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A hippodrome as smoke adjourn
those can wrap Havanas blunt
while Manila fish for sordino
they reek of harvest yet exhume Moro
then San Mateo shall not a maraschino bane
whether they've sought bastion in Italy then
once their hopes shall keep ships ahoy
and Sabatini sing San Marino here
that sandcastle star await his lover in
"The Sea Hawk" a fine costume whence sail
those Antilles with a conquistador as buttress
in this play they call Those Philippines alas meet
El Duarte in a duet with his song set aflame with
great sleeves in such kleptocracy worldwide again.
As one who in his journey bates at noon,
Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused
Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored,
If Adam aught perhaps might interpose;
Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes.
Thus thou hast seen one world begin, and end;
And Man, as from a second stock, proceed.
Much thou hast yet to see; but I perceive
Thy mortal sight to fail; objects divine
Must needs impair and weary human sense:
Henceforth what is to come I will relate;
Thou therefore give due audience, and attend.
This second source of Men, while yet but few,
And while the dread of judgement past remains
Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity,
With some regard to what is just and right
Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace;
Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop,
Corn, wine, and oil; and, from the herd or flock,
Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid,
With large wine-offerings poured, and sacred feast,
Shall spend their days in joy unblamed; and dwell
Long time in peace, by families and tribes,
Under paternal rule: till one shall rise
Of proud ambitious heart; who, not content
With fair equality, fraternal state,
Will arrogate dominion undeserved
Over his brethren, and quite dispossess
Concord and law of nature from the earth;
Hunting (and men not beasts shall be his game)
With war, and hostile snare, such as refuse
Subjection to his empire tyrannous:
A mighty hunter thence he shall be styled
Before the Lord; as in despite of Heaven,
Or from Heaven, claiming second sovranty;
And from rebellion shall derive his name,
Though of rebellion others he accuse.
He with a crew, whom like ambition joins
With him or under him to tyrannize,
Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find
The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge
Boils out from under ground, the mouth of Hell:
Of brick, and of that stuff, they cast to build
A city and tower, whose top may reach to Heaven;
And get themselves a name; lest, far dispersed
In foreign lands, their memory be lost;
Regardless whether good or evil fame.
But God, who oft descends to visit men
Unseen, and through their habitations walks
To mark their doings, them beholding soon,
Comes down to see their city, ere the tower
Obstruct Heaven-towers, and in derision sets
Upon their tongues a various spirit, to rase
Quite out their native language; and, instead,
To sow a jangling noise of words unknown:
Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud,
Among the builders; each to other calls
Not understood; till hoarse, and all in rage,
As mocked they storm: great laughter was in Heaven,
And looking down, to see the hubbub strange,
And hear the din:  Thus was the building left
Ridiculous, and the work Confusion named.
Whereto thus Adam, fatherly displeased.
O execrable son! so to aspire
Above his brethren; to himself assuming
Authority usurped, from God not given:
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl,
Dominion absolute; that right we hold
By his donation; but man over men
He made not lord; such title to himself
Reserving, human left from human free.
But this usurper his encroachment proud
Stays not on Man; to God his tower intends
Siege and defiance:  Wretched man!what food
Will he convey up thither, to sustain
Himself and his rash army; where thin air
Above the clouds will pine his entrails gross,
And famish him of breath, if not of bread?
To whom thus Michael.  Justly thou abhorrest
That son, who on the quiet state of men
Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue
Rational liberty; yet know withal,
Since thy original lapse, true liberty
Is lost, which always with right reason dwells
Twinned, and from her hath no dividual being:
Reason in man obscured, or not obeyed,
Immediately inordinate desires,
And upstart passions, catch the government
From reason; and to servitude reduce
Man, till then free.  Therefore, since he permits
Within himself unworthy powers to reign
Over free reason, God, in judgement just,
Subjects him from without to violent lords;
Who oft as undeservedly enthrall
His outward freedom:  Tyranny must be;
Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse.
Yet sometimes nations will decline so low
From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong,
But justice, and some fatal curse annexed,
Deprives them of their outward liberty;
Their inward lost:  Witness the irreverent son
Of him who built the ark; who, for the shame
Done to his father, heard this heavy curse,
Servant of servants, on his vicious race.
Thus will this latter, as the former world,
Still tend from bad to worse; till God at last,
Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw
His presence from among them, and avert
His holy eyes; resolving from thenceforth
To leave them to their own polluted ways;
And one peculiar nation to select
From all the rest, of whom to be invoked,
A nation from one faithful man to spring:
Him on this side Euphrates yet residing,
Bred up in idol-worship:  O, that men
(Canst thou believe?) should be so stupid grown,
While yet the patriarch lived, who ’scaped the flood,
As to forsake the living God, and fall
To worship their own work in wood and stone
For Gods!  Yet him God the Most High vouchsafes
To call by vision, from his father’s house,
His kindred, and false Gods, into a land
Which he will show him; and from him will raise
A mighty nation; and upon him shower
His benediction so, that in his seed
All nations shall be blest: he straight obeys;
Not knowing to what land, yet firm believes:
I see him, but thou canst not, with what faith
He leaves his Gods, his friends, and native soil,
Ur of Chaldaea, passing now the ford
To Haran; after him a cumbrous train
Of herds and flocks, and numerous servitude;
Not wandering poor, but trusting all his wealth
With God, who called him, in a land unknown.
Canaan he now attains; I see his tents
Pitched about Sechem, and the neighbouring plain
Of Moreh; there by promise he receives
Gift to his progeny of all that land,
From Hameth northward to the Desart south;
(Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed;)
From Hermon east to the great western Sea;
Mount Hermon, yonder sea; each place behold
In prospect, as I point them; on the shore
Mount Carmel; here, the double-founted stream,
Jordan, true limit eastward; but his sons
Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills.
This ponder, that all nations of the earth
Shall in his seed be blessed:  By that seed
Is meant thy great Deliverer, who shall bruise
The Serpent’s head; whereof to thee anon
Plainlier shall be revealed.  This patriarch blest,
Whom faithful Abraham due time shall call,
A son, and of his son a grand-child, leaves;
Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown:
The grandchild, with twelve sons increased, departs
From Canaan to a land hereafter called
Egypt, divided by the river Nile
See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths
Into the sea. To sojourn in that land
He comes, invited by a younger son
In time of dearth, a son whose worthy deeds
Raise him to be the second in that realm
Of Pharaoh. There he dies, and leaves his race
Growing into a nation, and now grown
Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks
To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests
Too numerous; whence of guests he makes them slaves
Inhospitably, and kills their infant males:
Till by two brethren (these two brethren call
Moses and Aaron) sent from God to claim
His people from enthralment, they return,
With glory and spoil, back to their promised land.
But first, the lawless tyrant, who denies
To know their God, or message to regard,
Must be compelled by signs and judgements dire;
To blood unshed the rivers must be turned;
Frogs, lice, and flies, must all his palace fill
With loathed intrusion, and fill all the land;
His cattle must of rot and murren die;
Botches and blains must all his flesh emboss,
And all his people; thunder mixed with hail,
Hail mixed with fire, must rend the Egyptians sky,
And wheel on the earth, devouring where it rolls;
What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain,
A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down
Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green;
Darkness must overshadow all his bounds,
Palpable darkness, and blot out three days;
Last, with one midnight stroke, all the first-born
Of Egypt must lie dead.  Thus with ten wounds
The river-dragon tamed at length submits
To let his sojourners depart, and oft
Humbles his stubborn heart; but still, as ice
More hardened after thaw; till, in his rage
Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the sea
Swallows him with his host; but them lets pass,
As on dry land, between two crystal walls;
Awed by the rod of Moses so to stand
Divided, till his rescued gain their shore:
Such wondrous power God to his saint will lend,
Though present in his Angel; who shall go
Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire;
By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire;
To guide them in their journey, and remove
Behind them, while the obdurate king pursues:
All night he will pursue; but his approach
Darkness defends between till morning watch;
Then through the fiery pillar, and the cloud,
God looking forth will trouble all his host,
And craze their chariot-wheels: when by command
Moses once more his potent rod extends
Over the sea; the sea his rod obeys;
On their embattled ranks the waves return,
And overwhelm their war:  The race elect
Safe toward Canaan from the shore advance
Through the wild Desart, not the readiest way;
Lest, entering on the Canaanite alarmed,
War terrify them inexpert, and fear
Return them back to Egypt, choosing rather
Inglorious life with servitude; for life
To noble and ignoble is more sweet
Untrained in arms, where rashness leads not on.
This also shall they gain by their delay
In the wide wilderness; there they shall found
Their government, and their great senate choose
Through the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordained:
God from the mount of Sinai, whose gray top
Shall tremble, he descending, will himself
In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets’ sound,
Ordain them laws; part, such as appertain
To civil justice; part, religious rites
Of sacrifice; informing them, by types
And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise
The Serpent, by what means he shall achieve
Mankind’s deliverance.  But the voice of God
To mortal ear is dreadful:  They beseech
That Moses might report to them his will,
And terrour cease; he grants what they besought,
Instructed that to God is no access
Without Mediator, whose high office now
Moses in figure bears; to introduce
One greater, of whose day he shall foretel,
And all the Prophets in their age the times
Of great Messiah shall sing.  Thus, laws and rites
Established, such delight hath God in Men
Obedient to his will, that he vouchsafes
Among them to set up his tabernacle;
The Holy One with mortal Men to dwell:
By his prescript a sanctuary is framed
Of cedar, overlaid with gold; therein
An ark, and in the ark his testimony,
The records of his covenant; over these
A mercy-seat of gold, between the wings
Of two bright Cherubim; before him burn
Seven lamps as in a zodiack representing
The heavenly fires; over the tent a cloud
Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night;
Save when they journey, and at length they come,
Conducted by his Angel, to the land
Promised to Abraham and his seed:—The rest
Were long to tell; how many battles fought
How many kings destroyed; and kingdoms won;
Or how the sun shall in mid Heaven stand still
A day entire, and night’s due course adjourn,
Man’s voice commanding, ‘Sun, in Gibeon stand,
‘And thou moon in the vale of Aialon,
’Till Israel overcome! so call the third
From Abraham, son of Isaac; and from him
His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win.
Here Adam interposed.  O sent from Heaven,
Enlightener of my darkness, gracious things
Thou hast revealed; those chiefly, which concern
Just Abraham and his seed: now first I find
Mine eyes true-opening, and my heart much eased;
Erewhile perplexed with thoughts, what would become
Of me and all mankind:  But now I see
His day, in whom all nations shall be blest;
Favour unmerited by me, who sought
Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means.
This yet I apprehend not, why to those
Among whom God will deign to dwell on earth
So many and so various laws are given;
So many laws argue so many sins
Among them; how can God with such reside?
To whom thus Michael.  Doubt not but that sin
Will reign among them, as of thee begot;
And therefore was law given them, to evince
Their natural pravity, by stirring up
Sin against law to fight: that when they see
Law can discover sin, but not remove,
Save by those shadowy expiations weak,
The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude
Some blood more precious must be paid for Man;
Just for unjust; that, in such righteousness
To them by faith imputed, they may find
Justification towards God, and peace
Of conscience; which the law by ceremonies
Cannot appease; nor Man the mortal part
Perform; and, not performing, cannot live.
So law appears imperfect; and but given
With purpose to resign them, in full time,
Up to a better covenant; disciplined
From shadowy types to truth; from flesh to spirit;
From imposition of strict laws to free
Acceptance of large grace; from servile fear
To filial; works of law to works of faith.
And therefore shall not Moses, though of God
Highly beloved, being but the minister
Of law, his people into Canaan lead;
But Joshua, whom the Gentiles Jesus call,
His name and office bearing, who shall quell
The adversary-Serpent, and bring back
Through the world’s wilderness long-wandered Man
Safe to eternal Paradise of rest.
Mean while they, in their earthly Canaan placed,
Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins
National interrupt their publick peace,
Provoking God to raise them enemies;
From whom as oft he saves them penitent
By Judges first, then under Kings; of whom
The second, both for piety renowned
And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive
Irrevocable, that his regal throne
For ever shall endure; the like shall sing
All Prophecy, that of the royal stock
Of David (so I name this king) shall rise
A Son, the Woman’s seed to thee foretold,
Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trust
All nations; and to kings foretold, of kings
The last; for of his reign shall be no end.
But first, a long succession must ensue;
And his next son, for wealth and wisdom famed,
The clouded ark of God, till then in tents
Wandering, shall in a glorious temple enshrine.
Such follow him, as shall be registered
Part good, part bad; of bad the longer scroll;
Whose foul idolatries, and other faults
Heaped to the popular sum, will so incense
God, as to leave them, and expose their land,
Their city, his temple, and his holy ark,
With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey
To that proud city, whose high walls thou sawest
Left in confusion; Babylon thence called.
There in captivity he lets them dwell
The space of seventy years; then brings them back,
Remembering mercy, and his covenant sworn
To David, stablished as the days of Heaven.
Returned from Babylon by leave of kings
Their lords, whom God disposed, the house of God
They first re-edify; and for a while
In mean estate live moderate; till, grown
In wealth and multitude, factious they grow;
But first among the priests dissention springs,
Men who attend the altar, and should most
Endeavour peace: their strife pollution brings
Upon the temple itself: at last they seise
The scepter, and regard not David’s sons;
Then lose it to a stranger, that the true
Anointed King Messiah might be born
Barred of his right; yet at his birth a star,
Unseen before in Heaven, proclaims him come;
And guides the eastern sages, who inquire
His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold:
His place of birth a solemn Angel tells
To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night;
They gladly thither haste, and by a quire
Of squadroned Angels hear his carol sung.
A ****** is his mother, but his sire
The power of the Most High:  He shall ascend
The throne hereditary, and bound his reign
With Earth’s wide bounds, his glory with the Heavens.
He ceased, discerning Adam with such joy
Surcharged, as had like grief been dewed in tears,
Without the vent of words; which these he breathed.
O prophet of glad tidings, finisher
Of utmost hope! now clear I understand
What oft my steadiest thoughts have searched in vain;
Why o
Sara L Russell Aug 2016
Sara L Russell  29th August 2016

