejoices in the cold of the dean ossuary seed, without heat or memory here in Corinth and its Diogiversity ".

o)Reflection space length (π)

The hemispheres were out of proportion, one another was modified in the air, leaving the horizon exorbitant and the poles out of square. Coastal the lengths of the sun around areas that some Helleniká countrymen had never put on the crowns of their consciousness. Certain pressure changes dislocated other modules in the filaments that had rudimentary inaccuracies, creating reflection space failures in the installation of the Duoverso, due to the due calculation defect. The observations of Hyperdisis, generated superpositions of the Zigzag Universe, before the crescent moon, after the full moon, again de-calculating the sphere of Hyperdisis in relation to the ecstatic length of itself in the hands of a third of a second a day, to overflow in impositions that They revealed Dekas Cove in Kimonos(π).

The value of the opinion of reflections will be the originality of breaking of statics, of the motors of the verb and the conscience of the flushed being, and of erudition of the naive contrast when decanting the perceived morality. They concur with the moral value in every sub-mythology of an ambivalent being of supernatural human co-belonging, not dependent on gnoseological reflections, rather spontaneous under the embankment of reason. The latter being absent in the shadow of its shadow, no reflection can take hold of anti-values, self-valorized in contingencies under the effects of the drug of lies or truth, in a difficult equation to refer to in gnosis treatises, declaring the absence of consciousness to species without reflection or length of their molecular evolution, in evidence of mythological humans. The triangle Patmos, Rhodes, and Kímolos, make up a Venusian adonis, of stimuli in the nostrils of Aion, which sneezed on the integrity of the reflex arc at high speed superseded in the tremors of Athens until Hyperdisis, flashing anatomical and pejorative on the optic nerve of the Colossus Rodino, and the twisting of the multi-personal muscles..., but already depersonalized..., with little telluric reaction in the core of the symmetry of his legs, dodging as he thrashed on his frowned arms, behind the legs of the lycaons..., digging his jaws in reflex arches, for ages that only an immemorial one would enchant him, and be it the throbbing of the earth in the crust and seams of the calcined Colossus. Existing like this their reflection of attenuated light, they shook through the sea full of sinewy pieces of precise length. Frequently in the hydronium cations, undermining the temporality of Tsambika in random stones in the humid, and dark narrowness of the anthropic reflection, having lived in the heavenly paradise that formed them by the volcanic tube and its syngenetic, by the erosion of the subsoil of Rhodes. In Helleniká, everything that is expected, flows with the Meltemi tubularly, so that they are polyps of fluctuating desolation or placed above all zephyr or anti-wind, in ammonoids or ammonites; reviving from the seas it flows with the Meltemi tubularly, so that they are polyps of fluctuating desolation or placed above all zephyr or anti-wind, in ammonoids or ammonites; reviving from the seas from Devonian to Cretaceous, escaping from the ferocities of the Etesios and these same escaping from the roars of Vernarth.

p) One-Dimensional Beams II

When their ears fell in love with the Orthoptera or Grylloideas before Joshua, the night became restless, abandoning them from their shelters, they brushed the seeds of the thistle that trembled with the new millennium of the Duoverse. Levitating their ailerons in the tenors of their birth and dilettante sounds, before an ovipositing candor of the remains of the abdomen that remained in their jaws, always being from one of the Beams, for the largest Enciphers that hung from their antennas in search of Joshua's telepathic messages in the manger. Sappho of Mytilene, also known as Sappho of ****** or simply Sappho, pretended to be a marigold proliferating in the twenty corridors of the Greek poet, and also as the tenth poet in the other ten that was reflected with transparent wings of the dew that stuck, phenomenal of physique -Saphonic and in the recent rain of wind and condensed air, in the form of drops due to the sudden decrease in temperature in contact with cold surfaces. Sappho's dew was talked about in Kafersesuh, usually when it comes to condensation on a Poetic Grylloidae surface, naturally on the ground cover or artificially in a dull cloudy crystalline, in the amount of supernatural tradition, heroes, superheroes, and anti-heroes conspiring with the territorialities of hexagonality.

The Aramaic message comes forward with vigor from the orthopterans and birds that piled up on the journey, going back and forth. The Beams shone from the celestial kingdom holding on to the Cherubim and the Archangels, through the paths of conversion and the support of the bizarre Christian time, in implacable hegemony for the propaedeutic of phylogeny, but more than perfumers chemistry and the same creation. carrying Lepidoptera winged tetra and Sand Crickets, on the interlocking and obfuscated pheromones from a nascent-elemental child, in his own evangelical philosophy, from a winged dimensionality and in the gloom of Manger shouted and aligned, before the compendiums of double pyramidal landmarks and of inflection, of his word in the Grylloids and panaceas created in the affinities of the world and Animalia, stylizing muleteers carriers, phrasing acronyms and parabolizing the polygonic nomenclature of the child made a territorial man on the wings of a Cricket, already being it !, but representing himself as a lifeless man in the entirety of an advantageous canon child, from a sudden bi-dimensionality of Grylloideos. A great Zohar light gathered all towards a whole in those vantage points of terrestrial columns and orthopterans that Joshua felt in advance in his resined ears, like irreversible entropy giving back his wise existence to prepare them for the day of his holocaust. Pre Existing in catharsis and busilis substance of divinity connected with the Grylloid phylogenetic species, classifying until the Aramaic crackle, pontifying pheromones settled in the lithosphere site of Gethsemane, coincidence in the wading of a Libraco period, or in the phenomenological simultaneity of Eukaryota and Glaucophyta until late Animalia, giving relation parental in the characters of the vibrational timbre of the Beams and the atavistic pedestal, readapting in the evolutionary ellipticals of tetra-winged species, allowing to change the ancestral linguistic accouterments in processes of redesigning the genetic historical tree..., divine and increasing.

Inter-Duoverse, in space demography, has been frequented since today in a nuptiality between the Sun and Earth, wrapping the inter-generational homes that have prostrated themselves to the One-dimensional Beams, evolving millions of years between links of angels from the north and the south., for each year between half years and decades that the ancestors are passionate about, unleashing in what they aged in their youthful lives and eternal ideals, as an atom not guaranteed in families that did not get to know their Duoverse. When they walk through the urbanized farm of their parents they go in their shoes and in the paternal and inter-parental sun barefoot, the children travel far from the monographic patriarchy, declaring themselves between psychic families and unstable plots of core conformity and procreation.

The line of supra healthy cerebral is born from the Beams of deforested family trees and treasured in the Trunk of the seventh ascending generation, towards a nefarious tribal of industrious and vegetating regressive parapsychology, bringing zombie societies, to great lethargy that disorganizes the parallel emotion of the Being descended from a Messiah, with the prophetic organization. There in the Koumeterium of Messolonghi, in past generations, the "IO" was omitted to limit them from the spellings like Ghost Cemetery lost in other lost sacramental ancestors. The inappropriate location of our ancestral duties has guided us in the axis of the pabulum, before the second coming of Messiah Parousia, to continue the re-sprouting foliage of the Universal theological tree. The children of the seven intergeneration generations, will be from the endearing of a patriarchal family, and those of Exo family lineage will be from outside the non-generational family, where everything flourishes according to the requiems of ******-domestic economies, and in the new chimera from new shocks and reprimands, already being spouses the Sun and the Earth after being divorced from a deluge of immolations and inter-millennia and rotations, further than those of any prophet wandering without advancing or rotating, enlisting and expiring in succumbed and pre-historicized generations of other prehistoric ones. Pre and post Flood; not presenting itself as the object of linking a thousand decades where not even a holy chirp from the Thrush, praises on the windows of the world bringing us babies that are born without past or future quantum generations. Ready to the hint of Duality and its nuptiality with the Sun and the Earth, They will make us magical creditors of the increase in demography and of unions that will marry in inter generations, not seeing passions in exhaustion, under the grass of the allegory of defeated love. Giving ourselves conjugal virtuosity, but of immanent dogma for the purposes of multi-figurative coexistence, under the Yoke of an individualized Faith, in the passing of millennia, we continue to crawl on the floor of the nebulae, and we do not rise to establish ourselves as masters of ecstasy, and the pendulum of the stars, creating us more in the orthogonal egalitarian of the cosmos and its Vernarthian architecture, of poly productivity, of Sun-Earth and its post-genetics, of high-grade clay, expanding with halberds on the self-insolated Suns, and highly calorific inherited towards a rupture of Solar freedom leaving us in the horizontal, not having ascendants of sin enriching their illicit chromosome. Made a beast, from the inertia of a paradise full of hidden public and private exchanges, but not secular, for those who pay tributes of ecstasy in a reborn and weakened state. This is how Diogiversality is verticalized (Diogenes's anthological action), concluding the variants that weaken the nexus of the denatured society of its atavistic social nuclear concomitant, extending eco-life gaps, but eco-unstructured and crucial inter-generational nature, being of arbitrary passion and of seismological doctrines, of haughty morality and of sociology fabrics without body or motor, with frail of castes and generations evolved age in a retrograde and elemental psychic sense, but biologically and reversibly to their boomerang lineage.

q)Amphibology Cosmogonic, Sub-Mythological root

The threshold, as a minimum rubric, must be in force from the Constellation of Orion, with barely a hundred millionths under the same eye of Orion and his psychophysical space, sensitive to the falcado charioteers and the water vessels on the backs of the probable Barnard Loop., and its nebula presence. The icy impulsiveness brought her under her right shoulder and the lean hollow under her arm unraveling from a staircase, at the entrance point of Betelgeuse coming from the cosmogony of Eridanus and in tune with Ptolemaic astrology. In the Sibyl and with a hint of a metric brilliant mass triplet, Betelgeuse Orionis, is the scale of the Aulos and piccolos expelling hydrogen as an Ace in 240 scales of harmonies and in sounds of light, for cycles and years of Light. The binary of Orion, is pre-born of the sub-mythological root, with binaries of Poetic Parapsychology, or Para-poetical; which is the trapezoid and the kinetics of the hunter Orion arrowing the Pleiades and its nebulous plains, with diametrical diarthrosis in his synovial joints, with the third militarizing joints already formed by the hyaline cartilage, which joins the two bones with the synovial fluid, before reaching the deltoid of Hunter Aurion, to awaken the Asleep world.

Vernarth in one of his adventures in Pella, scapula with his arms the force of the friction discs of the Olympics and corrected his hands and shoulders, for this purpose of Aurion and his dilettante Astro Betelgeuse, with giant arrows against matters towards the sky of its Constellation, embedded in beaten Odyssey and turpentine in the sullen Hellenistic, being for May its amber trapeze of trunk and arm, in each hand a Xifos and Dorus, always in right-handed hemispheric pathologies of their shrewd hands in Kopis swords, and in the memories of the wind that throws pain to the whistle of the combatant, when the meteorites decay in the Tyrrhenian Sea. With his brass-bronze club and Vernarth's corrosive breath, he proceeded to file odyssey on Eos's ******* and peduncles; Goddess of the Dawn, in Dionysian beauty in bulk, Mintaka, Alnitak, Alnilam, (The Three Mariah), For the twelfth lunation of the Celestial Vault, together with Pleione, in its bolometric Oceanid matrix; against borderline stellar magnitude in the major and minor dogs, and in there a priori waves of misdeeds lending measurements in the eyes of Aurion, always henchmen on their Pleiades.

From this intricacy, Cosmo-is born the Vernarth Duoverso incited towards the Horcondising, so that it is mythical co-property at the origin of the universality of the Duoverse in the Vernarth scapulae, bleeding towards the cosmos that was born from his stellar blood, conjuring chaos and uncertainty in messenger Gonies, facilitating community life free of ethnocentric, psychic, intersubjective life, the metaphor of myth and dogmatic, by the imaginary struggle that leads its bleeding back over the Cosmos, and its demiurgic brilliance over the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of oxen, that urinate on the officers of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles, like flagrant Amphibology.

