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wyatt rabbit Jun 2014
I am my father's daughter
the apple of his eye
that didn't fall too far from his tree
the fruit of the same loom
that I use to weave my web of lies
always shady
like I'm perpetually standing under those branches

I am my mother's daughter
her second cracked egg
that should have grown into a dove
but came out a vulture instead
didn't need a nudge to leave the nest
I was first to fly the coop
a free bird
while the others flew straight into a cage

Now the tree went up in flames
and took the nest with it
and I'm starting to think that
maybe
I was a Phoenix all along
and from the ashes
comes the new soil
that I need
to grow.


*s.mndi
Vernarth was ready at the threshold of the validity of the constellation of Orion, barely a hundred millionths as indicated by the Duoverse in his Cosmogonic amphiboly, and sensitive to physical space with the Kli vessels that he carried on his back that were in the proximity of the Loop of Bernard as the Omission nebula as the exponential hemicycle in the center of Aurion's oculus waiting for Vernarth and redistribute its molecules at 518 light-years or 440 Parsec, with the diameter that will be reflected in Patmos of more than 300 light-years condensed with the element of Hydor or water from high space over Aurion. Vernarth, united by the fragrant hand of the Mashiach, could carry it when he moved away from the Opistodomos and the remains of incandescent lagoons of supernova materials that surrounded them to accelerate the mass of the Iridescent Nimbus that Vernarth would carry, and the Mashiach as a sentinel of his Purgation. already defined whenever the simultaneous explosion of the Super Nova with Patmos becomes effective, and the Terrestrial World in impulsiveness that admonished him under the right shoulder blade in the skinny hollow of the arm that was getting rid of the oscillometer right at the original entrance of Betelgeuse, and when Vernarth remained alone in the frontal altitude chamber to take off towards the cosmogonies of Eridanus to tune into the Ptolemaic astral. The Sybilla who acted as stellar consort would be Herophile with overtones of expansion and her brilliant metric mass that would take her through Betelgeuse Orionis allied to a multifunctional instrument such as the entrance Aulos, expelling hydrogen-like an Ace in 240 harmonic scales, and sounds of light that they boomed towards the Pleiades and the Milky Way where it would be the supposed first state of paradox where Vernarth would utter: "Give me a little Gála and I will be more than Zeus". This is where he will experience the diarthrosis of his synovial joints in the process of Hyaline cartilage, allying himself with the two bones and synovium to hunt down the Trapper Aurion in advance to wake up from the feared defenseless world that he feared since everything he abandoned despite having his Purg discharged, he kept sensing that if nothing would work for a lost world. Here Vernarth would hold Alexander the Great's first childhood vision as an infant at Péla using his scapula with the force of rubbing discs at the Olympiad making the sky his Odyssey-encrusted Constellation of whips, and sullen Hellenistic being by May in the amber trunk trapezoid and in each hand a Xiphos and Dorus.

The pathologies were at the forefront with dexterous inclinations of his Kopis to the west when he throws it and the whistle of return makes him see that the meteorites reached as far as his gaze could observe the latitudes of the Tyrrhenian. He takes his bronze-brass cudgel with the corrosive breath, filing the odysseys on the concupiscent ******* of Eos, Goddess of the dawn, opening the heavens of the eager natives of Gála, by sipping raw milk from the right edge of the corner of her upper lips before the first dawns of the world, when Eos would be in grains or grasses that brandished from the bronze club that Vernarth waited for before leaving Gaia, or rather the fertile land of Patmos that officiated at him. Mega hectares appeared that threatened Enopion's revenge, disturbing his eyes that shone in Hesiod's striae by advocating for him in the Duoverse where all deities would be annulled but his psychic ramifications as stellar humans would be covered by the action of Helium gas. In this way Vernarth was already bidding farewell to Saint John the Apostle with his rounded eye set on the shine of both pupils between Mintaka, Alnitak, and the third shine of his pupils united in communion with Vernarth when arriving sideways at the pale shine of Alnilam (The Three Mariah) fourth star to follow in Orion as the brightest of the three on Vernarth's neck like a necklace of precious pearls. In this way, he climbed the steps to measure the slow brilliance of the immensity of the celestial solstice that raised him with the expedient Sun that also led him towards the twelfth lunation of the celestial vault attached to Pléyone in his bolometric oceanic matrix, which will arise between the stellar limitrophe between the Canes Mayores and Menores, and a priori in the measurement of the eye of Aurion always harassing the Pleiades. The intrigue will be reborn for the second time from the Duoverse's momentum that Vernarth will have to leave in the biosphere oscillation wasteland of Prometheus already freeing himself from life in community, and from an extreme sensitivity of major psychic connections that will flow throughout the immensity of inaccessible time. , on the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of the oxen that urinate on the endowments of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles as flagrant Amphibology. The Kanti Steed and the Aorion nebula to the beat of a waltz will ionize chemical portents of ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse to propagate in the nerves of the shoulders of the bronze club ad limit of harmonious praxis, and net compromise by supplying steps to the nebula and art of the Duoverse that shows the primeval daily days as in his alchemical armband, germinating astral Lynothorax and axillary armpit that held him in his maximum club, cutting down roots of Olivo Bernar after Barnard's Loops in between of fugitive stars that go regimented in their ionized bleeding esplanade, like Stellae Novae that transfers astronomical cults in the formation and pretext of going through the darkness to sleep near his parents Poseidon and Euryale, acclaiming him near the gramineous fields to paste him with explosive clay on the portfolio of such a smiling face drunk with Ionian wine, in precedence of the disemi nar by the new and expandable Duoverso, Vernarth was already on the last steps of the stairs similar to that of Florence in the Medicea Laurenziana as well said to feel alive when going to paradise next to the Messiah who came to pick him up. But at times electrifying residues would vanish over his field of vision in small beams or flashes, which would prevent him from moving forward to the last stirrups without looking back where all the Birthright was watching him for one last time.