Time to retire now, ladies,
the drawing room awaits
as the gentlemen go to smoke
and drink brandy
or tell ribald stories
unsuitable for a lady's delicate ears.
Time to work on our embroidery
or retire to bed.
The men shall retire whenever they wish,
and the stars are too many for us to count.
Now we must lie abed
dreaming of Mr. Darcy
or perhaps a future career,
If only one's gender
might permit such a thing.


Time to adjourn now, ladies,
Mrs. Pankhurst has said her piece
and the rozzers are coming
to break up our meeting of like minds.
I heard that she was in prison for a time,
and went on hunger strike!
oh yes, my dear,
I heard they beat her,
force-fed her
then left her to cry alone in her cell.
Only she didn't cry. She never cries.
They say one day we women
will be able to vote!
Yes, of course it could happen.
We deserve it, after all.


Time to adjourn now, people,
it's been a long session
and even ministers need a lunch break.
Mrs. Thatcher no doubt will carry on
making notes for yet another meeting,
I don't think that woman ever sleeps.
Even if she never does,
she has razor-sharp concentration
and a sharper mind.
You don't want to get
on the wrong side of that one.
Funny, years ago,
they never dreamed we'd have
a woman Prime Minister.
Not everyone agrees with her
yet few dare to disagree.


Time to retire now, ladies.
The men have important things
to discuss, too serious for our lowly ears.
Theirs is the sun and the daylight;
ours are the shadows that herald the dusk.
Gather your prayer beads
and lower your gaze.
Do not look into the eyes
of the Imam as you pass by
on the way to your rooms.
Do not let any breeze from the window
displace your veil.
Guard your modesty
at all times;
protect your respectability,
for it is all you have in the world.
Allyssa Mar 2019
This aching in my chest,
Feelings of regret,
Remorse was apart of my dying sorrow,
The life drained from the very existence of my pain.
I had the hands of a dying man,
Old and speckled like the dirt before our time.
I walked without pride in my stride and my unforgiving emptiness was adjourn.
For a moment I felt peaceful with this walk of mine.
Then, I collapsed.
I ache in the presence of you
Must we apply Glue on the Negative
When the Photo was meant to bring Good Thoughts?
She was with you; And on the Positive
Her Smile was the Change she had long since brought
It wasn't much to sulk on Uncle Gus
When many Witnesses saw you on Ice
Her Face also appeared; In excitement, must
Try to fit her Visiting Heart for size
How did I know this? With all Windows displayed
And most Unregistered Tributes recorded
My Laughter sincere; And Monsters dismayed
That no Finger can keep you Separated.
Indeed, my Elder Instinct will adjourn
The Sober Similes I must re-learn.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Larry dillon May 2023
All the pain a man could muster in his lifetime:
Compressed to a minute.
Then, send it scattershot through the airwaves.
A morose melody. A lovely female voice inflects....
"May I override your rationality and reason?"
Imprints a depression on the mind;
a rope around the deckhand's neck.
Does her voice now command your neocortex?
Yes, but deeper still: it denigrates.
Instills an insistence toward apathy:
existential treason.
musical notes denote a debt to be paid.
They accept just the one currency.
Trade melancholic fervor for nihility...
A payment must be made.
Posit the ship is a sojourn in deep water.
Feeling A sorrow you can't adjourn.
How quickly you will learn:
Jumping overboard
CAN be an act of kindness.
A slave to that recalcitrant sorrow.
Jetsam yourself to lighten the load on your psyche:
It's ideal over facing another tommorow.

Seafaring folk
assume a siren's song is beautiful.

