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Perig3e Mar 2012
Leading sounds of spring
Are now preceding the season.
Scattered platoons of yardmen
clunk aluminum ladders
that thunk debris littered roof gutters,
bang a size range of galvanized nails
into an exterior catalogue of materials
needing attentive appending.
The leaf blowers, the leaf blowers
exhausting NASCAR level roars
attempting to push back
last fall/winter into their calendared slots.
And the first nice day Harleys
rumble distantly along the gorge road below.
Fegger Apr 2010
I dipped a cup of water,
From the edge of endless sea.
Such ocean I will know as God,
While the cup resembles me.
Within the cup are particles,
Of substance undefined;
Yet sole in their uniqueness,
And clearly unrefined.
I’ll view such things as trials,
Or memories distilled;
That oft obscure such clarity,
In practice of my will.

The sand I’ll place this cup upon,
Shall be of life, surround;
Ever-changing with the wind,
Forms ripples on this ground.
Compressing cup into the soft,
Creates stability;
But grounded to such fickle sand,
Defers my destiny.
So lightly I will plant this cup,
On this shore and unafraid;
And welcome curious tidal reach,
With Spirit’s hand in wave.

The sun that rises, east to west,
Is incessant pass of time.
Intense or distant is its charm,
And never will be mine.
As it speeds its warmth and bright,
Across my vessel, waits;
Such heat will pare my still design,
And I’ll evaporate.
Yet, choice in my possession,
To choose a time, that when,
I’m left with only particles,
I may dip my cup again.

There’s comfort in the knowledge,
Of life upon this shore;
Where time may find me self-contained,
And needing nothing more.
Some winds deposit challenges,
For some I’m unprepared;
Appending my complexity,
To those I choose to share.

One day the sands will surely shift,
And toppled I will be;
Spilling freely, I’ll reach out,
Returning to the sea.
The meaning of the trustees and the ablution of the signs respectively were based on the word ficare "in the proportion of providing signs and building", as a complement to the concept, in the case of Zefian's Virola, it is given to the ring that rotates in its elliptical as a virtual particle, similar to the Muon. But always in a semantic ring or circle look. Linguistics will attribute both the Virola and the Fero; in this case "leading or leading" The dissociation here is the semantics in the object not entrenched to be used as a common kind of language, but rather as "Virolifero", it is understood that this word will forge the Zefian Arrow into the amalgamation of the ring that leads, to abduct all energies towards a Central Whole. The product of all this energy will be called channeling of the mental representations of the "sign" of signifying, evoking independence in each terminology by itself and represented, rather in the theological physical elementality, associated with the Virolifera plane.

As the treatise of this codex suggests, a term between terms, to assign mnemonic and etymological chaining of meaning most of the appropriation of terminologies attached to a properly vernacular word. The horizon that is stipulated is of a Vernathian nature, where the average life-turning receptacle is of enormous proportions in its multi dynamics, especially in the moral, ethical and theological, especially in matters of emotional articulation associated with a significant meaning. Vernarthian dreams are of Speed of Quantum Physics, therefore they are pure metaphysical and meta-biological, appending to restricted spaces of stimulus and impulse speed, hiding in the residual mass of the unknown, to attribute to them chromatics that is settled in the Corpus Callosum of both hemispheres. Neuroscience yes, but that deposits physical values in the concentration of rest and active energy in areas of the cerebellum, to unleash a choice of names or anthroponyms. Where all the names with a certain alacrity of reason, meaning is attached according to their toponymy, in this case, Virolifero, could be a factor of canceling choices and adaptation of higher energies, on the universe, as a patronage of the Universe "called Rings of Zefian ”endowed with electron elliptical Muon particles.