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, Zefian was waiting for him to meet him in his dark chamber, since the most intimate and primordial causality of his metaphysics emerged from the bases of the reason for all things that should exist, before everything was created and that it has never had pre-eminence as it is in this case of the parasitic chamber of Zefian in the company of the Auriga, which also came to wait for him in the calash running wild as prescribed by the Duoverse in the structures of luminosity in the midst of this colossal inter-planetary chamber, between molecular agitated points that will venture through the axon of infinity longitudinally unpredictable for light-years even though it is so. The thermal outcomes of superheated remnants over the entire luminosity will speak of the catastrophe, and of the inherent emptiness in the eyes of the eternal hothouse very close to the supernovae that can only strengthen the fusion of the space disks of the Universe-Duoverse long before the explosion between Orion and Andromeda. The axes of time will be dislocated between both astral components in this dissonant chaos that will contract with Vernarth's levitation whenever he has stepped on the last step before entering the Hydor chamber in every dark portion of the Universe, making both constellations the ferrule or ring that will yield to the underbelly of Betelgeuse, dispossessing the boasts of the appropriate Commander Hetairoi of his Lynothorax to resist the ravages and turbulence of the Apokálypsis, which brought the immense loads of matter that discharged all its constant energy through the circulating nuclear power plants, and tangents that caused galaxy changes pierced by Hetairoi Aorion clods satirizing expenses for retracting the galaxies below Soldier's precept and super homeostatic mass attracted from their distance on astronomical scales of 2.5 million light-years.

The galactogenic galaxy made use of great prominences that would cover the greater proportional that is outlined in Andromeda of the strands of the Universe adjacent to the spiral that rolls on the underbelly, deferring to telescope sections, and the gravitational field to execute its nocturnal translation like the Hyperdisis Galaxy that collects the bubbling of the belt in conjunctions of minor stars making star mechanics by exaltation, and magnetic disorders creating other leading atmospheres in those detached from the cord of Andromeda, the Milky Way, and Orion. Vernarth was still holding on to the transparent hand of the Messiah while he was climbing the ascension steps to Hydor that would transport him to travel with him through the globular clusters, they will form the perfect delay in transfusing the lineage and not another, in this way the Lynothorax or bleeding pectoral de Vernarth continued to flow from this polynomial tractatum between all area subjugation guidelines, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the inter-galactic reversible staked Duoverse.

Lenticular to irregular above the nails of the trapezoid, it spread towards Aurion's right armband, sequentially making the centric radiogram hiccup, despite taking advantage of interstellar matter to self-generate its own transmission light, this made it refrain from emanating the hybridity that came out of its body by vibrating above everything that expelled from its center towards the right rectitude of Orion, thus making the multiplied speed of containing itself of both parts of the null hemisphere of its free will when verifying that it never existed, that it was only an illusion of doubtful matter that would soon Go away like gasified water on the galactic repulsions that would settle on Patmos as devotions of Skalá, and Astro-omegas that would be adhered to the Xiphos and Kopis, who were still united to their being rather in the contour of the perimeter of his soul two meters floating like invisible quantum universes. The totality of everything was inciting the fields of omega-stars that would begin to advance after becoming visible from the spur of the sword that became denser with the viscosity of the Hebrew Adom, which trickled from Orion to Hellenic lands as an Omega age for Vernarth which is conceived early when it carries Hecate's Kleidia or keys to the Omega world towards the proto-galaxies that provide ultramarine loaves, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass that they can collide in a few million light-years. The Duoverse of Hyperdisis was predicted in the visual reality of a fusion of change to interact with each other as it dismembered but re-transformed into the new theoretical core of the Duoverse as a large Black Hole embedded in the center of Patmos. In such a way all the inhabitants began to worry when phenomenal masses of warm air that began to take on the appearance of the Universe plagiarized each other generating incoming earthquakes, not affecting the Opistodomos or the Primogeniture, nor the crowd that was waiting. of all the monstrosity of monks who were grouped kneeling on the top of the Profitis, floating the shattered shaggy skein parts of the Himation. As it was dyed in the albi-color of Calígine, demonstrating the darkness of the intrinsic terror of whoever plows later to free all the succumbed who fell throughout Greece and Judah, exposing all the origins of appearance from the internal now in the converted Universe that was reimplanting itself in the helical of polarity, and bifurcating by pretexting all the reincarnations and polishing the stagnant cessation of darkness towards a luminance that could warn them and observe where their feet could move, sheltered from the monumental litter of calorimetry, and chromatics that was linked in romances trivial with the residuals of the angel shark galaxies where Aurion's progenies will deliver in candelas per square meter: LV waking is the luminance, measured in Nits or candelas per square meter (cd/m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, the Milky Way, and Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion. From here Vernarth will supply all of them as the one who will dwell in it in the preface of his Fables of Calígine with the following: "Ex Calígine Chaos: ex Chao et Calígine, Nox, Dies, Erebus, Aether", which transliterated means "Of Darkness: Chaos. From Chaos and Darkness: Night, Day, Erebus, and Ether", Decreeing the (Burning Darkness) before Chaos as flow F, is he also the only one who divinized this abstraction, conferring a proper meaning to the word. And then make of the normality of dwelling in the darkness that is the irrevocable opulence of the desire to maintain the radiance of all the forces that devour eternity. From the remote aces came dark families of flying Lepidoptera Ditrisios, lined up with countless other species that carried dimensional eyes that will be devoured by ocelli or giant eyes that come from the chaos of Vernarth's Caligine to appease the effects of ultraviolet rays, which started from the Nimbus Iridescent creating a layer of protection between the new dimension of the twilight of flight that was already beginning to ignite from the Aurion's scaly fingers.

