Says Etréstles: “The immortality Aeternitas trepanned the fury of enchanted isolation after descending from the crow's nest on a trip to Rhodes, sinking haggard towards an underworld dressed without pain or ischemia that complained to me originating from transient cellular fatigue. This was enchanting me towards another pseudonym that renews it under the pretext of digging itself into the eternity of unspeakable silence full of possessions in shallow Beech leaves, and above all those ungerminated senses. Abbreviated topic and placebo speeches that were exerting a cluster of cloaks of once fermented and materialized in disconnected lapses disintegrating towards their perpetual movement, exiled and physical-dynamic, but not eternal. Aeternum was boring itself into the continuity of perpetual preaching where nothing and no one emits it out of everything unknown chaos overwhelmed or becoming independent of its effects full of irony and tragic moans sniffing out its dying flat lux, and separating into double archetypes torn from the rehearsal of the thousandth life like all reflective floaters not being afraid of being in a substance that was seeing itself crazy and seduced from its imaginary. For everything that is intolerant, unable to see rolling chariots of fire and not evolving with the exactness of an eternal minstrel. When we were on the deck of the Eurydice I saw how they danced through some diaphanous fingers when observing how the same color of the Ouzo was fading all over its sudden and rebellious sphinx, falling from its own feet insinuated to others that they were apprehended when counting of the cheers and emotions to be later discerned in Aion's ashes. Powers of a potential beginning became a cautious being In Aeternum in a straight line to his clone without beginning or end, without time or matter, being himself his own deity rebelling from the correlated fractal dam. What notion is born from the concept of “Instantaneous being, immune to the cloistered effective and continuous knowledge when materializing as a god…, God of Bern-Gethsemane, among the songs of abyssal seas before the perfection of a hymn, ceases to exist, falling out of tune in the court of Aionius”. I stresses; mandated the zeal to stay in the twelfth cemetery being able to get rid of the symptoms of ****** and Harpies with the flourishing of venerable pious beings like Vernarth, behind these beautiful winged women remaining lustful just by looking at him, and subsequently being swallowed with all their evil thickness resulting from snowy genius. All of them rested with their sharp claws breaking their intrinsic heart in everything that is sometimes a tear before moving through banal philosophical philanthropy, which was lightening their days to discount it in what they learned from another pair, not being the subsequent ones same. Nothing is suffering like the jubilant flute that solfeggio when its sounds are randomly listless making ****** in its trepidation with harmonious notes and emaciated tears on the surface of a mask. Behold, his parallel face is a disfigured universe, not being possible to count distances between his equidistant eyes, and formerly sighs that go unchecked with his physiognomy at the end of the egress that rubs against his relative beloved, disintegrating his own turned into nothing. All these ailments are melified universal emotions that stand out in harbingers of destroyed futures described in some Olivacea Bern branches, made up of the precepts of multiple physiognomies, father and son hating of so much affection and orbiting in lasting decadent cycles with areas and divine contained rootlets of Beech tubers satiated in reliefs of insane emancipating curves..., called Empresses of Vernarth, just like In Aeternum with spaces falling from various inter-tempos to its high grace and radiant help towards the final pinnacle that was ready in the will to lighten him up and go cornering leaf after wasteful leaf.

Everything was recreated in minuscule variations between Romanzas Tchaikovskianas, recent and terse when they divulged him near the Volga. Vernarth planned with the facade of him to resist amid musty and gutted late musical papyri; called scores of illusion and fervor at the sound of the celestial harp that was nothing more than another harpy, coming close to him as it fell on the pegs that struck a Muscovite bell. The borders in themselves became a reality in his space and accompanied him, making him feel that he was still outside the spaces of the Hermitage when he remembered it..., even though he did not know anything or the coolness that attenuates him indistinctly from the Bern-Time that was frolicking in his emotional cover, making him feel such hypothetical compunction at realizing a deadly thread. His life mechanics hesitantly fell off V.V.'s lectern. Gogh, developing in un concretized models with singular embarrassments that have not yet stopped in its squalid rind, on the way to uncovering and then imagining knowing whose it is or was, knowing that no precedent would model its sensation of hyper-Ouzo, aggravated with maledicence in his space Bern-Time, and surrounded by his **** hysteria coming out of the bellows of his veins and ferocious ******, singing to cruel people who laughed with great art for whoever challenged him and concentrated his sorcerer's trick. Ferocious evil devils were still in their remnants rolling through some cracks that ask to circulate in Florence, in Tuscany among some Diavolo with multiform cosmogony, "Possibly reliving" that has decayed from himself, and resorting to himself to facilitate the last parallelism of the variable molecule and lung protervo balanced in grim expansive hopes by validating him..., perhaps of a false revival. From here he will have to absorb himself with hepatic gargles, and seriously insulted desires as he gets drunk from the unknown universe, pretending to decipher the encrustations on his back full of particles that were hidden in residues without mass or gravitations, overestimating the heart that hangs from a hedonistic Longines and from a mischievous ending outlined towards the woods of Hylates longing for him. His verses are confused with ailments and consciences without trace or trace or firmament that remains ephemeral before closing the cousin Lux that was passing in front of In a Gadda Da Vida, whose symbol is the one who outlines it in darkness highlighting his metaphorical soul intangible solemnity and portraying his adolescent face that dozes under the attentions of his ascendants, removing intemperances, and prophetic doping that was torturing and invading him on the fold of Alikantus's haunches when he was annoyed that his own steed would carry him in his arms resting on his disturbed property endorsed in an equine Hoplite. Its iconology is and will be in the hexagonal baptistery of Ein Karem, solfa templar choirs and choirs that thunder from the spawn of the sheaves to a sanctuary that nothing calms in infinite and allegorical deities with tortuous moratoriums enduring the resistance of the obtuse sprains of the ineffable.

Vernarth Antithetical to an Auric medal, it rested superimposed on his arms, wrapped in well-tempered cymbals, nourished by turpentine allied with Ouzo caramel, minced after thick Hellenic toasts when they began to perpetuate themselves with sagacious heretical attacks and narcissistic bravery as they went cloistering himself in maturity that dressed in an imposed narrow law fame, which was expiring under immutable and succulent decrees perched on the same aphrodite in love with himself. Meanwhile, Vernarth stocked up on medallions chained to garments of happiness they were inscribed with precise digits and sighs that would name him as Vernarth, "Son of Sisyphus perhaps", the guru of pending conclaves and hesitations "Here is who I spoke of allowing him to delight in named feat and with trivial branches in plunges that were varying in the spheres that were degenerating into heavy lightness towards their alter confusion. He bites the line of a comet falling on him, knowing that the Sotíras or Sóter has done penance within it that will not let him sleep on the motionless stars. Unstable from a primordial advance, then starting from the worst chaos that could have engulfed Vernarth In Aeternum. From this adolescent temptation that will launch meteorites and elegies at the castle of his courtship, telling him to remain confined in the solidity that he will postpone for other winters and the same passages that will make him come from the northern *****. The sweet necropolis would then light up by not being lost among the living, rather by the fallen who would have to seek the living among the fallen to help them and reciprocate between nearby verses by resurrecting them from In Aeternum…, seducing them from his active life! Vernarth denies coming and going along the aforementioned hillside with his courted delay... she will have to remove his dagger from his wrists, more or less restricting soporific arteriosus threads, smoothing the scaphoid and pyramidal, permeating with tender fire and playful irrational object "instigate In Aeternum to my onerous mind, whose world map and impolite split in the valleys of Berna-Universal..., as Adonis planted that was perceived in agreed cycles,... only by alternating his instigations..."

