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Michael Patrick May 2013
At Etemenanki, the bell has rung
Echoing into the dark desert night
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue

Though the sky is old, the earth is still young
And the world is still full of love and light
At Etemenanki, the bell has rung

Free the prisoners who have not yet hung
For even the ****** could never indict
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue

Every voice cries out, every song is sung
While the jealous one looks on at this slight
At Etemenanki, the bell has rung

And from the ziggurat, his hand has flung
(As they all protest and declaim his might)
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue

The crowd babbles and speaks and shouts among
Themselves, but none meet with any insight
At Etemenanki, the bell has rung
Apostates speaking the Adamic tongue
Dorin Cozan Mar 2010
On the ladder of pain, others sadder than we are
Are climbing up and down constantly
I watch them from my balcony, when they come and take out their garbage

Because right behind my building, by the containers
Is the end of the ladder, and beyond it
Well, who knows. Nobody knows
Or maybe I’m not told. I’m not as yet one of them, you see, to be let into such information.

First I told myself: nonsense. And John, from 7th floor said the same:
Get out of here, what ladder? What holes?
Hey, buddy, I’m telling ya, there’s no ladder there! No hole, man! And I take my ******* out every evening.
There might be one in your head!
I touched myself: no hole! So, I started watching.
Today, tomorrow, until one evening when
I saw it.

It was…a huge hole! It swallowed me at once! And the ladder,
Was shiny and sturdy.
I ran to the kitchen, I took the sack with leftovers and started going down
Running.

The others, quicker than me, were ahead. And they were running as fast as their legs would take them, as if someone was after them.
And when they were touching the ladder, they would suddenly throw themselves head first! And the ones they were bracing themselves trying to hang on were pushed from behind.

So, slowly but surely, I started to slow down.
And, when I saw no one was watching, I started going backwards.
Then I started running.

I went to a halt in the middle of the sitting room and grabbed my head in my hands.
Somebody had moved the ladder by the foot of the table, the big one, covered in the
Last supper doily (maybe the guy upstairs, John, in a moment of adamic hate rage)

Years have passed since. Questions, frictions, showers, pills…anyway, nonsense.
I’m now cured by that thing with the ladder. Oy, mate, I say, there’s no ladder there!
In my house only the wooden floor’s shining! You can shave in it mate! You can shave in it!
Look at it! It came all the way from Germany, they know their stuff, Germans!
The soul breathes and its light bleeds the flesh of physicality
It is the crystalline water which is the essence of this entity
Adamic in structure, moulded with silica clay
the said fourth phase of water
:the human.

The unit of the student soul, the illusion of the Sugmad offshoot
In its manipulation the patterns of its identity have been confused
the DNA stripped of etheric balance and its consciousness subjugated to the confines of Systemic Conformity
Tied in time, a slave of wonder, a child of discovery
Wandering in the tapestries of Material streams oblivious to the Surreal bells and strings
Tapping into the wild, the way would oft look foggy
the backbone rests against the fig tree
The eyes shut from the silence of the wind, the breath within sinks him into the Fourth
A state described heavenly as it is ascension facing North

In the pursuits of comfort he seeks the way in dogma confront
Media and temptation at his forefront
He is trapped and conflicted
Abused immensely by the memory of past lives, and the truth of his Galactic roots
Some serving ancestors,
that there be guides who are advanced souls in the afterlife
others believers in Watchers
some serving the soul-igniting Messiahs
It is said that these Superheroes of distant skies could fly
fly and walk on water