• dS is the surface element considered the triad Kímolos, Rodas and Patmos. While Vernarth is distracted, he manages to dissipate the twilight of the inverted Erebus between Eleos and Ezis, personifying Clemency and Sadness, where they border the worlds that are not yet riddled with chaos or Calígine, who exalted himself over Erebos with the redemption of Eleos, who was getting ready to swallow the sadness of Ezis. Therefore Kimolos, Rhodes, and Patmos will consolidate their hegemony of unalterable lands where Eleos' piece of clemency will bring the support that makes Ezis's faceless portent, close to the hybridity of the Itheoi gods, in the Transversal Valleys of the Horcondising, with the Norns and generosity of Apollo who had given them after long stays in Hyperborea as female spirits once again as advocacy and imperishable protection of the legacy of Smintheus's travels by providing the company of Dísir, Uror, Verdandi, and Skuld as a female entity, of the past, current and future that should occur by order of Skuld. This will allow the three to unite with the Ds to merge the three as a complement of three female entities that will safeguard all climate change on future disasters in the Dodecanese.

• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse. From this premise, the worst of Vernarth's fears was to let go of the Messiah's hand and fall into the anger that blushes even Hetairoi Hero from Deimos, when the night reverts to the rest of the demons and the night adopts those who go perceiving in Vernarth that perhaps he was holding hands with Ares for the battle alongside his brother Etrestles, under the orders of the savagery of the metaphysical engines of panic. From this vision, Vernarth manages to open his eyes with the desire to show those who were watching him and to be able to show that he was aware of being a prisoner of his emotions and escaping from himself in the illustrious suffering of thousands of arrows, which ran around him like fleeting meteorites to the flat field of Tisiphone's revenge. The luminances became and became colors that were molecularly twinned with disparate tones that were capable of differentiating them, and at the same time nullifying the power of obscuring Vernarth's countenance to take his right hand and take the arrow to break the darkness that was lunged at him.

• θ is the angle between the diameter from Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years), Nemesis or Ramnusia as the retributive coercion of disobedience, being aware Vernarth became more and more of a being adopted by balance Nemesis for balance to command him to his senses before entering the field of limpidity of his soul in transit to liberate himself from all the chained who used to be happy, but sad that no one acclaimed them except Aionius Itheoi of Vernarth who translated the messages that from now on will move diametrically from Andromeda to the Milky Way, without any of these two portions being invaded only under the order of Nemesis, and Vernarth abiding by the retributive justice of The luminance that can be defined from the radiometric magnitude of the radiance without more than weighting each length of the wave by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of Vernarth's eye in the underbelly of Betelgeuse, spilling plasma and magnetic bruises on the galaxies and Eyes of Orion.
Meanwhile, it manifested itself as a personal universe, not excluded from time and space for a metaphysical causality that will not be able to compose the mentality that is measurable in the joint senses of a Zig Zag birth from this same calígine emerging from another creature of self-observation and see the physiognomy of the anti-material and mass Universal Horcondising. From which we pre-exist to waste of science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors with which his life and ours that were propelled furtively. Gravity made great paternity in Vernarth's active Biomass, being in the Dodecanese and cosmos in the verification of curvature that makes us with the moon of its romantic astrophysical swings and exaggerated geometry of a Zigzag.

We are versatile multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the void that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising, and also of time2-space2 that have not been attributed to the origin of the stars that move irregularly in Zig Zag, for their immature componential that is clearly of Aramaic blue light from the Pealim of the Abba, circulating with bullets movements skimming the air of the grasses attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe, making appear before them the duplication of the universe itself; in Duoverse, which is the recently shaken Universe and of gratitude in the distribution of nearby galaxies that are keys to the paleo kosmous already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Tri-solated energy fields, which interact with the phylogeny of the Mashiach in Gethsemane, lying now in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific to the peri Kosmous. Its final station is to wager the Zig Zag Universe on the temporal middle Ages chrestomathies re-expanding in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangels to activate. The implosion of gravity has procreated worlds of visibility of magnanimous astronomical longings, in some fractions of time in Zig Zag by millions of fractioned light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measure of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not acquiring the hexagonal of the primogeniture of the fragment since Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism whose Original is attributed fractal in form.