In æternum Auream Consecratam, Vernarth defoliated after the axis mundi and exaltation of the Bern-Universe world, encrypting in the engravings of all the memories of the Harpies, even in their finished archetypal capital where they moved through the midst of trunks cosmogonic footsteps and of the gods with spare hearts in frank wandering architecture, rebuilding themselves with new gods of consecrated aura. The party continued with decreed dialogue and continued with the medallion on the drag chain that went under the draft of the ship indicating the message to verify and rest in the preciousness of one who can balance his man's maneuverability with his Lynothorax open to the world so that Zeus in this day of utilitarian morality makes it part of his infinite use, but with orderly practical use. In this proportion, St. John the Apostle warns him of the sighting of Cape Koumbournous, approaching Prassonissi, not far from these two appears the third, Karpathos, all this limited to the south of Rhodes in the concordant uniform of his entire work, transforming integrally according to the conception of St. John for the predicaments of maximizing the weight of his alliance with Vernarth; now converted into a dogmatic designer, placing Gnomic poetry to help his memory. For all the themes of wisdom and conversion in each stone on another with a liturgy of construction of the temple that extended them to Patmos, in intelligence biblical verse was explaining the versed maxims converted from the prior cadence of poems in sequence, and legacies of stanzas of wolves that save lives to their hunters with prosaic testimonies delivered in hilarious argumentative eagerness, but not transgressing the expository towards Bernese-Hellenic poetry, with rhythm and cadence of the hours of the day that the centuries do without questioning its cyclical beauty, although I walk on it in a drama of lost revelry.

Saint John says: “The maxims, aphorisms, and apothegms will be where they differ from their charm like the beloved fugitive that Werther awaits from Goethe, like Vernarth, threatened by his madness to escape from the harpies emitting in his apothegm “His intensity is neither worthy nor irritable, but abhorrent." Vernarth is detested by large masses of clones of war comrades who make their apothegm young death in the hands of abhorrent old age, which falls into trends of compromising verses, and circumstantial that require doses of Ouzo on those levels of the classic apothegm, seated on a Klismós with a bald and contoured ***** on the four legs of Vetrubio, and a backing of light Rembrandt being born of all equal synchronicities at the dawn of a preceded and pseudo-literature, which more than letters will be retractable symbols of his bellicose artistic memory that bears of the tabulator of its reflective collections, leaving divine blood in the claws of the Griffin that slices blood of vermin that bind the light with its red pupils, like Werther and Vernarth swallowing the divine gesture that differentiates from those who are not prey to the erratic intensity of the wolf wise, who pursues his prey beyond cold and hunger, finely leaving his victim between nearby hooks and his neighbors Garfed Family members making enemies of natural blood relatives. Here is every part of our challenge in every listless use that is consistent with our entire works since the trade winds put us in the best climatic emotional mode, towards those who live on the food of wisdom more distant than the ignorant fools, but rather for those who they make their species our own variety in good moments that will be intense, but nothing that we cannot moderate with this greatness of small lux, but with great expressive mechanics dissecting interstices and remains of sediments that will remain for us to reassemble with public voices a Messiah as a great speaker, even with nubile apothegms that do not allow to be portrayed. We are sailing here slowly with the force of the blows that drag us to the Koumbournou cape, we can look at the highest peak that can be seen, being devoured by our own expectation that makes us go beyond what we thought we could achieve as a founding prize in the new religious laws that we have to refound, after the phylogeny of Olivos Berna. Not only does the Greek landscape manifest itself to us with the mythical laws to re-study them, but they also make them possible with our overseas proximities on cliffs that fill us with courageous courage towards one end of the stranded ship heeling upward, and towards the lavish waves that speak of coasts and white waters on the same waves that sang denominated in verses of the renewed goddess Hera, and who are related by a hero like Vernarth glorified. Neither illustrious nor villainous, but an aristocrat of Nymphs, Muses, Harpies, and Hesperides taking the sun deck with them in the Eurydice triaconter, stripped of benefits to the one who is just beginning to rule over him with his pious song. ”

The Vernarth-Werthian Tragedy was crossing the overseas challenges of Koumbournou, witnessing before his eyes the storms and effects of the intensity of an adult youth with his apothegm “My intensity is neither worthy nor irritable, but it is abhorrent”. But of Werthian scope, with the intention of competing with all the leaders of the courtship and of the sources of its antiquity similar to one more degraded of charm, leaving those who love and those who have been bewitched by all those who have been abandoned by adhesions of love unrequited. Cycles of horrors over the ship expelled the worst that made the ship list with rattles from Vernarth's gouges that made three-dimensional the superfluous darkness of the birch that was anointed on the mainmast, causing populated voices from minor to major near the Koumbournou cape. Certain temperamental harpies perversely wooed him from high to the freest confines of the scale of sarcastic incantation and countless love affairs. He is forced to witness his own indomitable fictions with an adorable room in the peasants where the harpies and their corsets licked the bobbins of some tonal hypocoristic words, contrary to the euphemistic of his apothegm that bordered on the most abhorrent apocalyptic when he found it in his practices mental manipulators and in the fictitious reality of loving beautiful women who do not correspond to those who love them! They knew this interdict that is hidden in the pavilion of some rockeries that hit the doublets of the minor harpies presenting themselves to everyone in the skylights of the sky, which were overshadowed by contested intimacy since they could not correspond to the final linguistic sounds of the lipped apothegm, adjoining in full love and colorful operatic stillness. Vernarth continues with his gouges inscribing his name and the name of his harpy that would finally rid him of ****** ailments. Arhanis; the harpy looked at herself in three glasses simultaneously, giving Vernarth sorrow for the attachment that escaped through the hiding places of the matrix fairies with delirium tremens when they submerged themselves under the decorated breaths of the floripondium that lingered from the totemic censer, recomposing itself in an incomplete wagon with areas of hydro-monoxide heaps overheating and producing viscosities, smearing his chest and mouth in the vortex as he softens the flow spilled by warm lightning rods in each abandonment, while nothing consoled him when everyone attended to them to overcome his catatonic course. The ursids who embraced the females would be outraged by his laziness, and the hopes of finding them would take them to the shore of Aphrodite with her final dirge defragmented and out of tune. Werther, with obvious elegy, appears with essences and disappeared in anxiolytic body parts. Werther says: “Here is Koumbournou, here is Wahlheim where our docks would still like to house rising boats that cut their bows and keels leaving each other in nothingness. Both pontoons would kiss in their death locked up near the In Aeternum, adjacent to the openwork where the auric medallion grieved. For the first time before committing suicide I saw that the heavy doors that led me to Lotte were opening, letting joy fall on my eyes, being the harpy that every female bears with a name similar to the one who fills her cup with desire and vanity. The harpies whimpered with their bellies full of harsh tears, asking Vernarth for two harpoons from the coarse cellophane of the flimsy sea of her soul, still standing before him dressed as a Werthian organism. Until the Panagia Ipseni, the monastery of Rhodes, cries of projectiles were felt that crossed each other in the swift flight of the desires of the immolation of both, whose ballad melted the rows, tying themselves to two naves like bushes grafted onto the hands of the suicide's executioner. The one who speaks here is entangled in Lotte's glottis, still alive to ******, and he calls me with eagerness and regrets my death in the whole world, not for my Werthian love for her. Vernarth says Werther, this rots me with uneasiness, I let myself fall into its obscenities to decay from Lotte's apnea, which is still in all those who suffer when two harpoons cross for the same destiny..., the victim chooses the first " Says Lotte: "Even after the Vernarthian time, both who dare a rude hostility as a way of harpooning doubt and who are not prone to suicide, it is that hope itself sweetly lingers in the one who receives the wound that bears my name..., that of Werther that grapples with the spur of the Eurydice, and that of Wernarth that crosses paths before both of us were lost in the midst of oblivion. I am still in Wahlheim, but I give birth to those who in the evenings after the bells still come to claim my destiny, perhaps their tragic destiny was taken by the princess Eurymedusa who will take them to Rhodes and Patmos, following the path of the myrmidons between them whom I envy and the princess herself loving him in her Rhodes prose”

Etréstles says: “Vernarth's Aeternitas immortality trembled with the fury of his engrossed isolation, after descending from the top that lowered him haggard towards a spiced underworld, without ischemic pain or complaint, causing transient cellular fatigue, wanting to have another nickname May it renew you, under the pretext of digging into the eternity of unnameable silence full of earth of beech leaves, above your non-germinated senses. Abbreviated topic of placebo and iconoclastic speeches that were exerting an accumulation of cloaks of once ferment and matter in a desoldered period, disintegrating it into perpetual, exiled and physical-dynamic movement, but not eternal. Drilling into the continuity of his perpetual preaching, where nothing and no one emits or auscultates him out of focus, nor outside of every overwhelmed unknown universe, becoming independent from the effects of full irony and moaning in the tragic noses and dying lux, separated from two broken rehearsal mirrors of a life among thousands, like every inflection of not fearing to be in a life watching his crazy imaginary seduced, for which he is inflexible, seeing rolling evolving chariots of fire and the accuracy of an eternal minstrel.