Did they really walk on water or were they merely reviving those buried in the ground with the purity of their footprints as the were clearly star-aligned
Reviving the dead yes would be as walking on water, teaching the souls that have devolved to tango once more
Preparing them for the Galactic Dance
a Ball, the twist of a storm
Walking on Water, swimming in the Ocean Of Love and Mercy
for all we are is Water
For Water is merely stretched light and thickened sound
Until we walk on water once more, the waves echo on and warn of a storm if we do not listen and answer the call.
Therefore, the Lord himself will give them this sign: "A ****** will conceive and give birth to a son, and she will name him Immanuel." From this calami lapse, all of Patmia was refracted in the chromatics of Emmanuel, alluding to Isaiah as an infallible God of Salvation after having sent Sennacherib's mesnadas to his turn. His ministry came to be established along with all the soldiers who did not finally confront each other, but he came to support them from the waters that came from the eastern sea. The kingdom of Judah appeared in glory and solemnity anticipating seven centuries before the Mashiach came to the world of Israel. Hezekiah appears again after seven centuries in Patmia, to decline the fraternal help of Isaías, to save the collective quasi shipwreck in the mountains that would strike the edges of Patmia later after the conclusion of the battle, Etréstles intervening from where he entered the Hydors, as the sixfold brightest star of Aquarius of the Gulf of Skalá to protect all the landowners of the Oikodeomeo, litigating the swells of the sea that should refer to the synchronous beats of the Ruach Hakodesh. Etréstles entered the pointed mansards on the tops of the allotropic waves, carrying a scarlet ribbon in his right hand and in the other with an indigo hue when he swam he did not hold back from moaning for fear that the whole island might disappear, he deprecated while He floated imploring in Hellenic all the Prosas of Rhodes, thus leaving hanging on his neck the suffering of mercy that looked at him from the expectant shore, but the scarlet ribbon cried out for the Emmanuel who would be born among the cerulean granules, concomitant with the Mashiach that clung to him on the blue ribbon when a fragmented chroma emerged from the rib that divided the seven colors into fourteen, from where he propelled Etréstles over the calvaries of the water that prevented him from seeing how undaunted Saint John was reflected with his staff. The Vernardicidal ***** harassed the ministry of Isaiah who came to save Vernarth from the Hercules vortex, where everything will guide him with the conception of Vernarthian and Saint John the Apostle, with from afar they encouraged him saying: "Epoikodomeo" with the aim of building geomorphological waters of the Dam or blood of the Mashiach, forging, increasing wisdom and security to preserve and encode them with the Talmudic essences of Spirit / Pnevma that is the essence of the Messiah to make the ephemeral phase of Jesus with the prosopon of the fit in the primordial scale of Patmos, along with all those who entrusted their ministry to him. Isaiah stated that from a Maltona the Messiah will be born soon, the same one who has accompanied Vernarth throughout this journey par excellence from Judah when he sublimated the iconography of Saint John the Apostle on his return to his inheritance, thus the requiems said that Isaiah had been sawn. by Manasseh, indicating that his prophet's remains would gather on Patmos to materially reintegrate themselves before the panorama of any, beyond the scriptures, only the Pnevma prevailing, which ingratiated itself with the apocryphal papyri. The laws of the sea opposed the arms and chinstraps that Etréstles wore in the joints of each arm, creating with them psalms that indicated the presence of the divine mother of the Mashiach, with the divine contribution that embroiled the scriptures by the Psalms of Etréstles by besieging at once on the cusps of the waves, making use of the same phalanxes and of the Apsidas Manes with watery and ****** meddling by Sennacherib's troops, who by a narrow imbalance in the authorship of the debate segment on a defense that was with the angels, who had already slipped through the opening of the dying parapsychology, to enter the purging compass of the blanket with a Venerable who would speak to them in the first person about the lashes of the breakers enclosed in the annunciation of the Emmanuel that was going to radiate with his counterpart Jesus Christ in the scarlet and indigo Hydor of the Kosmous water compendium of all Patmia. The exegetes were all in their robes on the top of the mountain, they were all and at the same time, they were not. Isaiah wanted to predispose the messianic perception to unite the generous ends of the Majestic Tikun and the Gam zu Letová, so that the scarlet tekhelet itself merges with the chinstraps in the joints and Etréstles that came from the Seventh Cemetery of Messolonghi, to present them the chants of the seventh parapsychological regression of Vernarth's wounded hands that he could barely hold, having the Pisan Verses of Ezra Pound, agglutinated with the Psalms of Etréstles saying thus:

“Humiliate your vanity, You are nothing more than a dog beaten under the hail, just a swollen magpie in the fickle sun, half black, half white, and you can't even distinguish the wing from the tail. Humble your vanity, Petty is all your hatred nourished by falsehood. Humble your vanity, eager to destroy, greedy in charity. Humiliate your vanity, I tell you, humiliate it. But having done instead of doing nothing, this is not vanity. Having decency, called for an obtuse to open, having picked up a living tradition from the air or from a magnificent old eye calls it undefeated, this is not vanity. Here the error is everything in what was not done, everything in the shyness that hesitated ...

Etréstles answers with his Psalm:

"In the main, I attend to his voice that undresses small when they fall cliffs ...when the fierce sentinel hides the Xiphos from the evil ones who shield them inthe iniquity here on Patmos of his tongue-lashing sword that spills bitter blood,that she is thrown on famous vices of Pronoia and dry crops in the storehouse ...
with dormant grasses between lashes of hunger, thirst, and angry sleep.

This is where the Mashiach sleeps and does not lavish the drowsiness of the world! that he shoots and is not afraid of spitting a splendid Hercules cloaked with fullerides of necromancy and flashes of unsustainability in the bitter Pashkien eating the sores from the ferments of his hemlock fingers.

Who will be in the glory that calms his fingernails over the joy of Anubis? inquiring pustules of bolted injustices that stagnate in the
Sagittarius tongue flaring up trilingual on their own languages ...
If there is the blood that I can retain, it will be by submission with declined sphincters or not! seeing where everyone is without pressure or punishment of stuttering or fact that will never happen on a Patmian Reichstag, understanding that their voices
They are the proscenium of the Elohim containing the glory of the fallen when the periphery of the incisive tenebrosity are slices of the Vernarth Psalm, and of Rabbi Masoretic that shelters you when you sleep, however in a thousand years ...

I've been stragglers collecting extreme remains of immortal bones,
In invisible frames with the vanity of seven verses that escaped from my hands, thousands of them being built away from my Duoverse of love towards them atavistic ... almost become adopted children of Masoretic ignorance ... and in the confusion of the
Elohim translated into a genome after an open heart between the Alef and the Tav, between the arrow that serves as accommodation in her mind, unable to sleep if she is not there…! but high up where I can dwell, I see and I abide by being silenced in my vanity, seeing that nothing is mine and of those around me on the battlefield, who sublimate themselves by walking a lifetime on the side of my enemy wounded by the Dorus, and that I have never tried to take it off completely with slight iniquity, only avoiding zafrales and scrutiny in its search.

My vanity will perish undefeated but failed to revive itself with dazzles and sagites that pierce the saps in your children and mine, being poles of renewal of a Hoplite Raeder, cutting the thymus of the cattle and saying that their wounds are the same splendor of the Sagittae Parvulum, like Seraphim children prior to a hyperonym, fracturing sacred bravery that they enumerate him to lose himself in the numbering of infinity ...! As gladiator children, eternal infants and children of Zeus, also being Seraphim of Zeus and Cherubim who will make mustard its fragility, unstitching the time that it carves from the thyme trying to be the Kashmar "