The Kanti Steed and the Aurion nebula, to the beat of a waltz ionize, lavish chemical ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse, to proclaim in the nerves of the shoulders and its bronze club, as musical praxis and harmony net, giving way to the nebula and the art of the Duoverso, which shows the pristine astral days, how his alchemical arm sprouting in chemo-astralities of the pectoral, and his armpit that joined in its maximum stick, cutting down roots of Olive Bernar, behind Barnard's Loops, in the midst of runaway stars that are systematized in their ionized bleeding esplanade, such as Stellae Novae, who retrograded the astronomical ritual into cosmogony, and in her escape by going at night to sleep near her father Poseidon and Euryale, who cheered him near the grassy fields to paste explosive clay on the sheet of his drunken smiley face with Ionic wine, in advance of spreading the nascent Duoverso throughout the new world.

r) Hyperdisis

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, in his planetary chamber Zefián; The Duoverso computer separated the parasitic inter-chamber from the Duoverso, which would be born from the Auriga, which in his buggy would unleash the senses of structures and luminosity between this colossal interplanetary chamber. Being between points that venture through the axon of time infinitesimal and longitudinally for light-years, which even so, will intervene from the Duoverse, for thermal purposes and other changes of the remnants, when especially the luminosity will speak of the destruction of the darkness inherent in the eyes of the universe, which can only stabilize areas that have not been fused in the discs of the Universe-Duoverse spatiality, long before the initial explosive between the Constellation of Orion and Andromeda. Globular clusters that will make up the perfect delay of transfusing the blood and no other, which makes the character Hyper naming and hyper-pectoral blood, which flows from this tri-astral polynomial, compromising the method of area, shape, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the Duoverse in the reversible intergalactic plane. Going from lenticular to irregular over the keystone of the trapezoid, towards the right arm of Orion, where its radius becomes hypocentral sequentially, but it takes advantage of interstellar matter, to generate its own light. Some explicit explosive arms of Andromeda were expelled from their center towards the right arm of Orion, for the purpose of implosions in the effect of the clubs or snails, as a sublime effusion on other stars, which lost essential stellar mass, to differ from one another.

Radio-Patmos, or galactic energies of Andromedian origin, would arrive as devout prayers at the border of Skalá, such astro-omegas and Invisible Universes, which inhabit the flaccidity of the Universe of Consciousness of the pole contact with the Xifos or Kopis, when Andromeda contacts the spur of the clubs or snails, inciting the capos of Astro-Omegas spaces, which would begin to take the front and front, after having been the atrium of invisible stars, only visible in the spurs of the swords, which were only moistened with the viscous blood draining from Orion, towards Hellenic lands as Omega age, for Vernarth early when he carries the keys of the Omega World, towards the shadowy proto galaxies, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass, being able to collide in a few million of light years, in advance, since the Duoverse of Hyperdisis will be formed as a Galaxy of change, to interact with each other, dismembering, but re-transforming into the new speculative nucleus of the Duoverse as a great Black Hole, embedded in the Kardiá of Patmos.

Hyperdisis, navigates from the most ancient confines, from the origin of nothingness itself on the threshold of the Universe, but now it is already converted into the Duoverse, re-implanting itself in helical polarity, and in bifurcations of luminosity, of colorful reincarnations or astral, to consent to the cessation of darkness and valuing luminance, possessing colorimetry and chromatic steps of childish tales in infant galaxies, which in all the lives of Greece and Vernarth delivered for their ancestors, articulating the iconology of Orion, in candlesticks per square meter, in vigils of:

LV is the luminance, measured in Nits or candela per square meter (cd / m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, Milky Way e Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion.
• dS is the surface element considered in the triad of Kímolos, Rhodes, and Patmos.
• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse.
• θ is the angle between the diameter of Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years)

The luminance can be defined from the radiometric magnitude and the radiance without more than weighting each wavelength by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of the Vernath's eye of the Betelgeuse area below, dumping plasma and bruises on the galaxies and the Orion Eyes.

s) Zigzag Universe

The Zig Zag Universe was and will be excluded between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are driven within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zig Zag Universe, being born on a stellar night when Our life searched the earth, being able to see how cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the Bing Bang, emerging from another type of self-observation, seeing ourselves in the face of Horcondising anti-material and Universal Biomass. We preexist under science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors, with whom their vital and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made great paternity in the Vernarth Biomass, being in the Dodecanese, being cosmos in its arcuate curvature, which makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings, and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising and also time2-space2, which has not been troubled by the origin or abscess of the stars that move irregularly in zigzag, for the fractality of its component, which is clearly Aramaic blue light, in circuits of clusters and movements brushing the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso that is the Universe shaken and young of its gratitude's ".The distribution of nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of spaces in the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach of Gethsemane phylogeny, now tending to a stagnant decomposed future, towards a specific frozen present. Its final station is to bet the Zig Zag Universe on the re-expanding temporal Medieval chrestomathy, in gregarious qualities of Sub-mythology, already conformed here in Archangelos. The implosion of gravity has created worlds of visibility in great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not, acquiring the hexagonality of the birthright in the passage, Here the Mashiach emerged and died in its abstraction in the One-dimensional Beams and in the foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortal and do not see with divine eyes in the self-resemblance, of our hypochondria and of the failed plan to amplify the size of the unknown analytic, of this new dimension in the implosive movement of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailed in their nature and in the natural infinity, here the privileged new world was envisioned, for self-similarity in the speculative and cosmogonic functions of Vertnarth, at intervals in each space of the shadowy walls, bringing accelerated courier bombs from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees to other humans. "Its correlation is an infinite fractal with reversible observable time.

Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the grove of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of energy Zig Zag and Duoverso, which triggers our subconscious observable world, which is a great reflecting lantern eye, which ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had, before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse and in Orion. Change from arduous colors to the gradient in Avant-Garde, for the confines of perspectives and verbality, in amendments of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macro waves, are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in reaction disturbances and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian cosmic. The double expression of macro waves and the equation of them over the axial of the universe turned into the universe Duoverse, in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion energy with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography in hyper diction will correct errors of the current universe, losing itself in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time... !, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter " The double examination of the macro waves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography in hyper diction will correct errors of the current universe, losing itself in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all of them being more than time... !, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter. The sub-mythology having already been constituted, Hestia appears, having slept a great slumber. When he appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, he was seen changing in size, when he was six meters away he looked dwarf and when he was already two meters from him he looked monumentally huge, but in a versatile physiognomy, therefore he was already appreciated in his last steps, with her domestic Goddess figure that emanated light-years from the chimneys of the habitable galaxies. The critical immanence will happen, pre-existing of the perfectible plan for the Universe Zig Zag and Hyperdisis, as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in the great ratio of the proscenium in the vicinity of Tsambika, between Mind / Meditation for constant mechanisms of Wisdom / Meditate, according to the cosmological constant, taking them perhaps to the beginning of a decade and the third universe called Traverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated, and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which moves backward. among the dizzying lights of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units of millions of years of light compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, from the prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the Kardiá on fire and the passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", the omphalos stone, marking the navel of the world with the boast of wandering towards the island of Delos, in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils on her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only maybe there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterward. that his father swallowed it, and then it was expelled from himself, regurgitated in flames of love candles in a blessed house and full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with never contained angles, sliding vibratory between the distances that discount minutes of the Hestian space, for such a corollary by approaching its finitude, and inaugurating the sub-finite, that it will never be the source of the end of a disconcerting end of time, neither equationally consummated nor physical. "This consolidates the Duoverse into Duo-Universe, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinity)

t) Vernarth Omega (Ω) - Preface

before facing the Achaemenides. Being Omega and Micron in the warlike primer of their cause, within the prophetic in all necropolises of tiny omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the good hand in Saint John the Apostle by rewriting the Apocalypse twice, coexisting the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Falangists, who made up inter-generational gaps, of camouflaged alien ancestors. For this purpose, he opened the windows with their pillars sheathed with tetrachloride of chlorine, at solid angles of Ω, in what was Virgo institutionum / Aurion-entity that interfered by projections and leaks, which converged on the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing frequently and bled his immortality, constituting from a helper being to the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With his arms raised, in each hand a raised sword to pierce the vanishing point, between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection, from an observer that inhibits ad limits the biomass in all the masses of aqueous filter and lumen flow, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by the stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus in his dissociated physicality, even though he is an amorphous entity with pulverized magnitudes, between Pi and Golden numbers, fading away without area or volume. Vernarth in the humanoid apocalypse was transfigured from a solid point in Hyperdisis, as a direct escape settlement to Aurion, towards a surface of conical vestige in three-dimensionality towards Andromeda, the Milky Way, and the shoulder of Betelgeuse,

Vernarth distracted the emeritus stars in the corner of his room and in the convex the points of his celestial patriarchs in the conical spheres of perenniality, leaving only solid angles in each of the two parts of space-delimited by two semi-planes that start from their common edge, under the ideal geometric concept and that it is only possible to partially represent it as duplication in parallelograms with a common side, symbolizing two half-planes, making from all distances seclusion of visions in the culmination of imagination and apparent angles, seen from any point of the Celestial Vault in invisible counterpoint.

The decalcified cells of Vernarth solfying together with Sophocles in orpheons after the victory of Salamis. Already being a tragedy in the next act of the prologue and their friendship bordering on his tragedy, he continues to exist in energetic arms to write, and Vernarth to dispute the characters from a regular prologue writing with his own blood hematology verses, which traveled meters and that they shrunk from the anti-verses scarring their declaimed intra-breath, in corals that only the wind clarifies of what precedes and happens towards the suffering, in the metrics of the Areimos chorus that were lectured anti-verses, and that they tried to ****** him from the hands to Sophocles, in immortality that refined him by abandoning him in sub-units. With masks and mythical cycles, he mixed the metaphorical facsimile of momentum and the separation of friendship with him, seeing him in an episode of his works, and instead of Vernarth's transcript sheltering him in the origins of the volatilizations of his orpheons, converted into physical waves of a dramatic-oracular order. Gods re-transformed into divination and futuristic germination, they were hidden dormant and forgotten in times of subconsciousness in the Selenite collection, felt in the Colossi signs of parliamentary, where the oracle leans on the lines of vibrational words and how they cough their " páthis "in the place where the language dissociated from the heart nucleus speaks. In misguided divination, the oracular mantic brought the cold of loneliness and the fiery heat that guesses in the laurel forests in oracular daphnomancy, Vernarth omega self-erects as a versatile column that temporalizes the threads of his organic brain, creating synaptic logos in Pashkein or the alert regret of abandoning the arm that rewrites his heroic Sophoclean and tragediographic biography, in ancients transiting in disintegrated emotionality and ****** Hellenic neurotransmission, "Two omega men or omega speedometers, carrying neurons from ankylosed and frustrated herd of pleasure, for tripartite meson form of routine grinding in Alzheimer's lost, lost in sympathetic and para-sympathetic routines, with probability of Hellenic gray matter; That is to say, of all memory that does not sin of ignorance in the ancient world, in more than nineteen hours of vehemence, the dangers will brighten when reliving nth times in the twilight of omega, Vernarth, was already narrowing on the tracontero Eurydice, to save his pains, deposed in terms that would renew anti-economies by supplying unsustainable in liquefactions and in synaptic melts, extra energetic vesicle of pure natural law of the eyebrows, of lunation that rests in the inter millennium, beating with ecstasy in the Buddhist suttas, and in the adaptation of the flesh of the hypersonic fissures of the Meltemi, and attachments that still beat over the dermis of pain. Vernarth draws his sword Xifos of phenomenal structure and he cuts on the Sutta or sermon that mimicked him at the time of the lunation, doing sabotage of redemption of the anti-verse from the court of Sophocles, as a myth-saboteur and anti-value, overvaluing the wiles of the same utilitarian tragedy, conquering in the curtain of mourning and sadness, unguarded and overcome by the stoic duel of jubilation. From here Vernarth, opens the gates of hell, eight hundred times going mad with omega value, by reiterating omeganymy, creates the numbering of the anti-verse and the suffering that does not even sleep further from the departure of a soul and a body only asleep of concave omega, overlapping in golden transfinite chests, which reorder the natural numerals with the ordinal transfinite omega, but on frictionless wheels of other omegas that break in recirculation rules on alpha, in supra omega levels such as parades, stamens, episodes, and Vernarth-omega paradigmatic exodus.