The signifier of Virolifero will be its phoneme, perhaps more associated with the subject being the ring, associated with its mental representation. This force of Vernarthian thought indicates semantics and phonetics of speculative endowment, for becoming of building rings associated with an eco-physical and eco-environmental scheme. The entire philosophical Vernarthian range has a Sacred Geometry in its verbal and numeral composition, either in the connotation of concepts-ideas and of signs that represent the mental cultural heritage.  Literality will advocate the chronology of gap and verbal-linguistic space, contributing figurative, Greco-Latin barbarisms, such as Virolifero's verbal vigor if we place it in the reference of a building ring, being able to be figurative as a ring that makes or leads according to its practical verbal use dialectical. And in context, it would appear as something sacred in what will be referred to in this Codex of Nuraga Complexes, where each fold of lithosphere will be of the geological relationship between Stonehenge or Nuraga in Sardinia, each one appropriating age in what could be more or less an archaeological conflict of origins, or of comparative aspects of the referenced union, for the end of times, nations, civilizations, political states, and generations of socio-economic persistence. Making an archaeological contextual fact as in these terms, of such references of reception or political exile, but also cultural, adding the terminology of the intracultural contribution of the region. In the argument of Pythagoras and his self-exile in Italy, it is said that he had been condemned to exile from Samos because of his aversion to the tyranny of Polycrates. Around 530 BC settled in Crotona, a Greek colony in southern Italy, where he founded a movement with religious, political, and philosophical purposes, known as Pythagoreanism, and which generated duplicity of context in his sacred mathematical pilgrimage, towards a process of exercise contrary to his own Pythagorean School, expropriating a persona non grata in internal conflicts with personalities from Crotona itself, where he had to flee later. Here ipso facto the verbal exercise exemplifies his transliteration by an unfailing fact, in favor of what emerges from a coercive task, abandoning the same in what placidly sheltered him, and virtually ostracized as an immigrant from Samos.

Hosted the Pythagoreans in Sardinia, Italy.  Being in the colorimetry of the 6th century BC. He was peering into a universe that wasted infusion, clinging to the unknown roots themselves, with undulating harmonies in what we inhabit as an ethical and religious wave and vibrational entity. The prefix Vilori will indicate sacred mathematics, adapting to the numeral and algorithmic harmony of three plus three + 1, which would be the suffix, Fero. The external exaltation of numerical sensations will lie in human sensations already pre-established as a socio-environmental existential order, towards a divine-human being. What is strictly formative is a sacred legacy, since its equivalence is composed of mathematical formulas and figures that all point to the creation of an ambivalent whole, upward and downward proportionate. Focusing on originality of thought and work, embodying the prose, prophecies,  and intensely solid parables.

Vernarth and Etréstles began the attached Rituals in these megalithic complexes. On each Solstice, they arranged sectarians related to this phenomenology, in such a way as to incorporate them into this millenary civilization. They always attacked the archaeological area of Orroli, which is in the center of the soft plateau of Pran'e muru, in a strategic position to control the territory along the middle course of the Flumendosa River. Normally here they performed twilight liturgies similar to those perpetually held in La Mandragora, Sudpichi, Horcondising Region - Chile. Vernarth, always got all the provisions and utensils off the sailboat. Pyramid Torches, Oil Fuels, Sacred Drums, Proved Firewood, Stonework for Obsidian Workshops. Mapuche  wind instruments such as Trutruca, Cultrún and trompe. Buzzers to repel zoomorphic beings of the Bestiary, Alchemy, and Esotericism. Etréstles, coordinated content and other related duties by illuminating all the souls who once lived here. To which Vernarth masterfully adhered, filing them with impressive themes of the prehistoric world. To consider more than five volumes by concept before departure, to then break into the sacred space and meaning, limpid and originating from the session of totem animals and trance with Navajo drums. Each oar looked like a Karibu daunting a maple or a conifer that wanted to change its bark skin for those of the goring of the Karibu or the Moose him. While the eagle with its claws dropped crashing down on the Rehue line to Gnegechen, on the Cultrun, whose plural palpitations of the mandrake wanted to seem to be more than a hallucinogenic thrilling herb.

Describes Vernarth in Regression of him: Theater and Aeschylus, Dance and Athena, gifts from Stonehenge and Borrehaugene in Norway on Viking ships. They walked over the suspicious stones of the Nuragas.  In each ritual in these sets, they concelebrated next to the gorges, through which said river ran, being globally submerged in two artificial lakes until today. A territory deeply marked by man since prehistory, confirming the extraordinary concentration of remains found; from the Neolithic to the Bronze and Iron Ages, Roman times, and the Middle Ages. The Arrubiu was the main bastion, around it, satellite Nuragas gravitated, dominating strategic points and access roads. Near the complex is the tomb of Giants from the Sword, here they would consecrate their dynamics of the Xiphos Hoplite sword, to develop the bronze rites,  as a heritage from the linear insertion of Sardinia with Patmos,  to which they will go after the Solstice from the Nuraga complex. In his prehistoric speeches, he always had to stand out and go back to years prior to 1000 BC. Today it has become the symbol of Sardinia and its distinctive culture. The typical Nuraga is located in a panoramic place and has the shape of a tower with a geometric shape of a truncated cone or divided in half, some higher, others very low, reminiscent of a Tholos (Ancient Greek circular construction). Right here Vernarth, they poured milk and Pranayama, to delineate the points of the Sun to align them with the whims of Brahma and Xifos; swords that are gleaming over the eyes of a stingray. Vernarth, as post-frontal poetry, in treachery that decorated such a hendecasyllable, undertook to rescue the largest real estate fire, from where his own subsistence will hang. In the main protocol, in a drumming trance, he pierced the brains of all those present. Fragments remained everywhere ever imagined, on the timeless Nuragha ruins under the treetops and their Templum. Misleading beings that attacked the underworld of Persephone, and the Nuragic Gods who were elemented, by prevailing in this ceremony that they did not know if it was their own, not knowing that they were included.