The personification of longevity was trapped by Geras, always escaping from the obfuscated universe or temperament that could be represented in humanity that relied on the antigens that served as support for the reversibility of every hero like Vernarth, who tried to glorify himself in the fullness of life in Heraklion or in the sand that was dyed red-azure when the soul of Alexander the Great would rise together with Vernarth with the Mashiach. The fractal beating line of the Mediterranean towards a vein resembling the rhinestones of King David to the Ziziphus of the Messiah simulating to be irregular symmetrical formats, to build gems in thorns of landscapes that basically subdivide into similar conical funnels, to then be randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's five o'clock Incorruptible crown, recursively reiterating it in each square until the eminence of the desired detail was reached in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Baptistery of the Shepherds in its hexagonal base, figuring to be the sleet in the final Crown of Rejoicing falling on the top of the roofs "Doroteo or theological gifts" in which the Mashiach's stable of Kafersuseh burst and agonized in the abstraction of the One-Dimensional Beams with foreign eyes, and own tissue eroding to mortal frowns that can be seen with their divine eyes in our own likeness, and of the planet n failed to increase the size so unknown and analytical in this peripeteia of the implosive ideology of the bubbling of the Verthian Duoverse.
The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals detailed in their nature, and in the natural infinity that here was envisioned from the new privileged world for self-similarity in speculative functions of Vertnarth, by intervals in each space of shadowy fences, bringing accelerated courier bulbs from Gethsemane in intermediates of olive trees transformed towards other humans.“Their correlation is infinite with reversible observable time, and paternal belonging to mobile gagged echoes of a space that is obstructed by Vernarth, in such a monograph and integers among the fractional integers "Finite is the curvature between the path that walks through the thickness of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of Zigzag and Duoverse energy, which is unleashed to our subconscious observable orb, and what a great beacon reflecting eye that ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One Dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The Duoverse is the rehearsal Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse Orion, changes of arduous colors in gradient and Avant-Garde, for limits of perspectives and verbally of amendments of physical fields framed by an external gravitational means. The macro waves are exposed to matters not contained in the abrupt changes of the Mashiach optical selection with the One-Dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them in reaction disturbances, and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian astronautics, examining the double of the macro waves and equation of them on the axis of the universe converted into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years, they will continue in the Duoverse, to reconvert from ectoplasm with large margins of assertiveness. Cartography is the error correction of the current universe, getting lost in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time…!, remaining at the expense of the wick of the Cirio with all its electro-matter” Having already established the sub-mythology, Hestia appears after having slept a great dream, when she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika she was seen changing size, when she was six meters away she looked tiny and when she was already two meters away from him It looked monumentally enormous, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in the last steps with its domestic figure of a goddess that emanated light-years disserted by chimneys and its rooms. The critique of immanence that would happen, would pre-exist the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and Hyperdisis as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of the Vas Auric, which consisted of the great ratio of the proscenium in the Teodora vicinity of Tsambika, between Clairvoyance/Judgment for Wisdom/Meditating constant mechanisms according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called the Triverse. The oscillation of all these fantasies was observed by Vernarth, but he knew that he would have to collide with this finally, already precipitated by temperatures that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate him into the proselytizing provisional Duoverse, which moves backward between the lights vertiginous of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around him, establishing units of millions of years of compressed light from the piccolo Aulós, which Hestia carried in one of his pale hands, his prytaneion was lighting up with the flames of the heart of fire and passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paving the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of farmhouses that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika in search of the Vas Auric, acclaiming with the omphalos stone that marked the navel of the world with defiance wandering to the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils over her face always walking to and from her home unscathed in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones who were staying in the cold fire of her climacteric losing fertility after his father swallowed them, and then they were expelled from himself regurgitated in flaming matches from a blessed house full of indemnity, giving the Duoverse another category calculated with angles never contained vibratingly sliding between distances that discount minutes of Hestian space for such a corollary of approaching to its finitude and inaugurate the sub-finite,  which will never be a source of terminus in a disconcerting end of time not finished flush with the physical equation. “This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is consummated and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinite).

Vernarth was a few meters from entering the Nimbus, when suddenly his soul darkened and his panic flared..., suddenly he felt a scream from above and below he saw how everything was made of rubble. Courage blinded him, not wanting to observe what the evident end of the world and rubble intended to consume him if he said goodbye to his most beloved beings, until the lines of infinity approached those of the earthly world, intending to eliminate all traces of his family lineage. In this way, he begins to run through his hands the reflected Hydor of colors that pierced the skylight of austere words. He manages to see Calígine del Apokálypsis farther from the mist, detached from all gravitational force, only being able to see his mother among the smoke, who was coming up by a ray of light, Vernarth tries to free her from that moment of expiration but does not reach the synchrony of catastrophe in what pretended to be from the hand of Eris as the disagreement that did not allow him to put his survival weapons in order, believing that this instance would not allow him to ****** her from the goddess Eris, if he could believe that it was inevitable that his mother Luccica became a granite coat of arms, after the dark night that threatened to unravel her from her flimsy solid state, and then crumble to the ground turned into the ground that was crushed from roots that postponed it to be consumed by the gift of the light of life, and end of a light that is visible in all the roots of the earth when consumed by the infinite that vanishes in the existence of all being.