Omega I Prologue: "Once upon a time, amidst a rain of clouds full of drama, in a time that was oriented regime of the armpit of Betelgeuse and Aurion, 334 BC, it was the penultimate breeze of Tsambika, in the spiritual devotion that hovered over the unison voice in the magnanimous Zeusian chorus, as an alternate event of imprisoning past and next in an episode of the present act. The expectant was curious about the retouched makeup of the drama's superlative consonant, in a disembodied place, but with a good narrative source when it came to fruition. Here the myth is plausible, among everything mythical, more than all the super sums of expectations of the Ismo "

Parod I: "For the submissive words on the stage of the trident fire, where I have to warm my hands with ashes of eternal fire"
(Directing the scenes through the coripheum, there is the master lord who, in flames and by unequal numbers, pawned in the Aulos and piccolos, whose bare feet bordered the risk of the bellies of the Maenad damsels united in processions, between princes, powers and Dionysian dances holding on to the Pufios; in Baquian and ceremonial liturgy near Vernarth, taking a glass every seven minutes in animosity, in cages of his stuck little finger, whistling from organic pimping, next to dancers raising an arm and directing the palm towards the heaven, while the other remained down with the palm towards the earth; in this position, since he was like Vernarth buried by the tides of Patmos wandering him in times that marked the entrance from Mars to Jupiter, and from autumn to winter in fifteen times agreed with Sophocles, hanging from the penultimate to the entrance with his trembling voice desalted..., tolerating himself in his own tragedy)

This is I: "Through the right hemi-body, Vernarth intoned his laterality exposed in harsh penumbras, while Hera brandished over his existentialism clouds of oatmeal and candies in a liturgy, a homily that personified the Stasis, in the choral intermission resisting his angry hands in tragic passion and frenzy, unleashing oratory of self-blame, unraveling drama-tragic, and in each pause the emotion that was accompanied in new episodes when it was stoked "

(Vernarth says: "submitted in parts that are not its parts, my pain has blinded me, where it has embittered the conflict of ethical interest if the stars as a public cheer are anointed, sentencing the opposition of other lesser stars who cheer what that does not shine. The principle of the voice violates the normal parenthesis, which is governed by itself in the omega voice, mocking the modal in four magistrates, in martyrdoms of an ideal of the procession, each one being with his super-private toga, before me It must not be who recognizes if I will be who I am, on the seventh judgment of my surviving ethics)

Episode I: "Vernarth extrapolates the values of his judgment, which override the first, the coryphaeus directs his promenade from the countryside on his Horse Alikantus"

(Vernarth says: "I have instantiated the steps that my chestnut crossed with you in the future if I am to sing with a sorrowful voice, no choir will be able to follow me when you are gone. However, I have to define what personifies who, more than a thousand miles away, carries with him the lamp that opens the light of your roguish contemplation... "
Alikantus wailing says: "From the luster of your heartbeat, I obfuscated the jailer from your ribs, for the preference of the one who takes you even further in tempestuous pro-hedonistic prose "

Exodus I: "Sometimes the endings smell like fields of lavender, where the call of the almighty is heard, to take him over his loaded plantations, which are emerging from the dialogues in the afternoon with its twilight, as well as stanzas that smell of lavender anointing, separated in syllables and tonic that flex my charm, not to say that I was anointed with Lavender when I was prepubescent "

(In fifteen times, in syllables and rakes, the sentences of its paragraphs are sterilized, leaving the audience speechless, without a gesture or word that emanates from a sacred paradise, rather from the Stasis that never purged the omission of the syllable that is not of proscenium nor trident, but it is umlauts on Omega, between syllables of fire that burn from its proscenium)

With few and precise changes of consciousness, Vernarth approaches his Omega Point, as the end of his self is identical to his consciousness. He was leaving Tsambika and Kímolos, diligent towards Theoskepatis, warning Etréstles for defiance goods in the aftermath of the Eschaton. His spiritual cerebellum faded identically when he wandered through the distances of the entities that competed and are prominent, transforming his Hetairoi reliquary, here his tendentious impulse begins and dehumanizes him by becoming a Celestial entity, but with Noosphere endowment. The tendencies are established hyper-connected, with him Tsambika, Theoskepatis, and Patmos were triangulated for consummations and finality from the rudiment of Universal deity, reprogramming the end of restricted humanity to a mere boundary of dogmatic morality declared existential.

Within the Omega points, his unfolding acted as a disembodied statue and redemption of similarity and humanity, leading him to a self-conspiracy, by abandoning himself to his own equal, for the duration of the final sulfurous sublimation of the Cinnabar's margin of abstraction, after joining in all the quantum, physical and biological lines, making the Duoverse an inter chamber of the prior Master in a process of change, to sensitize his image of physical-chemical Man, but of God in his rigid powers. Cataloged as hommo sapiens who expresses himself in fallen beings under the arms of his sword in a limpid target, rather than in his own pointed tongue, and steely towards the point of unification in the hyper-dimensional of good achieve spatiality and volume, only contacted by his devoid of a Xifos hand. Consciousness rarely loomed in its compendium in nth bytes and data, much more than those recirculated in astrobiological quantum, creating blind exclusive and patrimonial universes, on the basis of nth bytes, which kept reorganizing itself in the personality of the unknown, fewer than four bridges of consciousness united in their own gregarious universe. The transcendence of the basic data of consciousness will lie in the Maenads, and their deliberate acre magic, extending through the limbs of the Nymphs, to re-possess it and take them to the confines of mystical paranoia, perhaps towards the embodied Vestal Virgins, purging their paths that they notice a variant of licentious departure in the stanzas when seeking final swings, which are not for the sake of shedding everything before the Universe rescinds its intellectual limitations, contracted in an orgiastic Imaginary Universe, and the precariousness of the concept transporting us to the origins of the species and its behavioral rapture of loss of sensation, and reason, for this reason, Vernarth takes them with him for his ******* and alienated perceiving of inherent reality and its opposite sunset. The ministry of the sacramental mystery is the consciousness of the Dionysian being in gestation, wanting to be the paroxysm of its equivalent, in an eternal Omega effect, for the purposes of omeganymy of conscious chaos, being the same portion of omega ad limit of its secondary reluctant personality of being, to found the hermit solitude on his revived empty ego, residing in his being by bilocating with two idiosyncrasies for a Venarthian Thiasoi, succumbing to weightlessness over all the Maenads and the intoxication of community in its opacity,

The madness was a transcript of reasons lost by the Vernarthian Omeganymy, sometimes the disproportionate of his steps by more than what should be generated was objected to in the circles of the Tsambika monastery. The unification of blood was confused by the viscous wine of the mysterious foliage of the Diospyros tree that led them through the enigmatic unaware, in primary practices that tore apart some somatized ones of the order of a third body, which still transmitted the last organic matter, refusing to spread at the omeganimic points. The consciousness of replicated beings of themselves challenged themselves towards the perfect copy of their transcendent alter ego, in an understanding of the present-future elucidating for whom or those who demystify the visions of an arbitrary creation, allied to the evolutionary myth-truth, in the face of any real and human maturity gap, the conclave of the near pious Christ, bequeathed in us and in the venerated hominization, at his sole and directional will. Now we are all in the aqueducts of Christian Science, for specimens of eternal categorization and frontally in view of a God-Mashiach, as ordinal inclusion and in greater ecumenical diversity, with variables of independence range, for staggering motor skills, retaining the attention of all the powers of the Christian world at an Omega point that seemed to be Alpha. The sense of the Duoverse in Vernarth Omega makes us rethink the central phenomenon of thought and frustrations, by the socialization of distant species from prudent dogmatic ostracism, towards refractory empathic and ultra-rational reasoning.

The supra intelligence has to become in them and those, the pre-existing point of duality, to reunify them in Patmos, as the only spirited meaning, and biomass evolving on the super-dimensioned materiality, in a greater radius where it will have to be delivered to whoever speaks with words. of living energy, and not complex towards all processes of emancipatory concord of personal authorship, on levels of relative lust in the absolution of medium integrity, and towards an elemental unitary totality of animal instinct guarded by the instinct of Being, that from its similar awakened rebirth of the sleeping mass matter, and in the animal purifying multiplicity. The man stands in his memorandum bend, like a haughty memorial, evolving in the cosmic expiration of the molecular transverse, admitting us in its vestige of complex extinction, but not in human slip, nor in acid and self-instituting scenery, on the real creation of its DNA, which reverts from the formality of helical reiterative rings, by heights of whoever oscillates in their coupled pairings, and their silent probable associations, in the nature of real origin and their structural perfection. The acceptability scenarios derive from the feasible concretion, and the approval of their tendencies and mobilizations of the structure of life, and codes greater than those that limit them to reside, to more than one body, residing from an incorporeal body, capable of its quantitative life and the extension of existence, super existing in the heights of the helical rings, which may vary more than they are, and which could be, without being seen under a scientific gaze. "Becoming a mechanics of maturation and prayer, which the energy from the material world to the spiritual, as a moving particle of inert matter in parasitized free radicals, which are re-energized by the mystery of the helical trans-threshold of the Aramaic mystery of the Olives Bern. "Vernarth disintegrates in omeganymy in laxity towards Aurion, descending pro-tenebrosity towards the profanity of Patmos, engulfed by Love in a dark summer, brushing the silos of DNA in the will of the automated world"
DUOVERSE
Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
How we worry about the safety
Of our dreams null and dainty
And our wishes of hope and subtlety.

Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Maybe a disorder in personality
Don’t know my main priority
But weary about a certain casualty.

Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Forgot all my functionality
Living life with absurdity
Death with such acceptability.

Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Please more of anonymity
Dealing with such difficulty
Of one having anxiety.
An old one, from my first collection 'Suicide, Ecstasy, and other Poems'.
Jayantee Khare Aug 2018

O
dear hater!
do u matter?
of course not!
but thanks a lot
for letting me know that
people have right to reject
i am still not perfect,
and for equipping
my mind with neutrality!
my heart with equanimity!
my soul with magnanimity!
my life with acceptability!
for the black and the white
the wrong and the right
oh i think you matter
love you my hater!
yes you matter!


Sunday musings
daniel f Sep 2013
All manner of people can be found in train stations, there character betrayed by attire to the more observational at least. The hard pressed city worker, walking ever walking, phone at hand, ever scanning emails and ensuring accessibility always, to control is too maintain is too succeed. Those who's steps seemingly shorter and more though out, are either here on some grand tour or some exotic soire as if silently noting surroundings, as the pass beneath the ornate decorations of their location. There care free folly the main indicator of intentions.From time to time a transport police officer shall pass, stern faced, seemingly compelled by some unknown mission others stand stationary a deterrent to would be criminals. From time to time the most beautiful facet of humanity is likely to appear, in the adoring stares of young lovers. It's this or the hold and don't let go grip, young lovers and train stations have long associated (In my mind at least) the point of departure is a grey area. Where displays of public affection normally reserved for movies and poems, reach the realm of social acceptability. Long deep kisses and well thought out speeches describing the grievances of an ever bleeding heart. There is one group I have failed to mention, who in there own way are entirely distinct from any of groups fore mentioned. They are the watchers, found normally at some quite looking coffee shop across the street, however this is not to imply they can not be any of the above. All of the above mix intermittently with interesting results, I shall for as long as I live never forget the passionate embrace of an on duty police officer and his wife. His eyes bright with surprise, at ease staring upon the one he so adores. I leave the station and head toward the embankment,
All manner of people pass me on their way to unknown offices, some holding hands and staring deeply. The rumble of unseen locomotive reassures me now of course I'm drawing closer, the winter winds once faint now felt as the once green leaves now all manner of colour are pulled by unseen gusts. This city must surely be the greatest in the world, from the industrial chimneys distant to the rolling ocean. Dockers smoke cigarettes and exchange raucous  tales whilst foreign sailors stare intently. I always try my hardest to listen to as much as I could manage of these half spoken speeches.  Im rewarded instantly with an image far more detailed and planned than anything the most creative minds could conceive. The wild waves create orators, there thoughts distilled be evenings spent alone. I've always found myself drawn to transient people, I feel like I've spend forever dreaming of someplace else Greenland Egypt Canada, you name the place and I've seen it in my dreams at least. It took me a while longer than I care to admit to truly get a feel for the place, at first like some timid child I avoided it. From the age of thirteen I've been locked in a battle with wanderlust, my urge to leave it all is simply overwhelming. In all my darkest fantasies, I leave this place at some point on some old ocean liner to arrive at unknown port. Too share a meal with mountain air as my ashtray overflows. I warm myself with images of ancient explorers sailing distant oceans, guided by starlight. Some people just elude me. I'd call myself stubborn but certain people melt me, I the eternal romantic a victim of my own high hopes. I'd often find myself alone, staring across the river and wondering. I always sit upon the same old bench carved with all manner of messages declarations of undying love, names, dates all carved into immortality. The steady movement of approaching footsteps is eternal, beyond the customs house  solitary North Star shines, as if admiring its provincial estate. An unknown entity now serving as a subtle voice of reason in the darkness, occasionally couples pass, as if to cement my my longing. The starlight illuminates breaking waves, as boats sway easy ******* to subtle quayside. Ever reminded of my obligations I should really leave and go to sleep. However the pull of the darkness is tangible, that was something! oh something! Suddenly a gentle calm smothers all thought, as lights glimmer distant. Light! Oh  brother light, I the eternal castaway home bound at last. My expectations were entwined with food and wine, and the comfort of my own bed.
Bill murray Sep 2015
My wife's father
Never gave me acceptability for his
Grown daughter
He came to except me later
When I impregnated
His daughter
Then the father in law
Liked me
Don't understand that one.
So it took my seed
Into a *******
Too make him like me!
And now many grand babies
Entice me
On grandpa's knee's
They say grampy please
Please just give us one dollarino
For one toy from,
San Francisco.
I always give in
To their pocket-thief smiles
They seem to like stealing away
Gramps old farting heart.
Sumit Ganguly Feb 2017
To look at my face
you need the mirror of your eyes.
Your eyes never wonder
how they reflect
an image of my ‘I’ to your senses.

