Drunk, we staggered home.

Aware of having been
some
other where
a while

That woman, she could answer

any question rebbi axt,
Ohhhhmyyy

she laugh and say, Dude, I got the Intent-net,
in my hand

That's more than a list of numbers, this
accounting idle words going on, on going, as fast as

lightning, at the scale, of, say

cat-ions ifiying an-ions
at random,
seen systematical, from a distance
zoom out
at the scale, of, say
Great Deep Field.

Center you, I'm no matter.

synchro
now

zoom out
Use that steam program
Universe Sandbox,
you gotta see that to imagine this, right,

and next is what you keep saying is unbelievable,
but its not.

Good things come to them
to whom
good makes more sense.

Earth from the moon POV

Confusion flux, spurtual,  caused by the solar flare of all solar flares,
one side

Whooshing the Ice left from Patton's flood
into steam, the stuff, not the app,

which swooshhhesssssssssss smack
into the freezing repurcussions
from the daark side…

The Noah event, that was bad,
This one, the last one, this just previous one,

was spiritual. Magnitudes incomparable
(save in parable and example, exemplar gratis,
says the bodiless being, with a roll of  my wrist and a bow)

At that very time on the side away from the flare,
the daark side of the planet, this one…

a Donald Patton nitrogen snow ball
that nearly breached Roche's limit,

too not nearly enough,
dis -integration
The atmosphere freezes
to the quark level, snap,

the cold
explosive
forward momentum
booms a nitrogen bubble now
minusminusminus
solid nitrogen
melting

any heat locked in flare fired steam,
what was once the water
that washed away the gods and locked their cities
of ivory under the ice

on the sunny side,
where now, then,

a solar flare like legends build empires upon
has passed, fires rage

there were survivors who lived to tell

and old stories never die. Old story tellers do,

Only miners survived, gold digger mostly,
few alchemists who knew the mystery in mercury,
Lost was all knowing but to a very few,
who truth be told had been the owner's
well kept servants, ministers of this and that
they perished with all the fires touched

we diggers, we only marvel

How bits of time, exact as ours, can be seen happening
all in bubble of Mercury. Cooked out red rock like these.

"Blood o' the gods of old, swat I'astold."

Messages from the gods, grandma, said, "Mercury calls for gold, gold listens, when fire's hottern fire can be,
unless
the breath of men blow on the coals", we all said that last part and blew out the light. G'night


but a story told a wee bit here a qubit there
here a little, there a little
line upon line,
precept upon precept,

'cept no body knows what I know about cept,

capere, a story starts, a provisioning tale. Wait.

it means grip. like a tool. rock breaks nut.

Paper covers rock, but scissors are so far in the future
that now, my time, my mind wanders after whys

this authoritative telling of the story, in it,
none know the terminal tale.

As in times past, there were survivors who lived to tell

and old stories never die. Old story tellers do,

Tho' here's a clue.
Meek's not bad,
stupid, for no reason, is.

Living long for the sake of a song heard once,
in dream luring me on, promising right now, I'll

know what it's like to see, oh

POV I made this clear some time ago,
time is less predictable than any imagined, before 2018
when, you know…

Even those tales old drunk Hesiod sold
in the Hittite tavern at Delphi,

Chronos thought wrong in those,
he ruled but for the merest gleam o'

Time, then a bubble gen erated by the thought of
opposition to transition,
nothing to something,
pushing /pushing back
stretch/snap/spark
that takes power, pulsing power, throbbing power

push/stretch
glow/snap
you know, imagine, glowing - cheat, think 2018 CG
glow/snap
Planc time,
each time the bubble pushes back
a ripple
imagine a clock, later, if you believe then, you must.

Now, see the bubble of all men have imagined,
since the time when such a bubble was only evil,
continually.

It went viral.
Noah we know for sure, almost, survived, ? Cushites kept records. In Africa.
Akkad kept record, too.
Some Hopi survived somehow and they have a tale.

They say they know the story is ten thousand years old,
I've been to a crossroads
on their journey,
stories
tell of it, still, today.

Holy means marked for good reason.
Marked with clues, not riddles, maps

Sacred means secret means hidden away for use,
not common, every day, quotidian use, right use.

Time, the opposing force, is precious to us all.
In time, we do all we can and die,

in ever, we expand, in no time at all. I imagine.

You fill it. Now, Your expandable mind's time,

time pushes from the outside,
wisdom pushes from the inside,

And so it goes, life goes on and music grows on ya,

Amusing how they do that, teeny muses dancing
shiva on the tip of my tongue,

singings songs in tongues I've never known
if they
are words on tongues
or sounds on tongues,

notes,

Baysian Binary Cross Validation
still ends with some people thinkin'
"it is finished" left them with a ton o'weight,
that's wrong, insist resistance.

Some, heavy duty, leaders of lambs, they claim
power in their mouths, spoken from fixed hearts,

but fixed upon, is truly the song,
said, words are only
little bits of whole sym ulacrum of re-ify-ing

where broken things re-pair, and life goes on…

"fixed, my heart is fixed",
no, your heart is machine of the most magnificent design, perfected,
a time at a time.
Flexing, pacing time itself, faster slower,

try some time
alone
be still, pond still

I know the story broke,
I could not hold it.

In the night, bitter cold
Frozen fragile...

There are pieces scattered every

where, everywhere
there is time, there is at least, a point

a story may stand upon and ask an angel
to dance.
Dance, give it some flare, what do we care?

Nobody's watching, but that fly.

Archie was smart; at least he reckoned he was, because he had what he considered to be the good things in life: dosh in his wallet, a Cat in the garage, and a detach. in the green belt; all of which he had worked hard to acquire. Worked, is not exactly the word for it. Archie did deals. He reckoned he could always turn a fiver into a tenner an’ a tenner into a pony; a pony into a ton and a ton to a grand. He was one of the cash economy’s natural alchemists.  The folding stuff was the measure of a person, he reckoned. Archie never thought about anything; he reckoned everything, and nothing on God’s good earth was beyond reckoning, he reckoned. An ever-ready reckoner; that was Archie, and he loved himself for it. Only John Wayne did more reckoning than Archie, his old dad, bless him, used to say, thought Archie. In Archie’s world a grand was currency; less than that was just spare change. He reckoned he gave superior meaning to the expression ‘it’s a grand life’. The only blemish on Archie’s horizon as far as he could see was the lack of a class bird, or ‘ream sort’, as he preferred to say; hence this evening’s extravaganza at a posh French restaurant in the company of a beautiful lady. Archie only had two serious weaknesses in his existence: a fondness for the last word in a dispute about anything you care to mention, and his infatuation with his dining companion, the beautiful Carmela.


Carmela shared a common background with Archie. They grew up on the same council estate in the inner city. They were aware of each other’s existence as kids and teenagers, but they didn’t really know each other. Carmela was a quiet child and very singular; even in company she could be by herself. None but she was wise to her sense of solitude. She had three passions in life: knitting, sewing and weaving; the blessed trinity of her existence. Carmela interpreted the world by these three gifts. Here she was, she thought, weaving her way through an evening, in the company of three strangers. One she knew, herself, another she didn’t know at all, despite proximity and semi-shared origins. Then there was the complete stranger to the trinity: the waiter in his new and very polished shiny black shoes, “You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes”, Carmela’s mum used to say, she was thinking about that as the waiter appeared to almost pirouette into vision.


The waiter was a patient soul, it goes with the territory. The waiting game wasn’t something you should rush in to, he often told himself, in one of his more existentialist moments. He appreciated the irony of the comment in a Sartresque kind of fashion. He was from a steel town in the Rhonda Valley of South Wales. Iron was in his veins if not his appearance. A creature of paradoxes, that’s what he told himself he was. He liked that assessment of himself. It complimented his passion for all things French: French food, French wine, French philosophy, literature and art. He was learning the language at night school. Alas, his accent was as lyrically refined as the landscape that bred him He shovelled the words onto a conveyor belt of sound and meaning as best he could in the general direction of the person he was talking to, more in hope than in faith that they understood what was being said .The other passion in his life was tap dancing, and as luck would have it he could wear the same outfit for work and leisure, hence the very shiny shoes which allowed him to dance around the tables of the restaurant, practising his language skills on the clientele, His life work and leisure dovetailed with his ambition and he was pleased to wake up in the morning and set about the mortal trespass with a skip in his step. The waiter imagined himself to be a cosmopolitan and enlightened soul, in a very Fred Astaire kind of way, and life was a flight of stairs which he could ascend and descend in a Morse code type of style, just like Mr Bojangles.


The fare was fine. the wine was rare, but the conversation was spare until the cheese board arrived.” Good grub”, said Archie to the waiter. “We don’t do grub, sir, we only serve the finest Gallic cuisine in this establishment,” replied the waiter, in his usual mangled French, whilst smiling that smile that only waiters can manage when registering disapproval. Archie looked blank. It was Carmela who spoke: “C’était magnifique! Mes compliments au chef.” “Streuth! You speak better French than Marcel Proust here” said Archie.” I studied Fashion and Design in Paris for five years “replied Carmela.” “An’ I joined the Common Market many moons ago. It’s good for business” said Archie. The waiter was impressed: “Food, fashion, wine, Proust and Paris. This must be Nirvana” he said. “Great band, but a very dubious heaven.” replied Carmela, knitting together the threads whilst changing the pattern of the conversation in a very subtle fashion that was more to her liking.” “It’s only rock ’n’ roll” said Archie, an’ if you’ve ever heard French rock ’n’ roll it’s enough to make you believe in Foucault” “Foucault, my hero!” said the waiter, “a philosophical genius”. “According to Foucault, a knitting pattern is the hieroglyphic of a consumerist and decadent capitalist society.” intoned Carmela.” “And ‘A recipe is a critique of a cake’, said the great Structuralist philosopher,” interjected Archie, so if you serve the gateaux we may effect the collapse of western civilisation as we all know and love it”. “Allors, Let them eat cake” said the waiter, and everybody smiled at the irony of the comment.