I felt The Earth shake when she sung.
There goes the air from my lungs.
What more to give? Here.
Borrow my body and tongue.
Sitting in the auditorium
of my own soliloquy.
This state of mind is anti-reverie.
Your falsetto sonnet showed memories.
My family.My mishaps.
An altercation out of ennui-with my father.
Before he left,that last thing he said to me...

But.

Why WAS he levied into conflict
over Antioch?
On a whim prescribed, of course;
The pope demanded A crusade on sin.
Father died inside the walls of Jerusalem.
Bled out fighting alongside other mortal men:
Father, is your heaven more beautiful,
than your grand daughter's grin?

Captain has seven sailors hold me still.
I am suppressed inside the fo'c'sle.
He counts down from sixty:
"Let us see if time sets him straight."
A siren's enthrall doesn't agitate long.
Yet,
Even after the weight of it lifting,
it leaves you forlong.
Sometimes-I still feel-
underwater...is that where I truly belong?

Seafaring folk
assume a siren's song is beautiful.
                          I know better.

A violent storm materializes from otherwise
sunny, fair weather.
I guess the myths of the Tempest here are true:
It attacks ships sailing near the fabled
isle Revenir.
Until then,for my own safety,
I had been enroute to the brig.
"All hands on deck
(including me and my captors)
Secure those loose rigs.
Batten down the hatch.
Cap'n is going to steer us-
Right through this Tempest's heart!!"
Steady now.
Or his hubris will tear the ship apart.

I felt indifferent as waves
pummel us relentlessly.
Contrite as our vessel
won its war with the sea.

                   I jump overboard.

Instant remorse.
Father, can your God please alter my course?
A mistake.
This can't be my legacy.
I'm sinking.
Because of what a siren sung.
I can't breathe. Feel water filling in my lungs.
Siren,take what you won
then leave me undone.
I'm sinking.
Is this how I meet my end?
Shimmer from the sunlight fades
as I descend.
Sinking.
And I'll never be found...
My fear, my flailing. My failure to float.
the ocean swallows it all,
ingurgitates my hope.
Is this how you felt?
Facing your ill-fated destiny?
Father.
You always tried-and failed -to quell my misery.
That last thing you said...
Preaching your god's salvation as remedy.

                        I'm sinking.

All along its been my sorrow
that's drowning me.

-
A story of a sailor's mind being taken by a siren's call and how it exacerbates his already present, internal, buried grief.

Part 1 in the Revenir series.
Edward Coles Jun 2014
Hang the folk-singer in a straight-jacket.
Let him out to entertain the pained,
and to allow him his vanity
of seeing one thousand t-shirted candles
echo back to him, his own face.

Let him board the train to nowhere-town.
Give him time to walk a recovery,
to indulge in a sorrow
that was too often left ignored.
He'll come back with a black eye,
cradle and all.

Kiss your divorce on the mouth, as you
filter his coffee. You're coming out of
your shell, and out of the house,
you're meeting for coffee again,
in the sun-glass shade
of the afternoon.

Hang your clothes out to dry by the river.
Let yourself have a hayfever bout
in the grass. Allow your new freedoms
from the tyrant, that had long kept you
anchored in the past.
INDEX


                            Foreword

1  Despertación of Etréstles 13

2  Constitución New Government . 22

3  diabolic Intromisión 25

4  Kanti, the Corcel . 28

5  Ante the Council 30

6 Inauguración the Monument to Botsaris . 36

7  Losas abandoned 41

8  Satagénesis and Deidagénesis Four. Five

9   Enviados to Deidagénesis / Lepanto 52

10 Drestnia in Kalidona 56

11 Etréstles returns Lepanto 64

12 And the fourth cemetery 71

13 Top of the flight of Lucifer 79

14 In the crypt of the patriarchs 87

15 Etréstles part Valplacci 98

16 Etréstles fleet in the Ionian Sea 114

17 Near Messolonghi 120

18 A new era begins 123

19 Universal Era breaks 129

20 Goodbye Messolonghi 135

21 At the beginning of a new millennium. 141

Epilogue. 153








FOREWORD






Mi theme concept concerning Cemeteries, has been maintained for many years under a remarkable process falls recoup credibility. Unknown worlds which we do not know what to believe, are usually put into question.

Constantly let the silent fields where lie the dead, but it is not, rather that me thinks so. Undoubtedly, the Quantum Theory indicates a basic unit of the whole universe, showing that it is possible to decompose the world into small units of independent existence. This theory shows that the dynamics in the art is such that, solid objects are in constant motion entramando relations between different parts of a unified whole.

As we believe that matter is inherently sterile, we think the cemetery is in the same condition, and therefore inert bodies are also only turned into a pile of bones scattered.





7

8 Etréstles


My conception of the world of subterranean acting, aims to support the theory of Quantum, because at first glance it seems that under these moles cement there putrefaction and eternal solitude. Well, I, I do not think so, I think there is tremendous activity, above all tends to seek fulfillment in a world that concerns him, and also has the infinite grace of thanks from all lurking diseases that shake us. That is, each inhabitant of the subterranean acting as a Franciscan Noble receives worship existence, and not faints by the destructive effects of all known diseases.

Near the garden of heroes, they are the remains of those who died in this output. It was a legendary struggle for libertarian revolution of 1821 in Greece, exactly Messolonghi. Markos Botsaris's tomb and the statue of Lord Byron great Hellenophile found in this garden.

Once, I was looking for a book, and this was inevadiblemente of oriental trend. I used to remind my teacher, the monk talking Virajánanda Given the processes of time, yesterday, today and tomorrow; all at once were a pure unity. That physical death had to be spiritual satisfaction, so that the spirit can not disconnect your disposable body. Child saw my family to go to leave flowers garden home to their loved ones. But I am noticing that my grandparents were still alive, and then would leave, looking for ways to inhale the smell of the earth to prepare the farewell that someday would come from the dark beyond. It never was painful to see them

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 9


from, because I've always been with them. In addition always our body, which would be living in a merger with vague spirits, to vague minds that do not hold their interest in spirituality as a way of life, tend to make us climb through dark passages of ignorance.

Etréstles, the protagonist; It has place at a lineage that marks limits warriors of ancient Greece, since fought with neighboring nations. Thus, generation after generation, he meddles in successive reincarnations that are to be transported in time by different spaces.

Its Vitabión and Regma Mother, father and as Staktos and Esaedt, both from different eras. His monogamous romantic company is coyuntada with the presence of Drestnia; woman who had to pull out of her womb, better said from his rib, emulating the biblical account.

While it is noteworthy that the secondary characters are related to Greek mythology such as Eurydice, and real characters like Markos Botsaris, who was a great hero who drove the Turks. The famous Florentine sculptor and architect Lorenzo Ghiberti, is present in the action, so that his image is immortalized in an eternal cemetery. Similarly we should mention Asurbanipal king of Assyria (667-626 C), the Auriga; the coachman and truck driver where he had his Herreros over time to release the Hellenic descent.

Other memorable as Aristotle, Hesiod, Praxiteles, which are knowledge to every reader of Greek literature. The judge presiding over the classroom

10 E tr é stles


sesionaba time to time, trying to revive the rituals and reject the stubborn efforts of Lucifer, who was trying to have a place on earth, then God expelled him from heaven.

In the chapter of the onslaught of Lucifer, he is accompanied by his minions Heosphoros and Phosphoros; they are the ones who brought Lucifer from heaven to Messolonghi. In addition Mesopotamian demons appear hostile world, these were the Annunaki who were the jailers of the dead in hell. The Etimmu, were the ghosts of all those who had died unhappy. The Utukku lived in desolate places or cemeteries; they are all part of malignancy presence as oppressive form and manner of presence to the exuberance of good all-encompassing.

Kanti Botsaris steed, is nothing more than his superconsciousness, wearing it as a link between the different physical and oneiric dimensions. It should be noted that Kanti is a Cretan horse and belongs to the fallen in battle, as Botsaris.

Eulalia and Zultina, both courtesans who spent their lives together with Ghiberti and Botsaris.

And it could not ignore the Menopausal, puerperal and Enamorada, as they like female members suffer alone beyond the earthly life that had consequences that affect the desolate silence of death camps.

And to finish, arrival at Valplacci, where it meets a world and a rare man in an unknown dimension by Etréstles. subsequently arriving at Patmos, where St.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi eleven


John the Theologian, to regain some of its lost soul by the intrusion of Lucifer. Here manages to discover that there is no need to fight warriors who always talk about physical war, because many of them tend to succumb to the same battlefields. discovering, mind mentor as the best ally to overcome any difficulty, wherever it is that the human race is found, or infra-human.

Finally, Etréstles is discovered in a way that would open a new numeral cycle, to start a new era and a new physical space where the projection Messolonghi be situated; nothing less than Nineveh, Ashurbanipal land where the winds blow, as a priest in his exsufflation it does to remove the demons that inhabit the world.

The "Zero" is the initiator of a new era, from whose base the only means available to the new life that awaits the residents of escombroso Messolonghi, after the invasion of Lucifer appears.