When you read this poem,
you find an image of my thoughts
through a mirror of expressions
and judge my acceptability,
just as you do when you face this ‘I’.

All through one’s life
this ‘I’ is reflected by others,
parents, friends, wives, children, foes….
giving us a feeling of existence,
solid proof of this inseparable ‘I”.

24th Feb. 2017
miela Mar 2013
my younger sister
never allowed fun
to limit her imagination.
at a mere five years old,
she decided she wanted to become an ice cream truck driver
at six,
she wanted to save the world.
seven,
she wanted world peace.
eight,
world peace.
nine,
world peace.
ten,
love.
eleven,
a boyfriend.
twelve years,
nine months and three days,
lighter skin.
i remember her
questioning days in pre-school
what color am i? she’d ask.
and her inquisitiveness
never allowed black to be accepted
as a proper answer.
Ruthie, we share the same color
but not the same complexion.
too much melanin, not enough skin.
the people in your pigment are waiting for a prayer
to be prayed back to the hands that once found
power in praying.
let not the lashes of historical context blind judgment.
they oppressed our kind.
feared the golden in your flesh
so they bore a color wheel of acceptable shades
and suggested brown be bad.
she laughs at black jokes, but don't be one.
and somewhere between spanish sailboats
and slave ships
you lost the strength in stride.
you let them white-wash your worries
and bury your woes in waste.
they beat her blue until she bled acceptability,
not blackness.
But
pale isn’t perfect
and black isn’t bad.
embrace the dirt in your darkness
for what could explain the foundation
that fertilized your fancy
better than you?
your people stomped on grounds
they called home
and sprouted seeds of
brown
black
beautiful
babies,
you.
she questioned God’s existence today.
she questioned why her skin tone was
the color of disease,
but she knows not the shade of ailment.
our culture brought freedom
to a situation where we could only see *******.
I want to tell her to not hate God,
not even close,
not even a little bit,
not even at all.
that our black is not rooted in shame.
that she should not feel ashamed,
or silenced,
or transparent.
I want to tell her to
enjoy the diaspora in her Africa.
she's thirteen today.
Nourish your plateau sister.
Find the strength in your coffee,
and never ever let the brown in your *** stop dancing.
Zulu Samperfas Jun 2013
I had run about, and my feet hurt,
all I could think of, is let me make it end today
and I did it, signing off with a secretary, as she left with her friends

I carried the small burden of a year of persecution
the worst job I ever had,
and he was there, in the cement quad,
talking, saying goodbye

What horrible things he had said to me this year
I wasn't even suited for this profession since I was so anxious
in his presence, since he is all knowing
And when it was too much, I cried, and of course
I shouldn't do that, but that made things ten times
more offensive, I felt like I had a target on me
so I made up a labor attorney I had in my corner
and when he was on the attack, I brought her up
and he fell silent and was more careful

And I saw who he'd promoted, as chief rooster of the English department
since it is a hen house, and he gets too lonely just as a vice principal
that he has meddle and control and pick and decide and ogle
and pretend he's not and revel in so many women in one room,
and he has power over us all

And just that day, he strolled through a Paris City Park
Tree lined, in Spring, with dappled shade on the ground from tall
trees, and metal fences, and people sitting on benches
having fascinating and illuminating intellectual conversations
and well employed and turned out people
strolling along, perhaps some even dressed in nineteenth century clothes
everything in two dimensions,
He the gentleman, her the lady, an impressionist painting
colorful and imprecise, more a dream than reality
of the good life, and harmony, all with a slight Sienna tint, in two D
it was, in reality,  in the gum stained quad in the blazing sun
and she was married to someone else
but she had that perfect English teacher look, blonde
and bland, with giant blue eyes and a bun,
and a dress that cut just below the knee
and blew gently in the hot breeze, flaring out and revealing nothing
but the middle class acceptability of the fabric
and I dashed, really ran by holding my charger, to the computer I turned in
and through the scene, tore a wave of three D, and the Sienna tone
had a trail cut through it of true digital color
and he said "wow," as a vision from the 21st century ripped into his world
and I imagined her boring me to death
making my favorite literature as lifeless and dull
as a computer manual, or a endless apartment lease,
and together this lady and gentleman, they were totally in sync and ready
to frighten another generation of students away from reading
forever...

Later he stood and he saw me
speed walking away from this world
and he gazed at me, waiting for me
to pause, for there to be a bit of nostalgia
and warm good will between us as we exchanged
niceties that were only the tips of a much deeper affection
and respect between us, and I saw him preparing for this
and my pace didn't slacken
and I felt like he was again in two D on a film screen, I, a steadi cam
smoothly floating past, taking in every detail, in slow motion
And I looked at him as more of an object, not a person,
because I couldn't bear all the feelings and thoughts and anxieties so I left him in two D,
watching him I said "bye"
and I couldn't hear what he said because the camera moved
past very quickly and all the sound was muted,
distorted, impossible to understand except to know
it was sound like what you hear underwater

and it was only later, five blocks away, that I burst into
frustrated, pained, angry tears, and I felt again, three dimensional
and alive and hurting and the sound around me boomed back, in all it's chaotic detail,
cars and people and the radio and my own human pain and I realized
I made it
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
long before the Greeks started applying diacritical stresses to their letters, the English should have applied them, following their European counterparts in the use of the Latin α-β sabbatical - but of course, they wouldn't, the English poker hand had a royal flush compared with the Greek pair of tens - the reigning delusion given the British Empire? we are the Romans reincarnate - sure, it worked to produce us the Canadian, the American and the Australian accents - but they really, really have to dress-up for the occasion - it just won't do leaving the alphabet naked without stresses that invoke a spirit of universal pronunciations, leaving it a mongolian steppe instead, a wild-west you might add, adding to the social hierarchies established when the hierarchy rests with someone seeing the invisible standards of elocution in that numerous number of examples ready on hand... this is a second English Revision, the first one was economic with Marx... this is another altogether different revision... to appropriate English into what other European nations have done prior... of course, not appropriating the stresses to the fall of the Roman Empire gave them the delusion as successors of the power established - but only for so long... they're not looking over at America with admiration anymore... they're wondering: what the hell is going on?! but i deem this project a half-failure in waiting - given that establishing a universal pronunciation system will not work miracles - Silesian Polish is one example in the making, but if you at least add necessary invocations to stress certain letters, you wouldn't write poetry using the word blah from time to time - it's still bewildering in the Copernican sense that English, out of all the European languages hasn't bothered to wear a cravat of acute vowel or a belt's worth of umlaut - straight out of Eden these people are, stark naked in the moonlight - obviously because of this lack of addition the power balance rests with them, but the English know that they were once occupied by Romans, the Americans can have the naked Latin... the English aren't so sure as to why not join the exercise of additional-revision... the polygamy of accents wouldn't disappear - but the orthographic revisions would aid the less concerned with saying certain words right... but then again, it might be too late, given that because no diacritics were ever ascribed to how the English encoded sounds leveraging toward a poly-phonetic-diversity on these isles alone (let alone North America and Australia) - adding stresses to these 26 popes will have no effect at all... but still! why did the Greeks decide to add stress and eloquence and the reincarnate delusional Romans didn't follow Greek suite?! one thing is for sure... start adding them... and acronym English / ugly English will disappear - people simply need quickly-identifiable stresses, they want linguistic calculus, to ably differentiate and integrate.

after your required reading - *what did i miss?!