From the eye of heaven, everything was supplied when Emmanuel himself, who was tried at the end of the battle of Patmia, was recognized. It was six o'clock in the afternoon when the omnipresent presence of Isaiah's interface antiphons was marked from where he would make them hold onto the mega Nazer as the offspring of the uncontrolled branch of his hyper parapsychology that expiated itself from the trunk of the descendants of Vernarth, alluding to to Wonthelimar as one of them who was on the wheel of Capricorn as an internal element of Hydor when it was made effective between the golden hands of Isaiah, with full genuflection enumerating from sinister to right the upright derivation of the Psalm of Etréstles with the Nazer, which is It would take refuge in the foundations of omission as a new shining principality, from where the light of the fifteen hundred years between the seventh heaven and space of this same inaugurating the stolon from where the angel Gabriel would make of all the natives of the Notsri of Nazareth the energy that surpass the masses of matter above the average of its brightness, implanting the Duoversal advance where the Mashiach. From Ofel will come the palmar remains with Marie de Vallés propitiating from the Notós or the South of the Mandragoron of Patmia, like a Bull of Concession of collective rights from Jerusalem with the remains of Isaiah in his living Status. The vernacular spirits of the Bethany journey were incarnated as the ruling planets, which would thus all be similar to Saturn, leaving all the rest with the same unrestricted semblance of cosmic materiality, with this transfer of Saturn's atmospheric outer pharaoh overshadowing all others. planets, under a stepped level towards the Messianic primogeniture, dislocating the vibrational levels above the primary embankment of the lithosphere, like a Qliphoth or shell of Saturn's debauchery when experiencing the bonds of emerging Christianization of the emotional state that made up this external preferential layer, of which of this genre they would create multi-natalist phases with the Qliphoth of the configuration of the vibratory cessation of the physical body of Patmos. In this way the seventieth Qliphoth or farfara of the compendium of exteriority and interiority would culminate, giving way to the Fos or light that would constitute the hybrid Greco-Hebraic componence on the braids that lowered from the Tekhelet of Etréstles when it levitated towards the Megaron, specifically the Naos that It would incite an end that just headed the engagement of the spaces that will be covered by the reviewing archetribe on the acroteria as the Lux of the beginning of the transfer of quantum of energy, which would begin to form the browbones and chin of Euclidean incidence in the cockades of Etréstles, by structuring itself in the cosmic rhythms of the tzitzit of its right hand, and in its left the Tallit that westernized all the supreme dogmas of eternalism, that carried a brand new covering of Áullos Kósmos with this mantle of hegemony, hanging from the tzitzit that would finally be the dragging ropes of the body of Etréstles to the cosmic ridge of Skalá. From a Genioglossal Muscle; where the Etréstles stimulation tendons were inserted, great impulses of language opened towards the pre-Adamic gates, radiating like wide puffs of the superior process that strangled the phraseologies that indicated error of omission, making everyone could conceive of each other before heading towards conversion, and to be able to aspire to the Naos from the Megarón. The most experienced used to expectorate and move sharply with their jaws when the membranes of this region fled from the tip or hyoglossal of their mouth, shuddering from its sublingual base when they saw that the Mashiach carried Etréstles half-dead from the sea, amid so many prosaic waves consuming him from a breath that was separated from it by a thin layer of adipose cell tissue, and by the Middle Septum towards the definitive Seventh Heaven of God, speaking to them of spaces that will be filled by the magnanimous who have reaped him from his Eternalism. This was neither more nor less than the protruding border of the Messiah speaking through those mouths with insignia of enunciation, and portents of words of reconversion.
Battle of Patmia Synopsis Seventh
It was a quick setup, couldn't have been a huge mess up
When I start to speak to you, an evolution of fusion is at bay
And when you talk back the right way, good feelings are given way
And then you begin to open up to me and I to you

I have a responsibility to reflect the best version of myself
I have an uncontrollable inclination to divulge the worst version of myself
When the script was changed so were the norms
The royals did not know what it meant to live in the shadows anymore
Too good to believe in divinity
Too proud and glamorous to believe in a Divine Source

Then man and woman soon forgets what it means to earn one's keep
Quickly there would be thieves as the gap widens
So position will determine what you get and don't get, away with ethics

Imagine we all have roles to portray in this big stage we call the world
Then you forget about your significance, just for the role
You forget about your social class, just for the role
You forget about your achievements or failures, all for the role

Then you develop synergy
Then a male lover will have a female lover because the feeling is reciprocated
Nothing is forced or rigidly implanted
The heart is free to dance and the mind is surrendering to rhyme and reason

Then I begin to weigh the value of each word in every sentence
I develop a composition, an attunement
I awaken the music of the soul
And how I associate will reflect in my dialogue
The moving picture is dying
There are more emoticons and stills because people are not grounded to the immortal strands of creation
So they struggle with locomotion
It stretches into the mind and you see this as brain cells oscillate slower and slower
And the race becomes more and more robotic - static
Bye bye to the angels in adamic bodies