When we were on the deck of the Eurydice I saw how we danced through Vernarth's diaphanous fingers, already leaving the same color of the Ouzo throughout the enraged sphinx, falling on their own feet, where others were already insinuating that they apprehended to be counted in their ovations and emotions, to discern them in the ashtrays of Aion. Powers of the potential begin to become cautious In Aeternum; in the straight line to her clone, but without beginning or end, without time or matter, now being her own God, rebelling against the correlated dam and the notion of the concept of "Being instantaneous, immune to the cloister of effective and continuous knowledge. to become concrete as God ..., god of Berne-Gethsemane, among the songs of the waves of abyssal seas, before the perfection of a song ceases to exist, out of tune with the court of Aion ”. I Etréstles; I command the zeal to stay in the twelfth cemetery, being able to symptomatize the ****** and their Harpies that bloom from the veins of pious beings like Vernarth, after these beautiful winged women, became pregnant just by observing them, after swallowing them with all its evil thicket, remaining in snowy genius and its menopausal gynoecium. All of them with their sharp claws broke their hearts inside, as many times and almost as they were towards the tear, before emigrating for their banal philosophical philanthropy, and how their days were lightened, to deduct from them how they found out, not being the subsequent equal. Nothing is suffering with this flute that solfies when his ears are listless like herramentous ****** making him tremble with harmonious notes and tears on his emaciated surface and his mask. Behold, his simile face is a disfigured universe, not being possible to count the distances between his equidistant eyes, and the tears running wildly down his face, at the end of the mouth that kisses the hands of his relative beloved, disintegrating his own, turned into nothing.

His sufferings due to the emotional sugary universe uncheck omens of destroyed futures described in some branches Olivácea Bernianea; posture towards a presenteeism of multiple features, father and son hating each other of so much love between the decaying orbits of all Albacete's horn and its indurable plain; in areas of beautiful roots and tubers of Beech with reliefs of insane curves ..., called Empresses of Vernarth, like the In Aeternum stretch falling from the autumns in the high grace of the maker, in radiant relief to the final pinnacle, ready to his light soul, stepping on leaves after vacant leaves, recreating the minor variations of his eardrum tinnitus, hating the Tchaikovskian  Romances ..., recent and smooth, when they spread to him near the Volga. Vernarth landed with his mouth towards her facade, amid gutted withered papyri and late musicals; called Scores of illusion and of religion when the sidereal harp sounded, which was nothing more than another harpy, coming when it fell on the keys of a Muscovite bell. The borders, in themselves as a space of reality, accompanied him, making them feel that he was still outside the Hermitage spaces, even though he did not know anything or the cold that would attenuate him in distinction from his Bern-Time that jumps to the emotional deck, making him feel compunction and even hypothetically mortal. His mechanical life fell from Van Gogh's hesitant lectern, as a mechanics of an unspecified model, in a singular dizziness still imprisoned by his thin dermis, on the way to uncovering the figure of knowing who he is or was, knowing that no one before would model him in his hyper-Ouzo, which gravely opens the slander in his Bern-Time space, of the fences of his cursed hysteria coming out of the bellows of his veins and of ferocious ******, that sing cruelly and laugh with great art, for those who he defies and deconcentrates his sorcerer and imp with those evils that are still in his pockets. Rolling he asks to circulate through Florence-Tuscany, diavolo in his multiform cosmogony, "Possibly Dead Reviving" has decayed himself, running towards himself to give the last range of mole and lung balance, in expansive hopes to validate him, perhaps of a false revival . Receiving from the liver gargles, and from his grave goal injured desires to intoxicate the unknown universe, in pretending to decipher the key on its back, full of grains that hide particles without mass, nor gravitations that overestimate towards a pendular digital heart-Longines, like a hedonistic tale and mischievous ending with a profile towards the trees of the Hylates forest longing for him.

His verses are confused with pains of conscience without trace, or trace, or world that falls short before closing the prima lux, passing in front of loves of In a Gadda Da Vida, for whom the symbol of the one who sketches it, his shadows Let them highlight his soul, as a solemn tangible metaphor, portraying the adolescent face of those who sleep under the attentions of their ascendants, removing the harshness of prophetic doping. That tortures and invades him on the haunches of Alikanto, who even carries him on it, when his steed got tired; he himself carried him in his arms resting his sour grief of a Hoplite slain horse. His iconology, is and will be in the hexagonal baptistery of Ein Kerem, solfing choirs on Templar choirs, which thunder in the spawn in sheaves until a An altar that calms him nothing, in the finitude of allegorical deities, who tempt his tortuous veins in moratorium and ******, suffering when resisting the sprains of the obtuse world, trailing themselves in his cold Berniform tail.

Against an Auric medal that prostrated her on her arms, she covers herself with a well-tempered cymbal, nourishing herself with the turpentine and the alliance with the Ouzo caramel in a plummet of the thick Hellenic toasts, she sobs in perpetuity with sagacious attacks, of a heretical and sado-narcissistic, wandering into old age, in which the fame dictated in thin and expired laws is adorned, under immutable and tasty decrees to love over the same aphrodite in love with Himself, while Vernarth stocked himself with the medallions chained in the armaments of happiness inscribed, in the precise numbers of sighs that would name him as Vernarth, son of Sisyphus, guru of pending conclaves and vacillations, “Behold, of whom he spoke and allows me to delight him with his prowess, in self-punishment of trivial branches , in nettles varying the ******* and the spheres that degenerated from heavy lightness to the metallic ones of confusion. He bites the row of his comet, and falls on it knowing that he is the savior of the enlightened Buddhisms, in penance within it, that he will not let him sleep on its immobile stars, but of a mobile astro, mobile range sapiens, the primordial beginning of its chaos bibliographic seized with ideal abstinence, which he figures on his ink-stained wrist In Aeternum.

Ever since his adolescent temptation, he has to launch aeroliths of sighs to the castle of his court, he claims to remain imprisoned in the obesity of its walls, which will be postponed for the other winter, going through the same passage that made him come; on the petty north *****, by the sweet necropolis that would later ignite by not getting lost among the living, rather by the fallen who would seek the living among the dead, to help them correspond between close and resurrected verses of their In Aeternum seduced alive in his life. Vernarth refuses to come and go up the ***** of his court, she has to remove the dagger from his wrists, which almost cuts the arteries threads of the scaphoid and pyramidal, stamped with tender fire and a playful irrational object, "I instigate In Aeternum to my onerous mind, whose world map and its impolite parallelograms cut out the valleys of Bern-Universal ..., planting in Adonis of square cycles, ... only by alternating temptation ...”

Astrum, lux caeleste et clarus
Princeps aetheres et spes
Dux meus in aeternum

Rough translation:
Stars, light celestial and clear
Ruler of skies and hope
Guide me for eternity

I could give you an emotional catharsis cavorting a chorus between pleasure in my prose

and upheld distortions in the pain of the throws of each moment I've held up to my nose

to tell if I can still recall it fresh, the scent of the locker room ribbings and hometown chiding's

"This is who you must be"

Make you come to grips with the absurdity of having to compete for attention to voice in a craft that

is by all intents and purposes subjective

much as all success is subjective

much as all states of mind are subjective

much as I tried to deflect this disconnect, correlation not implying causation

Work not determining happiness

Pain not conducive to Catharsis.

