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JJ Hutton Nov 2010
Call me crying, sweetheart.
The sound of you cracking,
would be a joyous symphony
to lonely ol' me.
Your defeat would only affirm
my prophesy.

I love you, kid.
But that doesn't mean
I don't want you to be
absolutely miserable.
Get ******, call me bitter,
cruel, or a synonym of sorts,
but allow me to remind,
my use of the word "love".

I saw you stand alone.
You had a majestic, individual soul,
now you are a blinking projection,
of what some hungry boy wants
you to be.

How often do you see him
when you don't undress?

How often do you whisper,
"I love you" without making a mess?

I hope all your thoughts
are second thoughts.
I hope all your fantasies
turn to lucid dreams.
I hope your tethered body
tears from the seams.

I love you, kid,
and I want only victory.
Copyright 2010 by J.J. Hutton
Universal Thrum Jul 2014
Shatter the paradigm
Thirsty soul, enrich, affirm, flame the winter fire
The playa calls out to everything you are or will ever be
Resonate as the eye of the storm
Unfurl your colors and let them fly among the other banners

Walk onto the playa, a man strapped
with a guitar, nine harmonicas, one morraca, a melodica, a journal,
and a soul full of childlike wonderment radiating love.

Share the highest self
receive others in the same saintly light
"Buddha", "Buddha"
Man the poet's post, gift a poem to whatever brave adventurer
finds their way to your dusty shore
Be a beacon of spontaneous joy among the other bright lights
Engage in the mystic pleasures of Black Rock City with a lustful curiosity reserved only for the most devout Bacchanalian Priest,
standing amid the pagan ****, waving spilled goblets
like an overflowing gaggle of drunken pirates singing a wild tune,
arms sweeping and fists swinging in clever rocking harmony,
conductors composing romantic chaos

Love being alive.
Love putting your feet in the dirt and smelling the dry air.
Hear the birds singing unknowable songs that you were born to follow, Feel the sun on your skin, let your Self burn.
Walk amongst trees and wrap your arms around rooted giants
as you hurtle through space

Connect and feel balanced within this paradoxical existence
of constant change,
lightly hold the hand of letting go
See into people's eyes,
Create new channels for awakening.
Be a romantic and cherish womanly love and lust.
Enjoy the embrace of hands, union of lips,
and the primal enlightenment afforded by duality.
Attend jazz nights at pirate mead bars and write dizzy poetry in comfy corners. Share art. Speak spanish and play guitar.

This waking life is a dream, is it not?
Dream of exploration, in the material and spiritual realm.
People are endlessly fascinating, dream of meeting them all.
Continual realization of the oneness of all life is a sustained dream,
trust your path and part within this grand symphony,
the light of the festivals may provide clues,
fearlessly be a seeker of these chances.

Be ready for genuine human interaction,
be brave enough to ask the forbidden questions,
and wild enough to attempt at the answers.
We all carry a piece of the puzzle, find community,
a place where many pieces can come together
to bask in the glory of life.
Add your own piece of light to shine in the desert.
Sit amongst philosophers and rebels in the shade,
revel in the mystery together.
Winnalynn Wood Apr 2021
It was an unexpected travesty
While I sipped on my Paris tea

Black and swirling in the creamy cup
The melancholy inside wasn’t made up

The touches shared never to be replayed
A pen left wordless on the splotched page

The story of us dwindled and ended
I’ll yearn the soul I lost and befriended

It stains the wanderings in my heart
Restless longing never to depart

Will she look at you the way I did too
Or with her smile is your gaze anew

Amongst any spoken tendril I have to say
You’ll ignore it regardless, keep it at bay

No matter wherever I beg and try
Forever I’ll be pinned as the bad guy

Your friends affirm it without any doubt
The words you spill attract gallons of clout

And even with a vine of knowledge to prove
They’d pry and spy ‘til nothing’s left to prune
Whilst drinking my daily cup of Harney and Sons Paris tea I imagined this scenario. The heartbreak of being replaced is shattering indeed.
Mays Benatti Jun 2021
I found a place of solitude inside my mind,
Self  reflection teeters on the line.
I speak my affirmations, shaping my manifestations,
Satisfaction on the road to attraction.

Through universal connection, I feel it rise,
Flowing gently through my consciousness.
I am your daughter, twin flame, friend,
Teacher or lover, it doesn’t matter

For we are all made of stardust and matter,
And that is the piece that truly matters.
This poem is a reflection on self discovery, spiritual growth, and the interconnectedness of all beings. It emphasises the power of affirmations and manifestations as tools for transformation, guided by the law of attraction. The universal connection described through relationships, whether as a daughter, twin flame, or friend—highlights the fluidity of roles and how they all stem from the same cosmic essence. It’s a gentle reminder of our shared origin in stardust and the profound significance of that unity.
Wordsmith Jul 2018
Mama told me to keep her close.
Certainty provides clarity.

So I give her my hand,
And in barter, I quest a true friend.

I have a doubt, I turn to Certainty,
But am met with the silent treatment.

I press further,
Only to be reduced to resentment.

I wonder. How can this be?
Desertion in times of desperation?

Certainty, existing and non existing, remains an illusion.
A body, that will never affirm any supposition.
Nik Bland Sep 2013
We burned with passion for days on end
And just as we showed signs to transcend
The embers fell too quickly on our sun
And for too long it did erase
The way your lips, your kiss did taste
And I found that the two had become one
And you were gone and I alone
And my voice called in bitter tones
That belong to star-crossed lovers running out of air
Until I was silenced for a while
No written word, no creeping smile
No showing of a single wish or care
Then there you came out of the black
With shreds of hope the sun would come back
But I was never there to affirm them for you
And so we stood where love once did
A whisper of what should have been
Two star-crossed lovers, which love somehow did illude
Holly Lipovits Jul 2013
Trying to yearn what you say
Never comprehends
It can go like this throughout the day
Because this is all that has to depend

With such deep despair
Any words I affirm can never make sense
A different time can seem to affair
But without neglect, it may be intense

An unknown reason
Can lead to many assumptions
There may never be one definition for such
Yet here come all the presumptions

Articles are overthrown individually
And slowly crumble as we start to speak
With unknown consciousness of each will eventually
Due to all these oblique unspoken thoughts

Are all just words said without a single trace of truth
Wren Djinn Rain Oct 2015
At this point I feel like the universe is mocking me.
It might not be that I don't see god, but that I can't.
The past comes fast to bite my heels every time I
think that I'm making progress. I'm wiser now than
I was before, it's clear, I affirm as I take today's pills
so I can step out the door. Suicide was a big deal
but I never did it. Over time I realized how good
it is to choose friends. How safe it is to manipulate --
over self-destruction, what an improvement. A
sad sea of years is only bad with a lack of grasp
on the force that pushes you with an eager
wind. How safe is it to say, simply that I've changed
for the better and made improvement?