My concept of the cemeteries, while seeking an answer to approximate I think now that enormous efforts are made to understand fully. Cemetery remains for me a scenario of hideousness and terror, seen from the observation point that everyone has it, however, I think that in a strange world where you're not supposed to govern ethics, aesthetics, law , and the professional, economic and social status; It is where more wealth is the multiestimulante vitality, "I think

12 E tr é stles


nowhere inhabited earthly souls, will be able to find more life here in the

Messolonghi cemetery ".


José Luis Carreño Troncoso San Antonio, 1997




1





Wake-up of Etréstles



Dfter sleeping a thousand years fell on my face greater light current Solar. I slept without smiling at the crowds inhumaron smearing me my only bones.

The search of that hubbub, made me celebrate the porous bodies and pelusientos arañosos falling on my fingers, delighting my humble tributes to the beetles that accompanied me to direct my view to the nearby burial vaults me. Some were swollen with a semblance augury despertativa; like starting today, with the ominous words They moved from today, the paddling of my fleshless jaws.

Among gravestones of Floreas esmeraldinas dinosauric, in a clear blue autumn, some birds refregaban on edges of the carved stones. Meanwhile, mustards was riding on dry leaves leaves clavelinas. The white-clad looked up Drestnia slab that closed their senses, remained behind bars with his hands crossed as evolving body


13

14 E tr é stles


to attend a new era of geography and different technology. On his chest he would run the living vertiginante wind up the corporeal hint in the light of Koumeterium Messolonghi; that housed over a thousand years ago, at Etréstles of Kalavrita.

This huge palace and flat, it is nothing more than an asylum, where the worst plague that began with the death of the sentinels of Lucifer, who dropped this place with its beautiful golden layers originated; whose satagénesis emerge the burning soil to ten fossilized cemeteries under the Messolonghi.

He walked slowly dragging my old body, the tenth floor, and that teenage girls pointed stones would break my nails; as such if they were claws of a mammal trapped by lava from a volcano. In each advance I awaken in my armor patriotic my last fight, and his enternecedor observe how parents tilled by the conglomerate caste, fighting in underground elements.

Etréstles awakening ...:

Etréstles ...: Which of all columns erected is able to open all columns built in the pavilion of these moles without form or color ... just vitalizing lung diaphragm Eólico my daydreams, is who I think would ...?

To all who are runaways and trapped underground Messolonghi, I bring you good tidings ... Auriga with its Herreros come from the region of the Dodecanese to loosen the bars you father

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi fifteen


Staktos lucid and my mother Vitabión well that in a thousand years, has been damaged her beautiful body. Since my birth in Ayia Lavra, I was being buried for the ninth time in the Ninth Fossilized Cemetery. Whose archpriest with holy oil trickled down my wall, pretending to be a dance of water generated at the bottom of the Ionian. Between the arches of the temple columns running down my mother Vitabión; outward sacravertebral bathe in the water of my past christenings. My past lives were providing mandated by the Auriga their previous lives. And your mother ... A day tried the weight of my recycle ... ?!

Beyond you., Comrades of wars, pilgrimages sacrosanct, lush gauzy baths civilization in the Olympic and equestrian fields.

To you. That you lie here, as is my death in my last life in the hands of a Spartan soldier. Pcs., Blood of my blood, I feel inside me speak your need ...

And in the postrería Drestnia, which by its sixth rising from here from Messolonghi, between bars sealed thy grave situation for the Hellenic indeterminar.

I had to drink from the Pinosa resin to speak here, with my bony hands to touch the others are like yours ...

... Drestnia, my rib still preserved, I will be reborn placating the domain of collective wishful thinking, which prevents your freedom.

My rib you return to your present life, whose cold, flower seeds esqueletizaron the perimeter of your life ...

16 E tr é stles


Etréstles was with them into the Koumeterium Messolonghi, to about 1800 meters zenith direction.

They were to be the Necromesolongui Council to define the minutes. -while music with winds adorned arrival-. Just at the moment, came the Auriga with its blacksmiths, they came to liberate Drestnia with its multiconciencia. What happiness to Etréstles! He ran through the underground halls, to the oldest Koumeterium, the first fossilized. Where thousands of years ago, with many now extinct species, Etréstles came to them resoundingly good news.

While the Council inveighed promulgating the divine sarmiento spray fields Dodecanese in producing seeds of Markos Botsaris.

Judge…: With my lameness, I have to advocate the reintegration of outstanding Markos Botsaris, that once we free them of the Turkish occupation!

Asurbanipal ...My Sirio reign, full of dynamism, placed on their doorposts the powerful image of South-west wind, in honor of his victorious from Kalidona.

Etréstles brought Drestnia just walking the Council and thousands of harmoniums undermined doubts Manor invoking the hero. They all stand, the Council at its octagonal table with his assistants left empty vine glasses to welcome, to the last surviving female first Koumeterium Messolonghi.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 17


Harmoniums, as Apollonian rubies widen the dimensions of the cavernales vaults. She sit and ends the music. Drestnia with some leaves on his shoulders, adorned the new escenáculo, which would sit by the new future.

Asurbanipal ...: To you gifts Oh, the universe, you are welcome to this Council, where one day they brought me to praise my contributions from the entrance of Humanity!

But the issue for today, will await the arrival of Markos Botsaris as you who have reached this border, thanks to the generous Auriga.

Charioteer…: ***** wax Orion; Eternal fuel, donated them strength to my steeds pairs, that were raised over distant lands, to reach my Herreros desoldering the bars of Drestnia.

Blacksmith…: Our eyes closed every hundred kilometers, but Eurydice with your calendar, made the aphelion arrimara us this feat.

Ecos ...: Dust ..., Mito ... Dream ... illusion ... have swirled galloping millennia, wearing gray Borrasca ...!

What dark words illuminate the hopes, just below, it is well known that there is much to do, because there is more activity on the surface ...!

Judge…: Etréstles, Drestnia ... past, present, or future will speak of you.

18 E tr é stles


You Drestnia ... !, how long dream ..., defied your gothic vision, not move my neck to your neighbors, loved ensepulcrados in the first Fossilized Koumeterium.

Vitabión ...: Messolonghi lives up to all cemeteries in the world, where they loved their near them. But they do not know life here is more dynamic than in the world of their own.

Menopausal women ...My husband cry on my slab, because his infidelity caused me a bad venereum, which today has removed me from his life. The cries and cries for me ****** decline, all for being with another woman condemned me.

one curtain rises and leaves Funebrio; concelebrating priest all recent deaths ...

Funebrio ...: Woman when you cry my black clothes, cry black tears ...!

Your husband remains static, no movement, despite many kilometers to their own devices. Forbidden habit becomes, how tempting. But contestataria Mother Nature pours us their punishment.

Staktos ...: Friends kisses you give yourself, Where have posted ideations ...?

O dais to scatter everywhere the osculaciones they meet other mouths.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 19


Etréstles ...: Everyone I ask do well to prepare your labors. Even so, his desire to hold my naughty pleas heart in this hour by the arrival of Drestnia.

The judge asks adjourn for the recess could then discuss strategies for future deaths.

Sepulcrero ...Lord Judge at the stepped eastern sector have buried an architect. We could ask your cooperation to Botsaris monument.

Judge…: All in good time. It will be done, does anyone want something narrow ...? -Drestnia raised his hand and asked ...:

Drestnia ...: With Etréstles in the last minutes of our lives, which extortioner once it is finished this monument, where our souls will be destined to remain here temporarily ... Messolonghi?

Judge…: General demented wars, take Etréstles the field of Lepanto, because there are stubborn souls who defy the vanquished souls ...

… and as for you, the benevolent Auriga take your soul colors of the sunset, to divide megatons of the Romantics, who along with Ghiberti, on some trunks of beautiful minerals, will anchor his best poems and hiperestésicas forward to outshine their suicides groups.

After the meeting, the attendees are removed, and Drestnia with Etréstles go to spring the celestial napa

twenty E tr é stles


with its golden glow waiting to sail to Tangier and Morocco. In their ships were concurrent, Etréstles woman carrying her ribcage navigation oriented towards the sound of the oars that were the femurs of a Diplodocus itself.

Drestni
ROUGH SAMPLE  - Metaphysic Poem besed upon a 1000 Bc. Etrestles of Kalavrita, greek hero, living through 10 lices, recommence a New Era.

Epic and Multidimensional poetic Ebook
come & enjoy, where you dont find..., stepout and see the Glory.

Jose Luis
1485

Love is done when Love’s begun,
Sages say,
But have Sages known?
Truth adjourn your Boon
Without Day.
Avary Nov 2018
Pretty boy, singing your pretty words:
pouring liquid symphonies into my ear,
knowing exactly what I want to hear.

Stolen words, from a romance guide;
pried from the heart of your previous lover,
and some two, three, four or maybe five girls other.