Instead, let's make em all laugh

Because it's already stacked into a sick joke

Speaking truth to power self congratulators talk about field workers like a **** case study

A case study my grandparents walking with Cesar Chavez wrote pages for with their backs

I  don't want to hear more trustafarian folks tell me about the struggles of my people

No.

I want poor folks to tell me how full of **** I am

I want to shout out truth bombs to a crowd that doesn't want to hear it

I want be a contrarian to remind people that they're alive

I want to rap battle with the parishioner as he lays another childhood friend into the coffin

Car Crash, Car Crash, Leukemia, Car Crash, always take my golden ones, have another road rash
You gave me thoughts of god distraught I locked myself atop the lofts compelled to pressure, mom and pops have got the answer down on lock, I'll hail thee mary full of grace til I can't feel another trace, the news that I was read today was sad so I can pray the shame away, get *****, take the blame away, get *****, touch myself again to make me feel like I'm a man, but I don't know what that should mean; if I'm a man am I unclean? ***** Mexican poor boy, embrace that ****, and crack a smile.  Depression is a myth you see, and god is real so follow me. You have a healthy fear in you, and this is good for this is true, the fear of god, the fear of love, the fear of judgment from above, and fear to let yourself be heard, you couldn't say a single word, the fear of if she'd ever know, the fear to let your demons go, the fear of hope, the fear of help, I think you even fear yourself.

"Parce domine Parce Populo tuo, ne in aeternum irascaris no bis"

Oh lord please let me be misunderstood, please let my illumination and voice go beyond the choir

I don't need a bunch of yes men in my life

I don't need people who've never tasted death, tasted pills uncounted and unmarked

Never woken up groggy to the feeling of "thank you what forces may be, I am still alive"

I don't need to preach to the choir.

Usque incorruptibiles aeternum vivet in aeternum
                                         (356-323 B.C.)

The Regressive Legend tells that this good piece of muscular meat and brain too, was born to write his entire story dying with the blood of Etruscan Steeds, each one had golden piercings on the internal hanging of their six paranasal sinuses, to seal life by this blood-tightness. Franciscan timeless swordsman, so that with his last four molars it would give way to amalgamated crystalline light and overflowing from the gums of the period that soaked blood in the equestrian fields. With which from the ventral turbinate he would be in the first row giving pendency to the Troops of the Great Darius, from where his Alikanto Horse, dressed in degrading dust, changed his Etruria marble saddles with his paranasal attributions, and his brain roots of the hypothalamus pillar who gave them super alchemical excitements and compulsions, super powerful attack to arrive at Tel Gomel 7 days before, supported by the elixir of the Fires of the reinforced steel legs of his Alikanto, with whose entity they came out in droves looking like when they ran at great speeds pretending to be more than a thousand equine Etruscans escaping from the Culture of the Vulture war in a rectilinear scourge of speed in an inordinate trajectory by the Gaugamela tapestries.

Vernath; in one of their lives he was aware of broker comments. Along the long avenues there were countless soldiers who had taken possession of their regression! Many spoke loudly through the pavilions of their stateless conscience. After putting their good feeling of great good sufficiency, they called to him to loud voice which with little will he could hear. Then he heard himself say saying ...; They talked about me? Sooner or later I will be with my therapist, she says that before going to her office she was already dictating to approach her great Christus Martial test in Gaugamela. From the six strings of his devotional he came, taken with both hands with great force, to bend from the eyelids of his intruding Sibyl, to travel through the minimum must of the Solstice to reach the point of apogee closest to his epic, which I rescued with Eternal Life an obese arm from wars won by the peaceful Death, in the Way of oblique perpetrated committed soldiers that from Mosul swept him swirling with high bravery mounted in his Alikanto, before arriving at the low meadow forest of the Lid.

If it was a boy ... it was a Man. If he was a Man ... he was an offender of the fortress. If he was leisurely unfolded he always carried his sword, he never left it. Even his reconciling dreamed would be damaged if he deported him from his daily Christian offices. Vernath, is a living survivor precedent to the resurrected Alexander the Great, after 323 BC .. But when they breathed the same glorious air, both looking at each other, brandished cutting the sharp rudeness that divided them with the 6 Golden swords, from 6 angles of strategic fords to die. several times to challenge the pain that surpasses all life the golden strings with blood "Hexachordia Caelestialis Mortuorum", From the musical scale of agony of the sheep plains that are prey to the melodies of the scythes strengthened by the fear of the trembling of the charismatic migrant .

Vernarth was raised as befits a Greek prince, with heroic tales from Joshua de Piedra's epic poetry. He was part of a culture that demanded that great men despise personal danger and take risks to gain experience. His genealogical ancestors came from Sudpichi, near the Talamitense / Chile reign.
He also received teachings from Kalavrita's Etrestles himself in philosophy and science (Kometerium Messolonghi / Editorial Palibrio - Bloomington USA). Since childhood he was a charming guest for the guests of the court. Etrestles was named their teacher, largely to control recklessness and aggressiveness by at least tempering them with more philosophical and civilized values, far from all insomniac excess.
In this he did not achieve complete success, because his obstinacy led him to run around the world barefoot and without clothes. Vernath, far from obeying his parents. He would go out at night and chase the Moon pregnant with pale Solar light on foot to attack it and tame its silver enclosure on its Etruscan steeds, exuding the naused locked in its loopholes.

He learned a great deal from his tutor and became a highly scholarly man watching for Messolonghi and a keeper of the confines of the Kalavrita macro heavens. But he remained essentially the brave boy who spat too blasphemous atomic alcohol on the Cyclops, who wanted to be Hercules surrounded by himself without parallel. Alexander's inspiration was Etrestles; Homer's accounts of his exploits inspired Vernath in his general attitude of putting his books beyond his memoirs and bibliographic insights.

It is likely that he was seen as a brand new version of the classic Greek heroes with divine blood in SudPichi ..., good piece of muscular meat and brain. To a large extent, this was true more than her own Sibyl lying in her lived regression in the decadent heights of Gaugamela's flushed proximity.

Vernath was an extremely aggressive commander who considered any type of defensive preparation as a sign of weakness, so he dared to speak out in opposition to Saint Augustine; The personality of Saint Augustine of Hippo was iron and it took very hard anvils to forge it, attributing to her apathy not to proceed with the courage of the great Maker, for her encyclopedic fervor and scientific rigor. Perhaps in cowardice, for not facing the mysteries of the word of the present Gods. He was therefore encouraged, rather than dismayed, when the Persian army rallied behind the Gránico river, forcing him to stun across it in front of his predicted opposition, like a sovereign crusader. It is the cross of the plain that in oblique route, can rescind the old word task of the ritual punishment of the sacrilegious Pharisee death that lacks.
Vernath with more than 180,000 faithful followers, declared that the ******* did not have confidence in the victory of the greatest affront, and they counted on the pronounced banks of the river to restrain the intensity of their attack enough so that the Persian cavalry defeated him by accumulating centimeters, to gain deadly meters. He launched his cavalry across the river at the point where the enemy seemed strongest brooding, degraded soldier, and after a fierce skirmish he succeeded in driving the Persian cavalry absent from twilight elixir value alongside the extermination of the voiceless I neither sing nor sing.
The second Persian line expired, the Greek mercenaries, held firm, but was slaughtered in less than five variations of the Sun as a declaring manifesto. Depleted of jubilant water resources, the Granicus established the moral dominance of Vernath's army over his enemies and forced Darius to adopt an even more attitude. Local populations Halicamaso, a nearby port moved their lines more than 5 kilometers in their retreat retreated, before the victorious siege since he was awarded by the natural immensities of the forests of Sudpichi, together with his beloved father Bernardolipo, after consonating suspicious corners from the Osho Tarot, when he drew his sword and upright lunge on the first card, on the instep of the undefeated and naive ignorant warrior, versed strenuous mercenary.