We broke the truce way back when,
you thought I was God and I couldn't prove it.

History repeats with a new veneer. A new sheen
to improve the wrapping of the package.
The package's contents remain the same.
History repeats with a new veneer. A new sheen
to improve the wrapping of the package.
The package's contents remain the same.
History repeats with a new veneer. A new sheen
to improve the wrapping of the package.
The package's contents remain the same.
Tara Marie Dec 2015
Strange feelings swim inside me,
confusing and alert.
Prodding me to make a move;
assume, affirm, assert.

Yet these tones only arise
within the realm of me.
I'm building solid structures
from only misery.

Misery imagined
Misery, elusive
Why do I question everything
being inconclusive  

Like happiness backfiring
scrutinizing itself
to pick apart perfection
and pity all the wealth

To find a problem buried
where graves have not been laid
and ravish in the thinking
I should be getting paid

I'll sit and whisper to myself
I should be getting more
of everything completely
as if love is but a chore

He tells me things I know.
The things my heart is saying.
Why does the mind escape the heart
all certainty decaying?

But he is right
and I am wrong
I love all of this man.
Expectation kills livelihood
He does everything he can

Overthinking hurts
when none of it is true.
We cannot build reality,
fake disappointment--brewed.

So holding hands with him
and I love you's ARE enough.
The feeling IS the knowing.
Uncertain, true and tough.
Sebastian Perez Apr 2012
No words to articulate as I sit and think, the sky is overcast with a cool appearance, as the heat misrepresents its true nature.

No stories to tell of an unanswered love, a lost beginning when I lost my true love. Words can apply my lovingly touch to my lover's heart.

The dreams I affirm they'd live, but alone within the poet heart, No articulated words none left to give my precious little one. Silence surrounds my heart, a dark and cold ***** the size of my fist. The poets heart rhythm, lacks the harmony it once praise for the woman of his.

Engulfed in social isolation, my world slowly collapse, as the poet anticipated. Stress and mental exhaustion, it fatigues the poet mind wondering when my love will depart. 

A sound of the poets favorite music that once enticed my lover as swell within my soul. Losing the beauty and glory I once saw each day.

An inquisitive thought, can this be the poets pens my last goodwill, can there be a amber left in her heart that I may convey this love on paper?

What's this poet to do? Not able to express myself, I feel for my true love, My passion to write would surely die, lacking the emotion while concealing and protecting her once love, deep in my heart. 

Does this poet conceal the pain and heart ache, while smiling at friends, saying I'm fine, does it even matters, barricading my pain, hiding my shattered spirit, from friends due to the love I couldn't attain.

A choice in life in the heart of a poet, excusing the bitter advices from friend who want to see the end. My love for her is stronger than ever, but her decision outwit the strength of the writer, therefore it is left with the Creator of this poet.
A poets lost for words.
PrttyBrd Jan 2015
Sitting in the aftermath
Of shattered dreams on broken skin
Left to wonder how
Realizing we are all capable of unmentionables
Steeped in regret
Begging forgiveness
Accidents are accidents
Still, there is no forgiveness
Self-affirming the negative
Unintended consequences
Alter perceptions
Who are these people
Who, then, have I become
Though, that who feels more like a what
And the demons laugh
As they frolic in the real world
Let them run free
Let them dance
Who I was
Will hide in their dungeon
For it is safer in there than out here
Yes, it is much safer
And there is no one
To say differently

          Punish the guilty
                    Punish the guilty
                              Punish the guilty

Who needs proof
What is proof
It was only an accident
Unintentional circumstances
Affirm nightmares
No one will find me in here
Safe in the lair of the beasts who bore me
Alone inside my head
12215
Ayelle Garcia Jul 2014
Everything's in a fast pace.
Can I still catch up?
Running in an endless race,
Life has worn me out.

I'm like a wall
That can't easily be brought down.
Time though has made me fall,
But made me realized not to frown.

I have to stay firm,
Even in adversities.
Let not time hinder, I affirm.
It brings the best of abilities.

Please keep up with me,
Even not for long.
I'll show you how precious you are to me.
Let not time's race lose its myriad song.
Another of the first ones I posted in the past, and this is randomly inspired.
Raquie Apr 2020
Bushido don't like no virtureless woman
or maybe that's just what she thinks...
Cause maybe he ain't as virtuous as he seems.
But I like,
I be having Brittney spear moments
I be like, "oh my god, oh my ******* god."
And then I bust out laughing cause I'm having a Brittney spears moment.

Is that anxiety? I guess I never really categorized that feeling. I be feeling crazed. I don't feel it often and I wonder if its healthy to feel that way.

I know I ain't healthy cause I been reading my books, feeling resentment and regret.
How can I be a student and a teacher?
What I'm spose to do with him
They say the way a child acts is dependent on the parenting and that's facts
The flattering would urge me to reconsider,
'you a single mom one day you'll get it'
The real would tell me to **** it up, girl step it up**
It ain't easy, man this stuff is tough
It's going to take a virtuous woman sho nuff

The type who does things for herself
Be a righteous woman
One who ain't gon move
Stand on your word, cause that's what the solid do.
The amplified version of your intent being articulated into existence.
Dont be reckless with it.

Be a courageous woman
Notice the little things.
This is ain't nun but a drink. The fight is within me.
I gotta apply the things I think
And that starts with thinking better things.

Self control and Respect
I am the master of myself, the tender of my mind.
How others treat you is a reflection of how you treat yourself. 
 Tame your touch and your tongue. 
 Speak with a light heart, beam expressions of love
I am Benevolent

Cause I am that I am sooo I am who I be.
But who is that actually?
A woman with integrity
I been getting these signs and they been telling me this ain't where I'm meant to be.

Short fused, I been lacking patience.
A victim to my own abuse. I self destruct. Seldom slow down and put myself in check.
BUT I'm on my way
I swear I am on my way...

Honor thyself, be the example.
Affirm your intentions with your actions
Otherwise you just here blabbering scriptures, you telling the story but don't really get the picture.

Let your companions be sincere.
Cause them a be the ones to hold you back by the ear
Casting spells and killing ideas by suggesting fear
Feeding the darkness in your shadow
cause they lacking light within

Honor Yourself.
You are your elders
But even they can be their own enemy
Somebody said,
"A smart person learns from their mistakes,  a wise one learns from others' mistakes. "
I rather be wise.