Isaías sings (bis): “The presence in the corresponding versed folio makes it relative to the prophecy of the Immanuel born of a ******, which is associated with a similar Virgilian prophecy of Cumana, justifying its prophetic symbolism. Here is the warning that blackens the skies where the light retracts, thousands of attendants in the Nuragas are chained during the announcement of a thousandth that climbs abysses like the fateful Strigoi, and only tribulated pasture will have to transplant rebellions, which lie asleep for the wind of the ideal of incipient spiritual ******* dressed in execration. Has the conflagration of the heart that resists death and agonizes several times in the Templum ritual been unleashed ... The conditions await for the apostates when they refuse the water that does not make them optimal, and makes the radius of obedience of the Vernarthian heart elliptical, full of granules of lumpy Physconia, whose frequency will become embedded in bodies of treacherous, kingdoms and fungal lineages. The reign of the saints will judge diversity on the thrones with devastation in the fatuous beatifications in Pergamum, already admonished by me also in Sardinia”
Codex XIX -  Ultramundis  Nuragas
Pardon me in my own symphony of madness
A tool of my own sadness, oh boy what a feeling that is
It’s not poor nor is it ****, so I suggest you sit right back and enjoy
For humorous attempts are only to take joy, creating pure fun
So here I got the run of the bun, Yeah it surely is nice to live
Lessons of the positive, dropping on the mind like intellect
I hear ye, dearly elect….Without any rhyme or reason
The one who may create the least treason…Holding onto your seats
Cashing in on all your receipts, Tickets of winning numbers
No longer living by the warm timbers, Refreshing to say the least
Some may call it very beast…Of me to rummage through moods
Many have given their perfect attitudes, Learn then let live…Breathe
A jewel encrusted knife kept within its sheathe, I promise you’ll never go cold
The tale can be told, in many ways
Spread out over many days, although why tend to boredom
Leading us not into whoredom, deliver us our daily bread
Thy concrete kingdom come along with street cred, as heaven’s mouth is open
At last it becomes very Zen, Living to learn
Rights under a government mule are hard to earn, no sense taking them for granted
Always being doubted, keeping a watchful eye
The lurker leans toward using the skills of a spy
Soon our story will be drawn to an end
Appending my wrongs as my rights come to a bend
Rendering my sins under microscopes as they unbend
Entering the light, being dunked in pools as I ascend
copyrighted by Aiden L K Riverstone
Now every day is a challenge

A hard-hitting task to accomplish

Morning gives me a parcel of works

Evening ceases my cognizance from me

And night…

What to say?!

Takes away my kip.

But encounters are what makes life interesting

Appending them gives me pleasure

Overshadowing them gives me eternal happiness.
Challenges are not new
They are a part of us.
Amanda Shelton Apr 2019
All around,
the dark memories gathered.

My pain grew as cold chills
fell against my naked soul.

My tear’s smite me,
and upon their release
my essence drips
to the wicked earth that
will in prison me someday
underneath a gravestone.

In agony I hang my head,
as oblivion approaches
with a cold reminder
I am alone, my tear’s
fell upon darkened times
hydrating my doom.

The devil taunt’s me
reminding me of my
appending doom.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton
Welcome to my new poetic collection ****** Quill’s.

Upon these pages I leave behind my tear’s and frustrations. Within my poetic translations you can find truth, struggle, love, and bit’s of my broken design. I am blessed with a gift of writing poetry and drawing. I hope you enjoy my poetic designs.
History contends that on that score
hing hot summer at 6:00 pm June sixteenth
in the year 666 after the Devonian era,
two lovers - a Mister Belmont Me

and Missy Bryn Mawr Hu felt the call
of the wild within the wilderness
in ****** hinterlands of Penn Valley
and supposedly got cannibalized

by a Hottentot Mailer Daemon named
Manayunk Yahoo. All plugged stoppers
got pulled as the passionate children
of Mother Nature and Jethro Toll

rumbled, fumbled, bungled in
the jungle, and shook the firma
ment echoing subterranean cat a
combs with their private feral

Carnival antics.The ensuing Millennium
spawned one bizarre tale after
another each appending a more
farfetched tail spinning embellish
ment from the preceding legend.