Forever wisps through eternal black the earth spin topped on yonder starlight, esquire to ballet, exquisite and on time she play in the fragile orbital dance of day, must you bringeth night, I say?
But spin you must and must you spin,a day, then nighttime for the win... You cannot stop the dance of giants politely perched a breast yon star,
You ask they speak, but in a tone to low to hear, but if you be so lucky to lay ear upon the vibrant voices of our home, the voices they will tell, you needn't goeth it alone...
I sweep your feet with every step lay stepped, I soak your tear with every tear thy wept, I kiss your cheek with every wind that swept, I feed your feast with every beast you've kept...
But most of all, when you perish and fall, my breast open widest for l eternally sleep with all..

Here as I sit
At this empty café
Thinking of you
I remember
All those moments
Lost in wonder
That we'll never
Find again
Though the world
Is my oyster
It's only a shell
Full of memories
And here by the Seine
Notre-Dame casts
A long lonely shadow

Now, only sorrow
No tomorrow
There's no today for us
Nothing is there
For us to share
But yesterday

These cities may change
But there always remains
My obsession
Through silken waters
My gondola glides
And the bridge, it sighs

I remember
All those moments
Lost in wonder
That we'll never
Find again
There's no more time for us
Nothing is there
For us to share
But yesterdays

Ecce momenta
Illa mirabilia
Quae captabit
In aeternum
Memor
Modo dolores
Sunt in dies
Non est reliquum
Vero tantum
Comminicamus
Perdita

Tous ces moments
Perdus dans l'enchantement
Qui ne reviendront jamais
Pas d´aujourd´hui pour nous
Pour nous il n´y a rien
A partager
Sauf le passé

Tous ces moments
Perdus dans l'enchantement
Qui ne reviendront
Jamais

He walked as far as his old legs would carry him and found a place that looked comfortable. The smell of autumn leaves permeated his memories. How many times had he walked in this forest, smelled the trees and river, chased the deer though the hills? He lied there and thought about the people he loved as he closed his eyes for the very last time.

He's only seen what once had ever happened
but the memories he has decidedly repressed
his eyes have been glued, cemented in with solemness
never again shall they open as they've been sewn shut

The stitches themselves have only ever ached
for the needles were minute and blindingly fast
the holes between each slight and delicate thread
has left aperture trails behind, a kindling to his ****** gloom

Cleaved and lacerated, his lids have splintered
**** filled blood as its only moisturizer
spasmming as it oozes along the crevices of his face
passing marred flesh like vines extending unto forest floor

"Hoc est languor meus
Ego praestolabor in aeternum nam finis"
said he with hand hovering over silver chaliced ****
soon, though he shall weep the golden tear of death upon slab

He's between my fingers
in all of the colors
that this gentle light portrays

in the slats of the blinds
that through the shades, the sun shines

a wonder
of a whisper
of a water-wilting ray

I do nothing apart from you

I refuse

Father, ensure I refuse

in every grain of dust
illuminated by the day
He resides

His sweet hello
He waits

and when our star reaches its minimum
throw another piece
of your tender heart in
like fodder, to keep it burning

so we may have a second longer, Father

Dolor;
O, quam potens sit
Sine misericordia
Non unciae

Hic ego pono
Contritum et cruentis
Reliquit meum cogitationes
In aeternum solus
In aeternum mittitur ad tenebras

Culpa plagis meus valde et anima
Numquam me dimittere
Cuniculus in carne mea
Sculptura se nidum sanguinis et os

- Jay M
May 21st, 2019

English translation:

Pain;
Oh, how powerful it be
Without an ounce
Of Mercy

Here I lay
Broken and bleeding
Left to my own thoughts
Forever alone
Forever cast to darkness

Guilt plagues my very soul
Never to let me go
Tunnel into my flesh
Carve itself a nest of blood and bone.

- Jay M
May 21st, 2019

in May 2015 (http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1199379/a-note-from-pallas) i told you i had a large corpus of material that i was editing and saving up to publish in Sept of that year. funny as it is, more than a year later, that never happened nor probably will in the near future.

when i first joined HP in June of 2013, i received nothing but warmth and love. today, i'm closing out my account for good on this site and i want to send you the same. maybe one day i'll be back.

in aeternum,
pallas

Freed me from scheme
not by their alleged surfacing collusion
sunlight and violet grapes atop the old piano with florals shining
windows uncovered
Wide smile I’m unbothered

It was a normal party
three eighth obscured at noon
Second hand antique luxury of the anteriorly badass queens
ruling their badlands in rosemary crowns equivalent twins
Music loud Subterranean witchcraft
swaying between the prototype and old shaft
Legends last forever

at the finale of the ridgy pathway that’s meandering in waves

ivory necklace unobtainable by bare slightly exuberant hands

But straight up feral imagination no civilian could afford
You just have to be alone
to create art for real
You must have faith in artistic spirits roaming the soarable tunnels
all the monsters from underneath your bed
They’ve happened before
You used to breathe prior
Now you’re reborn and haunting two zones

i should just contain myself and focus on my mesmerizing nowness
Which I described badly in two novels
Not perceiving the veiled pleasure of longness
I call
ad fontes
My font is great vibes my worksheet is the oldest
taken and patented I have legacy not ominous
No fog as an aura following the unlucky and rejoice that they holler

I love you hard
I crave my statue of granite but white
Flawless here not yet existing in preview thoughts
ride along 405 extant in moss
That’s how many concepts I carry
but Before I move on

remember to reach

  once years start to pass
I’ll be both places at once.

Parable Fourteen Donítikos: “fourteen vibrations were polarized in the dethronement of Vernarth towards his brother Etréstles, making filial gradation in the possible anti-filial conception of cult and death in whom one is suspended from one to the other under the condemning rhythm of past lives. It is typical of the facsimile of their own Cain-Abel genetic shadow, but of geographical and time-space gradation, which finally brings them together as consanguineous of the same Orbis Alius trunk. Dismissing the no and accessing them to a vibrational anti-Asur (as a healthy and creative mind in Genesis) as energy that manages to restructure itself in any homologation and way in the world of Asur as a son of Shem in Genesis..., as compared mythology and inter-generational, enlivening socio-parental metaphors, pronouncing in cohesion and enchantment of what happens in another similarity of gender or Mental field, staging the probability of a mental Sun that dies in a Super Man and this comes to free us from the bonds of existence and of the earthly plane not reflected in immanent and instance of Aeon, in geological and sidereal lives. The scrolls of this semi-myth, it is subsequent of pendulous scrolls in the arbitrations of our existence for thousands of years, linked to links and human characteristics of knowledge through meta-senses of emotionality and their comparative feeling. The intemperance compensation of matter between the anti-pivot and the life between the two refers to the simultaneous undividedness of each individualization, as a phenomenon lacking in hearing in winter and inclement periods. Here the roar of the retro involutions becomes cloistered in Menatira, daughter of Cránae Queen of Eleusis, Pro Eleusis like the fluff of respite burning both through the steppe of silence. Between them, dodecahedron on an octagon in each one, for each one interpolated in each area when Demeter was looking for his daughter Persephone.