The waiter bojangled his way into the night, tapping and clicking the pavement as he went.  Carmela and Archie got into a black cab. “That was a night to remember,” said Carmela, “very Proustian”. “A la recherche du temps perdu”, replied Archie, pleased as punch to have the last word. Carmela just smiled as she looked at Archie’s shoes.

Pennsylvania, 1948-1949

The garden of Nature opens.
The grass at the threshold is green.
And an almond tree begins to bloom.

Sunt mihi Dei Acherontis propitii!
Valeat numen triplex Jehovae!
Ignis, aeris, aquae, terrae spiritus,
Salvete!—says the entering guest.

Ariel lives in the palace of an apple tree,
But will not appear, vibrating like a wasp’s wing,
And Mephistopheles, disguised as an abbot
Of the Dominicans or the Franciscans,
Will not descend from a mulberry bush
Onto a pentagram drawn in the black loam of the path.


But a rhododendron walks among the rocks
Shod in leathery leaves and ringing a pink bell.
A hummingbird, a child’s top in the air,
Hovers in one spot, the beating heart of motion.
Impaled on the nail of a black thorn, a grasshopper
Leaks brown fluid from its twitching snout.
And what can he do, the phantom-in-chief,
As he’s been called, more than a magician,
The Socrates of snails, as he’s been called,
Musician of pears, arbiter of orioles, man?
In sculptures and canvases our individuality
Manages to survive. In Nature it perishes.
Let him accompany the coffin of the woodsman
Pushed from a cliff by a mountain demon,
The he-goat with its jutting curl of horn.
Let him visit the graveyard of the whalers
Who drove spears into the flesh of leviathan
And looked for the secret in guts and blubber.
The thrashing subsided, quieted to waves.
Let him unroll the textbooks of alchemists
Who almost found the cipher, thus the scepter.
Then passed away without hands, eyes, or elixir.


Here there is sun. And whoever, as a child,
Believed he could break the repeatable pattern
Of things, if only he understood the pattern,
Is cast down, rots in the skin of others,
Looks with wonder at the colors of the butterfly,
Inexpressible wonder, formless, hostile to art.


To keep the oars from squeaking in their locks,
He binds them with a handkerchief. The dark
Had rushed east from the Rocky Mountains
And settled in the forests of the continent:
Sky full of embers reflected in a cloud,
Flight of herons, trees above a marsh,
The dry stalks in water, livid, black. My boat
Divides the aerial utopias of the mosquitoes
Which rebuild their glowing castles instantly.
A water lily sinks, fizzing, under the boat’s bow.


Now it is night only. The water is ash-gray.
Play, music, but inaudibly! I wait an hour
In the silence, senses tuned to a ******’s lodge.
Then suddenly, a crease in the water, a beast’s
black moon, rounded, ploughing up quickly
from the pond-dark, from the bubbling methanes.
I am not immaterial and never will be.
My scent in the air, my animal smell,
Spreads, rainbow-like, scares the ******:
A sudden splat.
I remained where I was
In the high, soft coffer of the night’s velvet,
Mastering what had come to my senses:
How the four-toed paws worked, how the hair
Shook off water in the muddy tunnel.
It does not know time, hasn’t heard of death,
Is submitted to me because I know I’ll die.


I remember everything. That wedding in Basel,
A touch to the strings of a viola and fruit
In silver bowls. As was the custom in Savoy,
An overturned cup for three pairs of lips,
And the wine spilled. The flames of the candles
Wavery and frail in a breeze from the Rhine.
Her fingers, bones shining through the skin,
Felt out the hooks and clasps of the silk
And the dress opened like a nutshell,
Fell from the turned graininess of the belly.
A chain for the neck rustled without epoch,
In pits where the arms of various creeds
Mingle with bird cries and the red hair of caesars.


Perhaps this is only my own love speaking
Beyond the seventh river. Grit of subjectivity,
Obsession, bar the way to it.
Until a window shutter, dogs in the cold garden,
The whistle of a train, an owl in the firs
Are spared the distortions of memory.
And the grass says: how it was I don’t know.


Splash of a ****** in the American night.
The memory grows larger than my life.
A tin plate, dropped on the irregular red bricks
Of a floor, rattles tinnily forever.
Belinda of the big foot, Julia, Thaïs,
The tufts of their *** shadowed by ribbon.


Peace to the princesses under the tamarisks.
Desert winds beat against their painted eyelids.
Before the body was wrapped in bandelettes,
Before wheat fell asleep in the tomb,
Before stone fell silent, and there was only pity.


Yesterday a snake crossed the road at dusk.
Crushed by a tire, it writhed on the asphalt.
We are both the snake and the wheel.
There are two dimensions. Here is the unattainable
Truth of being, here, at the edge of lasting
and not lasting. Where the parallel lines intersect,
Time lifted above time by time.


Before the butterfly and its color, he, numb,
Formless, feels his fear, he, unattainable.
For what is a butterfly without Julia and Thaïs?
And what is Julia without a butterfly’s down
In her eyes, her hair, the smooth grain of her belly?
The kingdom, you say. We do not belong to it,
And still, in the same instant, we belong.
For how long will a nonsensical Poland
Where poets write of their emotions as if
They had a contract of limited liability
Suffice? I want not poetry, but a new diction,
Because only it might allow us to express
A new tenderness and save us from a law
That is not our law, from necessity
Which is not ours, even if we take its name.


From broken armor, from eyes stricken
By the command of time and taken back
Into the jurisdiction of mold and fermentation,
We draw our hope. Yes, to gather in an image
The furriness of the ******, the smell of rushes,
And the wrinkles of a hand holding a pitcher
From which wine trickles. Why cry out
That a sense of history destroys our substance
If it, precisely, is offered to our powers,
A muse of our gray-haired father, Herodotus,
As our arm and our instrument, though
It is not easy to use it, to strengthen it
So that, like a plumb with a pure gold center,
It will serve again to rescue human beings.


With such reflections I pushed a rowboat,
In the middle of the continent, through tangled stalks,
In my mind an image of the waves of two oceans
And the slow rocking of a guard-ship’s lantern.
Aware that at this moment I—and not only I—
Keep, as in a seed, the unnamed future.
And then a rhythmic appeal composed itself,
Alien to the moth with its whirring of silk:


O City, O Society, O Capital,
We have seen your steaming entrails.
You will no longer be what you have been.
Your songs no longer gratify our hearts.


Steel, cement, lime, law, ordinance,
We have worshipped you too long,
You were for us a goal and a defense,
Ours was your glory and your shame.


And where was the covenant broken?
Was it in the fires of war, the incandescent sky?
Or at twilight, as the towers fly past, when one looked
From the train across a desert of tracks

To a window out past the maneuvering locomotives
Where a girl examines her narrow, moody face
In a mirror and ties a ribbon to her hair
Pierced by the sparks of curling papers?


Those walls of yours are shadows of walls,
And your light disappeared forever.
Not the world's monument anymore, an oeuvre of your own
Stands beneath the sun in an altered space.


From stucco and mirrors, glass and paintings,
Tearing aside curtains of silver and cotton,
Comes man, naked and mortal,
Ready for truth, for speech, for wings.


Lament, Republic! Fall to your knees!
The loudspeaker’s spell is discontinued.
Listen! You can hear the clocks ticking.
Your death approaches by his hand.


An oar over my shoulder, I walked from the woods.
A porcupine scolded from the fork of a tree,
A horned owl, not changed by the century,
Not changed by place or time, looked down.
Bubo maximus, from the work of Linnaeus.


America for me has the pelt of a raccoon,
Its eyes are a raccoon’s black binoculars.
A chipmunk flickers in a litter of dry bark
Where ivy and vines tangle in the red soil
At the roots of an arcade of tulip trees.
America’s wings are the color of a cardinal,
Its beak is half-open and a mockingbird trills
From a leafy bush in the sweat-bath of the air.
Its line is the wavy body of a water moccasin
Crossing a river with a grass-like motion,
A rattlesnake, a rubble of dots and speckles,
Coiling under the bloom of a yucca plant.


America is for me the illustrated version
Of childhood tales about the heart of tanglewood,
Told in the evening to the spinning wheel’s hum.
And a violin, shivvying up a square dance,
Plays the fiddles of Lithuania or Flanders.
My dancing partner’s name is Birute Swenson.
She married a Swede, but was born in Kaunas.
Then from the night window a moth flies in
As big as the joined palms of the hands,
With a hue like the transparency of emeralds.


Why not establish a home in the neon heat
Of Nature? Is it not enough, the labor of autumn,
Of winter and spring and withering summer?
You will hear not one word spoken of the court
of Sigismund Augustus on the banks of the Delaware River.
The Dismissal of the Greek Envoys is not needed.
Herodotus will repose on his shelf, uncut.
And the rose only, a ****** symbol,
Symbol of love and superterrestrial beauty,
Will open a chasm deeper than your knowledge.
About it we find a song in a dream:


Inside the rose
Are houses of gold,
black isobars, streams of cold.
Dawn touches her finger to the edge of the Alps
And evening streams down to the bays of the sea.


If anyone dies inside the rose,
They carry him down the purple-red road
In a procession of clocks all wrapped in folds.
They light up the petals of grottoes with torches.
They bury him there where color begins,
At the source of the sighing,
Inside the rose.


Let names of months mean only what they mean.
Let the Aurora’s cannons be heard in none
Of them, or the tread of young rebels marching.
We might, at best, keep some kind of souvenir,
Preserved like a fan in a garret. Why not
Sit down at a rough country table and compose
An ode in the old manner, as in the old times
Chasing a beetle with the nib of our pen?

Chapter XXI
Hegira to Patmos

They dropped their moorings from Cala Cogone early, when the tide seemed to be separated from the waters like a head distanced from its body. On a lavish and romantic day they went to Genoa, to continue the logistics of the trip to Piacenza. During the trip Etréstles was stretched out in the bow under a Sun that seemed to be fearsome as it was a digestive task that would make him ingest his own dream, which perhaps he aspired to be more than a journey. While he slept, at the helm Etréstles dressed in a black robe and the comrades also sleeping with dreams that they painted with sign gestures on their faces.