Cooing sweet nothings in your honey voice.
It is not enough, a mating ritual parade,
because I’ve been there before and I know your charade.

Don’t you understand? - what you did to me.
Demon possessed or a facade dropped,
the memory: the pain, the anxiety, the shock.

What you want is untouched, an untampered babe.
Yet again, you devote your concert to me,
but I don’t want it and you don’t really want me.

I am stitched back together, corrupt by your hand.
Your photocopied scars adjourn my skin,
but the ink seeped deeper, obscuring your sin.

And you’ll never understand, what you did to me:
because you’re still a pretty boy, with your pretty words
and I'll deal with the trauma, my story unheard.
Stephen E Yocum Nov 2013
At 18, in college I was a slacker.
A **** that refused to attend
a class much before eleven.
My thoughts not extending
far beyond tomorrow’s game.
Still a little groggy from
Too much beer the night before,
Eyes reluctantly barely open,
I found and took my seat.

The class was in a Lecture Hall,
Theater seating for a hundred.
A class filled to near capacity,
For a Professor everyone loved.
“American History One O One”,
Taught by Doctor Weatherspoon,
A very cool Professor.

He was a very exacting man,
Always prompt and to the point,
A wonderful Lecturer and Historian.
Leaving out most of the trivial ****.

And yet on this morn,
It appeared he was late.
The clock on the wall
Informed eighteen minutes
Past Eleven and counting.
A highly unuseal event.
Lateness was not in
This Educator’s play book.

The seated students were growing
Ever more restless with chatter.
No teacher in class after twenty minutes,
Meant the students were free to leave.
One or two kids were already getting up,
to do just that, make a clean escape.

The side door to the raised stage opened,
Doctor W.  appeared, standing alone.
This enlightener of young lives, he
Who brought insight to our minds you see,
was himself quite blind, couldn't see a thing.

He was nearly always in the company of
A teacher’s aid, his hand upon her arm.
A human “Seeing Eye Dog” of his very own.
That day there was no aid present,
He was alone, standing in the doorway,
Only a solemn expression showing,
His ever present dark glasses slightly,
Askew upon his serious, ashen face.

Slowly, hesitantly he edged forward
Appearing unsure of himself,
even slightly confused.
When he thought he must be near
the center-front of the stage stopped,
slowly turned to his right,
Facing the room filled with his students,
We, who had fallen by then nearly, mute.
To silly kids that seldom took anything seriously,
All at once, nothing in that room seemed humorous.

In a flat halting, chocked up voice he announced,
“The President has been shot.
Down in Dallas.
I regret to inform you,
our President is dead.”

An audible gasp,
a collective sigh of shock was heard,
someone cried out; “Oh my God no!”
He held up his right hand, palm out and
Gently moved it right to left, a slow Parade
Wave it seemed. Beseeching us for calm.
The room went instantly silent again.

In a broken voice he continued,
“I think we should all adjourn for the day,
Yes, no class today. Perhaps no other classes at all.
Yes, you should go home now, be with your families.”
He began to softly cry, took off his dark glasses,
Took a white linen hanky from his suite pocket,
Dabbing it at his sunken, sightless eyes.
We had never seen him without his dark glasses,
Looking for the first time, upon his naked human face.

“Yes, it’s best you go on home now,
I’m so sorry; I don’t know what else to say.”

Then in a moment of stress and confusion,
He turned, did a 180,
facing about, the wrong way.
Slowly he began to walk forward,
hands outstretched before him,
towards the solid, rear brick wall,
of the stage. Headed for disaster.

A football teammate of mine,
jumped up on the stage and
Raced to catch the Professor.
Gently taking him by the arm,
ending his error in navigation.
Then my friend guided our Mentor
to the exit door.

All of us, nearly 100 remained seated,
a strange compelling hush,
weighing heavily upon us.
A stunned silence for sure,
that I shall never forget.

Our respected teacher’s emotional,
Confused response only deepening
our own feelings, of loss and dread.
Then we were left alone, together
to ponder what it all meant.

No cell phones, no instant news
Abounding, like birds on the wing,
Filling the air, here there and everywhere
to see and hear. Home was where we
Saw and heard things of import back then,
Home is where we should be.
And that is where most of us went.

Gradually over the next few minutes,
One by one, students rose and silently,
Slowly, reverently walked from the room
As if they were walking from a Church,
after some emotionally wrenching occasion.
A few and not just females were openly weeping.

There is no way to explain all this any better,
There is no real way for you to fully understand,
How it was, how it felt, unless you, yourself were there.
I dare say that anyone over the age of ten on that day,
November 22, 1963 will ever forget where they were,
What they were doing, when they first heard the news
Of the assignation of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

A year and a half later I was in the Military,
doing what I thought I should.  
In part perhaps, as JFK had inspired.
“Ask not what your country can do for you.
Ask what you can do for your country.”
My older brother joined the Peace Corps,
I joined the Marine Corps, both answering the call,
As we saw fit.

On that day in November ’63 the entire country
went into a profound and deep National mourning
that lasted for weeks.  

That has over time turned into a National Haunting,
That still to this day, half a century later, persists.

Some things, some events, truly are unforgettable
Remembering a time most older Americans would
rather forget. A time our current elected leaders, of
both Parties should recall and work together to make
"Camelot", that "shinning city on a hill", a  reality for us all.  
Imagined or real a worthy goal.
(Definitions: "Assignation"; An appointment with time
or place. Destiny.
"Assassination"; An act of political ******.
We can all be the judge of which actually fits.  
I say it was his charismatic star power that
killed the President. The ballistics' were  but the
lethal messengers of his fate.)
When I was born,
From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice,
Saying, This be thy portion, child; this chalice,
Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw
From my great arteries; nor less, nor more.
All substances the cunning chemist Time
Melts down into that liquor of my life,
Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty, and disgust,
And whether I am angry or content,
Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt,
All he distils into sidereal wine,
And brims my little cup; heedless, alas!
Of all he sheds how little it will hold,
How much runs over on the desert sands.
If a new muse draw me with splendid ray,
And I uplift myself into her heaven,
The needs of the first sight absorb my blood,
And all the following hours of the day
Drag a ridiculous age.
To-day, when friends approach, and every hour
Brings book or starbright scroll of genius,
The tiny cup will hold not a bead more,
And all the costly liquor runs to waste,
Nor gives the jealous time one diamond drop
So to be husbanded for poorer days.
Why need I volumes, if one word suffice?
Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught
After the master's sketch, fills and o'erfills
My apprehension? Why should I roam,
Who cannot circumnavigate the sea
Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn
The nearest matters to another moon?
Why see new men
Who have not understood the old?
Larry B Apr 2011
He sit by the door day after day
Waiting for her to return
Ready to play he'd patiently wait
'Til time for school to adjourn

A child and her dog, bonded in life
He became this little girl's friend
Raised from a puppy, he slept on her bed
Together, until the end

Walking home from school one day
She tripped on the sidewalk and fell
Rushed to the hospital, the little girl died
When her brain continued to swell

She didn't come home, he didn't understand
It was time to play their game
They tried to call him away from the door
But every day was the same

He'd sit by the door day after day
Waiting for her to return
Ready to play he'd patiently wait
'Til time for school to adjourn
1661

Guest am I to have
Light my northern room
Why to cordiality so averse to come
Other friends adjourn
Other bonds decay
Why avoid so narrowly
My fidelity—
Allen Wilbert Sep 2013
There is a man who thinks he's in charge,
he's strong, dumb and very large.
Twenty foot tall and that's a fact,
twenty and a half to be exact.
He can crush you with his bare hands,
you better obey his list of demands.
Not the devil, not a god,
just a huge man who's very odd.
Not a monster, not a myth,
just a man you can't mess with.
Stomps on people just for fun,
chaos for him has just begun.
He can **** you with his mighty fist,
its the third demand on his list.
Can't speak a word only grunts,
eats babies and smokes big blunts.
If he kicks, you will land a mile away,
his nasty teeth are filled with decay.
Getting shot just makes him mad,
will not stop killing til he finds his deadbeat dad.
His demand list has only five things,
you must call him the king of kings.
He has a name, please call him Rick,
or he'll slap you with his seven foot ****.
You already know number three,
he'll punch you if you don't agree.
You don't wanna know number four,
but trust me it will lead to gore.
Killing his father is number five,
keep out of his way, if you wanna stay alive.
Five is as high that he can count,
his dads head he wants to mount.
Giving birth killed his poor mom,
her body exploded like a bomb.
He's only twenty, grew one foot a year,
not even old enough to drink a beer.
Found his dad and ripped off his head,
he actually smiled after the father was dead.
Rick became a very nice guy,
now he is friendly and very shy.
Rick died when he was thirty,
at the wake, Weird Al sang White And Nerdy.
His ashes are in a six foot urn,
this sad story will now adjourn.
Hunter K Nov 2014
Its Tuesday,
You turn off your movie,
Ready to get to bed.
You wonder what time it way be,
And suddenly, you regret your movie watching spree.
Five minutes to midnight.