Remember this is a fight. Young warrior. You cant have a young mind. Young minds are innocent, young minds are naive. Young minds are pure and ignorant to bad things.

Grow up, into a virtuous woman. Aware of what is and transformational when something's gotta give. Free, she lives. Bushido, she sips.
Yes, I am aware that virtureless and transformational are not a words but you gon learn today. Poem started in early April while I was drinking Bushido Sake and kinda going thru it mentally and emotionally in regards to motherhood, womanhood, and other tings.
Dylan A Apr 30
I want to annotate your margins with my mouth.
Then I wanna arch you, till your spine curves.
I’ll take your pretty cover off and touch your soft paperback.
To affirm the words you wrote to me,
So forth, I’ll even say: And I, you.
So I, so you; so much.
You’re so then, such a good girl.
I’d use you and reuse you, maybe even never, ever let go.
You make me turn to our next chapter.
So, I do.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
The bonds unravel over time
if they were there at all
sometimes I wonder what’s the case
connections to the human race
I barely know who I am
how could I know a fellow man
when the means to relate
are fraught with peril or too weak.

Nods are given to affirm
recognition beyond the one
these empty gestures are like smoke
pushed aside by the wind
in sharp contrast is ***
bumping bodies in the dark
feeding need to promote
humanity’s onward spiral.

Those entities beyond my sphere
a bubble shrinking as I go
depending on the day or year
as my feelings are compressed
I’ll consider all these bonds
wonder how to promote
something more than what I feel
while slipping down my rabbit hole.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180818.
The poem “Down My Rabbit Hole” is a passing consideration of relationships.
vircapio gale Nov 2012
fem in isms,
i imagine Sapphic eyes:
bad *** advert coruscates elite
fairness sensing slavish blind
in gestate calm affirm
in genders More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--
O harsh judgement foiled,
as a foil, as unknown truth
foil-doubles in the brow,
abject symmetry to systemize
a fertile lack of sterile barrenness,
i am a mediatrix rend,
nirwaan, hijra wonderment aside
from transemotion's ground swells
demeaning to be understood.
i celebrate and face the same
to be what paperwork tests being
normal being, freely chosen
atom each belonging moves
an asterisk of paths
of mutate art of nature social darwin maze.
i imagine Sapphic eyes,
ginko soft they pile up all cobble
memories themselves concretely
cloistered  fame
spray of salty waves,
macho screams symbol
for dismissal ease
for tearing at an inner unsaid war
with lists offense of proper taste
to what posterity intends
an undulation womblike seeming nourish safety sounds.
i imagine Sapphic eyes
past
debauched
meanderings
where hyster-clarity rejoins its titular
and reliable escapisms curl the lips
of maleness found
here and there  smile  sneer love
i imagine Sapphic eyes
linguistic pirouettes
congest that wisdom nonetheless
the moment passed  on to a
feigning truth in pretty rhyme
ornamenting time with fine  meter  fine
vernacular chimes peter in
to juggle perspectival paradox,
redichotomize the twilight idols,
resolve the conflict like a dawn
Aurora,
i imagine Sapphic eyes
running plastic with Alaskan wolves,
toga floats to snow
to let us see the purest fairness form
a ****** circle,
Hypatia ascends from tenebrous grave,
Impregnable of Eye is pregnant now
with Wollstonecraft revered
in liberation's fount
families held exemplar gaze of
Taylor, ******, Cady,
Anthony resanctified
to vote entitlement's
empathic origins, waxen mold
of nascent categories,
narrow hands spread wide to panoply anew
the manifest evolve in true unknowns
processing power, no delays, high octane fury, filtered through a glorious glass hole, gaze and wonder with me, I'm somewhere that seems to be..further away, it was all allowed to happen, I took control of it, or let it go?  Honestly that thought perplexes me, I don't know, a whirl wind, I'm on a spaceship, reading to roosters, letting them give their crow,, allowing them to breath in deeply and cough when needed, its connecting on a stream, and the stream is nice and easy, It understands what it has control over and what it doesn't, gives In sometimes, but it lets the mind be deceiving for a second, then flows back in

Imagine the miccrochorsims, exploring their own roots deeply chaotic, deeply beyond, anything, I, don’t understand…..
Come with me on my digging adventure

Care to have a think?  I thinking not, thoughts through fixations

flick a cigarette and lick a split, you savaging *****, sensitivity of a ****

Come wardrobed with me in Narnia, waking with fixed hats, Wonderland, Haunted by petty notes, humorous haunting, actually amusing 
slaving over the machines, slaving over the rides,

I ensure you, I know how to have a good time

Raging with rambunctious rugrats, pleasant and fun, consuming hours, forgotten hours, fantasies are magic, to forget is perfect

love of saggatarius?  love of Scorpio?  Jupider and Mars?   your words that you thought meant something burn up in the wind, after a long bonfire, burn the ones we thought were vain, it all came from the same well, frame  them all,

frame all of them, in my haunted fantasy

love your point?  I love it too, I sign and I go with you, Love your thesis?  I thought it was interesting, lets come up with some counter arguments and I’ll let your string pull me towards you

Love your praxis?  your objective?  your target audience?  let them hear your rapsody, and hopefully they will live in a new way, their new truth that will get them through the day, their belief, that will hold their prayers, and loosen, affirm


Love your richeousness?  have, have it, and lay in the grass and look at the sky, wonder with reason, come up with a solution, emerge and go back to work

frame it all, I will frame it for you, then laugh and light my cigar, that’s what I’ll do, in my haunted fantsasy, come with me!  I’ll show you