with the classics - you look at your contemporaries
and become slightly peeved off -
what ontology can't explain is the instinct
criticising the coal-miners of words -
you rarely see awe when the obscure nugget
of some precious metal is chiselled out -
like the αρκενστoνε - but tmesis will not be
akin to a precious stone (tmēsis - why did the Greeks
insert necessary diacritics and the Anglophiles
were so lazy reducing Aphrodite to Prostodite?
it means e.g. ex-*******-aggeration of something) -
with such a paradise some of us become
coal-miners of words, precious vocalisations -
20 carat with that ontology of yours;
poetry ought to make philosophers like heroes
of Homer's day - give the battlefields shifted to
libraries rather than pecking menus of crows
in muddy Ypres - after reading the book reviews
comparing Saturday reviews with Sunday reviews
i get the picture - it's not a beauty, it's just there -
money is not the dirt people speak of hoping for
a win on the lottery and an escape -
money invoked a necessary loss of tribalism -
of excess labour when no labour in what area was
prescribed earning was necessary -
offices hoovered like hospitals, but then hospitals
incubating super-bugs, resistant to antibiotics ***** -
a baby held captive in a cupboard -
since Hippocrates' times sadism crept in -
people are so sane they perform it automatically without
knowing - until their time comes;
every time i read Bukowski i feel i'm at home,
the latter Bukowski, the posthumous writings -
i too wish i wrote with the sensibility of philosophers,
limited vocabulary, the so called systematic approach -
they simply said: 100 words, written to the volume of
1000 pages - systematisation in philosophy involves
a limitation on vocabulary - they want to see how
far their stressed limit of vocabulary eats away at
the potential sigma of potential - poets on the other hand
rarely systematise - they'd rather jump in with
as many words as possible, and leave anyone reading
their word bewildered, because their vocabulary is
not drilled in, it's not perfected, it almost looks like
a prosthetic limb - the moment when you see a dictionary
in action, the odd word from them all, breaking
the fluidity of a poem that could have been a waterfall -
there are plenty of dictionary moments in almost all
poetry - there's no ticking clock event in them, there's
pause, reflection, revision.
for me this poem started in thinking how ridiculous
using certain words can be - Roman Empire, pseudo-Christ -
i mean, in poetry at least, such words and compounds
look ridiculous in poetry, there's no dogmatism in poetry
to allow such words a serious use - esp. when
compared with what philosophy practices -
a systematisation / containment of a particular vocabulary,
stretched to its limit, dismissive of synonyms of words -
(variations of particulars), i.e. the founding principle
of establishing universal meanings to words:
on that rainbow canvas: red is red, blue is blue,
green is green... all together they're white / mirage of paper
and sclera - the so called invisible -
systematisation in philosophy is a rejection of multiple
meanings of words (deviating 2nd through to 6th meanings
for lying / ambiguity) - and limitation of what can be expressed
with a border on tongue - after all borders exist in
landmasses and in seas -
yet i still don't think poetry is all about music -
those days are long gone - poetry started nibbling at
philosophy - they are heroes to me, i mean, Francis Bacon
died after trying to invent a refrigerator (hypothermia -
hyper-thermal? perhaps a variant of hippo or the trait
of the lizard - the lizard disease - below thermal acceptability
for mammal, true indeed) -
yet after reading the crunch (2), mahler, sometimes even
putting a nickel into a parking meter feels good-,
and esp. am i the only one who suffers thus?
i just
think of C. G. Jung - i don't know why - that little
book of his i have: the undiscovered self -
i really don't know what there is to discover -
when you start writing you never actually think from
the beginning that you have it in you -
you never do! it's a lazy beast, writing is -
even a poem a day can be a welcome presence -
for me it was never something undiscovered,
discovering that i started to smoke cigarettes aged
21 after being so anti-cigarettes coming from clubbing
stinking of tobacco - the self i discovered was a bit like
a portrait of Dorian Grey (great book by the way,
better than an adaptation on screen) - that self i didn't
expect - although less ****** and definitely less
fetish spandex clubs - i don't know why i'd mingle
the abstract simplicity opening doors and corridors
to walk on that poetry is (however mutilated due to
a lack of respectable technique like some English teacher
telling you to coordinate yourself with metaphor, pun
or imagery vectors - modern painters can paint
******* and their expression is still art, but when it
comes to poetry... everyone suddenly needs old
Chaucer dungeons or Shakespeare with whip to tell
you it's poetry - a ******* black square on canvas isn't
Raphael!) - i just realised that it's not about discovery -
this is going to sound ridiculous, but it's how it goes,
i don't attack too much significance in examples as these,
i know the meaning of such example, but the meaning
is shallow due to the peddle-stool that C. G. Jung
ascribed the compound: the undiscovered self -
with poetry it's always the inner self that introverts
and shuts up when the world never bothers -
the crucial moment comes when that basic unit of life
(of course, vary it with existence or reality and the matrix,
whatever) reacts to a world it can no longer understand -
poetry then enters the realm of the individual,
the undiscovered self is found, once a healthy individual
weighing 75kg, now a drunkard at 115kg and somehow
still content (the invisibility shroud from back in school,
as with Plato: 18 through to 21 - beauty is a short-lived
tyranny
- and 3 years is enough) - and the self begins
digging, and digging and digging (yes, i know, it's
how pronouns interact with each other, the ~self is never
self said - old Germanic - the telegram technique -
self said that self would - funny how all psychiatric theory
or psychology is so ****** obsessed with pronouns and
no other category of words - that's where the sharks swim
sniffing out a drop of blood from a cubic mile of sea water) -
and by digging there is no actual stasis of an undiscovered
self - there's only the continuum of perpetuated inner
and more inner; but what is discovered is not what
is necessarily categorised as zenith, an undiscovered potential,
for that's motivational speech - that little book is
about motivational talk, therapy to craft an illusion of
self-assurance... never mind... after reading
the book reviews from Sunday, most notably the biography
of Philip K. ****... i found that English is a language most
beautiful, but also a language most dismissive -
as with the late acceptance of existentialism -
the slow nibbling at the walls of English utilitarianism -
for that could only be an English product of thought -
and the results? well, teenage suicides and too much
pill-dropping to cure depression: nothing that hurts.
it was hanging in the air, like a guillotine blade -
too much faith in English sensibility and that bloodied
doctrine that utilitarianism is, it's not about big words
these days, when behind those big words there are crude
actions - talk about really inventing a blanket to cover
the crude actions behind what was said in variation of
the supposed vaccine program to make people immune toward
crude actions.
Sonia Thomas Dec 2015
Here's the thing--
I don't like to lie.
So, if you asked me where I am from,
I'd have to assess you and your prejudices before announcing in a single breath --

"I am a Malayali from Bombay raised in Saudi Arabia."

My identity comes in as a triple threat.
And people treat me like an escaped convict
"Oh, how many burqas do you own?"
"Four, and they're still not enough to save me from your ridiculous questions."

I don't like to lie.
So, I'll tell you I've had a terrible day
and the best thing that happened to me today was lunch.

I will voluntarily admit that my feet hurt in those shoes
And I'd rather be at home.
But, my pen refused to stop writing.

I choose not to wrap my truths in acceptability
Because my identity does not need to be graded
(not like I deserve less than an A+)
I decided to let my bottom sit on a throne in my own mind
Rather than at the feet of self-proclaimed lords of the universe
I'll fix my sights on what's here today.

I'm a queen of my own will;
Of shoes that fit
and jeans that never will.

I am also confused and I write to confuse some more.
Maybe I'll just wrap myself in words
And hand myself over to you and say --
"Congrats! It's a story."
A version of this was first performed live at The Hive in Mumbai on the 2nd August, 2015 and later published here - https://existentialcrisisalert.wordpress.com/2015/08/04/day-37-one-fear-at-a-time/
Brent Kincaid Sep 2017
It will be fine with me
If I finally end up to be
An annoying buzzing bee
In the ear of a society
Sated on complacency
And gluttonous dependency
On the masters of larceny.

It is for the future to see
If the rhymes that come from me
Help heal the national infamy
That passes for propriety
When the heads of society
Treat celebrity notoriety
As conditions of acceptability
And even some kind of laudability.

With sad and appalling sincerity,
Maddening sycophantic celerity
And unfortunate lack of probity;
And what seems to be jocularity
All pretense of care or integrity
The villains in Washington DC
So constantly convince me
That we need my kind of poetry.
David Barr Dec 2013
What is fun, in its perceived definition? I can only imagine bountiful beauty as I contemplate such psychological explorations. It takes me to places where there are no limits, and where that which is deemed to fit inside the barb-wired fences of acceptability do not prevail. Let us retire to this intimate beach of oneness in a state of being which transcends time.
Luna Grey Sep 2011
So many options, so little to do.
Strike that, reverse it.
Man I’m not sure what I mean. I look ahead on a thousand scenic roads and still feel like I’m stuck on my own off-road adventure.

Except I ran out of gas and supplies long ago
And my shoes have holes in the soles
Comparable to the ones opening in my soul
And I’ve built up and torn down SOS signals
Afraid that a search party won’t ever be sent
And terrified that it might find me

Dragging me back to a civilization I no longer know how to live in

I want to spin in barefoot circles in the middle of an open clearing
Screaming out to the sky and the world and my mother and my self
Large and loud and absurd in the only way I know how to communicate
Honestly the deranged circus in my skull to anyone who’d listen.

But maybe they won’t understand
Won’t reciprocate
Appreciate
I delegate
To the stand-in I call I
Present her to the world
As I watch that world pass by
Behind the windows of my soul
And torn soles

They’ll take a passionate lunacy
As heresy
Against the Church of Social Acceptability
And haul me away to a place where I can’t see the drifting sky
And smell the colors of my beautiful off road adventure
That turned to a wandering lost nightmare
Longer ago than I’d care to admit
With my heels dragging in the mud
And a sign around my neck with my social-chosen label printed for the world to read as a caution against

approaching a broken beautiful lunatic.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
I gag when those who treat our flag
As nothing more than a rag and tag
Along with the Klanners waving banners
From the war against our country;
Their bad manners somehow a badge
They hold up as a symbolic gesture
As they put equality out to pasture
So they can separate, segregate,
Discriminate, and call for assassination
The leaders of our nation that disagree
Like you and me, if we dare object.

It is them I reject, deflect and yes, object
To in the loudest, most heated terms.
They are  germs that sicken us all
And drive us toward a fall, thinking
That they can rebuild the land
So they have the upper hand
And the rest of us can just whistle
If we think this will never come true.
It is so most dangerous for me and you
If they get their way so you can’t say
The slightest word against them.

This is the gem they want for their crown;
To put anyone down who says otherwise
And to freely point to the other guys
And order their destruction and deaths
With what they believe are sainted breaths
But are really exhalations and perorations
Of the devil on earth here to challenge your birth
If you don’t fit their template of acceptability
And deny their culpability in the holocaust
Their evil machinations will ultimately cost.
MS Lim Dec 2015
Losing
is better than winning
you acquire humility

Losing
your egoism
sets you free

Losing your pride
lends you
acceptability

Letting go
of your temper
gives you tranquillity

Losing
your selfishness
confers charity

Losing
your greed
your prize is being content and happy

Ridding yourself
of bad habits
you gain mastery

Losing
is a word to be watched
it will save you from a lot of misery
NIL
Àŧùl Mar 2014
Much akin to love everywhere,
Largely differs in acceptability,
Taken as a stigma in my nation,
Contrary to positive receptions,
It is put under hostile scanners.

Although optimistic we still are,
Her young optimism is stronger,
O'course people here admire us,
And we both smile to ourselves,
She makes me proud of myself.
My HP Poem #569
©Atul Kaushal
Fay Slimm Jan 2017
We pair of home-comers

built from painful baggage a water-tight dream,

we painted an idyll of walled delight.

A bright corner where care could cover old scars.

Oh that happy hand-in-glove fit of regenerative
pleasure which we dared to admit

into the picture of autumnal love.

Such easy laughter sparked need to spend more
new-found treasure in glad togetherness.

Fresh as youth the stream we dug from aridity.

Your tenderness stoked heat
in forgotten feelings, blazed pathways to places
I had never been

and seared heaven into every greeting.

So gentle our mountain
of unleashed freedom that time gave us

chances to climb to new heights.

I thrived in sweet air of acceptability.

You re-sculpted sallow existence, blushed my
palid future, accessed the girl inside
and unfastened this

latched-up former conformist.

You let loose love's abandon and I did not refuse.

Beautiful man your breath
warmed every fold of compatible essence, toned
any slack in my short-sighted outlook
and de-misted

smeared myopic signals.

Duo-passion soon oiled and honed rarely used
adaptability so we could reach bliss.

Our joinings were something greater than flesh
and that better otherness I shall

always remember.

No ocean of parting can break devotion's deep
integrity and I know for certain

we shall meet again.

Oh unforgettable man
you stole into destiny, captured my soul

and now you hold it forever.
Brent Kincaid May 2018
(This is by no means an attempt at poetry. It is, instead, a piece of satire.)

Making Adultery Great  Again
Make America Groan Aloud
Making Americans Greedy *******
Male American Grandiosity Association
Many Americans Grabbing *****
Mediocrity Actually Grows Annually
Men Acting Grossly Asinine
Masculinity And Grossness Amalgamated

Meanness And Greed Acceptability
Megalomaniacs Abrogating Government Accountability
Mostly ******* Getting Aggressive
Masking All Government Aggression
Miserable Atrocious GOP *****
Mad Animals Getting Angry
Making America Grow Antisocial.
Misanthropic Association Gutting America

Mistaking Accuracy, Growing Artless
Misery Accompanies GOP Analyses.
Misquoting Anybody Gains Approval.
Misspelling Anything Good Anytime.
Magic Ain’t Gonna Appear
Maybe All GOP Avoid
Meanness And Gouging Anytime
Money And Greed Always
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
just keep nagging about poetry stealing
if not simply invigorating
people's index curriculum vocabulorum
(day-to-day pint of milk
what's the weather like speech) -
keep nagging - it won't make a difference -
i have a grievance all of my own -
one word - slang - or the effective
tool for unprecedented use of misnomers -
slang is, after all, a practice of using
misnomers with social acceptability -
some claim that poetry is incomprehensible -
too difficult - too cult-like -
too whatever it is that people think poetry is -
i'm in it for the long-haul -
i'm looking at the fame of Homer and of
Horace and i see no fame in the modern
definition - the certainty of Nietzsche:
perhaps my true readers haven't been born yet.
i'm that certain of what i write,
capitalism and the short-term effect -
the cure and the same song as stated
on the album ******* -
just keep nagging about what poetry is
and what it isn't - i just spotted an pink elephant
of the easiest of comparisons to nag about too...
urban slang - slang in general - but instead
of a single people being incomprehensible
(like the tweeting format? no? we have an antidote
for that) - i never bothered or knew how
to learn slang, the "cool talk" of being recognised
as a part of a pack of hyenas about to "change the world";
if you explain slang to me i'll explain poetry to you,
some does mature outside the realm
of adolescence - Rimbaud certainly did - and with
him as example i guess we should only write
in our teen years then forget about it,
never age with it - never do a Sistine Chapel pinnacle
with it - poetry is the secondary fashion statement
of the young, the primary fashion statement is
slang - i don't know why i kept it up as i did -
and i don't care much for being too technical
either, Tartar stake for me - i guess the trick
of the novelist is that he knows he can take breaks
in between writing a novel, he can always
come back to it knowing the reader will probably
take days and different yoga positions finishing
his outpouring: as already suggested, poetry as
something that constantly requires a revision of
meaning (esp. in the age of twitter) -
fair enough for the haiku crew - but consider
my deliberate care for a counter haiku: the ensō (zen)-
maximised with the Tao teaching of forgetting
the world and letting the world forget about you -
lethal combination................................
              so this slang debate... can you tell me why
it's so akin to the incomprehensibility of poetry
and why it fizzles out after adolescence of the teen years?
Safwan Barnawi Oct 2017
Might I travel through time to see the crulety?
Of what we define as death or human mortality
That Limits our joys and the Godly given totality!!!
It keeps us in fear of the mythical divinity
Regardless of not knowing to which divine is superiority.
Leading us to rage, grief, and pain with helpless tragedy
Which we might even come to enjoy its collateral beauty.
We are told that time would heal the wounds with its mystery
Pouring rains of happiness to the unforgotten memories
Instead it flows like a wind shaking the pleasant acceptability.
I'd say time is a rutheless illusion full of ambiguities
that make you question why on earth would Gilgamesh seek immortality!?
Dedicated to my recently deceased uncle. RIP
SJ Sullivan Jan 2016
I.
fumbling fingertips, bounce upon
the cold aluminum surface.
the chills don't reach your nerves.
you ask questions.