Vernarth, when a moment of clarity allows him to see his mother, tries to rescue her, realizing that his father Bernardolipo was with her, between them they would try to redeem them from the spread of Nix and Calígine, who behaved with great pain by mocking the edges of the Ether that they received Crono, they could not be victorious in arriving in time to rescue them, if from the harmony of a troubadour of the Mashiaj he observed him see if he would return with him to enter. They became visible in their parents as they contended before an avoidable awareness of this indivisible event with the aggressor words of hindrances and generations of millennials who anticipated the omega of everything in the lower part, under the feet of their parents appearing insignificant one (w) that precedes and succeeds the beginning of a beginning based on the end of a beginning a thousand times more than a threshold based on hundreds, appropriate to the metric unit of the numeral Myríaz = ten thousand, three times more than the Falangists, one thousand less than the Peltasts and three thousand fewer than the horsemen, total thirty-seven thousand fewer than the fighting forces in Gaugamela out of a total of forty-seven thousand, under the myriads of the Myriaz of Phalangists undermined by their Xiphos in the area of the right calcaneus of each faithful man under his command before facing the Achaemenides. During this period, Vernarth took extreme steps to rescue them and stop the numbing effect of all organic matter, not being able to rescue them, only granting them in the image of each one when they began to turn stone from feet to head until the fragile solidification of their eyes. when for the last time, they looked at each other only making it clear that it was a belated rescue gesture. The omega was ineffable even beyond the omicron, being Omega and Micron in the warfare primer of initiation of its cause within the prophetic in all the necropolis of lowercase omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the raised hand in Saint John the Apostle to rewrite the Apocalypse twice, having to be the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Phalangists that made up the intergenerational gaps, more than mimicked alien ancestors. In such an effect, as is known, the Duoverse opened the skylights with its sheathed pillars and with the strings of tetrachloride of chlorine in solid angles of Ω in what was Virgo institutionum/Aurion, an entity that interfered by projections and leaks that converged in the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing in frequency and bloodless of immortality, consisting of an auxiliary being towards the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With its arms raised in each claw, a sword raised to pierce the vanishing point between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection from an observer that inhibits and limits the biomass in all the aqueous filter pastes and lumens, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus of dissociated physicality, still being an amorphous entity with magnitudes pulverized between numerosities of Pi and Aureos, fading without area or volume.

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “Vernarth, I come from Bethlehem to help your life because I have detected the subsuming of the chains where your parents made the alliance from where your life has been erected from Sudpichi, Transversal Valleys in the temple that bears my pseudonym. The only rune that will determine that your parents can remain united, is through the action and direction that has been consecrated to me. No dead language will unsay what a dead soul cannot interpret. Our Mashiaj has entrusted me to free the languages that have conspired at night, and low luminance where Calígine has been uncomfortable seeing me knowing that it is my favorite environment, the memory of the chains want to incarnate in the stones that surround your parents, but  they are typical of a response that I will get to conclude by urging your mother and father to recognize that here they made the alliances, ordering, and reconciliation of your world that concerns us all in endless dictates to be agreed, I know very well that the point has not of allowing your atonement to have been prevented by this cosmological affront, here are the transverse Valleys in the favorite place of the Spirits lie the treaties that will move my greatest interest to re-marry your parents from the true chains of the complacent scholar, thus all the vastness that afflicts you will belong to your servant Jerome”

Vernarth replies: “At your service, his majesty, here I have been since dawn arriving at the town to meet them when they contracted their marriage. I know I shouldn't be here, rather I know that decades of inquiry had planned it that way. Of such conviction that their chains were anointed from the heights of the Kanthillana whose partiality emits the partials close to your direction? As is known, my very extensive walk through these dusty paths must recognize that the personality and nobility of its burial mounds will strengthen my presence so that everything that is incomprehensible if it is brief by making it neighbor to my reason”