“Etréstles metamorphosed so that Metanira would reunite them with the sub-mythology of their destinies and pre-conception of the elucubration of an abstract spell-breaking ending, which mingled with the element of fire in its irascibility, to await the next season in fourteen toasts followed by Ouzo, goods with intact and distant deities in the life-maturity oscillation, making it after the eleventh Ouzo, in determinism of life and autonomous substances of eternity, under the rude power of the one who has to compensate whoever it is. has Everything and he who will never have it. (Eternal life spell) "

a) Abundance of rain of erythrocytes, to quote the legacy of Bios as any deprivation of self-life, rather for those who yearn for it among a physical trifle alibi...

b) Psujé for Vernarth, "Because whoever wants to save the life of his soul, he will lose it." But he will restore her if he is saved by the muscle of his divine psychology. "

c) Zoé, “radiosity and refraction of etherization and taxation, more than a biological physical body, re-transformed into purging of the higher to the lower, multi-created, but in a Jesuit adjective and a consequent sphere of concatenation towards the plane of the Mashiach as holistic of the human cave ecstasy, in perennial marriage between heaven and earth Ad Aeternum "

(Procorus, self-irrigated with erythrocytes, to deliver them between both, and re-level the levels of erythrocytes of divine blood of the Mashiach, which expected to be re-founded in both brothers of the Vibrational in Fourteen Donítikos or Hellenic Vibrations, with the initial D in the lower ear left and the S in the upper right of the vibrational field of God's Tinnitus with his ears placed in his hands, and lead them by his ossicle and theirs, in the curvilinear snow that vibrates in what He only wants to make them Auscultate)

Parable Hippeis above the Eared One: “Kanti; Aristocratic hussar of steeds, a native of Crete, was broken down from servants as a possession of high rank from Thessaly and Argolis. In his frontal Parasinus he ruminated his psychic frontality of not being defeated for the sole fact of being subjected prolonged in helplessness, and stating what he was not capable of winning by defeating a Hippeis when he has imperturbability prior to a master. Therefore he was assigned from the Krepis or crepidorma to the Golden or Golden number. Dividing from all other paranasal sinuses, by less than the base of the kraníon by e long and factored by Pi ( ). In the Paraseno Spheno Palatino of him; the exterior colonnade in eurythmic balance or harmony was provided in order, optical correctness and rational geometric construction with parameters of the Parthenon and spheno ganglion of ribs of the peripteral octasil, surrounding the arcades of the expiration frieze, and exhaling from Zeus the anti-seismic vibrational integuments and neighs of Hippeis, like Kanti exorbitant and convulsive. In his Maxillary Parasinus; he was subjugated in the Architrave of the lower part of the entablature that rests directly on the columns, its structure worked on its servile lintel, to transmit the weight of the roof to the columns and duplicate banalities of the pontificate of the Samarios horses of Orondel. In the parasinus Turbinate Dorsal; a Metope, occupies part of the frieze where the Doric entablature of a classical building would rest, located between two triglyphs. Like a metope decorated with bas-reliefs, in taboric cliffs of Samaria and its horses in neatness of Hippeis blood. Medium Parasinus; the Stylobate, towards the upper step on which the temple rests, forming part of the crepidoma: on a stepped platform that raises the building above the ground level to give it prominence and greater poise. As a staggered middle to the largest of the great final step towards the Koelum, which joins them in their golden edging of the Equisetum like horsetails with green blood. Of the Ventral Parasinus; In The Opisthodome, a separate space located at the back of the temple, a special vestal element is attached together with the Pronaos (or portico) and the Naos (or sanctuary). Here they take refuge for the snout of their cheeks full of Pleiades evading the hunter of Oarion, each one in decreed steeds of Crete and Samaria, that shine in the transition of the oceanic foam that runs by its naturalness in high tides, and in exalted pause erogenous temptation to an Aphroditism. And finally the super Paraseno or Chamber of Canephore, governing and ruling the priestesses of Baal with the steeds of Orondel, for the purpose of sacrificing the sacred courtesans with their hooves that they consecrated in the stylobate, which esoterically became diffuse. Pro reign in the Canephores along with the Vestals, for dichotomous fajina with Hestia between fires and bonfires that will spill from the mysteries of Eleusis.

They had their six Parasenes separated from their numen septum in other castes that super endowed the confusion that came from Samaria in the kingdom of Israel, being a Hippeis of the Elite Greek cavalry. In the farms of this region, one hundred years after the Syrian ******* in this same analogue, Kanti was assigned to openwork in the meadows for agricultural work, adhered to all the Philistine plains. Plethora of exuberance with liters of pinkish Vine before longed for by some, they tore from vine shoots by snouts and Cinnabar sulfur, already encysted in presses and battles of implicit rows of vines burnished by the thickness of their sulfurous secretion, decanting on the exuberant and grassy carpet. In Thessaly Kanti stood out with its supremacy of hydric seed that raised a surplus of rain when the low waters of the Mediterranean rocked the gargoyles on their similar steeds. In the sagittal of his hoof, below the "U" all the Hippeis of Thessaly were marked with the Vox of ππεῖς, but not those of Samaria, they planted their fourth ends on the ground of Deuteronomy; “He fell in love with his mistresses, whose flesh is like that of donkeys, whose flow is like the effusion of horses. He told himself... You longed for the lust of your youth, when Egyptians touched your breast, caressing the ******* of your youth. Continuing in this way Kanti with his chronicles warned that in his militancies and privileges they did not dig select strings of vines when he had to clear his hooves, which were made of fire and steel from Hephaestus bars by order of Etrestles, who distended his agrazones, letting him levitate towards the clouds with the sweet potatoes of their grafted plantations, that burst those esplanades in hydrometeors of tested sweat on the thick legs browsed by the song of their prayers, and thorns that broke their spiky washdown dueling in the cumulonimbus clouds that lavished care that settled before the eyes of Hippeis foremen, where the strains did not ferment like wine that has no vent and makes them burst into new skins. Thus detonates the patience of the gifted steeds of Samaria, towards some new winemakers who would receive him for a grape harvester who brought spices and olives for a new millennium.

The deposits of credibility made everything in their steeds and genetics of a millennium, to be more effective and fruitful for all that Kanti has not stepped on all the Cyclades, Dodecanese and Messolonghi at the same time as Hippeis from Thessaly, but since the optics of the Orondel; who was the duplicate of Kanti Samaritano, bearing ten times the weight that will make him bear together in tons and more than a thousand oil presses that exceed what his body mechanizes like horse power, thus being able to lighten himself in pruning of other regencies that he does not they shake or shake the branches above the tops of Zeus and his molar that neither expectorates nor pulverizes the best without his terrace. Here, where before the trees grew, they grow in the orchard on the outskirts of the town, Kanti frees all the steeds of Samaria with his gravel in his gummed hoof, mining the lands of the kings and digging up napas valued more than all the fruit-bearing heritage, more than in a fifth year along with all the seas, to make of them the ones that are in other uncircumcised as a reward for those who hide from early taming and their slender task. Those gleaned in Thessaly were from pitchforks in the same cereals that gleaned from those who stopped feeding them and assembled in a grass fable of a rustic sower and fallow farm laborers. The spikes did not fall, the Hippeis with Kanti collected them with their extremities legs in provinces of harvest dragged in sheaves and corsican censers of Epha, like a rope of gold and incense of Sheba who thus brought enlargement to Judah and praise to Yahweh. Epha describes the land where the dromedaries arrive in Israel: "A multitude of camels will cover you, the young camels of Midian and Epha." Incense in a sprigs of Bethlehem, with delicious practices inherited from Ruth reaping the barley, oats and wheat in the same stampede of the Hippeis commanded by Kanti thrashing barley, in which an Epha cultivates the Primogen Gramineae of Thessaly”

(Procorus says: "in the defeat of the Persians by the Greeks, in the naval battle of Salamis, in 480 BC, marked the beginning of the decline of the maritime trade of the Phoenicians, here the East was completely extinguished when Alexander the Great took Tyre in 332 B.C., incorporating Phenicia into the Greek Hellenistic world. All the horses that came from Thessaly were all of the lineage of Hippeis de Kanti, with germines from Samaria and Chambers of Canephores)