Dream of Etréstles: "With the memory off-center ..., I was still in Izzana, dancing by the clouds on gray tulles of the layers of the sky that tried to stop being a Kingdom without a Crown and Sword". They glimpsed the stones melting and turning into gauze juxtaposed to the aerosolites that unfolded from the Sorcery, landing on the hands and heads of Vernarth and Himself. As he continued his dreamy journey, he dialogued with the auxiliary legate of his own dream. “He tells her that he sees them beyond where their liturgies collide. They cross eroding the vanished and itinerant reason”. He gets up and takes the moorings of the ship and ties them to his neck. Then everyone cooperates to walk along the edge of the ship, which all moved barefoot. This is how I would wake up!

Vernarth tries to wake him up, shakes him, but doesn't wake up. And when he tried to avoid him from sleep, he saw that he had the moorings around his neck, along with two Unicorns who were escorting him and were looking towards infinity, auspicious that Genoa was already coming in front of their horns. The others began to wake up and ate reclining, almost as if without any desire to get up from the deck full of self-sliding linen, which allowed everyone to pass their own meals, including those that were semi-consumed rolling on the deck. Etréstles,  transferred the dream to Vernarth, once he went to his bedroom to rest before they touched the roadstead at the foot of the homonymous promontory, 36 km from Genoa.  Portofino, close to the hydro form of the Portofino Regional Natural Park.  Being able to find different entrance doors through S. Rocco, Portofino Vetta and Nozaregoino  that led you to paths with different levels of accessibility and landscape. On the route of the path that traveled from Northwest to Southwest on the same promontory, he received the full beauty of the Mediterranean vegetation, with its beautiful pines, bluish and clean waters of the Mediterranean, which filled his lungs and especially his stem, which silenced of peace to those who accompany you through this interesting and beautiful Natural Park with deep blue eyes.
Vernarth is wrapped with two layers of linen and stands in between eclipsing each of the Unicorns. They pass her horn through her pectoral, as if wanting to insinuate affection. But her propitiated gesture was to crown her with the Power of her phalanx, the impetus in Gaugamela, an Onyx Crown, to lighten the burden of sleep and wake up before reaching the shores of Genoa.
Calling in Genoa, they all descend in a separate part and say goodbye from afar, gesturing with their hands. Their ramblings revealed multi-level radiographs of the resolved aura that invited them to an enclave hostel, to re-enter the world of their daily chores. The Unicorns who would return back to Sardinia stayed on the ship that was in the blue bay. They positioned themselves at the bow one and at the stern the other, to lighten the sails and return to Izzana.

Vernarth and Etréstles walked with their bags, letting go of their feet towards La Via ** Settembre, they travel in an east-west direction, next to Corso Italia, the promenade that runs along the promenade, which is one of the favorite places to reform the destination of Piacenza. From this road they moved near the adjacent carriage station to the Caruggio neighborhood in Sottoripa. Here they entered an inn to eat and drink liqueurs made from natural herbal recipes and sweet citrus, some fish with bread, sauce and Genovés sourdough. to satisfy their hunger.
They had dinner and opened the exit to the terminal. Before, they went to the Ponte Monumentale where the church dedicated to Santa Rita is, called Iglesia de la Consolación, whose entrance, at the level of the old streets, is slightly lower than the current street. They pass a porch and enter. "Almost like a grand cloister sensation they perceived during their stay, as if centuries had passed, but which never ended in the wanderings of any secular period. It was the impression once entered and soaked on this road, which still remains active. From this original cloister, the invocation of images on the sides placed towards the church towards Via ** Settembre, as well as the closed portal in the market access plaza on Via Galata, recur, while the other two sides are they completed attractions to admire when the eastern market in Genoa appeared before them ”.

When they entered, the masks were passed over the bones of their faces, indulgent towards both faces of the visitors, under a freshness of gravitational atmospheric fragrance, perhaps from the connected baptismal font or the lateral nave or the three naves separated by square pillars illuminating them. This is where Vernarth places his right hand on his forehead and his mouth, as a sign of catechesis detached from The Vault, the central nave and the counter-facade that were painted in fresco in 1874 by Giuseppe Isola, after reading about the intertextual verifying thus Vernarth. (Visioni dell'Apocalisse, Gloria di Nostra Signora della Consolazione and Giuditta rientra trionfante in Betulia), while Etréstles frenziedly admitted the frescoes through the side aisles that are the work of Giovanni Quinzio at an angle close to him. Observing everything, he was already indoctrinating to reprint new vigor to enter Piacenza triumphantly and head to the Region of Patmos. Giuseppe Isola's fresco was the great motive that struck his reason for being where he was to continue the threads upon threads of his lineage as the great Commander of the troops of Gaugamela and his Phalanges. Here is the church in its first tune with the duty of limitlessness before its steps to dominions that will make it recover their powers, from where they were first seen dressing in the clothes of an innocent child.


In the apse, there was the choir singing baroque pieces, and followed by elaborate wooden stalls from the 17th century. In the Altars on the left, on the Fifth Altar, Etréstles, captures a simultaneous vision. From that moment when it was the disappearance of this Santa Maria della Pace church, which could have been one structure on top of the other, perhaps in ruins but if the columns could go further from where their originals are born. Until then both had separated from each other, and they would meet again here in the apse, where they never lose sight of each other again, to turn towards the exit that required them to leave the sacred precinct. In the terminal, a grayish float awaited them, with silver trim on the edges of the structure, at the top of the front roof it said "Where you must never go and be". It was just the transport of an allegorical float. They were theatrical traveling artists, who had places available for travelers to Piacenza. The one that they just approached to move to the home, where they had to register at their own will and rejoin this excellent session "Parapsychological Regression".The Trebbia valley, a few kilometers from Piacenza. Vernarth noted that a shaft of the chariot made a strange sound. To which he notified the driver, telling him what he caught on the rear axle of the carriage. They go down to inspect all; not being able to detect anything that it would suppose would be an anomaly of filming of the instrumental east. Etréstles sees that some steeds were grazing on some meadows and he tells them all. Vernarth warns him and immediately heads to them. It reaches only a sorrel that was running its tongue over its hoof. The others flee. Vernarth approaches, and notices that he had a wound in his left hoof, noticing that in the center there was a strip of Green color, He takes his leg, and examines it. He takes out his dagger and begins to remove the stake that was inserted into his damaged leg. The others were gone, restarting the trip to Piacenza. Etréstles managed to climb a steed, and followed him - The float remained without them supposedly to arrive safely at Piacenza. But at 5 km, before reaching the city they are struck by a lightning bolt from a sudden storm. What misdirects his route - the passengers were left intact, only fatally suffered the loss of the driver. (It was verified by Vernarth when he arrived at his home in Piacenza).   As  Vernarth rode fast in the storm, trying to catch up with the carriage. Stress them towards the same to reach their brother. They rode propagating the pastures that passed near the forests of Val Trebbia. When the storm intensified instantly, it was wise to take refuge and wait for the flood to decrease. They were always close to each other. Etréstles about 18 km from Vernarth, they did not know it, but the horses sensed each other. They already distinguished, that they were close to each other, but it was necessary to take care of the horse, and have to check its hoof again. He checks it and notices that it had a green stripe in the four parts, like a pigment already placed concentrically in the middle of each hoof.


Ellipses Gaugamela - Final War
Vernarth bids farewells farewell. Once the Achaemenides are surrendered, he prepares to review them. Walk with Alikanto across the ****** plain. Reviewing his five hundred dead and three thousand wounded, he goes to recirculate in the footsteps of the attack, manages to see lead as a sentinel gathered wounded horses, but not serious. He approaches him and says Khaire; asking what unit they came from. He tells them of the Hosts of the command of Hefestion. The sentinel tells him, that he was enraptured by the fact before his eyes to see that all the horses of the line of Hefestion, Alexander the Great and Vernarth, to fascinate him that they had a green stripe on his left hoof. Wedge riders are formed, lining up the stable, towards the court of the guards and Macedonian monarchs. She dismounts from Alikanto and checks the chestnut trees, managing to insinuate that it could be Medea's ploy of the smiling charm towards her Hetairoi dancers, whose elite had bracelets on each leg on each chestnut. Also with the offensive weapon, they acted as the Macedonian's personal guard. Vernarth recalled that, before starting the offensive, with his blessed Xifos he inflicted light wounds on the left foot of his Phalanges in the act of "overtaking them before being stained by the enemy"

Vernarth says: Here is the cavalry that has received so much praise for «hammer» in the strategies, because it crushed the enemy units retained by the «anvil» or the «phalanx» that I had to command and lead the charge, intoning the riders. And even more the circumcisions that he gave them before entering combat. With the Hetairoi I was organizing squadrons of 200 to 300 soldiers, while they were checking the chestnut trees. In the campaign, they would ride the best horses, ******* or on the blanket, they were awarded the best weapons available. Each carried his long throwing spear Xyston, accompanied by a Kopis sword, for hand-to-hand combat, which in the interlude would defend his flax and bronze breastplate, with respective protective armbands and helmet, before lightly tackling his aggression . The horses were also partially protected, but not their hooves! I gave them the final instruction by decree to take them to the altarpieces and attend to them, so that they check their left hoof.Thus giving signs of great concern about the green stripe on each of its left hooves. Sentinel Hetairoi, with some of his servants, gather the animals and transport them where they have been ordered to tend and examine them. As the designs collapse over the night in gloomy litanies, Medea bursts into a great green outfit saying:

Medea: Vernarth, rancid are on my memory the potions and designs of those who want to talk about me or offer me in their lust.Where the zeal of anxiety deceives the wishful arms that welcome the victorious pleasure. Hooves are my skeptics and famous decisions, because I am weak in will but not in character. Green is the pouring of my converted powers into the veins of the horses. They were carriers in their eloquent ferocity. Instead of blood, I had sap from the magic vessels that I transferred to them so as not to doubt the doubts. Their object is that a green band was encased in their hooves as a sign of the Hipnos promontory through their Son Clovis, to plunge all the forests of the raging underworld, towards the heart of each "Valiant Hetairoi".