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “everything has been planned like this, and as time drags on I know that your wounds burn in my epistolary like Latin and Greek voices that reluctantly direct me to your aid. Everything is beautifully comparable, and first to what should not be said..., but to do to the genre that above all it practices, the second to one of the ways with the above all that it practices "
By the reverse of the expletive to the insurmountable destiny, Vernarth takes his hands and Saint Jerome withdraws them telling him that it was not time for greater vain for the equivalence of minor desires to please him if he had not appeared before him. It shows him to celebrate him and to want to make of him the permutation of his golden polysemy or interpretation of the world's Apokálypsis by not changing his axis of change, by redirecting them to stated comfort interests. Namely; the leaders of the world in their world of annulled freedom of will to practice following as they please when interpreting the Apokálypsis only as a revelation, and not as a destiny that exalts the senses and compensation that will reconquer the consistency of the nature of the Apokálypsis that adheres to humanity as golden that will consolidate humanity fearful of its own ******* and excess of greed, just as it was just a few steps before entering the Temple of San Jerónimo in Alhué hand in hand with Vernarth already fully healed of his Lynothorax pectoral. They go to the ambo and Saint Jerome essentially takes out of his pockets chaff that was from the escape of the mass of stone that had not yet finally hardened, allowing them to generate a mystical sermon so that their parents return to the nave of the temple in person to surpass farther from the spring of awakening of the Kantillana requesting the unification of the ashes of his father Bernardolipo and Vernarth, to rescue his mother from a poor abundance, and is transposed by the metaphor of the life-giving spirit. Immediately afterward, Saint Jerome pours the chaff of his parents all over the surface, a great noise is produced, the doors and windows of the temple are suddenly closed, and his parents can be seen walking along the central row of the nave, where fiction could testify that everything was a fantasy, rather a great testament that would exhibit the union of two juxtaposed flanks prior to an invaluable crossing of smiles and flowers that fell from the upper altar on their crowns, they came holding their arms like open borders with the procedure before the harsh reality of a metaphor made real in the future of two beloved shepherds who crossed the limbo of their fingers, with the ferrule or the act of engendering rings of family procreation. The crosses of Lisbon and Saint Jerome resembled the monograph in beats of her wealthy feet that were consistent with the nubile gesture of her lips and then released with all frenzy towards the meeting of her beloved Vernarth, the three of them dancing together on the central pinnacle of the obese light that sheltered them, meaning from the testamentary Hebrew the Aleph on the way to Sudpichi after the Raphaca “Healing” ceremony until the diastole that adheres between the middle of the gap that was produced when the three confronted each other and the word “Heth” again He was bent over to take them like gigantic camels to meet his relatives and ghosts that surrounded him when observing the heights of Kanthillana at the assent of all this.

Because of all this similarity, the tribulation from Patmos was raging with very strong resistance, leaving totally clear of the conditionals of the flint or flint, which enveloped the parents, began to fade from their bodies while it was recomposed of seven elemental forms in relation to the transcription and identification of the three as a family trunk enormously of its exegetical possibilities. Tangent to the transcription, and if it is the case identification of the names that we stick to reunion and redemption of their parents, like all anthropology that was chained to the figures and characters that cordoned off the top of the temple when the three met they hugged and held hands as a sign of illustrative demonstrations of never surpassing oneself. Beginning with the compensations in the fullness of the tables, and completion of all the facts that showed that nothing of language escapes what an eye can observe; that is to say, as long as there is a speaking light, it will always be necessary to listen and then observe in the presentation of the mechanics by the lines that expressed the figures, which were increasing the number of letters that were possible to decipher; called stichometry or measurement of the lines in the texts that Saint Jerome that they were ordering to order a vade mecum or memorandum of this unbridled situation, which in any case had to simplify it whenever it is indicated for the reading of three beings that would meet in what literal of four spirits articulated in the continuum, in such a way that Vernarth added his bilocation to this symmetrical experience to meet again with the Mashiach who awaits him on the third step before entering the Iridescent Nimbus.

His parents will be the co-princes gathered on the Supichi road bound for the Horcondising, where Vernarth all Austral Winter Solstices will come to ask his parents for an audience in the Kanthillana Heights where they will summarize the exact day, that everything happened from a Thursday to a Sunday in the first hour of the most certain Saturday in which the twelve unnatural candles will be incorporated into the Duoverse from the branch of the Raedus Codex, specifically from the Antiphon that accompanies them to the compromised one, and sinuous height that was misted by the mist of snow, and vehemence that was perceived in the greatest regulars of Spílaiaus, having a ring of lights as if such were a gesture of Jerome and everything that was named in the concordance that could be confusion that slipped from the metaphysics of new space by beginning. From such a root emerges the Eta or value number and Vernarth symbolized as  N times from "8" to the entire value of the figure of 800 "w" or Omega, which will be the values of figures and numbers to predispose the alternation of the visits that will take place. to have with his precursors each Solstice, after alternating with the Elves of Archimedes, and to cross with them the manifestations that made him lighter than air, as could be expected before the imposition of everything that he imagined to sleep to the badly gestated world that had been altered, even with a remote Faith that symbolized the decisions of Saint John the Apostle by disposing of the salvages of the vestiges that had been destroyed in the physiognomy of a cause that proved more eloquent than a mere revelation that was never believed which would awaken from its very Semitic superlative. In this case, the allegory surpassed the prototype of all curly visual language that emanated from Vernarth's decision for the humanity that needed him, on the one hand, Saint Jerome already resolved, and Saint John the Apostle in the division of two events of the same story that It was melting into the complexity that would be unspeakable for two Saints in the middle of Vernarth, demonstrating that he had taken them with all the power of the force that is capable of pulling and manipulating until arriving at the darkness of the senses where all understanding and reasoning fall asleep. only allowing the silence to take them in the ellipsis recently emanated by the Nothofagus that were walking on the flaccid snow, the three went with graces of faith and satisfaction, Saint Jerome escorted them with everything healthy that made the incomparable awakening of two latitudes explode who managed to revive in invisibility, after resisting the latent verbigrace of the Apokálypsis that showed that the incomparable topic denoted the ma Greater resistance to everything destructive and Omega with the only subjection that only the verb "Love" does. They reached the icy and stinking gases similar to what Santa Rita de Casia emanated, which at the same time would be dividing breakers like those declared by the Corinthians about the Israelites when they were blinded by the radiance of Moses. The same would happen in the veil of little snow that was left behind his last steps when everything was white as a growing incident that would be attached at once to Patmos and Sudpichi, as well as Kanthillana and Olympo. He says goodbye to his parents and they carry their impulsive agreements to meet on the next Solstice together with Saint Jerome and Spilaiaus on the plateau.
Genesí of  Apokalypsis
Drusila Apr 2019
Lately, I have not loved
I have not loved anyone but myself.
The worry of wanting beyond oneself distresses me
It makes me act like a child in a world of grown expectation