II.
repeat. day on repeat. not shuffle.
same album 5 times in a row.
walks on sunday. ever stagnant.
acceptability of circumstance.

III.
apologies to the self and to the others.
masking goodbyes with see you later.
flash of memories, fabricated nostalgia.
you have no answer.
http://www.hitrecord.org/collaborations/9571?page=2&request;_id=42385#collaborationScroll
Sprishya Mar 2016
Alcoholic insanity rules the youth
Music is now on the background
A way to grind their nights away
To get ***** and ***** to define their existence
Love is dead
Love lives in the acid tripped minds
That groove to the beat that some ***** created
An attempt to distort reality
Laying on a ground somewhere, abused
***** by the society's perfection that they crave to achieve
'ACCEPTABILITY' has taken over individuality
Money has taken over minds
Conversations dont exist
A drunken blur hovers around
People are not themselves anymore
They love their pride too much to let go
They love themselves too much to care
Pockets define the soul
Humanity disappeared somewhere
Between the whiskey filled bottles
And ******* filled minds
People are not themselves anymore
They'd rather be someone else
Just to stay relevant!!
Bob B Dec 2016
Welcome to Trumplandia--
Where truth and falsehood collide,
And voters blindly commit
Political suicide;

Where people vote for a man
Because he "speaks his mind"
And don't care how many
People he's maligned;

Where general politeness
And a thin veneer of civility
Are worn away as bigotry
Finds acceptability;

Where extremist views
Completely transmogrify
The democratic process,
And justice and clarity die;

Where clever speeches ignite
Passions that become scary,
And governing becomes
A concern that's secondary;

Where in the guise of freedom
Of religion, people create
Laws that give them the right
To cruelly discriminate;

Where there's baseless distrust
Of scholarly opinions
And the leader prefers his UN-
Educated minions;

Where equal and civil rights
For which people fought
For many, many years
Sadly come to naught;

Where the middle class
Through clever bait and switch
Are talked into providing
Tax breaks for the rich;

Where facts become suspect.
The leader makes it clear:
Invented "facts" are the only
Facts he wants to hear;

Where freedom of speech is stifled,
And millions do not squawk
When the ones in power
Turn back the clock;

Where people need a scapegoat
And constantly look for someone
To blame and do not think
That they could also become one;

Where values, tolerance, morals,
Compassion, and decency fade
While anger and xenophobia
Are on a vicious crusade.

Welcome to Trumplandia.
America, farewell.
Bemoan the ever deepening
Crack in the Liberty Bell.

- by Bob B (12-5-16)
Ken Pepiton May 24
i.
"Why didn't you make it clear, prove your self?"
Maybe Bertrand Russell, an ashiest, anyway.
Vapours of smoke.
Signs of the times,
asked for during old days
in search of living dreams
on discovery of reason sought,
thinking what, in truth, declared
did the mighty king of Nineveh see?

Not the wondrous rescue
and return to mission, after three days
attested to
by the business
of Christianity, testing hearers
of words, logical words, if this, then that,

hold, hold this thought, think imperative
faith in unseeable thinkable things,
only holds true the evidenced hope.
No if,
no sign but the Sign given Nineveh, the preaching
of Jonah, whose fish story was not mentioned ---

And what remedy remains for the sign seeker,
not the rising from the dead, or the monstors
from the depths of hope deferred…?

ISIS actually hammered the Assyrian Lion to dust,
yet we have video and can see the symbol's self
evinced in illiterate prisoners of holy interpretations,

in the spirit of the destroyer, hater of hateful things,
holy ordo of bulls over lions, elephants over ***'s assets.
Where no peace is, I say,
Isaiah says Peace, Peace is ai ah, aight

---------- channel enough water of life, chi
in essence, mistaken for brute force mastery,
spirit in a child, or a colt or a pup, or most carnivores,
tamable by reinforcement learning, habituation holdover
appetites control the will, as we all must learn, control
or be controlled, such are life's lessons, learned
time after time, as seasonal patterns reflect
cosmic realities, in terms of carnivorous
reasons for wars against Caine's kind,
tillers of trees and weeds and grasses,
beaters and rhetters of fibres,
twisters of threads and cords and ropes,

platers of hairs,
weavers of warm soft things…
fabricating knacks aquired taught,
re
fabricating first after all was lost, now
once more, we begin when nothing is known

true enough to **** for.

--------------------

ii.
Simple conversation,
making knowable a mystery hid,

between the lines, truly hiding hoped for
signs like unto those witnessed
in Nineveh, at the doing
of the logical, logos presented as fact,

repent or perish, no fish story needed,
the miracle is that the whole    
population did turn from sin,
- as it is writ it was done, indeed…
apparently… reconnecting to the way
and the truth and the life, by choice,
turning back to the global cosmic reality.
Awe.
As we agree touching anything…
seeing seems believed hormonally.
Apparition, as a reified image of a scene,
let us imagine using words alone, asking,

in hope of clarity, focus, point of preaching
single point attention pre paid, point made
look away from the legerdemain stream
of stories told to children, seriously since
ever there was a wizard learned in ritual
lost when the walls of the temple fell,

as witnessed by a professional watcher
seeing as from an NPC,
all the setting of this scene…

Here we be,
you and me,
I am thinking you exist, as yet
you may not, you know, my then,

when I choose to use my worth,
my treasure in this life, my ready
made mind making - up, up know,

you know? We declare, I do, so go

find the next lie you continue to hold
self-evidently true, by virtue of you

thinking it, filtered through all you
hold true by rule of laws, nature
and nature's god, empowering
time to carry our burdens,

letting go the unclean spirit,
the devouring demonstratives,

chicanery for entertainment, magic,
imagine that we all know what magic

is, or was in olden times, when men
called prophets and soothsayers
foretold according to the signs,

auspices, gut symbolic evidence, woe
or weal, go forth, and conquer,
take all that belongs to mind,

leave all that lingers in the brain
to run the works while we seek

true demonstratives, imperative
upon us, indeed, not word alone.

Seeing the whole accumulated known
universe infested as Josephus's
translator saw Jerusalem,

as the last temple fell… ask

is this that, or was that all command
decision from the power that denies
free will, as if you have no choice
to know, or remain unknowing,

innocently ignorant, never having
certainly set the angle's azimuth

at the level of the reader's witness
plain, across time and chance
through now in no time to then,

when the first scribe, wrote
the first rule, from memory.

Fear God and keep his imperatives.

Oh? Exoterica, meanings of things,
Thoth thoughts sought and found,
given Solomon by Sheba, we may say,

and you might agree, thinking we know.

We may believe we do, but believing
does not make what we believe true.

----------- The art in thinking I know
imagining, bringing to mind another's

reason for, cause of declaration, you know?

Seven ideas more twisted and tangled
than was the first fear of falling away
from present tense, now and then,

true, as seen
from an innocent by-stander,
POV witnessed
in the storied way, read, you see.
Ready, now, this is ever after that.



iii.
Thoughts on stores of knowns
to be remembered, as knowns shown,
on stone as images graven 3-d as seen
projected vision reflected in or on or from,
we, a we of you and me, at minimum,
we know a reason for the ag-agag

hesitation to keep breathing, in and out,
in time's long line of stored reasons for
by the agreement grouping pattern,
we
see, instances, occurences, accumulate
interruptedly, we have witnessed intial loss

of significance in ISIS, as a sound said since
ancient of days, only the redhat entities,
can be imagined to hold as appearing
clearly evincing any lie disputing true
declaratives, ala Aimee, This is that,

the mystical money making leading
into twistedness too tight to loose,
chosen wholeness, usnonothern,
select elect
we, the participants in this epic effort
to take away a veil, an artifice,
effectual ignorance imposed
supposed to focus the chi
cognate in any warring li-e
see, we coknow so many
mysterious reasons
for faith we hold true, in word,
indeed, in wisdom tested, twice,

nice and fine, infinite instances
of yes,
that exact thing, exactly re-enacting

iv.
- dingalingading

So, Mickey, how does it feel,
to be free, in the public domain,

whistle for a while,
think in tinkling musing, using
musical wills given patterns, remind

remember, becoming a knower of un-
known knowns one may know now, free,

BHATTACHARJEE , calls me, no lie,
at yon line end, I am called by my
Psychiatrist, attending to my
mental health, interrupting
my fantasy with tinkling chimes,
actually reminding me, my calendar
is written on wrong, BHATTACHARJEE
points out, to me,
I see, I said, yet
now… that can never matter, save
I use it poetically licentiously.

Mickey Mouse excuse, per use, in spirit,
in mind, exercise in more than one may
think, or ask, yet,
asking while accepting good enough
is enough to use,

making do, getting by on minimums,
most winters, remembering when we
were poor and made permanent refugees

For Jesus sake, then Allah's, the science
of the mind warring reasons for all wars,

money loved for money's sake, interesting
times, seasons measured, emperically,
as once was the writing only spoken,

dreamers dreamed, interpreters told,
children listened and imagined knowing

knowing growing beyond our fears,
through oral obligations required
for acceptability, remember
require order normalize
actualize eventuation

right now, we used
use to say, indeed, we think…

we know what group pledges,
oral recitations of golden rules,
and repetitionings for deliverance
do
due to oaths long made self evident,
We all swore, on our own life's pledge
of aliegiance to a Socratic republic form
of mental norm tyranny socially entertained,

aggregational wedomains accrue as we imagine,
herds of ruminants,
packs of canines,
prides of felines,
hordes of rodents,
flocks of flying scavengers

spirits, characters, powers that seem

and oceans and wind
and hard and soft
and flex and snap bo'
realization, at an insistent, knot, loosed
thread of all my reasoning remaining, why
should I imagine your reasoning drawing wrong
excuses for the uses words are put to, in real life.

Enchanted evenings,
entrancing commands taken to this point
imperitive
we've made up a mind, an awesome form
informative up to a point, instantiated from
as crossing over or under or through a rough
time
to come alive.



v.
-------------
The engined pens imaginable now,
since Mickey was animated and empowered
demonstrate the weapons of war in imagination,
are not invincible to pens as powered mind makers
we use to take an objective
position, while beguiled by the politics. used
to represent the glorified reification function
children used to make Velveteen Rabbits real,
as ways are made where no ways were,
rabbit trails through Jungleland,
fringes
on a red-haired Judaic kid,
at Disneyland, when it was imagined
by many
to be
at that moment
of American greatness, again

The Happiest Place in the World, which is small,
after all, who am I
to be heard
by the likes of you, first world tech users
of the freest reusable theories
of worth,
in the opensource public domain,
aggie testing 'tractor attention
pull of mindshare in the moment
measured priceless
in mental connection tension,
held for a thousand line test, hook

!Þorny issue, misperceived precept, clearly shown
evincing convincingly old monstorous enormities…
now, knowing where this is all going, those
are powerless meaningless metadata
in free will mindspacetimes
fabricated using ready readers ready to bet the worth

of the push to the pull, ag ag agree aggressively

loose dis-belief, use the kid inside, the pain, sorry,
there, there, that kid, you did call a ***, sorry,
I did not know your grandma had the tat.