Outside ellipsis / near Piacenza
Vernarth and Etréstles in a post-storm clearing, a soft breeze greets them and they meet again, they greet Khaire! And together they reroute to the empty pastures, which would gradually begin to venture them through the farthest forests of the Val Trebbia. On some brown plains with poor colors that visited him falling as they faded on his mirage. From this unusual crossroads they will supremely perceive the closeness of Piacenza in their breathing.
Now they are in the vicinity of the Cimitero de Piaceza. Then they will have to go home on the Via Giovanni Codagnello, on the calendar of January 2020. The Parapsychological Regression continues.


Piacenza Cemetery, January 20, 2020
Vernarth and Etréstles entered the necropolis long before sunset. They were carrying a cake to celebrate Vernarth's birthday. Night Patrol joined the visit. In particular, they followed a night watch service that was active, trusting their guide Piacenza or the surrounding area, with 3 internal night patrol passages 365 days a year, for the rest of lives beyond all material life, perhaps turned into marble statues.
They hired a special service dedicated to the approved service for 2 people .; They were active during the caretaker's office opening hours (the same opening hours as the cemetery). With this service they overcame difficulties to walk after so much traveling. They leave the green-hoofed horses, now turned into statues. They request authorization from the entrance cemetery offices, to honor their belonging and to please those who visit them on their behalf. In Genoa, after having passed through the exterior without entering, they were ecstatic with the Staglieno Cemetery in Genoa (the most monumental in Italy).But if they enter the Piacenza, where the sanitary monumentality passed through the real function of such an enclosure in the contingency. It was commented by the neighboring offices that the migration of corpses from Bergamos were moved to Modena, Acqui Terme, Domodossola, Parma, Piacenza to carry out the respective ceremonies. Due to the great Viral Pandemic that decimated a great majority of Italian citizens in these areas. Vernarth became aware of the current reality, saw how a gravedigger conversed with the crowds, there was a nurse, a doctor and a prodigal man who concentrated on uploading moods to those who were there, almost like a caster, to relieve them of this transitory despite humanity.
They continue past the pyramidal pines, to the central pavilion. They sit on the edge of some flagstones, and take the cake to celebrate their birthday. They sing a hymn and they both enjoy it lovingly. Etréstles saw that he had a little cream left on his nose and cheekbone, running his hand to remove it. In the instant, the guard calls them; it was time to go because it was time to close the compound. They say goodbye with a monumental hug paying tribute to their brother!


Etréstles says: Honors Vernarth, for your immeasurable Valor! It is a great contribution that we divide our work and commitments. From here I go to the Messolonghi Cemetery. I will only wait for the crescent moon to meet the Charioteer, then leave with him and my beloved Drestnia. My Xifos Sword in my right hand and the head that I cut off in my left hand, in Gaugamela before that rugged fate! Khaire, My honors Commander Etréstles!. It remains in the shadow of some pyramidal pine trees of this sublime night, and then they distance themselves. Vernarth leaves the compound heading towards his house relatively close to the cemetery, on the Via Giovanni Codagnello.


Final session in Vía Codagnello, Piacenza:
Vernarth enters opens the door and everyone is waiting for him. Huge groups of friends, work colleagues, family, their pets, and especially the Parapsychologist, who had commanded this whole great session. They all approach her and in the instant, Vernarth awakes abruptly from the parapsychological session. They stabilize it and check your vital signs. There were many days of this odyssey. His awakening was mediatic, since they were attentive to him to question him and confess everything, but he was clear that his purpose would lead him to the confines of Patmos along with Raeder and Petrobus. It remained only to wait for the tenuity of a simple immortal warrior to assist in the services of John the Evangelist. The parapsychologist says you have to wake up, you can no longer be AND stay here in this temporary tube!
Once he has refused to wake up, he takes the itinerary to return to Macedonia. The visibly worn and stunned parapsychologist demands that he give up and obey his command. The effort was unproductive, only letting himself be carried by the grip of his right hand, taking his other with great vigor to remove it from shamelessness, from whom he does not suppress his pride to who still remains wounded by the swords that bleed his soul in Gaugamela. "Everyone is amazed and resigned !, pointing out that he must have always been in the surroundings of his beloved Macedonia, cutting the bursts of succulent insolence on the same temperate cliffs, where some variation of the sounds of the wind would make him saddle his Alikanto to acclaim the gods who came looking for him ”

Vernarth is engulfed in ambivalence, almost celebrating his birthday and waking up from his parapsychological journey. Both will take place, but the session will continue irrevocably. After a few days close to the first day of the crescent moon, he greeted him from a privileged place on his house Etréstles de Kalavrita who was with the Charioteer in his car and Drestnia, they went in that masterful car to join the chores of the Koumetrium Messolonghi (Editorial Palibrio - USA) .So returning to Messolonghi, to meet his disciples and essences of the foundation of his naturalness.


Hegira to Patmos
On a gray day in July 1820. Piacenza slept under the ambush of the revolution, in Italy there was a situation similar to that of another European nation. Vernarth was preparing his last details with the parapsychologist, to undertake his Hegira to Patmos, since he was a revolutionary and this was of great motivation to emigrate from this constant stage of Wars and sociopolitical processes. Manage to be a participant in this revolt in the Piedmont area. Its ideological axes were liberalism and nationalism. Given that the most affected countries were those of southern Europe (episodes from other areas, such as Germany or France, were much less important), with Spain as epicenter of a movement that extended to Italy and Portugal, and on the other hand Greece; It has been called the Mediterranean cycle as opposed to the Atlantic cycle that had preceded it in the previous generation (the first liberal revolutions or bourgeois revolutions, produced on both sides of the ocean: the Independence of the United States -1776- and the French Revolution -1789- ). As compromised great principalities of much of Europe were banned, it participates in great dissolution of collisions and invasions that involved it. In this way he would liberate his Homeland, especially his province of Piacenza.

Although the "Kingdom of Italy" as such did not exist, there were two great kingdoms that participated in the Revolutions of 1820: the Kingdom of Naples and the Kingdom of Piedmont. However, most of the revolutionary movements were driven by secret societies, such as coal. The Kingdom of Piedmont was also one of the most affected, since it was at the epicenter of Italian nationalism. It was controlled by Víctor Manuel I, member of the House of Savoy and defender of the Old Regime. The monarch had only been on the throne for 6 years, since he returned to Turin in 1814 due to the defeat of Napoleon. Since his return, various factions within the country advocated for a unification of all the Italian kingdoms. The unstable situation of its neighbor, the Kingdom of Naples, caused the carbonarians within Piedmont to revolt in March 1821.

Conclusive Hegira ellipsis to Patmos:
After this great conflict, he orders his parapsychologist to resume his final session in Patmos; he begins the procedure for the era that he had to trespass anachronistically, returning to the era of the Macedonian Empire. The parapsychologist asks him time, place, dates, clothing, customs, and manages to meet his request. He enters the portal, and in the backwaters of Messolonghi he meets Raeder and Petrobus. They were close to this heroic land, Messolonghi in the Gulf of Patras, the capital of Aetolia-Acarnania. Nothing less than in the land of his Brother Etréstles "Koumeterium Messolonghi".


"They all approach the vicinity, pray three times to heaven, and manage to be abducted to the underworld of Messolonghi. When they were snooping through the catacombs, they make out the surroundings of a luminous vault, thus distinguishing a woman passing by with others. It was the beautiful nymph Eurydice inaugurating The Constitution of a new Government”.
Eurydice and the gravediggers worked for the new government to be instituted. They were reviewing the last ground plans that converged on the tenth cemetery.
Eurydice ...: with the absence of Etréstles and Drestnia we will make her awakening continue, whose awakening phase closely relates to her wife.
Grave ...: Where do we start?
Eurydice ...: by the southwestern statue of Ashurbanipal, to pay tribute to Botsaris. Then, we will go up to receive the cordoned off tomb of Bramante and Ghiberti, so that the latter can advise us regarding the work to be erected.
They climb the northeast pavilion to the foundations of a mausoleum. They approach the slab of Ghiberti, who was loosening his fingers, sitting on the shore of a Pyramid-shaped cypress. Bramante vanished into the gray beams of light...

Ghiberti ...: I already know your mission. I am summoned to the Council on the day of the sailors' return. To start, they went to the mines to look for precious stones, stones to build Markos Botsaris.
Eurydice ...: Good! Well, in nine moons and nine suns they will return from the coasts of Morocco, the last docking point, so that they can then return. At the moment they are already warned.
Just back, there was a Lover with her right hand holding her chin.

Inamorada In Love ...: Five centuries ago I awaited my awakening, my lover promised to return ... with these verses...:
"I want to be different,
I want to take you my love...
and tell you that by missing you
there is no greater sadness than not seeing you ...
Forgive me for not coming back...
before my absence caused your death,
Wait for me ... I'm going to tell you ... how I miss you
Along with my immortality of feeling...!  How I miss you...!!

... He still tells me this, but from here, under the embankment of the cemetery I feel that he is far away and I can do nothing. Also, I have it in my memory and one day we will meet here. The Enamorada continues to sit and watch armies of soldiers being thrown into graves, their bodies severed. As she continues; ... there is more life here than on the surface, and the trenches replace the concave wombs, as vessels! As everything here lives, even the flowing and hallucinatory invocations are perceived from the Poets, Alchemists and Astronomers. They make the invisible go in a formidable adventure to the site of their magical hallucinations.
Eurydice ...: Stay on your stone, with your chiffon dress; here you will see the arrival of Etréstles. He will bring news from other lands to answer you. Now dispense if we delay, sadness will fall on the other beings who are being buried and transhumated. The Enamorada remained on the stone with her knees resting on her chest. Eurydice and her assistants went to their rooms. "
All this they manage to witness, and then go in search of Etréstles on the same tenth cemetery floor. Raeder and Petrobus were laughing and at the same time they were impressed, as if wanting to remember him when they have to leave directly from Messolonghi to Patmos, towards the Dodecanese region. In the meantime Vernarth was searching for his brother in all the nearby areas of the catacombs flashing penetrating light, unable to find him. He arrives at the ninth cemetery and is fascinated by a feminine image that would seem like a phantasmagorical chimera ..., it was Drestnia moistening some ferns on some crypts making gestures to see them already grown, even if they had just been planted...!