Still, the look of his eyes made me no more than a little girl.
But the world is beyond playgrounds

And the pearl of my centerpiece
made me stand on my own ashes

There was no time nor pain in your house.
I wanted someone who asked me to never let go.
Not a spouse,
A full-time worshiper loved in part-time.

Once you were a given,
I’ve seen that I was the sun for my gloomy days
The sakura of my February spring
There were no more blurry lines from which to be rescued
and no longer giving what could be spared

Indeed I healed the heart I neglected when I left for you
And when it's cold outside and I need to be cherished
There’s no despair
It’s not love
It's only spoiling for an affair
The things I know of you
     Deceit
     Disregard
     Disrespect
Your made up world
presented in a
pretty little package
pretended
     Charm
     Creativity
     Colors
Flamboyant like a male peacock
And now your soulful eyes
claiming to be
real and true
look into mine
no longer blind
     Soulless
     Stinging
     Singed
from the fumes
of your arson
As I stand in the ashes
accused  
although
all I did was
toss a dying ember
onto the ruins left behind
after all your fires
Hannah Eich Mar 2012
The word is turning, slowly turning
All the while I've been burning, slowly burning
It seems that everything has burst into flames
Although the fire is mine it refuses to be tamed
No matter how hard I try, some things will never be the same
I must keep moving along, I must remain sane

The fire grows rapidly, the surrounding turn to ashes
Not a single soul could be saved with even the quickest reactions
The building up in smoke are crumbling to the ground
I sit upon the hilltop knowing it's all been destroyed without a sound
All alone off in the distance, waiting so patiently to be found
There's no need to worry, eventually someone will come around

Wondering who will be my savior and where they might be
I rest against the only thing left, the last, lonely tree
Just me, myself and I left with the lonley tree and our misery
Looking away from the destruction, the only savior is me
M Feb 2014
The family of Edgar Allan Poe must feel conflicted
"My grandfather was a great man," they'd say.
"Didn't his family disown him?" the others contradicted.
Leave him in the dust? Spit on his ashes?
The life of this poor ignorant wastrel,
Alcoholic, joining the ranks of *****,
No one to help him or care for
the name who became great, under the shadow of his glasses
the invisible-giant, not recognized, "his wife was a *****,"
No, no, no, Edgar. Not today.
Your confused sexuality is really gay,
The cousins jeer and aunts-uncles jibe
Great poets, queens alike do cry
At the works of this man, at the end of the day,
(we don't really care if he lived or died,)
"It was the other side of the family that did it.
Not I."
Sharice Frieson Jun 2015
I am Queen Sha
Resembling the Earth, the wind, the fire, the water
I call my ancestors and spirits to remind you
I'm a women not to be messed with
I can turn rain into hail
The ocean to a tsunami
The wind to a tornado
And magical fires that destroys your so called "owned" earth into ashes
Don't try to leave a scratch on my back
Cuz you feeling wack
Don't attack the world you attract
Take a step back and look at the picture
axr May 2015
x
I could destroy the whole and blow the ashes on your face while we look at the stars.
I could pick up every broken piece and throw it back to you to remind of us.
I could call the executioner and tell him to knock your guts out.
I could set fire to a forest but you'd sing as the leaves disappeared.
I could drown our love in River Styx and maybe it would come back stronger.
You make me whimper with pain
so now I join the broken pieces of the universe forming your name.
Isabella styles Jun 2015
I'm not quiet because I'm shy
I'm quiet because I fear if I speak
dark ashes will fall from my lips
revealing the phoenix inside
Coleen Mzarriz Jul 2020
I.
The Angel becomes fallen
from where he spreads down
there by followed —
with soothing lullabies
in delicate light,
the Fairy appears.

II.
He arouses to the music
of her wings —
the myth
gains to life.
The Boy blinked twice
from where he lingers down,
there the Fairy appears.

III.
The rush of waters
calm the essence of the Boy
when the Fairy extended her grip,
he thus was lured
into enchantment —
the particular illusion
he was keen to understand.

IV.
Chirping birds,
rattling noise
squirrels chattering —
the refrain sounded
in the mind
when the rapidness
of one's way of heart-beat's
tingle from within.

V.
Into one's perceiving
from where he flew all over the place
in the grips of a fairy,
as she bears power,
wreak havoc,
so that the tale alone lies
in books:
to be learned by children.