FRAME IT ALL, FRAME IT ALL, FRAME IT ALL
you arrived midwinter
into the loving embrace
of young able parents
eager to nurture and
prepare you for a
hard edged world
filled with trepidation
and uncertainty

boasting citizenship
of two great nations
your honored presence
fearlessly extends
the lineage of proud  
ancient clans

you are a favorite son
hailing from two continents
and a beloved descendant
of two joyous families

your face is a monument,
perfectly chiseled,
expressing the
bold features of
resilient ancestors
rich in the history
of struggle, conquests,
sorrows and countless joys

your blue streaked
eyes reflect the
gleaming vistas
of timeless
ancestral journeys
guided by high ideals
and noble aspirations

your suckling lips
bespeak smiles
of happiness
born from the
achievement of
a successful birth
and the warm embrace
from the ***** of  
parental love

your blithe hair exudes
the fragrance of
melodious Irish poetry

your gifted hands
appear eager
to grasp the promise
of fine Bavarian
craftsmanship

your strong legs
limbered by
Scottish Highland trails
stand ready to conquer
the grandest Alpine peaks

your nose is filled
with the briny snort of
great expectations
European immigrants
inhaled during intrepid
Transatlantic passages
making a way to a New World
marking a family presence
that bestrides the expanse
of a great ocean

in your infant heart beats
with the possibilities
of our family’s
greatest aspirations
and fondest hope

within your DNA
stirs the passion of artists
the fortitude of workers
the faithfulness of farmers
the courage of warriors
the prayers of POWs
the casualties of war
survivors of great wars
reconstructors of
ravaged cities and
masters of industry

as you commence
your earthly walk
we pledge our
help, heart and hope
during your blessed sojourn

we offer up
holy hosannas
that your heart
may fill with a
thirst for truth,
beauty and love

may it overflow
with compassion
to serve humanity
and to stand firm
in the light of justice

may you always walk
as an upright man,
keen of vision,
eager to meet
challenges and seize
opportunity when it arises

may you create
a wholesome place
for yourself and others
by generously sharing
your presence and
the fruits of an
abundant life  

may your mind discern
the right course of action

may you find
reward for your labor
and honor a hard day's work

may your soul
seek to affirm
the Holy Spirit in
all that you do

may you champion love
through a lifelong commitment
to the things you love

may you find
trusted friendship
in the companionship
with animals

may you walk softly
upon the earth and
be a conscientious
steward of its
miraculous provision

may you appreciate the
beauty of art, experience the
freedom of dance,  be inspired
by the revelation of music,
find rejuvenation in athletics,
maintain physical health
and find a long active life
in clean living

may you attempt
difficult things
and be endowed with
intelligence, courage
and fortitude to
steadfastly meet
the challenges of life
and achieve
personal growth

may you receive solace
and garner strength from
a fathomless faith

may God’s
abiding grace
empower you to
perceive the
many miracles
each day richly
confers upon you

may you find
a soul mate
and trust in the
freedom and
beauty of love

may you too
be blessed
with children and
pass on the
good things you
were given by
your parents
and loved ones

may you experience
unconditional love
and unconditionally love

and please remember,
you are the miraculous
expression of a perfect love
may your perfection
light good pathways
throughout your life
as you find your way
in this imperfect world

with joy, reverence
love , hope  and
deep gratitude
we welcome you
our dearest
Theo

God’s Blessing
be always with you
godspeed

Theodore James McCallum
February 5, 2016
In Ardua Tendit

Music Selection:

Wane Shorter: Infant Eyes
Herbie Hancock: Speak Like a Child
Thad Jones: A Child is Born
Claude Debussy: Children's Corner

Pops
Oakland
2/9/16
a poem to commemorate the arrival of my first grandchild
Chapter **
Decalogue

In the absence of Vernarth's transitory, Sardinia was still burning with lilting water. Already rejoining the plasma from which he saw him depart, he continued in the liturgy with monophonic ideologies, characteristic of trance as an element of his regressive parapsychological transfiguration. Already divided into various personalities and entities, he could have almost been instructed to leave for Piacenza and join Raeder and Petrobus to set sail for the Dodecanese to expand his duties with Saint John the Evangelist. He meets with Etréstles and the participating comrades that when he arrived at the refuge in the morning, everyone was asleep, except Etréstles who was starching some sheets of bread dough for breakfast. Meanwhile, he had sacred fire heating with sacred water for everyone. Vernarth approaches and Khaire tells him, he answers, a joy to see you.

Vernarth says: Beloved Brother Etrétles, I have already taken the notations to begin the decalogue. Today in the afternoon we will board the Sailboat and leave for Piacenza. We are in the final offering. In the Izanna tower, I called upon the powers of the Universe to present them, and I was commissioned to make notations of the Decalogue of the souls that Live in all the ages of time and its vicissitudes.

Everyone starts to wake up, look at him and say hello. They sit in a circle to enjoy breakfast. Meanwhile, outside the shelter, the horns felt moving to the rhythm of the minutes. In such a way, that the last sound of the Doric scale that the storm segregates, will provide the beginnings of each one of boarding the float that will take them to the pier of Cala Cogone. Everyone says goodbye and hugs each other, Vernarth and his brother says Khaire.

Decalogue I                  
Hanael
                                      ­      
Generosity transformed into a crowd. Many stones co-exist emanating the sweet energy of Hanael, and among these is the Onix, known as the stone of truth. Whose objectivism was dreamed of the Value of generosity in its maximum expression in the courage centered on the very vibration flower of the Gerbera, along with its sober goats of the reign of the heights? Hyperkinetic foot and ascension to spiritual psychic growth, which is the real emblem and symbolism of all the virtues of all the planes, the history not traced, or the memory that is mentioned.

Two unicorns alone will be reached by the ****** who will numb them with the perfume of her purity and her chastity, the reason why she will be related to the ****** Mary and the incarnation of her son Jesus by hugging them with her cloak. The Unicorn's single horn is an emblem of the spiritual arrow, divine revelation, the entrance of the supernatural into man, the sword of God, the opening of the third eye, whose vision is projected towards the ends of the angelic world. Hail Regina Sine Labe Originali Spectam.

Decalogue II
Saint Gabriel

Vernarth you tied to a tree with canvases draws himself to the Angel in his name meaning "God is my strength". According to the Abrahamic religions and Judaism. As a result, she became known as "the messenger". Angel Gabriel continues to have a role in the world, helping both parents and human messengers. Blowing the trumpet to announce the return of the lord to Earth.

In his mediumship, the Archangel Gabriel inspires artists, singers, poets, writers, and dancers, helps them communicate on a spiritual level to recover inspiration, innocence, purity, and joy of living. From which this egregious Vernarth Travel Wheel is not exempt until it is consecrated in Patmos as a sacred and lay reference of a spiritual being in gestation. From here he will cultivate the dignity and the Abrahamic mothers so that they can accept their body, awakening in the souls the scriptural power and communicating vigorous forces, which facilitate overcoming fear and lack of decision in life. Sponsoring God's messages to those who worship him.

Vernarth violates the Xiphos sword's decree to shed blood, but rather to purify the gesture of shedding Faith that cuts hopelessness. United in the Templars gripped by their fellow men of the spiritual warfare that never loses, that is always ready to the limit.