Mary Waters ford considered as
the first person to record the shroud
of mystery lurking in the hollows
of sleepy hills, which rumor harbored
this legend of lost Lower Merion lovers.

Even to this day (one eerily similar
at that fateful bewitching hour)
one can hear the blood curdling
and hair-raising bacchanalia under
ground Brahmins deep pounding
beets on their crude ovens deep
purple within the bowels of the Earth.

Many believe present day tremors
that line the main tract hearken
Earth linked presence of sinning
wood nymphs and elfin grots continually

being birthed within many gnarled rocks
causing groundswell similar to
a Welsh Valley overtaken by hocked
conch blowing Harridans. Some
of these hardy adherents corn beef

hash tagged as unprintable expletives,
whose self-righteousness bound
by unwavering assertions of Woody
Woodpecker apparition. Visages of
fearsome flesh eating muscle bound

underground golems toting haversacks
as big as a town (surpassing the likes
of 1148 Matthew’s rolled into one)
sustains longevity of ogres not even

all the brooms could sweep away far
as next square rush new town. Although
rarely seen, but more often heard
tectonic vibrations that shake and bake

like local crowded house special chicken
Radnor (often cleft fissures upon flint ******
layers of bedrock comprising Delaware Valley)
infuses imagination of (top notch pugilists)

bravely ventured into this haunted haven
and vanished without a trace. Most likely
their fate became a gourmet meal i.e. tasty
as Salad Augustus with seven season Caesar dressing.
Mark Bell Apr 2017
Haunted house situated on Apple hill
Evil lived there as time stood still
Spirits would play ghouls would ****
In that haunted house on Apple hill
Was I brave or foolish,I had to go
So I went to visit this horror show
I rang the doorbell of this haunted house
It screamed like a lion roared on by a mouse
Hinges creaked the door opened wide
Taking a deep breathe I strode inside
Ghostly appirations flew all over the room
Showing no fear.knowing my appending doom
Noise was deafening,the screams did thrill
In that haunted house on Apple hill.
Sitting down in an old dusty chair
Near a fire of bones,I just didn't care
A demon appeared and sat down beside
Said he was the spirit of Doctor jeckyll and Hyde
Please I said you will not frighten me
Be a good fellow a make me some tea
The demon roared with laughter and howled if in pain
Then asked me if I was brave or ****** insane
I replied I need some thrills I need some fun
Then he blew my brains out with his gun
I liked this house on Apple hill
Where time stood stood still now my turn to ****
Could you be the next visitor to visit this place
So I can be chilling so thrilling by eating your face.
Donall Dempsey Nov 2023
ESSE QUAM VIDERI
(to be rather than  to seem to be)  

"What must it be to be someone else?"
- Gerard Manley Hopkins



( In honour of Honora O' Sullivan becoming a great grandmother yet again)






there I am
all 2lbs of me
and nameless as yet

and so for all
these 67 years
it's a Dónall I've been

haven't been
anything else
all my life

but now
with Storm Ciarán
roaring in

I remember me Mam
telling me that I was
due to be a Ciarán

because of my hair
black as anything
and sideburns to boot

I was obviously
doing my best
Elvis impersonation

and this was
after all
1956

she said I was
her own
'little dark-haired one'

and would I have been
a different man
I sometimes wonder

would the name
change the who
I would have become

I often think
of this
alternative self

wonder how
he got on
in a parallel universe

but a Dónall
I was
and have remained

so I guess  I will
just have to learn
to live with my self

and  Dónall of course
transforms into the Irish
"World Mighty...Spear Power!"

a hard name to be sure
to have to live up to
but I'll give it a good go




Ciarán (is a traditionally male given name of Irish origin. It means "little dark one" or "little dark-haired one", produced by appending a diminutive suffix to ciar ("black", "dark"). It is the masculine version of the name Ciara.

But sure as Oscar once told me: “Be yourself, everyone else is taken. In order to be oneself, one has to take risks, to accept that one is not perfect and to be courageous enough to say what one really thinks”
And says I to the Wilde man: "Sure, I will surely...so I will!"