What I am saying is how can I impart parts of myself if you do not compliment my make up
Not because I am superior but because you have been indoctrinated to yield to an inferiority complex that has channeled you to believe that you are good for nothing
And this has garnered a fortress hollow inviting false gods and a negative attitude,
A laziness to believe in yourself and honour your ambition

... And worst of all you are not compelled to go on a journey of self discovery because you are waiting for someone else  to tell you to do so
Rustically I would be a hunter and you a gatherer, but you cannot contain my collections if you have no pots and if you're not ready for me to shelter your soul
So how do we conversate
More than a postulate I conclude you just have to expand your emotional vocabulary
Or I just have to get used to being quiet
And that's fine with me... Food for my peace of mind
But humbly deary, don't say I wasn't kind to rewind
How and what I did impart at the start of the box.
Babatunde Raimi Sep 2020
The **** heralded a glorious morning
Then the Sun streaked across my room
Still very much in my Adamic nature
It reminded me of your magic wand
The one you wield In Sin City
That amplifies your melodious ringtones

I know you are my everything
Because when I really want anything
I can trust you for all things
Including those very special things
I am glad I aimed at your heart
With a well controlled breathing
Then like a marine, I took my shots
I am glad I did, it was worth all the risk

Even when I am in the other side
I talk about you in my dreams
With fond memories of you and our escapades
My joy is only complete with you by my side
And each time I look into your eyes; I see fire flies
Take my hands and hold me close
Take a deep breathe, close your eyes

Let's swing and dance to something really slow
And do the things we love to do
Of all the ways I love to say "I love you"
"........." is eternally my favourite
Your smile lightens my day as the Sun
And your voice; the oxygen I breathe every day

Beyond racial, tribal, educational and religious lines
I will fight for you my love
And if I perish; I perish
If I come to this world again and again
I will choose you over and over
For you are my last bus stop
You are my life, my everything

How I waited and waited for your manifestation
You are my eyes, my greatest reward
"Obim", I surrender to your love that knows no colour
I can't survive another night without you my love
Come to me my love, come
Let me show you how real men play
For in you lays my generation yet unborn
EP Robles Mar 2020
My neck  has stretched above the clouds
the Adamic Apple tickling stars --
and my Love is here and there upon
every footstep i have walked.  
    Life is not just Pain.
    Nor just Love.
    But fear and Joy
    Morbidity and a shade of nudeness
IF the Soul is inclined to explore
God's backyard; No cowards!  Most of us!
    To shade your shame within religion
or  a sense of higher ground for weak
    voices.  Shame.  Shame upon the lot!
          The Sun is brilliant.
    and still your mystery!  

  :: 04-03-2019 ::
Daniel Albright Jan 2021
A Poem: How Long?*


Today on the mountain,
Tomorrow in the valley of sin, so strong
Consistency with God, I can't maintain
Conquered by sin, I cry, How Long?

I tried by my power,
Yet its force is more than my tongue,
The more I tried, the more I went lower,
O! The rapture is near, my fearful heart wonders, How Long?

This ******* is above me,
"Lord, Forgive me" is become my song,
Lord, I'm fed up, but please, look upon me,
Days are going, I wonder, How Long?



Self-management couldn't savage,
I keep dancing to sins gong,
The adamic nature, Lord, will me, ravage
Death is drawing near, I cry, How Long?

Like a caged pigeon,
I've been singing, the freedom song,
Yet, I remain in that cage every season,
Others are growing, but here am I, I cry, How Long?


Like a football,
I'm tossed to and fro, by satans throng,
Lord, Please hear my call,
O! Dear Lord, How Long?


I cry day and night,
I try to rise but sin holds me with its tongs
I can no more behold, O Lord, your sight,
Have mercy Lord, How Long?
© Daniels Pen ™✍️✍️✍️ 2021.

— The End —