Decalogue III
Two premises

From the first two decalogues, the third is born. Both by the glow of the first reactivates the other, which is a rectilinear light that surprises the dark light that tries to invade its luminosity. At very meager kilowatts, the years that separate the times of adding more vestiges of transcending on moral exercise unfold from intertwining; in such a way that in periods of frank over-excited navigation, the energy of the spirit is advanced, only measurable by the actions and intercommunications of the Angels and Archangels.
"Decalogues / ten analyzes" Assimilations of divine inspiration, which will contain ten components beyond an enumeration of premises that expose the visions when justifying a test. This decalogue includes maxims such as "The Angel is the fundamental value of Mystical Perseverance."


Decalogue IV
Where is the North

The North: Biblical scholars have suggested that the north symbolizes the permanent or the eternal, perhaps because the pole stars could be seen throughout the year. It is the place of God's heavenly habitation (Isa. 14:13) and from where his glory descends (Job 37:22) to bless or judge (Eze. 1: 4). He is the true King of the North. But the north, represented by the left hand, is also a symbol of disaster. The enemy of God's people came from the north (Jer. 1:14, 15; Eze. 38: 6), bringing destruction. In a sense, the enemy was the false king of the north who tried to usurp the role of God and who is ultimately destroyed by the Lord (Sof. 2:12; Dan. 11: 21-45). To see resting in Faith, the north does not distract your gaze, it blesses resting the whole concept that shakes the predisposition to arise to all merit given by physical unity, which I inhabit where I will rest, and the glory has to exalt me. Whoever comes from the north bringing destruction, will crash upon him, bringing reparation for the faith that rebuilds itself. The north is an anti-magnet, preventing what it cannot distort from itself in the Christian saying.


Decalogue V
The desert

Vernarth has to consume the desert like a placid arid and inhospitable place when swallowing it. There is nothing in his hands, not even the most elementary thing found. Where you suffer all kinds of discomforts: thirst and heat, inclement weather, sudden changes in temperature, sand discomfort, deprivation, and material deprivation; not only of the futile things but also of the most necessary. It must be supplied in large baskets to serve those who cultivate and protect it. The desert is a meek sheep in periods of drought when it never leaves you.

The physical reality of the desert can be like a symbol of the imminent spiritual life: it is the place of the detachment of everything superfluous; an invitation to austerity and a return to the essential. It is there where man experiences his fragility and his own limitations; the place of trial and purification. But also the most appropriate setting for a renewed and mature search for our personal encounter with God in prayer, in the silence of the soul, and in the simplicity of the essential. It is here that every symbol, more than all its significance, is transformed into a test of loneliness beyond all abundance of Faith, without even having to support it.


Decalogue VI
Vampirism

In the behavior of the person who acts like a vampire, that society prevails that the behavior is dissociated to whoever does it and not. Many vampire souls have made a pilgrimage for good. No one has been able to exclude them from the darkness and stop rising from the dead to roam the night in a bulky black cape and use long, sharp canine teeth to bite the victims' necks and **** their blood. But modern vampires tend to encounter problems of strict uniqueness such as not being happy, believing even more than by dying to them they are more than a fatal vampire. "We are all Vampires in eternity who deal with darkness and light, fear and courage."
Vampire in Sardinia is drinking the same blood and sprinkling it on the earth that nothing conceals or prescribes sin. Then a child appears, picks up the flower that germinates right there, and the cycle begins again.

“When I train myself in writing saying who I am, I only receive from the purulence of the multitudes, in centuries by centuries, not finding a basis to answer me. They say they do not know what to answer because there is no content that compares to those who have no Age, Life, or compassion. That I only have to communicate with the Strigoi messenger articulated with the souls of the dead who come out of their graves at night to terrorize the neighborhood. That it is the same as I condemned to sail and swarm the World of the Nosferatu aristocracy, a survivor of all human vanity, in all the empires of the World believing to live thousands of years without knowing who helped me, because few give me the option of giving what good of me ”


Decalogue VII
Holy incense

I breathe humid air from the superior deities; they opt for my forehead, as practices that replace those that are detonating to expel theirs. Rain of aromas alter or renew low-voltage emotions for high gods, like the Egyptians who used the most precious varieties of incense. These incense craftsmen, in the times of the Pharaohs, knew all the secrets for making high-quality incense. It has been verified that in some of the precious vessels found in the funeral chambers of Tutankhamun, they kept hundreds of kinds of incense that have still retained their magnificent aroma through the centuries. On Sheesham's bunk beds of fire. Wood and Incense with ultra sensory olfactory powers, to design elemental and supernatural hearts, to house and be adaptable to hyper-connectivity. In the Hindu religion, akasha is the foundation and essence of all things in the material world; the first palpable and concrete material element created by the god Brahmá (air, fire, water, earth are the others). "Here he sleeps without waking up when the morning doesn't wake up, and sleeps when the night doesn't get dark"


Decalogue VIII
Mythology

As mythology, it is called the set of myths typical of a people or culture. Myths, for their part, are narrations starring gods, heroes, or fantastic beings, who explain or give meaning to certain events or phenomena. The word, as such, and this in turn from the Greek μυθολογία (mythology) . Mythology, in this sense, is made up of the set of stories and beliefs, relatively cohesive, with which a people has traditionally explained itself. its origin and the reason for being of everything around it. Hence, we can affirm that mythology shapes the worldview or belief system of a culture. Vernarth from Sardinia where he never thought he was undoubtedly opens up belonging to this place more than the hundred millionth essence of his Being. It unites all the elements that melt together the liquid, aqueous, physical, gaseous, and aqueous., To form the mythology of a true verb of a parapsychological regression, like a great condiment that every mortal lacks as opposed to an immortal.
Alikantus paradigm of Alikanto on his astral journey just three days after climbing in Gaugamela...! The corners of anxiety buzz after lightening their igneous hooves by the slippery stones of the footsteps that seemed to be the same projections of their tasks that marked the Tracian soil before arriving at the request of their harangue. He resorts to Medea, before arriving in Thrace after wandering around different places in search of protection and advice to protect his master Vernarth. While He was submitting to his last opioid libations of vivid liliaceous from angiosperms encapsulated by his right pectoral. That was Alikanto's missive. Ask Medea for a potion so that she can supply her master to deflate his breastplate, and thus be able to use his Panoply breastplate in combat since there were three days left for the duel. Medea arrived in the city of Athens on a stormy day with great dark Dantesque gray on the palm of the cliff, previously escaping near the Abdera cliff, whose east was evacuating black poetry,.