You panic,
Remembering that gigantic,
Test you have the next morning.
You scramble to put your laptop away,
Trying not to crumble your essay,
Into your book bag with the rest of your school things.
You lie under your cover,
Only to discover,
It is 4 minutes till midnight.

You close your eyes,
Only seeing the lies,
You told about going to sleep hours before.
You toss and turn.
Realizing you may never be able to adjourn,
You movie night brain.
Your eyes wonder off,
What they see makes you cough.
3 more minutes till midnight.

You gasp,
Just wishing you would just clasp,
a sweet visit to dream land.
You then hear the loud thunder,
And start to wonder. . .
Is it giants?
Stomping angrily from the heavens?
Or dancing with glee in groups of sevens?

And then, as you think,
You suddenly need a drink!
You get out bed,
accidentally hitting your head!
You grab a drink from the kitchen,
Scooping up your kitten,
As you go back upstairs.
You spot the clock,
You feel as if you need to knock,
on wood as it is
1 minute to midnight.

You crawl back into bed,
listening to you kittens purring,
You feel the fur ball stirring,
trying to get comfortable.
The giants above quieting down,
You see no reason to frown.
You close your eyes,
and take a deep breath.
You did not get a visit from death,
But you did get to sleep,
Just as your clock hit,
**Midnight.
Cant sleep!!! Time goes too slow at night!
Timothy Jan 2022
Decoupled from my conscience of subjective discernment
The necessity for personal authority over impulse
Vs an instantly gratifying road to distraction
Journey of wilful blindness
Consequential destination deferred
But upon arrival lies the choices
To decouple, To adjourn
Or to confront the demons towards which my back I have turned
Self-romanticised truths to whom before I have spoken
Yet despite a colourful history our personal promises lay broken
Under the rug
Etched into the bottom of a bottle
A chasing of tails
Ignorance long forgotten
A cycle indeed
But of downward trajectory
Gratefully, the bottom of which yet to be met by me
But somehow graced by others
With stronger character than I
A slippery *****
An exponential decent
Over which I now maintain a watchful eye
Jake Danby May 2015
Ask
It is winter, icy night outside the ancient terraced house, crisp
and creeping-cold, the road fleeting and the boisterous,
rejoicing revelers invading my room unseen but well heard,
silky-blacked, silk-backed, slick-backed, on the loudbusybarstriken front street.
The houses are sleeping like the dead (though the dead shan’t wake the morrow, in the deep, frosted earth) or sleeping like snoring Grandma
Passed the creaking stairs, behind the thick wooden door.
The chimneys enjoy a smoke, and the street watching in lazy light.
And the people of the long and aging road are lying, dormant, on hold now.

Be still, the birds are in wait, the office-workers, the budget-blunderers, the dole-wallers and money-splashers, equestrians, assistants, cricketers and coppers, the seller and the sold to, convicts, clergy, scrap-men, soldiers, the wary eyed whistleblowers and bleak spinsters. The elderly lie alone, cold and widowed, falling in love in dreams of those long passed, gramophones serenading them with swinging sounds since forgotten. The bachelors lie not alone but feel it, aside women they met but a moment prior. And the sloothing silhouettes of foxes stalk in the brush, and the fallen leaves clump prickled by the spiking spines of a slumbering hedgehog, and the hens in the clucking coops; and the mice creep across grassy planes playing hide and go seek, darting and ducking, amidst the quiet nightly warzone.

You can hear the frost amassing, and the old homes groaning.
Only your eyes are alive to see the bellowing chimney pots washing the black sky with grey, consuming and spreading, smoke. And you stand alone in hearing the working dogs retort with the sky, the primal yowl, where Jack Russell’s, Bull Terriers, Whippets and Grey Hounds, Fox hounds, Patterdales, Lakelands and Border Terriers take wolven shape and warrant the moon and stars to adjourn.

Heed. It is much too late, or early, the day-break behemoth’s begin to crawl blind through dawn, slumped uniform and jangling key and toast crumbed stubble, golden tie pin and tracksuit top, parted as the red sea, racing rats, inhaling bus fare; openmouthed in Citrone’s, rattled morning news; in Pickwick’s cafe shutters exhale the bleak dark and swallow first light. It is genesis in Chester-Le-Street, coagulating evermore, with breakfast offers stuffed down its throat, passed my frosted window pane, sleet and rain, headphones, lit cigarette, black brew two sugars, lichened grave stones and flashing blue lights. It is break of day amongst the pushers of pencils.

Watch. It is discontent, dragging, alone coursing through a bacon stottie; clinging to a dead end rock, aside the cockles and mussels, to be exhumed by an uncomfortable chair and the computer on the blink.

Is this it. Ask. Is this it.
Christos Rigakos Nov 2014
The normal way of life is such:
          the old give way to young.
To understand does not take much,
          explained in simple tongue:
Adults that love do procreate.
Their selves they form and replicate,
          continuing the song which they have sung.

The first into the world are first
          to leave the world behind.
They dry and shrivel in their thirst,
          are ground to dust and rind.
They find their solace in their spawn,
inside whose flesh they carry on
          their signatures, in place of their old mind.

The next await their counted turn,
          with shovel at the hand;
enjoy the lives which must adjourn
          into the unseen land.
Then find a mate to spawn their own,
before their own flesh from the bone
          departs into the dryness of the sand.

Yet once upon a blood red moon,
          the normalcy defers.
The next in line depart too soon,
          in snares of life's dark lures.
The first must intern on the shelves
of crypts the flesh that holds their selves,
          and taste what to the next this life confers.


(C)2014, Christos Rigakos
Septet Narrative
Sebastian Perez May 2012
His life with her has been a struggle, things aren't the same anymore no time to cuddle.

Their relationship was a disaster following the aftermath, nothing could be fix that was left on their path.

Who's was at fault no one to blame or charge, however as they see it their love was demolish by and large.

Her accusation and jealousy was pushed on him with remarkable strength, this dilemma carried on to an unbelievable length. 

Their hearts and mind exhausted and both were hurt, it seems they've gone to far and can't revert.

There was nothing the both can do; no gratification, this can not go on; their need for help was sought with desperation.

A love they shared with hate for one another on what grounds, people wouldn't listen they just turn around.

Lost and nowhere to turn; isolated from one another with eyes of tears, with two bleeding hearts pierced  with a couple of spears.

Difficult to cling on to each other with time and space, not knowing that their relationship was a total disgrace.

Deep inside the ember of love glowing keeping them alive, hoping and praying their love will revive.

Not allowing her love to surface while grasping on to her superbia, taking his breath away with signs claustrophobia.

Struggling with little or no effort to makeup, with concerns of the inevitable of another breakup.
A love with no compassion only sorrow,  a postponement until tomorrow.

As for now this relationship is adjourn, perhaps this love of their as gone to the point of no return.
I'll be straight out. I don't care what yu think just critic my poems how ever yu want?
Tyler S Anderson Aug 2015
As it seems to be,
The days connect
In make believe.
The summer’s eve
Won’t sing to me
And as we sigh,
So foolishly,
We’ll feel regret
For everything.
For nothing ever
Truly ends.
No letters written
Ever send.
Our words will lurch
At every turn,
In hopes to reach,
Or to return,
To whom it always
did concern.
A love you’d always
dreamt to earn.
A whisper fated
- To adjourn.
Lightbulb Martin Jul 2013
Seemingly precise yet akimbo
Inflected glares bend windows
Directly begin kin in skin
We sin again.

Yours is mine redefined
More blessed so unaligned.

Sight delight our kindled spite
Adjourn loops and dash hopes

Love longs its wrong devotes.

A myriad making way
Unelectric secrete display
Rolling sheets tumbling say
Let fluid fly demon's prey.

Loping along
Coping strong
Moaning songs

Rejoicing our way

The way to Much.
Muse leave me be
After sleeping a thousand years fell on my face greater light current Solar. I slept without smiling at the crowds buried and smearing my only bones.

The search of that hubbub, made me celebrate the porous bodies and spraying smooth falling on my fingers, delighting my humble tributes to the beetles that accompanied me to direct my view to the nearby burial vaults me. Some were swollen with a semblance of augury awakeness; like starting today, with the ominous words They moved from today, the paddling of my fleshless jaws.

Among gravestones of emerald flowers dinosauric, in clear blue autumn, some birds scrub on the edges of the carved stones. Meanwhile, mustards were riding on dry leaves carnations. The white-clad looked up Drestnia slab that closed their senses, remained behind bars with his hands crossed as evolving body To attend a new era of geography and different technology. On his chest he would run the living vertiginous wind up the corporeal hint in the light of Koumeterium Messolonghi; that housed over a thousand years ago, at Etréstles of Kalavrita.

This huge palace and flat, it is nothing more than an asylum, where the worst plague that began with the death of the sentinels of Lucifer, who dropped this place with its beautiful golden layers originated; whose satagénesis emerge the burning soil to ten fossilized cemeteries under the Messolonghi.