And so it is I have become the man you see before you...as  Dónall as anything!
Tyler Jan 2022
the haze
a shower; for the light to glow.
a cascading cloud with
rays graciously
appending white glory.
watch the eyes.
the sun burns godly visage, in manifested mirage, harking reds
and screaming blues.
Rapturousness wrought Unitarian
transformational spiritual rapport
traversing thru space/time
continuum appending increasing
chronological orbitz as an Earthling,
frivolously did cavort,

who (with ever more energy)
required exhaustively to sport
fretfully clinging to each moment
after downing a quart of port
poured by Norwegian bachelor
farmers of Lake Woebegone amort

admirable administrators in
conjunction with last rites opport,
who knit tee necessitates
intercession of a Holy Vintner import
tint so ill fated mortal, (who met
their demise) gets special escort

delivered with utmost diligence as
if destined to Mar-Lago resort
accompanied with trumpeting
"NON FAKE" grim reaper cohort,
the grateful dead black hooded
bone a fied scythe swinging bro

cracking gallows humor comport
to perk spirits of deceased, a
generic, nondescript, uber fort
tuff hide will never need a passport
after coursing into the afterlife
way beyond the outer limits of fort

hit who'd, yup even light years from
twilight zone, this dimension in short
to require an eternity to reach,
hence body stiffened by rigor mortis
securely strapped into davenport

essentially a coffin tricked out by Norte
American latest technological gizmos,
an eclectic assortment recycled, reimagined,
repurposed, paraphernalia to Voldemort,
thus one cold body helping contribute to MAGA!
I've been negligent in appending my signature "or else!" codicil. Aussie women are saucy & sassy, Singaporeans tell me. Even at the dinner table. When to a **** Aussie, motor-boating babe you say: "Pass the quokka gravy pretty Baby," nothing happens unless you bellow (with a persuasive, gravely-grave, gravely groan): "Pass the quokka gravy pretty Baby, or else!" Keep 'em guessing, or else! I'm not the idiot from Florida you ordered in the first place. I'm not the only idiot desde la Florida either. When I'm not drinking orange juice with my parole officer, I'm on the beach scarfing tarpon beneath a royal palm tree. When we meet (bear with me, or else!) I immediately get to see your most important physical attribute, one in which you'll never see, no matter how long you live. That's pretty good. With a little practice you'll be as good as me, or else! But I'm not ready to die, Hospice nurse! I knew it!!!
ESSE QUAM VIDERI
(to be rather than  to seem to be)  

"What must it be to be someone else?"
- Gerard Manley Hopkins

( In honour of Honora O' Sullivan becoming a great grandmother yet again)




there I am
all 2lbs of me
and nameless as yet

and so for all
these 67 years
it's a Dónall I've been

haven't been
anything else
all my life

but now
with Storm Ciarán
roaring in

I remember me Mam
telling me that I was
due to be a Ciarán

because of my hair
black as anything
and sideburns to boot

I was obviously
doing my best
Elvis impersonation

and this was
after all
1956

she said I was
her own
'little dark-haired one'

and would I have been
a different man
I sometimes wonder

would the name
change the who
I would have become

I often think
of this
alternative self

wonder how
he got on
in a parallel universe

but a Dónall
I was
and have remained

so I guess  I will
just have to learn
to live with my self

and  Dónall of course
transforms into the Irish
"World Mighty...Spear Power!"

a hard name to be sure
to have to live up to
but I'll give it a good go



Ciarán (is a traditionally male given name of Irish origin. It means "little dark one" or "little dark-haired one", produced by appending a diminutive suffix to ciar ("black", "dark"). It is the masculine version of the name Ciara.

But sure as Oscar once told me: “Be yourself, everyone else is taken. In order to be oneself, one has to take risks, to accept that one is not perfect and to be courageous enough to say what one really thinks”
And says I to the Wilde man: "Sure, I will surely...so I will!"

And so it is I have become the man you see before you...as  Dónall as anything!

A Dónall by any other name would still be as sweet!
Haunted house
Apple hill
Evil lurked
Time stood still.

Spirits play
Spectres ****
In that house
On apple hill.

Foolish or brave
I had to go
So I visited
This horror show.

Pressed the doorbell
Of this haunted house
Screamed like a lion
Roared like a mouse.

Door hinges creaked
Opened wide
Deep breath
I went inside.

Apparitions flew
Inside the room
Showed no fear
Appending doom.

Noise deafening
Screams they thrill
Inside this house
On apple hill

Sitting in dusty chair
Near fire of bones
I did not care.
Demon appeared
Sat down beside
He was the spirit
Of Jekyll and Hyde
Please I said you
Don’t frighten me
Be good fellow
Make us some tea.

Demon roared laughter
Howled as if in pain
Then asked me if I
Was completely insane.

I now reside in this house
On apple hill
Where spirits would play
And time stood still.

Come and visit me
In this lovely place
I’ll try not to scare
And eat your face.

Post code PO3666
Apple hill
Come and get your
Daily thrill.

— The End —