Decalogue XIX
Falangist

As a tactical organization for war created in Ancient Greece and later imitated by various Mediterranean civilizations. ... The term is of Greek origin, φάλαγξ (phálanx), which was used for the defensive formation used by the Hoplites, who constituted the classical phalanx.
Almost at dusk over Zeus's beards, the Vernarth Phalanges begin to arrive. The Macedonian Phalanx or Macedonian Phalanx was an infantry formation created and used by Philip II, and later by his son Alexander the Great in the conquest of the Persian Empire. The Macedonian phalanx arose, in fact, as a response to the tactical modifications that the Theban strategists, Epaminondas and Pelópidas of ground forces, developed in the early 4th century BC. C. to oppose the superiority, although already decadent, that the Spartan hoplite formation had exerted in the land combats between the Greek cops until that date.
Nothing depresses me more than not delegating others as if they were my Falangists, making them participate in defending themselves against all disadvantages and worse punishment with the Panoply armor, a superb protector of those who has no defender. "God is my Breastplate, his Gospel protects me by never being damaged"


Decalogue X
Lepanto

Where I have to shelter, says Vernarth, hostility haunts me. Beautiful landscape that is swayed between the rushes of good that tries to be less bad. Policy judgments, how close to marketing peace, and so far from founding true poetry. Still, Vernarth crossed the waters and their customs. From Lepanto, Greece. He appeared exhausted with his eyes reddened by the gassed atmosphere that greeted them in Battle. Of whose intraterrestrial castes it was the one that was in his iron spirit and reappeared in his cape as a gesture of his personality. He arrived cracking the ****** floors of Tel Gomel when he arrived ... he was assaulted by a soldier who asked for mercy to extend his bad fortune. Lepanto is a pre-military senatorial seat, and a great preparatory to the charms of the drama of my duties that will be in Patmos, never-ending dramas.

Falangist: With his helmet in his hands and the Dorus on his cloak on the ground tells him; every single thing I tried the double edge of my sword stained him. The top sheet notified me that my family in Kalidona was in a state of irregularity since my two older children were called to serve in the militias. And the second edge of my lower Dorus I bow before the meanest preciousness of that of observing with a good spirit to cooperate, now with the callousness of my soul that overcomes it exploiting and dragging my wife as easy spoil. I know that my descendants were buried under the effect of the cataclysm of Pompeii in the future. All will emigrate and then flee when they are devastated and the unwelcome comrades return to reintegrate into the Santa María festival. The Patron Saint who consoled me, but prepared me for the resistance of such bad fortune, that one day she would let herself fall with my crops in the culture of peasant angels in fruits and devotions. I sobbed and sobbed rubbing my animals through my empty eyes day and night. They did it next to me, with the singularity of not affecting me; they went to the nearest stream to sob for me so that I would not be affected by the fatal annihilation.

Epilogue
Patmos and Saint Gabriel

Once installed with the vision of visionary brotherhood that characterizes its filial union with Reader and Petrobus. It will begin in its mediumship with the Archangel Gabriel who inspires artists, singers, poets, writers, and dancers, helps them communicate on a spiritual level to recover inspiration, innocence, purity, and joy of living. As an input of character to validation the function of the Troubadour, Juggler, or Visionary. If it were not for the written and not musical notes, nothing would be more than a vision of being closer to almost hyper-reality, established by the prophecies as historical and religious support. With this last decalogue, Vernarth establishes that one in the work of oneself remains the summary of the prototype of the work. And from the work, the summary that allows the common man to be erected, who in his free will, does not deny, but rather power his unshakable satiety of science in his prostrated soul, under the key of dogma and questioning?
Hildegard Von Bingen has sparked the interest of many scholars, mainly because it seems to contain a major contradiction with respect to the rest of his statements about his visionary experience. In that absence of ecstasy that characterizes the visionary experience of Hildegard von Bingen, It also figures the fundamental difference that separates it from its contemporary Elisabeth von Schönau, and some scholars based this fact to deny it a mystical character and grant it the attribute of prophetic. The attention of this specific passage obeys its comparison with Saint John the Evangelist. The understanding of itself seeks a model, a referent, whose wide field of meaning has to be reconstructed in order to restore the full meaning of this statement. The analysis will stop at the following aspects:

1. In the gesture through which Saint John is shown, and by which Hildegard associates herself with the evangelist and, as we will see, according to the identifications of the time, with the beloved disciple of Christ and with John of Patmos, the author. of the apocalypse.

2. Hildegard's identification with Juan de Patmos will lead us to a comparison of both visionaries focused on the modes of their representation.

3. Finally, the content of the images will be reflected on from an example, hoping that all of this will be concluded with a sharper profile of Hildegard von Bingen's visionary experience.
Vernarth says: “I wander from the stony ruins in Sardinia, to go in search of those who gave rise to themselves. When I thought about believing to create them, they presented themselves to me as a whole that prophesies Creation. ”
DECALOGUE  VERNARTH
Emily Jones Jan 2014
Feeling has become the antithesis to my being
The tumbling thinking ridge of my sanity seems mute
When words stick in dry throat
And your jabbing lance of perverse reason
Stings worse than lemon juice in the freshly
Singed skin
Still pulsating with the abuse of forked tongue

I have become the offering to the supremacy
That is your wit
Oh how your horns shine bright and the malice of your ego
Glints like slimy limestone
In the cave in which you stash your better half
The one not spoiled by the sheltered mentality
Of which you claim to have no association

How can you presume to tell I whom in your best interest did such minor affront to your person
That I am wrong
For gods sake I bought ginger ale instead of soda
You act as though I have poisoned your dog and slapped your mother
Looking for something small to defuse and use as a weapon
**** that!

If my countenance is so appalling that you cannot see what innocent slight you believe me to have done
Was done in favor of you
Wanting to promote the bettering of your being
Because I care
Not that I think you a child or incapable of doing things yourself
But ****** it's my money if I want to buy turkey bacon instead of pig
Ill ******* do it!
It's still bacon but without the **** that is processed into it!

Moreover should you ever analyze  you're own disgrace
I want you to see what you blew up in my face
While I provide and make sure you have
All the pretty little commodities you wouldn't have
Your spoiled nature and childish wines
Just affirm to me how
Secular you are inside
That you cannot see the view point of others and skew love with control
New room mate situation, apparently I am a thirty year old woman in a twenty one year old body. Room mate asked for cherry doctor pepper excuse me when I thought ginger ale was better. That blew up in my face quickly. But you can't expect someone who is transitioning to a fully organic diet to buy you ******* when  they won't even buy it for themselves. That's like feeding wood chips to a dog, if you wot eat it then it's probably not good for ten either. Fin!
I

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
  nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the ****** in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,
Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

III

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jaggèd, like an old man’s mouth drivelling, beyond repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs’s fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind
over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy

                              but speak the word only.