He walked slowly dragging my old body, the tenth floor, and that teenage girl's pointed stones would break my nails; as such if they were claws of a mammal trapped by lava from a volcano. In each advance, I awaken in my armor patriotic my last fight, and his tenderness observes how parents tilled by the conglomerate caste, fighting in underground elements.

Etréstles awakening ...:

Etréstles ...: Which of all columns erected is able to open all columns built in the pavilion of these moles without form or color ... just vitalizing lung diaphragm Eólico my daydreams, is who I think would ...?

To all who are runaways and trapped underground Messolonghi, I bring you good tidings ... Auriga with its blacksmiths come from the region of the Dodecanese to loosen the bars you father  Staktos lucid and my mother Vitabión well that in a thousand years, has been damaged her beautiful body. Since my birth in Ayia Lavra, I was being buried for the ninth time in the Ninth Fossilized Cemetery. Whose archpriest with holy oil trickled down my wall, pretending to be a dance of water generated at the bottom of the Ionian. Between the arches of the temple columns running down my mother Vitabión; an outward sacral vertebral bathe in the water of my past christenings. My past lives were providing mandated by the Auriga their previous lives. And your mother ... A day tried the weight of my recycle ... ?!

Beyond you., Comrades of wars, pilgrimages sacrosanct, lush gauzy baths civilization in the Olympic and equestrian fields.

To you. That you lie here, as is my death in my last life in the hands of a Spartan soldier. Pcs., Blood of my blood, I feel inside me speak your need ...

And in the ending Drestnia, which by its sixth rising from here from Messolonghi, between bars sealed thy grave situation for the Hellenic indeterminate.

I had to drink from the Pinosa resin to speak here, with my bony hands to touch the others are like yours ...

... Drestnia, my rib still preserved, I will be reborn placating the domain of collective wishful thinking, which prevents your freedom.

My rib you return to your present life, whose cold, flower seeds skeletonize the perimeter of your life ... Etréstles was with them into the Koumeterium Messolonghi, to about 1800 meters zenith direction.

They were to be the Necromessolonghi Council to define the minutes. -while music with winds adorned arrival-. Just at the moment, came the Auriga with its blacksmiths, they came to liberate Drestnia with its multi conscience. What happiness to Etréstles! He ran through the underground halls, to the oldest Koumeterium, the first fossilized. Where thousands of years ago, with many now-extinct species, Etréstles came to them the resoundingly good news.

While the Council inveighed promulgating the divine Sarmiento spray fields Dodecanese in producing seeds of Markos Botsaris.

Judge…: With my lameness, I have to advocate the reintegration of outstanding Markos Botsaris, that once we free them of the Turkish occupation!

Asurbanipal ...My Sirio reign, full of dynamism, placed on their doorposts the powerful image of South-west wind, in honor of his victorious from Kalidona.

Etréstles brought Drestnia just walking the Council and thousands of harmoniums undermined doubts Manor invoking the hero. They all stand, the Council at its octagonal table with his assistants left empty vine glasses to welcome, to the last surviving female first Koumeterium Messolonghi.

Harmoniums, as Apollonian rubies widen the dimensions of the caverns vaults. She sits and ends the music. Drestnia with some leaves on his shoulders adorned the new scene, which would sit by the new future.

Asurbanipal ...: To you gifts Oh, the universe, you are welcome to this Council, where one day they brought me to praise my contributions from the entrance of Humanity!

But the issue for today will await the arrival of Markos Botsaris as you who have reached this border, thanks to the generous Auriga.

Charioteer…: ***** wax Orion; Eternal fuel, donated them strength to my steeds pairs, that were raised over distant lands, to reach my blacksmiths desoldering the bars of Drestnia.

Blacksmith…: Our eyes closed every hundred kilometers, but Eurydice with your calendar, made the aphelion enclose us this feat.

Echoes ...: Dust ..., Myth ... Dream ... illusion ... have swirled galloping millennia, wearing gray storm...!

What dark words illuminate the hopes, just below, it is well known that there is much to do, because there is more activity on the surface ...!

Judge…: Etréstles, Drestnia ... past, present, or future will speak of you.

You Drestnia ... !, how long dream ..., defied your gothic vision, not move my neck to your neighbors, loved buried in the first Fossilized Koumeterium.

Vitabión ...: Messolonghi lives up to all cemeteries in the world, where they loved theirs near them. But they do not know life here is more dynamic than in the world of their own.

Menopausal women ...My husband cries on my slab because his infidelity caused me a bad venereal, which today has removed me from his life. The cries and cries for my ****** decline, all for being with another woman condemned me.

one curtain rises and leaves Funebrio; concelebrating priest all recent deaths ...

Funebrio ...: Woman when you cry my black clothes, cry black tears ...!

Your husband remains static, with no movement, despite many kilometers to their own devices. Forbidden habit becomes, how tempting. But rebellious Mother Nature pours us their punishment.

Staktos ...: Friends kisses you give yourself, Where have posted ideations ...?

Or yield to scatter everywhere the oscillations they meet other mouths.

Etréstles ...: Everyone I ask do well to prepare your labors. Even so, his desire to hold my naughty please heart in this hour by the arrival of Drestnia.

The judge asks to adjourn for the recess could then discuss strategies for future deaths.

Gravedigger ...Lord Judge at the stepped eastern sector has buried an architect. We could ask your cooperation to Botsaris monument.

Judge…: All in good time. It will be done, does anyone want something narrow ...? -Drestnia raised his hand and asked ...:

Drestnia ...: With Etréstles in the last minutes of our lives, which extortioner once is finished this monument, where our souls will be destined to remain here temporarily ... Messolonghi?

( extract from  Koumeterium Messolonghi, if any want a whole ebook to write joseluisctravel@gmail .com )

www.joseluiscarreniotroncoso.wordpress.com
Koumeterium Messolonghi. Epic and Metaphysic; book based upon 1.000 b.C. Era. Etrestles from Kalavrita rise up after having 9 lives. and then, liberate the sadly moment of the buried in Messolonghi.
Andrew Rueter Oct 2022
Once affirmation became deformation
aspirations turned into desperation
aspirations turned into exasperation
existence undocumented persistence expired
acumen undocumented the pittance expired
normal life forms a life
but nightmare world lights the world
dream journals adjourn dreams
through fantastic fantasies
of affirmation and affinity
or affirmation reaching infinity
so affirmation is gained at the expense of others
and affirmation is what we expect from others
but the affirmation comes at the cost of the abdication
of a firm nation inducing affirmation
selling being right
who's wrong is who's left
behind the hugfest in social unrest
the hugs infect becoming a test
to affirm what others choose
affirmation signaling their virtues
and if one doesn't affirm they'll sit and burn
which will affirm affirmation.

Please tell me I'm right.
To Whom it May Concern,

My blood begins to burn
and I’m compelled to spurn
the current plans to turn
our mascot to a worm.

The members from my firm
cannot stay taciturn
when our alumni learn
that strangers overturned
the past we had governed
because they’re all stubborn,
seeking to be modern
and spread, exploit and churn
their folly and their germs.

I urge you to discern
the consequence you’ll earn
unless you can confirm
our legacy long-term.
We will not adjourn
until it’s reaffirmed
that history is stern
and keeps our old pattern.

If you do not concur
and submit to our terms,
then surely you will yearn
for courtesy interns
as funding will downturn
and we will watch you squirm
like spiders in an urn
at the point of no return.

Sincerely, Dr. Kern
monorhyme about the influences of funding on schools' decision making

for peace in solidarity.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojleMU9rZ4k
The Jolteon Dec 2014
Hello, hello.
Yes. The committee meeting has started
Can we please review the minutes from last time
Right moving forward
First item on the agenda:
There are too many flavors of ice cream
How are we supposed to choose
When there are so many flavors
I move to second that opinion
Third
Right, there from now on be only two flavors
Chocolate and vanilla
But don’t you think there might be a need for strawberry?
But that is too many flavors, remember there are too many
Ah yes, but can’t we incorporate one more?
Ok, I move to propose three ice cream flavors and no more
I second
Third
Second and final item on the agenda:
Ice cream is too cold
How can we eat ice cream
Quickly, when it is so cold
There shall only be warm ice cream from now on
I second that opinion
Third
Right, from now on there will only be warm ice cream
The committee thanks you for attending.
If that is it, we will adjourn.
Pamela Penta Mar 2016
I'm laying here trying to heal
Wishing so bad...you were here
Holding me close
Stroking my hair, holding me near.
I understand why
Things have to be
It doesn't stop the longing
To have you here with me
Just to look into your eyes
And feel your warm embrace
The touch of your skin on mine
The warmth and love in your face
I feel as if I am running out of time
And I don't want that day to come
Without knowing what it's like
To finally be at home
In the arms of someone who loves me
That I can freely love in return
To share the last of my sunsets
Until our lives adjourn.