They approach her intimacy and ask her greetings, Drestnia answers them abstractedly that Etréstles traveled to Patmos to applaud the maiden ceremonies that would be wed in the spring in the nearby meadows. Being able to settle in The Monastery of Zoodochos Pigi, and who later went to the hills of Castelli, as it has been known that everything has been celebrated on a hill that many hundreds of years ago has sheltered our historical fragrances in the unity of the ethereal until the present. Such ruins among some works as well as the Temple of Apollo that will continue to survive with its prevailing mystery not revealed.
Etréstles gives them their congratulations and wraps his arms around Drestnia. They evacuate the cemetery, remaining abstracted in the internal darkness of the catacombs with fewer lights than a feasible twilight of darkness, as if immediately leaving Etréstles to be with him in the spring, shedding light on herself taking them to the Castelli hills, which they would figure in the sweetened exaltation of the pollinations of the nymphs on the maternal and ****** maidens.

They go out and spread their impulses over the promontory of the Koumeterium of Messolonghi with Raeder and Petrobus on Raeder's shoulders. Vernarth invoked the north with her staff where Alikanto would appear with her hooves with greenish stripes.

Raeder says:  Let's go. On those warm currents to follow we will not unite you Vernarth. Smiling, the fantastic boy danced, forming figures that enlivened him to hold on to the legs of Petrobus. They both stared at Vernarth and raised high above the warm clouds. Beneath the Messolonghi miniature, she had Vernarth's sights on them; she was putting reins and her Hoplite tunic, to mount Alikanto. He looks around and makes a big sign to Raeder to follow him to where he was, they suspend themselves and manage to go back to the highest mass of misty airs that would take them against the clock towards Patmos to meet Saint John and Etréstles.

One puts all nature into mourning,
One lights her like a flaring sun —
What whispers ‘Burial’ to the one
Cries to the other, ‘Life and Morning.’

The unknown Hermes who assists
The role of Midas to reverse,
And makes me by a subtle curse
The saddest of all alchemists —

By him, my paradise to hell,
And gold to ****, is changed too well.
The clouds are winding-sheets, and I,


uncover corpses loved of old;
and where the shores celestial die
I carve vast tombs against the sky.

We are at the mercy of blood alchemists. They turn lead into gold and war into paper. Their sacrifice based sorcery transmutes our possessions into theirs. They just need death in the equation as well as our placation.

The blood alchemists defeated the defensive zealots to establish a new leader. Their new leader had devised a formula for turning bigotry into power at the expense of sanity. He crafted a potion to control the minds of the malleable that poisoned his brain with paranoid fantasies.

In the fascist alchemist's perception, all protesters become demons in need of exorcism. Transformers and electromagnetic waves carry his insane demands to Ukraine. He demands the death of a statesman expressing contention. This is the formula for turning dissent into fear. This is the concoction that turns power into silence, he seeks to suffocate his enemies in dirt.

Followers of the fascist alchemist believe he's a god who can do no wrong. Townspeople see through this facade trying to explain he's flawed to mind controlled dogs. His spell is stubborn so citizens start sticking to strife after he obfuscates what's wrong and right while a politician's life hangs in the balance.

Conflict is conformed into cover as he uses fear of the other so subjects won't see his gunners killing our Yemeni brothers. He buries our problems in dust, that once unsettled, erupts into a noise so loud we can't call him corrupt. Ignoring the will of man he'll even **** his clan if they still his plans. His henchmen drenched in blood are as expendable as the foes he shoves. Summoning a power vacuum, a portal to autonomy, all the cronies crammed in his chaos cabinet are ****** out one by one.

So this attempted assassination is the final straw once the magistrate catches wind of his shockwave sins. The blood alchemist must attend a hearing where enemies and allies alike adjudicate his egregious actions. The hearing will be dictated by what seers see for our future. The verdict will be determined by the brain washed judging the brain washer. Before dissent could materialize into resistance, the blood alchemists slowly eroded justice until a force field formed to protect the trickster's horns.

Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops

They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet

Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat

Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a  certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs

c.1999/5000 1 air, and a glittering steel guitar,          guitar but not a letter
through the private window of the pictures appearing early on the walls
we are enjoyable,    the heat that can not see the dream as a child is worth changing the glass to the rock and Russia's councils,
like the brain of people who love the tricks of paper,
keep all the Jews in the garden of Christ,
the ****** field recently said at the French companies stockholder's meeting,
Superior athletes are as a huge sandwich, says Social society
and the coordinator; to be rich, the fighters for their blind guides have died, Bob is well-known in the field of knowledge;
his finger of the ancient hundredth century leaders of the wind
and the evening that sat in his memory;
1 Revolution a dance, dance with John
make color colors colorful clouds of radio;
To the mountains, 'to eat your body's fleshly body
with a child hiding a baby robot to turn them into pain';
In the Christian books, newspapers and in the air
on the ninth day, and Maria was wise in the morning,
at least; owned by fighters, and dressed in white *******;
policemen,         playing the second time,
We played a *******, waiting for Betty
to hear the Lord's words, cut off the sweet tongue
of Eve as an angelic tree on the waters
of the Einstein-Lucius wall, to the Goshen,
Venenatis Museum of Loyola, his other feet
on the corner of a righteous man buried
in the grave of Maecenas, who had been dropped
down to heaven; upon the head, and fat, nothing,
nothing; and in the garden of the founder
to understand the beach, and make it desolate,
and the restricted kingdom of their decision
states in color all the lines of the smoke of the city's smoke
in the wilderness, and is called according to the number
of prostitutes in public, the light in the middle,
warmly hot, such as the load of loafy artists
lost and standing in the woods of The supplier,
where the incredible Asian flag with the pitch problem
is not love, and I do not listen to their music;
Until the day you speak Online when the opposite screen is displayed. || |
Of the wind, 1 Leave a Kiss to come to ***** her sweet gay body
not of this writing, the windows of the secret of being is filled with the lot
of the image of the morning, children of the Wall, we are Alchemists,
the heat of the invisible things of his dreams
changes a kid to pieces,       to play inwardly,
'mirror of the rock', the Russian guy feels the passage of a pit,
he wanted the brain of the guys on the friendship
with the cat is the school of his lips,
as wet with the whole of the Jews as the garden of the Christ,
a ****** field wearing the arms of interest,
lately talking ground French Mountain Roast;
Pinky deserves to get high smoking sand for free,
bad and ugly Society says paint, prophet,
get rich; hire strippers with their blind dog sense,
Bob died in the science park perfectly unknown;
asking that his fingers' century of language's
center of knowledge of Angels, keep remembering
sitting modern dance floors and clubs; 1 move that
brought revolution dance, dancing with John
in this *****'s silver colored shades of radio;
Pregnant eating meat is no friend of the child
to turn the table in bed watching robot Hills plastic guns;
Christian writings in newspapers, at noon in Heaven,
Mary eyes the mothers' genius in the morning,
certainly; by eating strippers the cops were written
into the machine of *******, she was playing
the second ******* and waiting for Bettie
to hear the happy; cut the lights, her tongue produces angels
and tree smells, Eve waves her flanks under Einstein's Ivan walls,
her Loyola teething Football Muses begin to picture
sterilized legs' natural Orisha in a corner of the burial tomb,
what has been given has fallen to Maecenas his sleep,
upon his head of fat they lay, of vanity, they the garden
of developers understand the shore, and will take hold of her
to **** her **** and madly alter their clothing reading
of the whole singing songs of the glory of the smoke
of the wilderness of the town, almost all of you are called,
both digits of the ******* in the public light, yellow,
hot water taking her away in the middle
of it to go off and live on plunder;
the image to take hold of the flame
of the eyes of a messenger to become
acquainted with the course of the UFO's,
the price of a pulsing floral teenager's
cold beginning to talk about ***
to the corporation's newcomer the Devil,
simply looking bright;
****'s income ruins his already sweaty socks
as he stands at the bar drinking
with Providence where the Asian died
without new motion to move a song lover
to leave without a state they met
singing Karaoke together when they
would not listen to each other;
She lived to die enough and as they talked |
the Goddess Online opposite their screens appeared. |