IV

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Whe walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary’s colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary’s colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke
  no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile

V

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

    O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and
  deny the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,
  time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

    O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

    O my people.

VI

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit
  of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.
Happynessa May 2016
We are blessed with radiant love
Open your arms and release the
Challenges that you've held tightly
Gripped in your arms and hands
Open your heart to the radiant love

Release tension and surrender the
Need to control and things will
Start to get better ensuring our
Happiness within our daily lives
Allowing our spirit to soar higher

Make the time to reward yourself
Keep your energy and motivation
At a consistently high level and
Make time for self care today and
Always open your heart to love

Turn on the universal light of love
Elevate your vision to a more loving
Vantage point seeing only the beauty
Affirm what you desire ,release fear
And open your heart to radiant love
Lawrence Hall Aug 2017
Ouroboros

Writhing about in man’s mythologies
Is a completeness, itself to affirm
Scriven in the ancient cosmologies:
The self-ordained perfection of The Worm

The Samsara of the self-seeking soul
And a self-admiring self-causation
Itself entire, a universal whole
Devouring its tail in auto-phagation

But metamorphoses have come to pass:
The endless worm’s head is now up its own (self)
W. K. Kortas alluded to self-obsession as having one’s head up one’s own (euphemism), and a friend mentioned the Ouroboros, which appears in several cultural traditions, so here is your ‘umble scrivener’s variant.
irinia Feb 2022
in the depth of human tragedy
there is also this dillema
of tyranny
that either the truth or the lie
is going to crash the tyrant

they play reality games
and
the delusion will end in catastrophe
but
how much of the world is going to take with it?

spring is in a rush this year,
to affirm the rationality
of life
George Krokos Aug 2019
WARNING:
This is a true story which might be distressing for some people
and hopefully may also be a kind of help or revelation for others.
-------------
It was like a cut or rift in the soul which seemed to be fuelled by anxiety and the sometimes innocent presence of others where the sufferer or victim would mostly come out second best or worse still, as with a sense of loss, going away with the feeling of anguish knowing that one had somehow absorbed sponge-like all the negative vibes and crap of those who were close by or there around regardless of who or what they were and then later on having to pay the price alone by taking it out on themselves with the almost near endless and uncontrollable self expunging torture of the bad habit.

A living daily hell of pain and self doubt, lacking that much needed acquired gift of self confidence and assurance that all would be well in the hope of the future where one could look back here on the current situation or malady like a bad dream and perhaps even laugh thinking how could that have been happening at all and the causes of it, if there were any, so that it could be reversed for one to make amends or at least be normal again and not have to go through this problem any more which in some ways very much resembled the taking on of someone else's curse where no matter what one did to get rid of the **** problem they were confronted with, it always kept coming back at them like some merciless relentless demon that wouldn't stop until it stopped.

Only then would there be peace or a semblance of it after coming to one's senses by sensing the extent of the damage caused by the feverish non-stop action of the bad habit which they didn't want or need to do; thinking or even saying to themselves with anger or utter frustration that this has to stop once and for all and then regretfully attempting to cover up or hide the all so obvious affected area that was the result of the distressful action which targeted that prominent part of the body indiscriminately and then having to get rid of all the evidence and now useless pieces which once covered and formed that well rounded part of their body wondering with stark curiosity if anyone else in the world had the same condition that didn't seem likely to go away. Or, even for that matter, if one could have a period of time, for it to heal long enough for them to make some recovery and be able to get on with their life, whatever that now meant or was; at least to live and prove to themselves that they were in control of it; and if all the so called powers that be would grant them some kind of reprieve from whatever the hell was causing the problem to continue without any clear purpose other than that of self abasement and an apparent denial of their own worth and potential which was their precious birthright which many people would call, say and affirm to be a God given existence and inheritance where no one had the right to take it away from anyone else regardless of whatever had happened in the dim past, being now more or less forgotten, not having any real or tangible reality other than that which one thought it may have in their mind and soul by a deep psychological wound like that of perhaps a post traumatic disorder where the original harm of whatever happened in the past still lingered in some way and had not been treated or healed.

Yet there were days, weeks and even months that would go by seemingly and  surprisingly relatively free of the problem but it would gradually once again find its way back to wreak more havoc and dismay on the already fragile life of the individual who had been suffering for most of their life with the unusual condition in a shroud of silence unseen except by those who were helpless to do anything about it only to ask questions of why and how was it going on, not really suspecting for one moment that they themselves were contributing to the ongoing pain and anguish of the person suffering with the above illness and were also somehow partly responsible for the cause both mentally and physically of the condition called or known in medical terms as “….............”, a form of ADHD, which was also known as the “Trickster” because whether one liked it or not and regardless of what one did to avoid doing the **** thing, it would sooner or later find its way back to plague those who were afflicted even though they knew that it was something they didn't want or need to have anything to do with at all.

Healing eventually came gradually after that person's immediate family had passed away when living by themselves for a few years but still in the same house where all the action had been taking place previously over most of the years, though it even occurred elsewhere as well irrespective of where they would go but seemed to abate for a while at least when away from the rest of the family and other people, and it also seemed upon reflection that it came as a blessing or some kind of reprieve from beyond the grave because for one thing there was no one else around to thwart one's effort or self determination to stop and live a normal life without the intermittent and unwanted action of the self debasing bad habit when the person afflicted then began taking some Chinese nutritional supplement that they had originally bought for the well being of a relative who had passed away a few years before, of which packaged contents were found partly unused and stored away in an area on the kitchen bench.