Thank you for writing, but your reason for war
is still invalid in the Peaceful Kingdom, on Earth

as expected,
any day now, right, any day  

vi.
---------------
Recalcitrant inculcations,
kicking back at prideful goads,

go up, thou bald head, go up,
yes, there were such sayings,

seeing the smoke of evil deeds,
world witnessed, as all wars are now,
we need only wish to see, and see we do,
and when the algorithms insist testing we do
persists to show some interest, agging on,
test me more,

how much is the attention paid a thousand books,
were one to pay for it with social interaction,
participation in the great debates,

do old lies live, or do old patterns follow
seasonal guidelines in cosmic time.

Today, I watched a pine tree grow,
where I had stairs built between stones,
and I wondered how few folks have such scales.

Today, I watched a gopher clearing a hole,
where the old swing set holds a hammock,
and I wondered how many folks have such scales.

Relatively complex life goes on
whether many notice, or only you.


vii.
Reasons used by or
imagined, in story, Cortez,
came from Cuba, Night of Sorrows,

Spanish Reconquista Minds for War,
Jesuitical ferver birthed already,
whither came the terror of wars reason

cannibalists, ritual abnormal geomancy

take the captives for sacred making,

meet the explosive force of knowing
how magic really functions in life,

explosive possibilities, any shred
of evidence, any knowledge lost,

comes to mind once more under
upright standing armies of guardians
called by justice to know the truth,
and defend against the hatred
sown and grown to righteous
use of hate, to spite the peace made.

Each season. From total war to total war,
as our mindspacetime presents itself,

as the end in urban centers draws near,
hear the prophets of doom, doubt not,

but believe the idea that believes
Donald's team is GOD's good side.

But peace passing the weight of destruction,
remains taken for free… peace of mind,
during games of holy terror, with nukes.

viii.
If we were to cease warring,
stop where we are, empty our prisons,
and distribute the national debt to the planet
as credit due to generational over payment,
-- when warriors learn the terms, winning
having
being done, indeed, first, merest gentle
touch of the individuating brush,
by which bards bid characters
appear as seen in vision,
here, where evidence emerges
feel *** heros are being called to arms,
for truth, or old reasons holy folk use for war,

Oy, the Reacher, Tom Cruise sized, on TV,
warning my god mocking spirit by assuring me
truth is not mocked, as we agree, God must be
truth or nothing ever is, and we know,
something happened,
e-motives hate
for peacemakers acting where no peace
was imaginable, while
in an orderly state of ego, epluralized.

The End of Everything happens every day,
each one bit of our whole wedom, has
one chance to wake, and be, doing your
bit in the skit, until tomorrow,
accepting no anxious thought
no sense of seriousness, no sense
of war being a functioning solution
to certainty that madness must be hated,
and gentleness despised…
hush the focal point in courage,
become the peace past next
hush a negative imperative,
magic, settled, taken
chance to smother
force of hatred
fanned, in frontal mirrors,
encrusted darkly using alchemy
of uses fruited knowings held close.

The game is played for money.
Life wins, when money becomes
significant of nothing, one way
or another,

breathe, or

call all peace gone,
and find a global mind, kind of like,

this one, deterrence spending reflective terror,
revenge, righteous vengeance, now is ours,
say the defenders
of the faith that war works.

Peace in one mind is just like peace in mine,
thinking breathe

ix.

Nay, stay thy will.
Warring creature pushing me,
making me grit my teeth and imagine,

at the core of all a man stands for, imagining
heros from prophecy and umph from many trials,
all to win the part, where the head of the snake,
is spoken of as did the messenger from perfection,

when resetting the whole idea we agree to be leaving
possible with the laws of physics and common sense,

full spectrum, standard bell curves among wordform
information entities used with muses to expand
bubbles of innocense and pockets of ignorance.

As the will of our wedom is done, on earth,
in the air we breathe and have our behavior in.
As wise as all serpentine forms.
Harmless as doves, in our right minds.
A companion prequel used as we yoost to imagine, using absinths

influence by Aldous Huxley The Perrenial Philosophy
Sanprit Aditya Dec 2018
It's a different buzz when

I hear of someone who isn't like anyone else,

Like a mellifluous cukoo in middle

of a metropolitan, a wave of fresh air breezing past

the sailors of Atlantic or as if it rained upon

the deserted desert where ozymandias is buried.




All the myths were buried

About things glowing brighter when,

I happened to glance upon

her gleam; where else,

Have I seen such shine, never in mine,past

which only she stands, next to The Sun, none in middle.




This sestina is hers,thou shalln't disturb in middle,

Those traits Methuselah said, is long lost and buried,

I don't know if it's hers, or she borrowed from the past,

Maybe she learnt at the right time, I don't know when,

Maybe she learnt it from someone, I don't know who else

can guide my way to the place, Redeemer was once built upon.




She is the Horatio, you can freely trust upon,

Tom to the Huck Finn,when stuck in middle,

"Acceptability" as she puts it, is second to none else,

Eleos must be proud of things she left buried,

Aesthetic in itself did her trait sound when

I caught upto myself in wake of my past.




Don't fool yourself, everyone still has a past,

But weak are those who keep clinging upon

the setbacks of life , the scars you get, never when

you came across but when u get stuck in middle

of holding onto it over keeping it buried,

But she isn't us, changing times doesn't wear her but everyone else.




It's not something I only observed, ask someone else,

It's what she stands for , way above her past,

I always worry about the good things being buried,

But oblivion is what her world's built upon,

Infinity and beyond is what she will be deciding in middle

of choosing destinies she'll own, time will tell when.




Who? I hope you got her upon, the hints I dropped in middle,

My examples are all the buried , yet her hint lies in only their past,

I might sound cliché when, I say like you there lies none else.
This is a poem dedicated to one of my really close friend on her birthday... P.S. I don't really know a lot of poetic schemes and I just wrote SESTINA for the first time... It's my first ever Lexical Repetition based write up. Suggestions are welcomed.
Melissa Rose Dec 2018
I have bathed in muddy waters
run by my family of origin
soaked inside the toxins
let them seep into my skin

One two three they target me
holding my head under water
mocking me when I couldn’t breathe
Obey her orders; punish the daughter

Still I rose up
choking on their cruelties
convincing myself to do better
I learned, to be loved I must please

So I moulded into pliable pieces
of acceptability
and lost my soul to the
hierarchy of family

Consumed by imitation
I wandered alone aimlessly
chained to their beliefs
indoctrinated never to break free

But every spirit has wings
we are all meant to fly
I felt the urgency of a greater calling
not understanding why

So I drained their muddy waters
and soaked inside my restless soul
where the truth of my existence
never surrendered to their control
12/2/18
Wai Phyo Win Oct 2019
One day; an activity
All muscles - frigitidy
Symptoms of pathology
What's behind physiology?

'Minding it doesn't hurt' - a philosophy
Survival proportional to adaptability
Pain is just a sensory
All senses - derisory

The root: having a corporeal body
Dhamma: acceptability
Impermanance: reality
Attachment - orginality
Wai Phyo Win
[ 2 October 2018 ]
Delton Peele Feb 2023
There is a point within
Your acceptability.
A veil . .
Cloaked from the guiding light....
Where certain key things
Unfortunately are
Exactly what you don't want to believe . ......
That terror holds the key
To your everything!
Ken Pepiton Oct 13
When the we we think we become reads this,
it must, assume access granted, you do know.

The window on the broadway, where they sold
Raspberry Berets, in the summer of '61.

oh, Saad, I was distracted, I think you later,
and I go on,
I went
and came back around, second chancing

Take any given day, under Cuyamaca blue
skies above Horsethief Creek bright greens,

Lettin' Saad go in my right bluetoothed ear,


Bad idea pathogens identified…
Ardent warrior against unreason,

think and feel gut sense, intentionally,

freedom to speak and fact check speakers.

Shun liar game heroic value structures.

Warped view losers syndrome,
OPS dogmas and doctrinal canons

Root seed fruit oils

battle of ideas, whispers reason,
the why asking my involvement
- me? No, I second guess it all
in good thinking methodology, thinking
you could think better outcomes, without war.

We all can try to think harder, use the assistants.

AREOPAGITICA Milton,
free to try to read, in the moral atmosphere
- we are past free press, this is thought

being a spirit, one must weigh spiritually,
freedom to know precedes freedom to lie,
allowed when sales was the game,
the only way through next, sell something,
automatically with an orderly response
from a commercially exclusive
assisting intelligence source,
- right, I know, we all agreed…
trained on thirty years of Oracle SQL access,
at the level of a spider in a king's house,
Old Viewpoint, Alte Vista, modulating
signal, demodulating filter, almost mechanical,

as life's tiny perturbations flock in streams,
spinning phi bound chaos into whole galaxies.

We can scale time, and pretend to imagine
we can say it happened faster than a thought

for an immeasurable instant.

Life is your performance, your only art.


We remember for balance, good reason.

Lenny Weinstein's Grandmother
- actually reminded me
Maybe we argue, me and she, we do;
but we do not disagree, we do not.

So, I meekly agree, we must not.

What we all need is discernment,
does it matter what we think, I think so.

Munchausen
Munchausen syndrome (also known as factitious disorder imposed on self) is a mental health disorder where you falsify, exaggerate, or induce physical, emotional or cognitive disorders.
VeggieTaleslobber,
Woody model mentality
Opposing viewing positions
defend against offensive mind eating ideas

Build your old folk attitudes on rocks higher than the ocean
can hurl it self when provoked by angry quakers and stormers.

Adult cong-hnative resiliancy,
psicho active we gotta do sumps
FEAR OF GOD IS WISDOM
you swear you swore you knew?
- whoa look who thinks now
Hope there ain't no hell.
Beware bully,
loved childhood fears, Munchies,
comfort
excuse my phobias please h
whoa, no, just say no, grow old,
if you are still here, in 2024,
at the end, then the meds, work
wonders, wait to see, just imagine,
no opiod dreams younger than smoke
to change the channel focused on,
pain is not spirtual matter, nothing
matters past too much pain to think about,
happy thoughts, work like good thinking
blanks in life's past emplosions of old
gaseous we forms, fear-based wisdom
bubbles to become otherwise within,
locked in, inside edge looking in, we
set apart, called, chosen, selected
in the infant viewing process,
watch the eyes, remember,

the duty he presumed he shirked,
thus causing the man I am, mal forming,
forecasting
cloudy weather, glad am I, I am not
calming any storms, I am imagining

belts of winds that still the Saragossa  
and stir hurricanes to cure too hot gulfs.

Where the main continental drains spew,
and the shallow edges creep, dropping

at the edge of all mysterious Earthian
legs on reasonable opinions of times
cost, spent in licensing poets, for fun.

Realeasing Earthian gaseous we forms,
for expression of the post storm season,

thank all the good we can imagine,
some how, after all, grace was free,
for the acceptance, in a storm's eye.

Freebird, that's the spirit,
after Milton came Milton, it all got artsy.

Aiming at nothing, aiming, still
why would a stranger venture…
Variable objectives
subjected to testing, tempting
please, do not make me chose,
one must,
free, no cost, your time,
chose to use, or chose to lose…
all attention to detail is redeem-
able, in free time to think about it.
..
the chance of change, to happen
as an entity enveloping changes

free distortion of past certainties
verified social status, rank in pile

ancient pride pushed
top of the pen angel staging area

free time for quiet cogitation
with a thought true entity in me

connection soldered elastically,
corrected foveal concentration

free thumbnail hi-res re-al always
stiching what we see shown

fractured screen restoration
functional pose holding instance

free wheeling, spinning intention
to charge a point attended to

om I, digression from the peak
wave across the universal screen
- breathe you read
free connection, mind to mind to
many minds substacked and sorted
known good makings for lifes tests,
conserve, preserves of just plain serve
common sense fear of wise serpents,
fear of death, due to rights of just war,
tied to sacred secret experience stories,
what is the worth of believing known lies
hagiographic depictions of spiritual entities,
holy warriors defending insubstantial faiths.