Parable Ad Libitum Ex Varna: “In the lower and upper parts, a certain anti-demonic air carried a Kerí towards the candles of the Procorus rituals, extending the Eurydice ship that came from Rhodes. On the floor of his cell he had some Tamarisk branches such as Tarayes that vanished due to their quality when they expired at his own monk's feet to become lasting in his Oikodomeo, to raise with the Taray the essences of re-transformation of the lexeme of conventional greenness into Patmos, very deflowered in periods with high untemperances only with some secretions in which Procorus felt the re-flowering adventitious from there and then in the anemophilous advantages of the winds released from the belly in sedimentary veins of Rhodes. In its alchemical anemophilia or movement of inseminating winds, the subtle soil vanished with the force of the Sulfur Lion that derived from the Cinnabar with the Anemoi wind that impregnated the Tamarisk capsules, under the acolyte's feet. The aquifer of the water table of the subterranean waters in Patmos, remnants were scattered so that in Pro Nobis they lay of their demonologies, sponsoring Persian magics of the Lid Post-Gaugamela, with themselves in the Ex Varna with iridescences re-transfigured in the Mount Tabor. Says Procorus: “This Tamarix or Tamarisk has poured limits of our Oikodomeo, to re hold the superficial plate and reuse itself in the absorption of the burning under my feet, forcing them to readapt under the ground scorching concentrated in the Cinnabar residue, carrying the dermal prototype towards the saturated bottom of the salt larvae that prevailed in the pummeled beam of their skill, in some bundles of Tamarisk showing themselves innocuous in the imagination of the cloister suffocated right here by some Chaldean tribes, who felt like the illusionist stand of Ex Varna” . In the compaction of this epic hyper-fantasy, his urge was born from the consecration of the Gift of interpreting the subtlety of two-dimensional variety that would appear up to this moment, beneath the layers that were contaminated out of nowhere by the mere fact of the whim of the augur momentum, which finally it is restricted in the morphism of the Katapausis and chamber of San Juan Apóstol, finally supported by layers and blankets of subterranean aqueous filters towards a restructuring of the plane of Euclid, and towards the vicinity of plantar pedestrian zones of Procorus that were already three-dimensional in the construction of the Oikodome, for the foundation of the Náos or temple, which would go crazy when the Hexagonal Progeniture arrived to build the Vernarthian temple with gifts of multi-construction purgatory for the Oikos in Dwelling of the social unit of Aquarius or Aqua spirits that are terminates at the end of Capricorn dehorned. In mutual edifying peace between both zodiacal proximities of the Oikodomé, here every day specters purged and rubbed in the archetype of the Megaron that was intended to beoblations and in votive links in the massages that the manes of the Vernarthian universe gave them in their spiritual mortar, reconverted in their eternal brawl for living in the friction and brown partitions of the bloodless Megaron to inaugurate it as a solid bastion, in the weak regions of the Hetairoi that cellularly, it snatches energized vitality from their extremities, with total imbalance and wheezy guards maneuvered on their feet, dragging themselves towards the karmic Saetas de Velos Toxeumas and unharmed Dorus. But feverish and threatening their integrity when they were falling and plundering the Euclidean edge, opening up from the designs of the Hellenic palfrey, becoming parametric of Kanti's paranasals and spatiality that would surround the Parthenon of Fidas, with Ikríomas or scaffolding that made them collapse from their coordinates with Mamdilaria and Agiogitiko wine baths on the Vernarthian body between the column of the Sabines and Greek colonies of Lacedaemonians from the 4th century BC. C., already entwined in borders of synchronicity from the Erechtheion, falling from the Caelum, close to all his teachers who helped him install the final tiles of the temple, next to them intoxicated with Nepenthe, by intense vine rain stómas in the silent afternoon of the Inter-Cosmos of Athena, sending them the poison of Velos Toxeumas, a priori… and before attacking any skin that wants to revive itself in the inoculated Vernarthian dreams.

(Procorus, manifested himself solid in his loneliness when seeing that Lacedaemonians and beings of the night accompanied him, in contrast to the dark light that allowed him with a single candlestick to expand more inaccessible in the semi-glyphs in the grooves of the Megaron that shone synarchically in the plans of the new Monastery of Saint John the Theologian) ..

Parabola Megarón Dódeka Spathiá: “Procorus perceptibly saw how the sky of Patmos was crossed by heavy metalloids of bronze, tin and acroballistics; for the cavalry of Kanti and six Para Senos appeared, who used to ride on the roof of the Megarons belling to the sounds of the acroteras. In these episodes in twelve Swords that were multiplied in advance by thousands before the Megaron began to be built. In relevant dimensions and virtual foundation lines, acrostics of steeds from Thessaly on their palfrey mounted Polish Winged Hussars, carrying twelve wings of cuirasses with twelve horsemen, adjoining the halo of heavy cavalry in Katyn, being abducted by a circum-regressive parapsychological Ellipsis of the 1939 event in Poland. Each rider was strung in blood with golden wing feathers. In each of their hands they carried the curved saber Szabla, to cover up the unspoken target of oppressors and musketeer intruders from the armory hearth of the hypothetical enemy-unknown but outsider, assaulting the flanks of the rooftops in the Virtual Megaron of Patmos, using Kopias or pikes that schemed in the impetus of deadly resistance of the betrayed ancestry. The roof that pointed to the south west reflected the light of Orion by aerial forms of the Aegean choir, riding on the high seas with Votive offerings or offerings of Cyclamines and Red Poppies, hovering in majesty in their nomadic obtuse compass of Rhapsodas coffering epic elegies of the Megaron and of those revived venerable triumphs that stretched out on the banner of glory and bed of epiphany. Rhapsode proclaims thus: "In Katyn Wings of Golden Wood and Red Poppy, they adorned themselves with Bellis Perennis in twelve thousand rags in our steppes harassing their moan in blood wars, framed in large sections on the threshold of their mounted war. There were twelve thousand red poppies burning on the executory pilaster near Smolensk.” How much is there to get fed up in the Polish cavalry of the 17th century, that upon glimpsing the barbarous sounds of the temple that approached them to the altar of the Virtual Megaron, showing off in acquiescent ceremonial and counter-revolution of lifeless aristocracy in needy portals-living and mortal-living who posed in the rear of twelve thousand officers slain in the Forest of Katyn, such gentle medieval men in the contemporary untimely invasion. Here in this place the puffed winged horsemen went by destiny when they were sacrificed, like steel cushions they galloped on their heads sheltered by brotherhoods of Hussars that protected them with Lion and Tiger breastplates with retracted claws. Procorus, observed in the virtuous imagery as medieval winged specimens, protected the frontispiece of the Megaron in bullet-ridden super-existence and a trance of historic architectural dread. Here on a Patmian soil, each one of the officers was aided by each 17th century Polish cuirassier with ferocious wings, they were making them agonize with honor and glory, with those similar twice right there of their resemblance, with misty discrepant blood interwoven, executing on apocryphal witnesses who covered themselves with your looks, of overflowing evasion and truce of bodies stained with mourning and despair, with blankets of red poppies scattered adjoining a naive unarmed forest. Over exalted memorandums and secret cries of Adrastea procreating their kind with the nymphs, they drowned out the cries of cuirassiers like Didaskein, before sobbing in their topic, but of Pashkein in the foliage of rotten hopes, of those who hit them from behind, in analogous vexation to heroes of Katyn. Here neither Cronos nor Mother Rhea heard them, only Adrastea prevented the cries of the men-children who were atoned for behind their backs, from venting them from the foliage of the Didaskein-Pashkien, in tears of solid mercury. Kanti's steeds rise, carrying them the curved Zsabla sabers, before each is shot in the head as twelve thousand Winged Riders are caught in each Zsabla. These sacrificed them before they were killed in the waist of his head, not being expired by ammunition but rather by sabers of honor and glory of their own winged protectors, who would lead them by sharp weapons towards the holocaust of the Mashiach surrounded by red poppies. “The red and steamy cendal of the forest carried the souls of the Hussars to pass them through the sabers of their compatriots, before they were immolated by the Soviets, so their apostolic souls will be catechized by Zsablas of dyed airs of Red Poppies converted into air of respite from the heroes of the Katyn Forest, redeemed by the Golden Winged Riders of the 17th century”