March 14, 2016
Alan JustATG Nov 2017
Alone I wander midnight pathways that never lead to sleep,
This darkness highlights all I fear, and secrets it can keep,
In the distance I can hear the past, perhaps a quiet weep,
A chill has settled over me, into my bones to seep,
Was it I that gave this weep,
This weep that steals my sleep,
My need to sleep.

The fire’s death from licking flames, still glowing embers burn,
I know a sleep is needed, but from this wake I can’t adjourn
Then a single scratch upon my door, as the handle clicks a turn,
I’m frozen still, like winters pond, as my innards twist to churn,
My gaze I cannot turn,
This fear becomes a burn,
My need to run

A shadow glides in slowly, draped in robe with hooded face,
A scent I half remember, seems to engulf this evil wraith,
My guest floats ever closer and my heart picks up its pace,
Its rotting hand is reaching, I must evade its cold embrace,
I’ve no desire to see this face
For fear I can’t erase,
Erase this face,

This creature leans in closer as I taste its  putrid smell,
Once again a scent familiar, but from whence, I cannot tell,
From deep within my stomach a fear filled bile begins to swell,
It whispers “I’m memories of your past loves, here to take you back to hell.”
The cast of nightmares spell
Thoughts I dare not tell
Now fresh from hell
Zachary May 2013
What wasted days we share
the hours we breathe like air
they float away
and bleed the day
Though we have no need to care

Our time is fuel to burn
our bonfires never adjourn
although they may
turn night to day
night cannot be had out of turn

Footsteps are laid to be traced
to follow at memories pace
but to me, aren't there
if there are not two pair
wasted days, without you, are a waste
Ron Sanders Feb 2020
Was it bleak or bright, I cannot say, so mesmerized was I,
when I saw you cross your balcony to take the morning air.
Brilliant were the beams and bands that danced about your hair:
an angel in her nimbus, uniting earth and sky.
And I saw you there—saw your red eyes catch the day,
saw you look in my direction, saw your red eyes look away.
A man am I, a dog with human glands.
I snuck behind a moving van and wiped my sweaty hands.
A love unreal confused me, abused me,
tucked my tail and called me stray. Bite the hand
or beg for more? True to form, I slunk away.
And though indeed it strained me, and pained me to adjourn,
I blew a kiss and swore that on the morrow I’d return.
My heart, he soars on silken wings.

That new day came. Ah, so unjust! And so complete my pain—
I saw you with another man, your higher halves entwined…perhaps,
though shards of years were ground to dust, my blood prints marked me plain:
a mongrel doomed to stoops and stones, a cur condemned to scraps.
I saw you—saw you slit me like a knife,
eviscerate my very soul and leave my pride to rot.
You…you kissed this man! You graced his life
with lips Love meant for me. You left me nought.
So rapt, this man! Oh, why, sweet thing, were you so wrapped in he?
A fractured dream, a crippled heart—Ha! What are they to me.
My brain, he lurches light-to-shadow.

The day was black, and cold as sin. Intent, hell-bent,
I sought your hearth again…and saw you with a dozen men!
I blew it there, I lost it then. I split but scampered back in ten.
Then kneeling ’neath your window, and bleeding onto chalk,
I visualized a pentagram, and drew it on the walk.
O wretched me! The ills I loosed were sudden and extreme.
I seemed to reel through realms surreal, engulfed in flames and steam.
But in that rune I saw you—your burning hair, your melting face—
betrothed to a misshapen brute, and crushed in his embrace.
I saw you fry, my tainted pie, my angel-not-to-be.
No matter, dear, our course is clear. No other fool,
you fickle jewel, will share your fate with me.
My fist, he palsies as he clenches.

Dismayed by dreams of infants’ screams, I part my lids to find
I’ve merely lost my will-to-be, I’ve yet to lose my mind.
The frauds and freaks run howling, the living **** the dead—
I’d give my all to make my peace; alas, I’ve made my bed.
With toes aflame I wander lame down ways that pitch and wind;
the lashers all assume I’m lost, the hiders think I’m blind.
But I saw you—the Master’s squeeze—a wizened, crippled crone:
a wagging head and yoke of lead, an anvil on your rear.
Your shins were munched, your back was hunched, your skin was puckered rind.
A scorched queen with a smoking crown, your swelling belly led you down
a path of spewing stone, where fouled and flanked by giant flies,
I saw you pass through veils of gas, your piglets close behind.
Your clogs were frogs, your wedding ring a thing of chiseled bone.
Your skirt was thatch, with hose to match the squalor of your thighs.
I saw you walk his wombats, dear, but I was in your eyes.
My leg, he chases me in circles.


Thanks for reading I Saw You. NOW PLEASE CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW TO READ HERO, A SPRAWLING, GROUNDBREAKING FANTASY FOR GROWNUPS IN TWO PARTS, ALL ABOUT THE FIRST HUMAN TO CIRCUMNAVIGATE THE PLANET. (BUT YOU MUST CLICK ON THE PROVIDED LINK AT THE CONCLUSION OF PART ONE TO ACCESS PART TWO! THAT’S WHERE THIS TALE’S AMAZING RESOLUTION LIES. But please...intelligent, readers only!)
NOW HERE’S THAT LINK:

https://allpoetry.com/poem/14922744-Hero---Part-One-by-Ron-Sanders


Copyright 2020 by Ron Sanders.

contact:
ronsandersartofprose@yahoo.com
Drop that skateboard! Put down that cell phone! Click on the provided link to read actual literature.
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Flesh of a lonely man
Needs make up
Wreaths on this list coming

Crossing out and ticking the boxes
We’re still holding the dust of souls
And ashen glances look like desultory glances

****** on the nursed streets
The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives
We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes

Feigining for the father figure
I hope we have had a good time
The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly

Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding
Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court
Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever

Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking
Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never
The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit
I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run
Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way
I’m glad the worker is dead
I wanna govern it all to
Elative and error in my loveless ways
I can’t get anything out of my horse and wine
Midnight Apex Mar 2016
To whom it may concern,
My heart will start to churn,
I haven't met you yet,
But I will never forget if I do,

Your name I'd love to learn,
But until then I'll address this: To whom it may concern.

To who I'm writing to,
I'm sorry for bothering you.
Sorry for being such a *****,
But I'd love to get a kick,

That kick that I truly yearn,
From whomever it may concern.

To who will warm my heart,
My romantic counterpart.
I can't way for the day,
That's already had its delay.

The day I can adjourn
writing to: Whom it may concern.
Joe Gallagher Aug 2015
The frozen shadows cast by the trees
lie still as ghosts in the morning freeze
shrinking against the rising dawn
their misty spirits above my lawn
A wisp of wind carries them aside
in search of shadows for them to hide
until the dark whence they return
to their haunting beds to adjourn
and come the morn they stretch their hands
across the static frozen land
then up the alley and across the grass
tapping their fingers on my window glass
the dancing figures perform a ball
has skeletons upon my wall
like nightmares from my childhood born
But no they lie upon my lawn
and yes they roam inside my earth
the frozen shadows upon the turf

the end
It'll **** me in the end or
send me round the bend.
Some think I'm already there, around the
bend I mean.
But I have seen them come and go
the wide boys, cowboys, the
flim-flam men and just when I think
I've seen it all
I fall into a reservoir of happiness.

I am a mess
can't think straight,
I want to wait, but I can't find the time,
I want more glad
I want it and bad, but
I just can't wait.

It'll **** me in the end,
the wanting and the wanting now
but happiness is a bonus spin
the reels go random and I grin,
I've seen it all before on the
TV screens, in a hundred dreams,
on the one-armed man who
wants a coin to operate, but I
just can't wait my turn.


I adjourn to the bedroom where
I find some room which is my room
and I watch the blue moon which
is my moon and the new broom of tomorrow
will sweep these thoughts clean.
I know
I've seen it all before, but I wonder why
or how it is
that I always want some more
and I just can't wait.
O'Reily Mar 2019
Still Waters Run deep,
They never move.
I just want to tap into that pool,
And I just want to say,
How do you feel today?

So I can walk away,
From this whirl.
And wash away unhappiness too.
So how do you feel today?
I fail to see,
As now to adjourn.

A correction of the heart,
From these words to full stops.
In spirit we can sit here,
Just let the clouds drop all my tears.

Still Waters Run deep,
They never move.
Some how I just can't sleep,
And how do you feel today?
It's all I can say,
Still waters run deep.

A correction of the heart,
May it slowly play it's part.
In spirit we sit here,
Just let the clouds ,
Drop our tears.

So many years,
So many tears,
So many fears,
I will always be that whisper in your ears.

Still Waters Run deep,
They never move.
I just want to jump in that pool.
And I would like to say,
Like how do you feel today?
Still rivers run deep,
Forever come what May!

So here me out,
All feels calm and still,
If you are pleased for us to keep,
Still Waters Run deep.

O'Reily15122018

— The End —