1 air polished on the guitar,
the guitar but not the letters
through the private window,
the pictures shown in the morning
on the walls are enjoyable
and the summer does not seem to be a dream
that a child is converted to through the glass
of rock and Russia planted within the brain,
and those who love it deceitfully wrapped up in paper,
so all the Jews in the garden of Christ,
the ****** farmer recently said French companies
had an elevator at a huge tasting,
says Social Society and the coordinator
may be rich blind guides, who have died
at a crash, they and Bob well known
in the science field; wind in the evening,
a session of the old's of old age,
memory of yourself to be in your
hundreds; 1 Dance dance, dance,
color, color, color, color, and color on the radio;
At the top, it becomes part of the children's interlocking robot's body
that will relieve their pain; In the Christian books,
newspapers and in the air, on the ninth day of the sea
and the morning of the wise, at least, will have its enemies,
dressed for a rally, the police, playing the second playing
or impending waiting for Marcus
to hear the words cut off the sweet tongue
of Einstein's Eve an angel companion of a piece of wood,
L. to the Goshen sterilized the Museum of Loyola,
the others' feet buried in a tomb
just around the corner from Maecenas',
which that could have been sent
to the heavens; upon the fat thing;
in the garden, the founder of the people
understands the heights, and to protect it,
and for between the kingdoms
of the design of the state of the colors
of all the borders of the smoke of the city,
and the smoke of the wilderness, which is said,
according to the number of prostitutes
in the republic, the light of the middle
is the very hottest, such as the loafy artificers
to lose weight, the forests where a lot stands in the yard,
where are the incredible things who are Asian,
posters, and those who do not want to listen to music
are online today to tell you it has been
displayed on the opposite screen. ||| ||      ||||       |
|
1 air and a polished gita, guitar but not letters
through the private window, the pictures appearing
in the morning on the wall in the summer
and summer did not see the way this young man
was converted through a glass of rock and Russia
decided as a brain, and he loved by her tricks,
so all Jews in the garden of Christ, the ****** girl
soon said that the French councils seemed to be the largest,
said the Social Society and the leader could be rich,
blind guides, who had died in a casual accident, Bob
was well-known in the field of knowledge;
the wind in the evening, times of old age,
memory of itself to be a hundred; 1 Dance,
dance, color, color, color, color, and color
on the radio; At the top, it becomes a part
of the robotic mind of children who will experience their pain;
In Christian literature, newspapers and in the air,
on the ninth day of the morning and the morning of the wise,
at least, will have his enemies, dressed as a council,
policemen, playing at a second accident or a stop;
waiting for Marcus to hear the words in Einstein's native language
and the design of an angelic shape, L. to Ga-in, the Loyola city,
other graves buried in a tomb by the Maecenas corners,
which can be transmitted to the sky upon, oh,
one united nation; in the garden, the founder of the people
to understand the high places, and to defend it,
and for the governments of the shape of the state
the colors of all the smoke of the smoke in the smoke of the wilderness, which is said, such as number of prostitution in the city,
the light of the middle-class, such as skilled workers to lose weight,
forests where many have stayed in the yard,
where Asian wonders, posters, and people
who do not want to hear music on the internet today
tell you it has been displayed when the screen is opposite. ||||
| || |      
Annie polished up on her study of guitar,
but it is not in writing, deprived of a window
in the image of the remains of the wall,
summer, autumn, and they can see just
what a young man had recently amended
by the mirror out of the rock, in Russia
it was decided with the culture and loved,
through a mistake, out of all the Jews
which were in the garden of 1, Mary, the
dancer, the color, of color, of color, of color,
of the color of the letter, speaking of the rays
in the many regions of the privatization
of to do them wrong, however, you will not,
or still feel the pain of the air, of the
newspapers from the 9 in the morning,
in the morning; in the morning, by which
time the Council of the mind is upon
rats, Annie, the garment, or the enemy. | 1 |

Each of you.
My individual singularities, Dad’s One Thing.
Conceived 1955.
Driven home, progeny, made man, unequivocal, indisputable.
Post-war night spirits undaunted ~ stop ******* me.
*** for you, stopped me.
Can’t make it the way you want. Please stop.
Backing off, I respect real you.
Don’t push me Me.
Don’t dream.
Will dream us.
Short sentence for guilt whisked way beyond what crime could be.
We combine beans and seeds and gourds.
That’s science! Culinary!
Botany, true, but I’m enaturated.
Human pod progressed.
If that’s a word, don’t dream it’s not.
Forget every word.
But make each and every word count.
Then add stash, socked away.
I concede.
Mi casa su casa.
Paint it.
Together.
Made mistake then fixed it.
Copasetic dovetails, my lady and me (not I).
We walk talk island jib.
I like the cut of your yar across the moonlit pool.
Go around with me to all haunts, snow globetrotting shaken not stirred
My déjà vu in futurum videre, I can’t believe.
Asunder goddesses should be together,
While Isis and Osiris boogie like Beatrice and Dante encircled,
Their own private imbroglio invaded
By Goth end time alchemists conjuring copyrights for gelt.
You tell me this short story.
I cringe.
My mind clouds men’s, and then conjures Morpheus.
My shadow child joins me in Paradise,
Deliria dancing in concert with Shakespearean intent.
My daughter’s got more guts in one pinky
Than all that fallen pilot on our island bargained for
In the games that decided who’s hungrier.
You could have been that gal.

we plant the seeds of our own destruction
"everything in moderation."

here I am in backlash station,
braiding my hair
with poison in my lungs,
on my breath,
in my stare.

my silver tongue has an alchemists tooth
a lung for a lung and the whole world's done
anti-smoke anti-drink anti-fry
diet coked, diet thinking, diet guy
yes, he's gonna die

bleeding through his finger tips
we touch lips, hips? say goodbye,
maybe take him home next time.
he's got me in a bind
stuck in his rhyme
he peeled me from the core
though I had a rind
but the fruit which I drink
is GMO such as he,
the fluoride in my sink.

a love poem made me think
a tag is such a drag
because a label isn't me,
a price could be
innocence
mystery
a held too close and you're history

he sent to me
late night called to see
if the aches from which I break have calmed down to be
more of a lesson than a test,
more of a sleep than a restlessness.

there's no one who should have to witness this...

"I'll be okay."
maybe I'll say it again...
"I'll be okay."

For once and forward because I want to,
a lot of people said I didn't have a choice but to
and I don't want to hurt any of you,
with the insanity of keeping things in
with the feelings that I simply suppressed
thought he made me happy and undressed
foolishly traded my tears for alcohol
sweet words for smoke, true love for a joke.

I've lost all I could lose
let him take all that I thought could be took,
and now I finally see what was to be had all along,
what was there all along...

you all were right and I was wrong.

I ran away, that's not okay,
but I'm back and here today.
I love you all, I love you most,
I wont push you away, so hold me close.

I'm breaking and aching, I'm shedding out tears,
I'm sorry for masking and mashing my fears.

I know I don't know and I wish to learn quick,
there's not that much time and there's no love in a ****,
excuse my bad language for I do not speak  French...

I'll stop with the jokes and go for what's true,
there's no more emptiness in the words "I love you".

Well Uncle Hector space detector
Interstellar super-sleuth
Found an egg among the needles
Then he knew he’d found the truth
The Tree of Life was his for eating
Alchemists could all go bleating
Scientists got glimpses, fleeting
Of futures and the past

Said Uncle Hector with a grin
“hey Mr Church, come talk of sin…..
come tell me how it was again
before the fall from Grace?”

Come let us PLAY in inner space
Lets ride the reindeer in the sky
Lets hold the Holy Grail up high
And forever wonder why?
It came to this
Betrayed by a Kiss

Try not to miss
A rendezvous with ISIS
Early morning meditation
Searching for the King of Kings
And all of her Disciples
Through time and space our children float
Wearing Technicolor  Dream-coats
Sailing in psychedelic lakes
Of celestial Double Takes

In rowing boats of Entheogens
We head for the shore
And the open door
Inside the DOME
The cranial dome
The pleasure dome
Our only home
Our only hope
The Cosmic Joke
The double Helix

Can you feel it?
Can you hear it?
Can you see it?
Can you taste it?
Does it abide in you?
Can you abide in it?
Can you decipher ****?
Can you swallow it?
And try not to forget
That it is not HE or SHE or IT
Or THIS or THAT
Or THEN or NOW
Or WHY? Or HOW?
Just a sacred cow
Passing grass through the Trinity
Farting gas into infinity
Making connections with eternity
With the knowledge of certainty
That we are all divine entities
Who’ve lost our identity
Robbed of our divinity
Left without dignity
A tragedy
A parody
Of what we used to be!

Can you read the parable?
Can you hear the clarion
Alarm bells ringing?
Angels singing
In hyperspace
Spores ascending to a higher phase
A blue-green planet
With an equatorial archipelago
Shows you how it goes
Right under your nose
Don’t watch the skies
Looking for spies
Electronic lies
World wide web
Out to catch flies
Books on thighs
Held up high
Wonder why?…..
Dogs in mangers
Create dangers
Universal Lone Rangers
On snow-white horses
Giving us our Daily Bread

Uncle Hector space detector
Rides his magic carpet
Through Milky Ways
And Galaxies
Of pleasure and ecstasy
Out past Andromeda
Past infinite possibilities
Of possible infinities

To wondrous worlds
Where dreams unfurl
On one foot he whirls
The universe he twirls
On his index finger
The spheres he holds
To make them SING
To make the very planets RING
Reminds him of the King
Who gave him this freedom
To travel this Queendom
Of  inner space
And vanish without trace
Without the confines of memory
Without learnt behaviour
Without  a saviour
Without a redeemer
Within a dreamer
A dreamer dreams
And seems
To those without
To be or not to be
The essence of us all.

So Unkle Hektor space detector
Interstellar world selector
Drinks ambrosia laced with NECTAR
And sails on seas to  NINEVEH
To foretell them of their future
Avoids capture within the belly
Of the mighty whale
And sets sail
In a force-ten gale
Does Uncle Hector
SPACE DETECTOR

Lands in a meadow unseen
Blossoms on the unclean
Surfaces in the GREEN
Passes through the WHITE
Passes through the RED
Searching VIOLET LIGHT

And Uncle Hector space detector
Steers himself back home
Back through the chilling dome
back through the future zone
back through the past alone
till at last
he’s back
among the STARS
From where it all began

And Uncle Hector space detector
Lays softly down to sleep
And dreams of blue-green planets
Spinning in the deep
Blue-black INFINITY
Has GNOSIS of his DIVINITY
Beams a smile that warms infinity
And giggles in his sleep
Yes Uncle Hector space detector
Pan-dimensional interjector
Stoops down low to choose a connector
In a meadow in his dreams

And Uncle Hector
Space detector
Detects an “X” factor
That can heal his “WHY”
And wherefore……
And therefore Uncle Hector gets a healing
Most revealing
Truth concealing
Holy *****
Falls from heaven
In our Daily Bread!
Then Uncle Hector wakes and rises
Expands his lungs and exercises

Give thanks to all who know his song
And everyone who came along to hear these words
And carry on the raising of the consciousness
Of  everything and everyone
And carry on the raising of the consciousness
Of  everything and everyone