(Procorus in the immensity of the voices and epithets that were heard, differed in the volatile and explosive metal sabers at the present time that were extinguished in their crooked armor and in Polish beings, in a rear that finally Procorus settled them in urdes of immaculate habit, suspended in twelve thousand Red Poppies flanked by his forehead before being shot from the cortex and occipital lobe, forging into golden sabers and cenobitic transvestites who received them in arms in the sublime stench of effluvium of their blood and hosts, never left and desisted from bubbling by the figures of the acrotera near the Megarón, ditto in the same Forest of Katyn, surrounded in a string of Rosary that dazzled in Procorus prohijando them)

Parable Fourteen Donítikos: “fourteen vibrations were polarized in the enthronement of Vernarth towards his brother Etréstles, making filial gradation in possible anti-filial conception of worship and death in who is suspended from one to the other under the condemnatory rhythm of past lives. It is typical of the facsimile of his own genetic shadow Cain-Abel, but of geomorphological gradation and time-space, which finally brings them together as blood relatives of the same Orbis Alius trunk. Dismissing by not accessing a vibrational anti-Asur (as a healthy creative mind in Genesis) as an energy that manages to restructure itself in any homologous way in the world of Asur as the son of Shem in Genesis..., as comparative and intergenerational mythology , enlivening socio-parental metaphors, pronouncing in cohesion and enchantment what happens in another similarity of gender or Mental field, staging the probability of a mental Sun that dies in a Super Man, and this comes to free us from the ties of existence and plane terrestrial not reflected of immanent and instance of Eon, in geological and sidereal lives. The scrolls of this semi-myth, is subsequent to hanging scrolls on the will of us existed for thousands of years linked to links and human characteristics of knowledge through professed and comparative feeling. Compensation of material distemper between the anti-pivot and life between both refers to the simultaneous undividedness of each specification as a phenomenon lacking hearing in winter and inclement periods. Here the outburst of retro involutions becomes cloistered in Menatira, daughter of Cránae, Queen of Eleusis Pro Eleusis tally fuzzy from the convulsing breath of both through the steppe of silence, both of them. Dodecahedron on an octagon in each one for each one that was interpolated in each area when Demeter was looking for his first-born Persephone.

“Etréstles metamorphosed, so that Metanira reunited them with the sub-mythology of their destinies and the preconception of the elucubrar of a final breaking of the abstract spell, which was mixed with the element of vehemence in their irascibility to wait for a next season in fourteen toasts followed by Ouzo, and goods with intact and distant deities in oscillation of life-maturity, making it after the eleventh Ouzo in determinism of autonomous eternal substances of the ritual of Elusis, appreciable power and coarseness of the one who has to compensate for the one who has everything and the that will never have it. (Eternal Life Spell)”

a) Abundance of rain of red blood cells, in quotation marks of the legacy of Bios as all deprivation of life file, rather for those who yearn for it between a physical trifle alibi...

b) Psujé for Vernarth, “For whoever wants to save the life of his soul, he will lose it”. But he will restore it if he is saved by divine psychology muscle."

c) Zoé, “radiosity and refraction of etherization and physicality, more than a biological physical body re-transformed into purging from the superior to the inferior multi-created, but in a Jesuit adjective and sphere of consequent concatenation towards the plane of the

Mashiaj as holistic of the human cave ecstasy, in inflexible marriage between heaven and earth Ad Aeternum”

(Procorus, auto-irrigated red blood cells, to deliver them both, and relevel the levels of red blood cells of the Mashiach's divine blood, which expected to be refounded in both brothers of the Vibrational in Fourteen Donítikos or Hellenic Vibrations, with the initial D in the lower left ear and the S in the upper right of the vibrational field of the Tinnitus of God, with their ears placed in their hands, take them by their ossicle and from them in the curvilinear dawn that vibrates in what He only wants to do to them Dodeká).

Crossing the overseas challenges of Koumbournou, the storms and effects of the intensity of a Young Adult were witnessed in her sight, with her apothegm "My intensity is not worthy or cause of irritability, but it is abhorrent." But from a Werthian field, with the Venia to compete with all the leaders of the courtship and of the sources of his antiquity, as one more degraded of the spell, he left those he loves and those who have been bewitched by all who have been abandoned by adhesions. of unrequited love. Cycles of fright on the ship, triggered the worst that made the ship list by their rattles of Vernarth gouges that made the shallow gloom of the birch three-dimensional, which anointed it on the main mast, eliciting populated voices from least to greatest near the cape. of Koumbournou. Whose temperamental harpies, they fell in love with the evil high and freer confine of the scale of the sarcastic enchantment of their songs and love affairs without courtship. He is forced to witness his own untamed fictions, of adorable stay in the peasantry where harpies with their corsets on, lick the doilies of hypocoristic words, euphemistic opposite tonal of their apocalyptic verging apothegm ...; but it is abhorrent, when he found in his psychic manipulative traditions, the fictitious reality of loving beautiful women, who do not correspond to those who love them! Knowing this question, they hide in the pavilion of the roqueríos that beat the corsets of the minor harpies, presenting before all the skylights of the sky, which were obscured by contented intimacy, as they could not correspond to the final linguistic sounds of the lofty apothegm, bordering in full and colorful love of operatic stillness. Vernarth continues with his gouges inscribing his name and that of his harpy, which would finally remove the ****** ailments. Arhanis, the harpy looked at herself in three mirrors simultaneously, giving Vernarth regret, for the love that escaped her through the hiding places, the matrix fairies, with delirium tremens, were submerging under the decorated breaths of the floripondium, which delayed the totem censer, recomposing an incomplete wagon of areas rich in hydro monoxides, overheating and producing viscosities, smearing his chest and his mouth in the vortex, spilling warm lightning rods at each abandonment, while nothing consoled him, while everyone attended to them to overcome their catatonic state. The bears that embraced their females would be outraged by their laziness, and the hopes of finding and rearming them were taken by the shore of Aphrodite in his last defragmented and out of tune dirge. Wense, with her evident regret, appears to her with marrow in corporal and anxiolytic disappearances.

Werther says: “Here is Koumbournou, here is Wahlheim, where our dikes would still like to house the ascendant boats that cut from their bows and keels, leaving one between the other in nothingness. Both barges kissed in their deaths, locked near the In Aeternum, adjacent to the draft where the auric medallion was distressed. For the first time before committing suicide, I saw that the heavy doors that led me to Lotte opened, letting joy fall over my eyes, being the harpy that every female carries with a name similar to the one who fills her glass with appetite and vanity. The harpies whimpered with their bellies full of dry tears, they ask Vernarth for two harpoons of coarse cellophane from the flimsy sea of her soul still placed before her, donning a Werthian body. Even the Panagia Ipseni, monastery of Rhodes, the laments of the projectiles that crossed in the swift flight were heard, of desires for the immolation of both, in a romance that melted the ranks by tying themselves to two naves like bushes grafted in the hands of the executioner of the suicide. The one who speaks here is entangled in the glottis of Lotte still alive to love him, who calls me with an eagerness to mourn my death throughout the world, but not for my Werthian love for her. Vernarth, I rot with calm and I let myself fall into her obscenities to decay from my apnea in Lotte, which is still in all those who suffer when two harpoons cross for the same destination ..., the victim chooses the first ".

Lotte says: “Even after the Vernarthian time, between the two who dare in a rude hostile way to spear doubt and who is not prone to suicide, it is that hope itself gently delays, who receives the wound that bears my name ..., that of Werther, who fights the spur of the Eurydice, and that of Wernarth, which crosses before we were both lost in the fog of oblivion. I am still in Wahlheim, but I give birth to those who, in the afternoons after the bells, still come to claim my destiny, perhaps their tragic destiny was taken by the princess Eurymedusa who will take them to Rhodes and Patmos, plowing the path of the Myrmidons, among them whom I envy; the same princess loving him in her Rhodes prose”