Another factor which contributed to the healing of the deep psychological wound was the use of, it seems, various powerful brain hacking software in the form of binaural sounds that some entrepreneurs, pioneers of a new science of awareness, had discovered, developed and made available under different guises with their own creative genius or interpretation, which had to be listened to by using a set of headphones with eyes closed as in meditation and under specific instructions that the user was not to do anything else while listening at some convenient time of the day or night, and to drink some water before and after the session, whenever they could find the necessary time to undergo the building of new neural pathways between the right and left hemispheres of the brain which was emphasised as being the beneficial action taking place by listening to these sounds that were played together and along with other relaxing music to avoid the monotony of the repetitive nature of the binaural beats or sounds in the form of mainly: alpha, beta, theta, delta, and gamma wavelengths that represented the normal and deeper levels or layers of consciousness that were scientifically proven to exist by years of research monitoring those who were in fact either Buddhist monks or some other neo, pro or non-denominational class of meditation practitioners that had participated in a scientific research program.
----------------
Sometimes healing comes by itself when a person learns how to be their own best friend and works with nature rather than against it away from exposure to unnecessary or overwhelming negative influences and undergoes that discipline which facilitates the much sought after healing response in a conducive environment.
________
Written early in 2018. Based on actual first hand experience. If anyone would like to find out more information on anything mentioned above or is seeking help for a similar personal problem or perhaps is trying to help someone else just let me know with a comment or send me a PM.
david badgerow Oct 2011
I do not believe
in color schemes
not white
nor red & blue

Only what
my pen to paper bleeds
is what I consider true

I cannot recognize
what psychics see
but I know my past
is void of  eyes
and does not make the future me

I do not swear by
what the christians say
but I've seen angels fly
both night and day

I cannot affirm
what the muslims claim
in turn I see it all
as the same ball,
same chain
anon Oct 2017
thanks
no i mean it

thanks

i was actually feeling a bit
d                          
o                  
w        
n

and­ i needed you to tell me
on a monday night
at 7:53
in the middle of july

that i had i nice ***

it really brightened my day
to know
that i
a human person

can be complimented
because of my
assets

instead of the fact
that i work
all the time
without getting tired
or giving up

or that
i study
so much
i feel like
i'm falling apart

or that
i spend time
trying to make the world
around me
a little
bit
better

i really wanted to affirm
what girls are told
from the time
they can listen

that cup size matters
and whether or not
you fill out your jeans
means
whether or not
you might matter

that we will be ignored
in the work place
if we aren't
supermodels

and even if we are
that is all we become

bodies

not people

you know
somebody once told me
it doesn't matter
what you look like
because your personality can make up
for anything

which should be good
like
i look like quasimodo
but with a sense of humor
and a bit of *****
i'm esmerelda

i can look like a spork
but if i laugh
and play along
like nothing's wrong
like girls should
i can be a full fork

i love that i have to be something

really

i do

i love that being
is more important than
existing

i love that i have to be someone who listens and never speaks

i love that i have to work with all my might to be thin enough for people who don't care about other people

i love that i have to have a double d and up in order to be even noticed

i love that my **** has to be filled out and gigantic so that i can be assured personhood by a man

because girls are only

what

the

men

see

we are reduced to objects
who give up
and don't fight

because the women who fight
are criticized
and *****
and killed
and we can't stop it

because the more we speak

the more we are silenced

so thank you
sir

for reminding me at 7:53
in a menards parking lot
your wedding ring glinting
like the malice in your eye
that all i am
is
what you see
Phil Lindsey Dec 2015
I did not know that poetry has rules.
‘Tis not a craft for ordinary fools.
Those, that form and meter never master,
Are ever doomed; they are the poetasters.
As opera singers, out of tune, do make
Discerning listeners do a double-take,
And chefs, who sprinkle salt instead of sweet,
Serve meals that connoisseurs would never eat;
A writer with a wretched poet’s curse
Will never craft a great Heroic Verse.

So as I count my syllables and feet,
And wonder if my metaphors will meet,
I pray that hypermetrics are okay,
(For I have used a few of them today,)
I’ll leave the verdict, reader, up to you,
Affirm that to my mission, I’ve been true,
Or if the ending to my verse bathetic
Christen me a poet most pathetic.
Heroic Lines in Couplets, I intended;
Judge me, reader, now this verse has ended.

Phil Lindsey 12/24/15
I most often do not write notes to my poems, hoping that any readers out in HP land enjoy them for what they are.  Also, I am most definitely NOT a technical writer,  nor have I had formal classes or training.  But I have been attempting to read "The Ode Less Travelled" by Stephen Fry.  Mr. Fry describes (often humorously)  iambic pentameter, rhyming schemes, meter, and much more in his didactic book. Thus, I have attempted to write a poem in Heroic Verse.  With my apologies to Mr. Fry.  :-)
Judgson blessing Aug 2015
Thy dream !
i hope you strive to its realm .
for it will be a sad emblem ,
at the last night your own sight to blame .
though the grit and gut abide you than mum .
if the Psyche drives thought but you cant confirm .
cause the tide most governs your palm .
but its your choice to comply and raise dim .
to swerve the Sophist story as unlike grime .
it can be a fancy yet upon your nature ist a crime .
to dream with the crow and have sight cast ; slim .
for my dream i behold and its my nature holy affirm .
there is cleft , Draco , Petra , but i care not then for grim .
my soul fain for the noble art of my life's humble theme .
im a dreamer , high spirited but i want one thing my life's claim.
oh ! i never dream twice but to live the token of my time .
if a name should last ; Columbus ,Malcolm ,
have only prithee their own life rhythm .
as for lore past , and drags in as in its prime .
the memory of their graves is ever for reclaim .
i hope you strive to its realm ,
thy dream !
I decided to make the cross from the bathroom to my bedroom quick.

Everyone was already sleeping so all the lights in the house were off.

As I stepped from the light to the dark I was blinded, but I knew someone else could see.

As I stood at my door a second or two to open it, I felt a presence approach.

But I rushed into my room because I'd rather not know.

I closed my door and almost locked it, then reconsidered, in case I had to get out.

My blankets and sheets were on the bed, as I had just laundered them.

I stared at the door as I made my bed, 'cause I knew something was out there.

I avoided turning my back to the door so as to not be vulnerable.

I stared at the door as I pulled the cover back and lay down.

I was turning off the light but quickly flicked my head back over, I know I heard something.

There's a wolf outside my door.
There are Wolves outside my door.
They might be feasting on the others.
I'm the only one who sleeps with the door shut.

I procrastinated turning off the light before finally accepting nothing was going to happen.

But there's still something out there, I can feel it in my spine.

There are Wolves out there waiting to consume me as soon as my eyes shut.

My flesh, my body, my soul, my entire being, my very essence, they're waiting.

I've got work tomorrow, and school as well, I have to go tomorrow.

Hell, I hate both, but if needing to go keeps me alive, I can't die now.

I'm staying awake because I want to be ready to run when the Wolves come in.

I just turned the light back on, I want to know what's around me.

But now that I think about it, I'm letting them know I'm here.

I wanted to affirm their lack of presence, but just confirmed my own.

There's Wolves,
Outside my door,
Outside my window,
Inside my closet,
Under my bed,
Inside my head,
And they won't leave,
Not until I'm dead.

— The End —