Scientists researching nature and man,
sing, Muse Kalliope, about arcane progress
of inventive magicians, wizards, druids,
philosophers, alchemists, and physicists,
bright curious people who study our world
and organize knowledge in holy books
to record wisdom gleaned by supple minds
as they experiment on sacred quest
to discover truth and invent better ways
we perform tasks to rule civilization
that programs actions of each crafting hand.
While Homeros once sang of manic rage
and versatile wiles, Hesiodos of gods,
Valmiki of loyal love, Vyasa of conflict,
Lucretius of atoms, Vergilius of arms,
Ovidius of bodies transforming shapes,
Ferdowsi of wisdom and civilization,
Dante of punishment and search for faith,
Chaucer of lust and fierce desire to live,
Ariosto of chaos, Tasso of order,
Camoens of discovery, Spenser of virtues,
Shakespeare of outrage at horror of death,
and Milton of paradise lost and found,
I, Surazeus, inspired by Muses sing
of philosophy, science, and inventions
when curious men and women observe nature
and seek to comprehend physical laws
that govern vital scheme of evolution
transforming matter of swirling universe
in galaxies, stars, planets, and conscious life.
Why are heroes in ancient tales poets sing
warriors who fight and **** in brutal wars,
biggest, strongest, meanest, and wiliest men
who wield weapons of death, and crown themselves
god-kings, then claim divine right to rule lands?
Ten thousand years men argued and fought wars,
joining groups lead by men who organize
gangs to battle for control over land,
following men with loyal obedience
who comprehend best how rich nature works,
and perceive future possible events
when they analyze situations well
and build strong forts for well-trained warriors
to occupy strategic points on hills
that guard close fresh-water rivers and lakes.
Warriors who founded dynasties of kings
play grand roles of power on martial stage
of history, killing tyrants and thieves,
and decree rules that foster common good
to stabilize smooth social interactions
between groups, manage prosperous production
of commercial enterprise on lush farms,
and support design of religious art
in songs and plays that relate noble deeds
of great hero who founded nation state.
Yet every great hero king, mortal man
who inhabits body of flesh and blood
like us, grows old, dies, and crumbles to dust,
and power of his personal authority
dissolves in wind that howls in empty halls,
and all his grand Ozymandian boasts
echo dumb over waste land of his works.
New generations rise who fight again,
arrayed and lead by power-hungry kings
to impose their world view on other groups,
and millions die in brutal fights for power
in endless cycles of destructive wars,
so fighters fail to provide secure way
that constructs stable secure social state
where all individuals prosper and thrive
pursuing personal dreams for happiness.
While warriors fought each other for power
and fame, to play gods on stage of history,
humble men and women, seeking solutions
to solve problems, discovered sacred laws
of nature, and expressed visions of life
to state concepts that explain how things work.
While mad warriors destroy to gain control,
wise philosophers and genius scientists
ask questions, conduct research, observe nature,
state hypotheses, conduct experiments,
analyze data, and develop theories
to describe how our universe operates,
created in process of cause and effect.
While warriors destroy, scientists create
better ways to comprehend and describe
complex universe that nourishes our souls,
so clever thinkers and builders through time,
who search for truth beyond outdated modes
of linguistic models, and build world views
that assist people struggling to survive
by providing accurate facts about life,
are true heroes who build civilization.
Nations base myths of their right to exist
on founding fathers, empires on bold kings
who ****, and religions on peaceful prophets
who teach social rules of moral behavior,
while science builds theories of observed facts
on exact research of philosophers
and scientists into true nature of things.
I sing of scientists, who observe nature
and develop clear theories to describe
how our universe works, rather than warriors
who fight and ****, because their honest work
constructs Temple of Truth secure on facts
which shelters us from storm of social chaos,
preserving peace inside strong garden walls.

I stood waiting for her I was told she would come
I stood waiting cold and numb
Numbed by the pain, tablets and lotions
Numbed by the hope of a notion
A notion that said I might find a cure
A cure that would let me lead a life I could finally endure

For my life has been one of repeated pain
Pain from the physical, emotional, where there is no gain
A life that is lived in between, of darkness and then sparkle
A life that is to my own heart no more than a debacle

I was told If I met her she could help me create
My own alchemy, a precious recipe that would make
A remedy that would soothe my soul allow it to rest
Allow my physical body to stop undergoing this continual test

I heard movement come through the blackness
Towards me to meet, a beautiful figure, dazzling and complete
Her beauty was breathtaking her adornment a delight
She illuminated my world at once and reignited my own light

She has a familiarity that my body recognizes, a bejeweled
Being who lights up my world with her smile and surprises
Even me as I watch and stare as she moves through the darkness
With such knowledge and without care

I follow her light down passageways and past keeps
And notice parts of my body awakening like from a sleep
A body that wants to talk to me and say
That authenticity is the alchemy from which you have strayed

Your body has such wisdom its waiting to be read.
This is the alchemy you search for, its that voice in your head
It is an illuminated manuscript  gilded with the finest gold, gold of your own making
your life experience is the beauty you need to hold.

The magic is in your intuition, that you hold deep within yourself
You follow this beautiful lady and yet she is a mirror of your own self
She came because you finally called her and she sits in front of you now
Administering her balms that lingers on your skin, it caresses the pain you feel
and smoothes you from within.

But this is a balm of your own making , made out of all your own pain
It sparkles with the light you have been seeking it is your own beauty,
Hopelessness and pain.

So look no longer for the alchemists hand, behold what you see in the
mirror and be glad that you stand, for you are a beauty to behold, a life
to be treasured, a life that is lived in, a life that can be measured.

Since music is part of the headwear, most of the colors
of death in the air is about two amino acids, but it is
Latin to place stars on other flags, golden gold from America.
Changes for the musicians in the sunshine,
you are on your way. The wind zone of The queen of the sea
is in the early hours of the morning. I dropped in cold war.
The beauty of the British English-Asian team lost his wife,
John is in the heart of Sky Europe Baloo snooch blue spirit
July Goddess woman to return from Jesus devil evil rains
in Russia If you are a friend from the hand of food, garden;
The radio satellite square of the series of titles called SMA
French is full of fun games for children, six and six,
full of hope and Rs. A book about worrying, but the old word is true,
for example, to the image of Russia with the power
of the eagle under the stars. Igor is very tense.
There is a spirit. There are many words about nature.
Decorative jewelry and waiting for the mouth
and tongue are salty, *****, crazy, cool in the mirror
and work like an external wall stone. Find what
we did not find. The purpose of the gods you have
to say in the name of the image is to take half
the leaves by your feet to drink wine, to be gay, up,
and mother and like smoke to the feet in socks,
as you do of water, jellyfish materials at the Museum
of Asian Lands; bad news, my Perkins, Einstein's tree
and school board pictures of Einstein's users who
have been asked to sleep in the middle of the sun,
or burned in the middle of Los Angeles at the Los Angeles host.
The water waves of the mountains went to the drunken prophet
of the Chinese, but a man of Goldman Sachs was often
involved in the Alchemy of Bettie's wounds written
to all the host of many who have met the general.
Dogs on the ground? taken ill falls on his side,
the arms of the preparation of the grace we receive,
but not to create the council of holy happiness,
in fact, it is the least sign for women's leaders,
since music is a part of the head of the fair pole,
most of the color of death in the air about two elbows
of amino acids, but it is a Latina to the stars
and other brands of fire, the head of gold from America.
The exchange of money is for the poet in the glory of the sun,
it was on his way. The air space The queen of the sea
in the morning hours. I left the cold war. The beauty
of the young Greek English-Asian team had lost his wife,
John is in the heart of the Sky over Europe's Baloo snooch's
blue spirit of the July Goddess woman to return from Jesus' evil
devil dog in Russia; If you are a friend from the hands
of the food the radio garden drinks squares of the series
of dreams called ****, French in questions full of high games
for babies, children and an overheated
six-year-old full of hope and said Rs.
A book about the crisis, but the old saying is true,
for example, to the image of Russia,
with a strong wind of poetry under the stars.
Igor is a very big one. There is a spirit.
There is a lot of talk about nature.
The ladies ornaments standing up and waiting
for mouths and tongues to twist, feels *****, crazy,
knowing the feeling in the mirror
and running like a stone to get outside the park.
Search the invisible. The lips of the gods
he has to speak in the name of the game
is to move half of the leaf by means of her feet
so that she drinks the wine, to be gay in the mountains
and a mother and as the smoke goes to the feet
out of socks as it comes out of the water,
the jellyfish instruments in the Museum
of the province of Asia; bad news, my Perkins,
the wood and the Einstein public library is a picture
of Einstein's strippers asked to sleep in the middle of sleep,
or sleep in the middle of Los Angeles in Los Angeles
consumer separator. The waves of the mountains up
to the Chinese drink prophet,
but a man of the Goldman Sachs frequency
of the Alchemy of Bettie's coal has written
to the full army, many of whom have met the general.
Pieces of dogs on the ground? torn,
and fell on his knees, the arms of the preparation
of the grace received, but not so much as to create a circle of holy joy,
in fact, a very thin plaque of women leaders.
When music is part of a tree handsome head hot,
the color of a particular amino acid death of three feet;
But I do not have a Latina's stars of torches
came to the fire, the head of the American gold.
He has gone the poet is one glory of the sun,
the money is the change. Air space. The queen of the sea
in the morning hours. Come out of the cold war.
And beauty is a young Greek English Asian
who follows lost the wife of John and sits in the heart of the Sky
over Europe's Baloo snooch, July woman blue goddess spirit
to come home Jesus' bad dog hell up Russian. |
If you are a friend of the hands of the food,
beverage numbers French garden square
Dream in question to call the small radius
of the baby is not full of games into the deep,
had six sons, the heat is 3, and the said Rs,
full of hope. A book critical of the old but true,
for example to the image of Russia,
a strong wind at the foot of poetry's living stars.
Igor is very rich.
It is a siege against. There is a lot of talk about nature.
When the first robot breaks cultural fields
and the sky sweet child has the right
to walk around the core of the destruction
of memory friend Ringers poet.
The ornaments of the women
were standing waiting mouths of the tongue's laps,
***** feet, madness, knowing the feeling of a mirror,
he is running as a stone out of the park. Look for the invisible.
of the gods he shall speak in the name of the game
to do the media, newspapers apt to be moved by means of the lips,
that sends forth the feet of the drinking of the wine to be gay,
in the mountains and mothers: for a smoke shall come,
like the socks on the feet of the instruments from the Medusa
in the Asian Museum and Aquarius; bad news, my lady Perkins,
a tree, and Einstein's library has asked for the public image
of Einstein's sleep in the middle of the strippers
from the sleep of the Angels in the central dream
of the Los Angeles painted stripper. Hills wet with the waves of the
came to the prophet, came to drink, they began to perfect
the Chinese writing on the inside Alchemy of Bettie,
was filled with a crowd came up to meet with the man
of Goldman Sachs computation to many Gen.
the feet of the monster of the city and led him to **** a Christian
and had taken of the origin of some other thing,
and the color of the flame and brought him
to Rattan. The dogs pieces of country? torn, and fell upon my knees,
fell in love with the kind of the institution
of the arms of the holy women also, your joy,
far and near, that of all of the world revolution
and the leaders' present an infirmary
and a very thin plate. Since it is part of the running rings,
the majority of dead memories of death in the air
are two amino acids, but the stars and other artifacts
are the Latin American golden gold.
Changes to musicians in the solar radiation are:
You're on your activity. The Queen's Queen is awake in the early morning.
I stopped the Cold War. English, English, English, English,
English, French, English, French, English, French, English,
French, English, French, French, Spanish, French and Spanish,
And six, hope and despair. The book about depression,
for example, the old word is the correct Russian language,
with the power of the stars. Jiang is very hard. There is a spirit.
There are several words about nature. Stunning jewelry
and glazes, *****, crazed, crystal-clear lamps,
and the exterior walls are awesome. Find what we have not obtained.
The purpose of the gods you speak of in the name of the image
is to take part in your hands, become homosexuals,
and mothers, and even to your feet like water works,
Museum of Asian Art Museums, Bad news, my Pentecens,
the stereo tree and the school board were asked to sleep
in the sun or in the city of Los Angeles, USA,
incinerated by fire. The waves of the mountains
are moving to the screams in China. However,
adult male Sheik Aged was generally a bipolar ulcer
with a large group of people. Dogs on Earth?
The gifts we have received are not at the expense
of the weak, but on the side of the oppressors,
not the creation of God's love, but at least a symbol
of women leaders. Since music is part of the headgear,
most of the color of death in the air is about two
amino acids, but it is Latin to stars and other flags,
golden gold from America. Changes are for the musicians
in the sunshine, you are on your way. The wind zone;
The queen of the sea in the early hours of the morning.
I dropped in cold war. The beauty of the British English-Asian team
lost his wife, John is in the heart of Sky Europe
Baloo snooch blue spirit July Goddess woman
to return from Jesus' devil
evil rains in Russia If you are a friend
from the hand of the food garden; The radio satellite
squared of the series of titles called  French is full of fun
games for children, six and six, full of hope and Rs.
A book about worrying, but the old word is true,
for example,
to the image of Russia, with the power of the eagle
under the stars. Igor is very tense. There is a spirit.
There are many words about nature. Decorative jewelry
and waiting until the mouth and tongue are salty, *****,
crazy, cool in the mirror and works like an external
wall of stone.  Find what we did not find. The purpose
of the gods you have to say the name of the image
is to take half the leaves by your feet to drink wine, ||
to be gay, up and a mother like smoke to the feet socks,
as you do of water, jellyfish materials at the Museum
of Asian Lands; bad news, my Perkins, Einstein's tree
and school board are pictures of Einstein's users who
have been asked to sleep in the middle of the sun,
or burned in the middle
of Los Angeles at the Los Angeles host.
The water waves of the mountains went
to the drunken prophet of the Chinese,
but a man from Goldman Sachs was often performing
Alchemy on Bettie's wounds written
to all the host of many who had met the general.
Dogs on the ground? has taken ill, and falls on his side,
the arms of the preparation of the grace we receive,
but not to create the council of holy happiness,
in fact, the least sign for women's leaders.