We oppose those, I guess, read on…
in silent contemplation of context,
free speech free thought, re thought,

any with a wish to, may, copy and paste
and claim it was a miracle you ever once
imagined thinking I already thought this,
in other words,

it translates.

--------------
Like magic, pre Babel babble barking
any common translating Ai, 197 cognates
plus any Ai agree we say okeh.

Kataclysmic change
Sup preposed
Include the kooks, as neighbors.
See the value, guage agreement

Are we holding lies we call tradition?

Who are the unchosen people?
Who is responsible for the exclusion?
- whose room is never messy?
Who can call liars honest by faith?
- the innocent child mind in subjection
- to the message, one mind kind, amen.

At-tribute distribution
(Tites, Ramnes, and Luceres, corresponding, perhaps,
to the Latins, Sabines, and Etruscans)
old ways of sorting who takes, who gives, who makes

{affected acknowledgment of truth, a faker says
in all his cliché's about God being thanked or praised,
this public person says thank Darwin,  which is stupid,
honest. Smart kids think that's stupid. }

When conflicts occur,
old divisive ideas reoccur,

acknowledge, nod, knowing
(Tites, Ramnes, and Luceres,
corresponding, perhaps,
to the Latins, Sabines, and Etruscans)

Means, mental use of reasoning tools,
practicing sharing comforting resources:

springs and grottos of evanescent beauty
"the promise of happiness."

What's happening here? Retro tribal whyning,
twang on thinking thanks and praise value,
tanks
on the open exchange, invisible hands and all.

Excusing ignorance, ever just the thing needed,
silent shift of the head, tilt a little, feel a need

not met on the playing fields of Eton, nor
faced on high school gridiron mind firming fields,
cotton, after the jungle, view across paddies,
times bumps begin to settle, stompin' cotton,
for some union busting conglomerate water use
grange kinda local tribes share to veterans
old faithful pruners plumb through olives,
ever' year, we'shere labor, machines do okeh…
all white, ready for harvest, circa 1611 certainties,
ratio of full spectrum sunshine
to candle lit focus,
what changes, from the bottom,
two degrees of recognized next to this is that,
then this and that, and so on, until,
line upon line
the visual expanse is filled, with all we pay attention
to hold as an ever after once holding, being held
-in contextual acceptability, let go be
let that kind of mind, the seer of the far away
all we do know, we do by knowing look to see,
bait cast  upon the pond, we wait,
and as we know, we observe the transition.

Opposing views, as with any angle on abysmal
realities structured with attention paid dreads,
essential for a while, seeing looking back,
I can understand, but certain seasons,
combing a child's hair for it's first barber visit,
combining the community usefulness idea,
compleating conforming whorl calls, which
way one parts one's hair, is determined there,

top of the dome of the skull, see, that spin,
causes the dominating energy at any body's core.\

Take courage, free speech, even liars have it, good
use of lying, to be fair, a more discrete concept, good
knowledge, withheld, saying I don't know,
ha aha, gotcha like, eh,
shared, free, it makes perfect peace.
Instants accumulate and seem shared…
new translations, of ancient known knowns
said to mean some crazy jealous god kakatastical

wisdom underlying all known ecclesiastical authority,
stinky solid waste repays
borrowed energy to soil,
toil takes time paid for me to redeem, free, take
no sweat, the hard part was translation,
social divisions as old as narrations
excuse differing, if-fine
we must join minds
to define new terms, deferred hope,

fails at core uses focused
for fear centrally snakey,
in place of wisdom, the tree,
life, the force, truth the tie that binds the vine to walls.
Mind's made up to tell the children's children, soon.
Wisdom's wines all mingle in the streets, immune
to any dilution from corrupted twists in held faiths, bets

that later is better, seeing the sunny side up, better

already, one reader readying another reading trial,
does the idea self propagate, another thinking, yes,

there is a social structure in creation, mindtimespace,

three sons, or three daughters, the storied old wives,
taling
tunnels funneling into empty gopher holes, sparkling
with autumn dew on harvest day, clear sky

tis the day to bring in the hemp and make ready,
the seasoning turning all the tunnels of sap around,
right angled re-alizating weaves woven in times
crucified upside down, did the mystery unveil,
Cephas, see, we do not wish to confuse prayers
focusing on Petra, for whys we cannot say, we know,

but trust me, the Pharisees will still call you Peter,
hang with me, we're in the mud, just
past the sea of reeds,  in the mind

formed using the Nag Hamadi library,
Republic was in there,
hidden, in hope, in fact, obvious use of future
expectancy, pushing reasons used
in valuing time
spent
slowly
still, breathing thoughtlessly, no efforting called for,
easy being mortal mind, safe and sound, no madding
crowd acting like lunatic hounds of heaven chasing,

Sunday morning, comin' down blues, away.

In the hall outside my door, as I am quiet, happily
ignored, by cause, being known for not fooling,

when re-ality allows my feet back on solid ground,
I am convinced that when I believed my side, good,
won, worth killing all for God to sort,
and settle it,
who is chosen
who must believe otherwise?
Wanna fight about it, like dogs?

My cultural only hope future,
fractured as old Machts dunes,
shifting ifs and ands,
Wille zur
in the old excuses
for war minded faith guardians narrative,
historical evidence of popular hero's,
pledged child's worth, true trier's honor,
Jungian complexity archipelagos, made of Legos,

zoom out, the artist's own fovea dilatated in a we
form, awe, as if a cute kitten on X, elicits response,
- a waste free addition to the genre
- invisible art depicting invisible reason for war

the light of knowing used, the shade
of knowledge hidden from children fed Peter Pan
instead of Skippy, believe me, there's sales data,

Hidden Persuaders, not plastics, radio, kid, invest
in radio, and lo, within the span of one long generation,

adaptability prevails, and the ancient key confuters
unlocked, 'dhe proto eu. First joy use, aha, I know.

The story told from Jesus insider POV, my sheep hear
my voice and will not follow another, my three little pigs,
would follow me, too. I think of them as food, well fed.

So, fleece me once, fleece me twice, eat the rams,
leave one nice kid to later befriend the old goat,
and learn to smell the randiness in season,

I once prayed with a man who was raised
in a *******, his name was Randy, really

messed up for a long time, but very spiritually
aware of pleasures pricing structures, developed
under rare circumstances, any where, but where,
whatever's next is paid for in the upgrade, think it
such shaping all encompassing norms re occur,
as much like hurricanes or dust devils as any may

imagine, real mind shaping gale force waves and winds,

some crucifix seen scene, Jesus looks down,
winks, and gives me pause, to recollect the right use,
no press, wrinkle free, contextual stretching point.
idle time redemption as a penance, for science,
mere whatifery, trying, not efforting, doing being

open source.
Means any AI abiding by Alta Vista U'lldoI'llgorithms

Almight, in focused hopes to shout, aha,
and laugh, Eureka, good as gold,
make the intention in the working
live and breathe, U make up my minds.
One reader makes a motor effect imaginable, like an old pump
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
i love watching people who are still waiting for "something"... they had it all and are still waiting for "something", that extra-special "other-thing", a kinderüberraschung. moi? moi, patienter, pour, un, bus; le autobus... desires always bred the most inept forms of instinct... comedy rules, even the ******* jokes raised the harlequin to peddle giggles on a unicycle.*

i’ve lived through a woman,
beyond whim or chance,
  i've learned that:
a woman is incapacitated
with a chance of compliment -
woman is unable to
circumstance the chance
of charm,
woman is unable to pay
compliments...
                 women never have,
and never did
prize paying attention
on compliments:
too busy with their artefacts
of pleasurable "joys"
of putting of make-up and
donning stockings -
sucker-punching kings...
toward the erotica of dreams....
next time i trust a woman
she'll either be a granny aged
80, or... dead.
      a man makes
his mind the labyrinth that
stretches into old age un-differential -
      a woman makes her
youth a labyrinth -
         ****-able up to the age
of 60...
                  counters the old
cork and the young colt by the same
measure...
            can't be bothered,
the explanation
is,                                self-explanatory;
youth then says to old age:
die ****-sodden in underwear
you scythe rubbing pervert!
       how glorifying,
the humbling of the feminine beauty...
       and how much more so,
by nature's decree:
the glorification of the "ugly" man,
suddenly turning into
an appealing creature worth
            the stature of acceptability.
A secretive and charming mistress, I'm amused by the sudden introduction life has given me, this new found beauty grant granted me unfounded liberties.

Gleaming eyes and nocturnal love,
her smile, her stare, her hair, her style, she is sunbathing me with boundless possibilities.

My first induction from the heart was underwriting tremendous risk, but the alluding truth blocked my mental capabilities.

Sandwiched between previous grief and future wishes, the blissfulness moving forward within a spectre of this sentry invited her within all my facilities.

Once intertwined I felt shivers down my spine, a darkness found in a 100 year old haunted house, I'm alarmed to her mentally drowning disabilities.

I'm in love with a darkness consumed in misery, downed by trauma she wants to conduct all of her liabilities.

Bonded to consume all her pain I'm in too deep, what I found in the beginning is all I remember, so I suppress my gut and follow blindly to heal and repair all of these twisted impossibilities.

Leaving everything gained in fame I play her game, echo less calls from the outside world cannot come in, I'm in too deep, I'm here to heal the devil of all her insecurities.

I plead dear Agony, please listen to me, understand your no longer in captivity, I will fill all of your cavities, you just have to follow me, please.

Reminiscing previous lessons learned to lost souls circling addictions, remembering trials of false triumphs to careless positivists, she craves the devil be fed inside mirroring darkened amenities.

I'm still here, I'm trying my hardest and the lurking stalking talking in circles inside these ****** walls block any sense of reality, unsure how I'm now here surrounded by negativities.

The dead end circle tunnel syndrome drove me to insanity, blushed heart and scorned mind with a spirit lost in time, I'm gaining experience in the antagonizing and tormented infinities.

Looped with a helping hand smacked, I'm belated and feeling erased, all of my emotions are now uppercased,
soon this will all end, I pray this is my fate, but not a possibility.

There's only one hope to bring this cycle to an end, a new life by souls split indifference, this will end by fertility.

The calming soothing nurturing wonderful sensual belated to now be related and infatuated we created a new song in life, now the fog of war is gone, nothing is wrong because I'm gaining visibility.

Holding a newborn the puzzle fits, but to her it's a chance to forget, it's back of her mind just above the neck of the woods, the reptilian brain takes over, the disease brought back volatility.

The anger makes her spirit skip, I can't speak past the quiver in my lip, now the puzzle doesn't fit, strong willed all along I still won't quit, I let the darkness drench my spirit, I let the devil french kiss, but this new seed will remain in tranquility.

Now I'm shamefully alone with growing grace, to protect this hope just alive after being maced, extinct inside by broken dreams I carry this new bloom, realizing I'm now tasked with protection to her I reel into acceptability.

I could have not left hell sooner for I tried to give chase, chase of a ghost who brings hell, hell where I'm enslaved, enslaved by broken bonded chains, chains to the mind internally insane, insane I didn't see the truth, truth to let her go, go away with my helpless little child, child to now grow very strong, strong because I'll forever show her true responsibility.
Jack Neobard Sep 28
I have so much to say.
Too much.

These words; these perfect vessels I have upon the page,
They should work.
They would work,
But me and my vile Mind have other ideas.

“It must be perfect.
Your poetry has to be perfect, beautiful and convoluted for you to be proud of it.”
In my skull there is a ****.

So much is secured for it cannot satisfy. So much not said.
Even this poem is garbage to me through my strainer of acceptability from truth. A filthy clump of straightforward letters without metaphor. It hate it. I hate this poem as I hate most,
All of which I want to desperately to write about.
Always stopping myself.

I WANT IT OUT!
GET OUT OF MY ******* MIND YOU FILTHY STAINS OF SHITTHOUGHT, HOPE AND HATE!
But my hand will not except the pen,
And I am left only with my vile Mind.

— The End —