Music is a part of a hat, so most of the color of the death
in the atmosphere is about 2 amino acids,
but Latin is Latin in American gold and stars.
Changes are to you for the sunlight musicians.
The area of ​​the wind The queen of the sea
is in the early morning. I fell into the Cold War.
British English - the beauty of the Asian teen lost his wife,
John Sky Europe Baloo Snooky Blue Spirit
In the heart of the goddess of July the Russian devil
is in the heart of the goddess' If you are a friend
from the Garden's SMALL Radio Satellite Square
in a series of titles called French is full of fun and games
for Hope and R Full Kids, 6 and 6. Although it is a book
on worry, the old words are the truth, for example,
the image of Russia, the power of the eagle under the stars.
Igor is very nervous. There is a spirit. There are many
words about nature. Waiting for decorative jewelry,
her mouth and tongue works like salty, *****, crazy,
mirrored, exterior wall stone. I will find what we did not find.
The purpose of God you have to say in the name
of the image is to drink wine, become gay, up, and mother,
take half of the feet like water like smoke in foot socks,
Asian Jellyfish materials at the museum of land, bad news,
my Perkins, Einstein Tree and Board of Education
were asked to sleep in the middle of the sun,
Einstein's user photos, or in the middle of Los Angeles
at Los Angeles host It is a baked picture.
The wave of the mountain water went to a drunk
Chinese prophet, but the man of Goldman Sachs
was often an alchemist of Betty scars,
written to many people who met the shogun.
Is the dog on the ground? We took the weapon
of the preparation of grace; we received
and dropped it to the side but in fact
it was not able to recreate the council of sacred happiness.
Music is a part of a hat, so most of the color of the death
in the atmosphere is about 2 amino acids, but Latin is Latin
in American gold and stars. Changes are to you
for the sunlight musicians. The area of ​​the wind
The queen of the sea is in the early morning. I fell into the Cold War.
British English - the beauty of the Asian team lost his wife, John Sky Europe's Baloo Snooky Blue Spirit In the heart of the goddess
of July the Russian devil is in the heart of the goddess'
If you are a friend from the Garden of SM Radio's Satellite
Square in a series of titles called French is full of fun games
for Hope and R Full Kids, 6 and 6.
Although it is a book on worry,
the old words are the truth, for example,
in the image of Russia, the power of the eagle
under the stars. Igor is very nervous. There is a spirit.
There are many words about nature.
Waiting for decorative jewelry and
mouth and tongue works like salty, *****,
crazy, mirrored, exterior wall stone.
I will find what we did not find. The purpose of God
you have to say in the name of the image is to drink wine,
become gay, up, and mother, take half of the feet
like water like smoke in foot socks, Asia Jellyfish
materials at the museum of land, bad news, my Perkins,
Einstein Tree and Board of Education were asked
to sleep in the middle of the sun, Einstein used photos,
or in the middle of Los Angeles at Los Angeles host;
It is a baked picture. The wave of the mountain
water went to a drunk Chinese prophet,
but the men from Goldman Sachs were often alchemists
of Betty's scars, written to the many people
who met the shogun. Is the dog on the ground?
We took the weapon for the preparation
of grace we received and dropped it to that side ||
but alas, it was not able to recreate the Council of Sacred Happiness.

Appalachian Alchemists
Weaving Gold from farmer's grist
Whiskey Stills
and Copper Pills
Magick Wyrm cools vapor mists

Shine down from a Whiskey Moon
Silver Gift and Nature's Boon
Corn Cob Wands
and Thumper Pots
Mountain Spells from Summers' June

Lightning flash in jar of White
Burning Soul, distilled delight
Mountain Streams
yield Moonshine Beams
Corn-fed Wizards, dark of night

Wisdom cast in Silver hues
Blessing born of Mountain Dews
Love's Desire
from Smoke and Fire
Ancient kin-folk's hidden brews

Inspiration Distillate
Poet's Draught, inebriate
Charcoal Casks
and Secret Flasks
Of this Spirit, Celebrate

Let me invoke the Devine Muses
Who sits on Mount Helicon
Cherishing the arts of poets and artisans
Whom they immortalized
By guiding their pen;

I implore your aid
In completing this poem
And several yet to conceive,
Fill in me the empty;
The lack of words, metaphors, smilies
And tropes to cover emotions.

O holy! Devine
Inspire my mind who craves fame
Aspire this pen to write truths name,
Fill it with the ink of courage;
No compassion nor fear can divert
It from unraveling the hidden.

O! Symbol of purity and keeper of sacred thoughts
You shape a bud into a plant
And by your one breath comes the spring;
Leaves, flowers, and fruits all,
Same way breathe unto me
Give me life and aim
To make this time count
And unconsciously— like great poets,
Metaphysicians and alchemists,
Mark my name and work in this world.

There are more things
That are not things
Than there are things
That are things.
Potential is a powerful,
Abundant resource.
To tap into the
Unknown, uncharted,
Unachieved, departed -
And introduce it to
What it means to Be -
Makes every artist
A midwife.
Without the great alchemists -
The artists, the dreamers,
Visionaries, poets, musicians -
Those who enter into
Akashic Records
Like a library -
We would only ever have
What has already came to be.
Like a technical computer reality.
Art brings us closer
To the cusp of Life.
Mother Earth is the greatest artist
I've ever known.
Being Human means
Being an artist.
Our Mother may soon
Scold us
For coloring all over the walls.
Making an artist takes time.
In the Universe,
There's plenty of that.

The lot of us strangers trying too hard to stay aloof in a narrow corridor plagued by awful trendy folk music blaring out of unseen speakers and I shrouded in silence wore it a pseudo-epidermal layer taut force field writing this poem so to be a little more pretentious than most by opting not to check social media and the selfie I posted this morning not sure how many likes it's gotten since an hour ago but I'm not going to check yet Everyone here looks so miserable and it's barely 8 AM the Kate Gosselins and Ben Afflecks grab their coffee like a servant grabs the King's goblet to test for poison there's this mumble of a thank you seeping out of frozen lips and half opened eyelids harnessing dull hazy eyes and they drudge back to their hybrid cars with their five dollar savior and amble down the gaping highway that consumes their soul and all the while shoulders never touch and eyes never meet and we stand idly in the waiting room watching the alchemists conjure up our poison thinking about our selfies and how much we hate ourselves and our lives but honestly I just wanted my first pumpkin spice latte of the season celebrating the first cool day of the year in my denim jacket I resurrected with glee out of the elated closet in the middle of September so I say Beware you miserable cretins you obligatory acolytes of the virulent elixir one day you'll wake up and no amount of coffee will purify this cesspool you've lain yourself into like a regretful baptism you didn't believe in.