VI.
Until he who belongs to
melted ashes
of charisma and grace —
again he greets her
the winged melody
buzz in his tastes
a shooting star
hanging upon an idle request
from where he emits
his longing voice,
there the Fairy appears.

VII.
The Angel becomes settled
the Fairy comes,
in the stream where they clash
as the sky bore his pining,
the illusion appeared to life.
I wanted to try this.
Rising from the ashes with a cigarette in my grasp
Stripped bare for all to see
A birthmark on my ****
Simmering in the embers of a relationship too burnt to reignite
A scar of the 3rd degree
A tear falling every night
I am to recover and be better off than you'll ever know
Despite the beauty of rebirth
We all rise from ashes
And it hurts more than we bear to show
K Balachandran Sep 2017
"I am freedom itself" hummed aloud,
the wind that passes agitating tree tops,
air am I, the giver of life,pumping energy"
"I am with you" I echoed his song sans words
"Though I won't hazard a guess where do we go"
"Don't you bother, our circumnavigation is yet another
of the stories, in the compendium,universe  does cherish.
We belong to all, as movement that never ceases"

"Get in to my vehicle, the heat will look after the rest,
the transporter,that makes everything light,
by burning down, I am the transformer too"
"I am the hunger you possess" I replied
"I eat and digest, create growth, make things move,
in my ***** is the hunger to procreate,progress.
Once the hunger is satiated, I get back
slithering in to the burrow, like a serpent
Anger I become when I decide to destruct,
it's from the ashes of the old,the new is constructed!

"From the salt in me,everything living sprout"
earth, the begining and end of everything
in customary silence,implied, I was overwhelmed.
she is the nurturing mother of every seed with the
potential to life, wants to open eyes to the sun
then grow roots deep to entrench, stand *****,
"I am one with you mother earth, from you
sprung my body, that seeks light, rest at night"

Sky was full of birds,regaling in every presence
in it's fold, sky beams"I am a vessel fathomless,
come in to my space open,dance your way to bliss,
and seek wistful dreams written by interstellar light"
"I am filled by you where there is an absence of other
my mind limitless is in you exist, I am you in spirit,
when I withdraw from all,I am all in you, nothing left"

Water did speak both to my silence and eloquence,
water is beyond the markers of darkness and light,
From earth to dust, dissolving to be water and flow
from one kind of existence to other, till the limits of cosmos.
Aish Sep 2014
Thunder grumbles in my stomach
almost louder, certainly
more insistent
than clouds gathering
across the yielding sky.

I pretend God hung them there with clothespins.

Kneading ashes into the days dough
I treat it as a tithe
though I've not pinched any off.

The pennies in a jar by the door
catch my eye.

So many little disks.

So many little lies that we become
and twist about to believe because the believing
is easier that way. We are not dying.

Or so I whisper to the ash
as it succumbs to my hands
and forgets the oven.

© Amber Dawn
The Dedpoet Jan 2016
Like cigarette burnt to the stub,
Like an empty bottle of Jack,
      Kinda the way it's been.
Like reruns of Seinfeld on a Saturday
    1a.m. slot.
And nobody notices, yeah my days
Have been like that.
     Like bloggers on a subject like
Star Wars and little
Pimple faced teens arguing lightsabers....
     Pertinent subjects have lost
Their way out of my life.
      There is a whole lot of nothing,
But like cigarettes burnt to the stub and
     An empty bottle of Jack,
Like days fading on a memory card
With 300 pictures,
      And the ashes that get swept
Just this side of the puke
Of the armchair.
Isobel G Oct 2011
It brought me to my knees,
The constant goodbyes,
The ashes on the floor,

He only ever brought me to my knees,
His shadow was my sky,
But I always needed more,

Patience kept me on my knees,
Waiting for release,
He only gave me hell
©Nicola-Isobel H.       02.10.2011
ScarletLetters Apr 2015
Part I: My Temple

The house has been burgled,
The furniture rearranged,
The bookcase is burning,
The contents in flames.

The ground is not stable,
The stairs are not steady,
It’s time to go they said,
But I am not ready.

It is safe inside,
Warm and detached,
The fire is raging,
But I can’t move I’m attached.

They took what was mine,
They stole who I was,
We tried to find reasons,
But just because…

The weight of my world
Rises up with the smoke,
The rooms hold the lies,
That secrets provoke.

It’s fading away,
Consumed by the flame,
It’s lost itself
But who can I blame?

The house is eaten,
The fire licks it clean,
I tell myself I will wake up,
That this is just a bad dream.

I didn’t think they’d notice,
My house burning down,
But little did I know,
It was the talk of the town.

I stand at the door,
All that’s left is the frame,
The inside is wreckage,
The exterior is the same.

Its heart is slowing down,
Brittle bones are breaking
Skeletal and fractured
It falls apart, shaking.

Part II: The Wilderness

Out here
On the road,
I’m completely
Lost
Signs telling me where to go,
But I trust myself most
The alarm rings of disillusionment and denial
That wakes up my neighbours,
Yet I don’t notice.

I turn down pleasure pathways,
Each one connected to another,
They stimulate desire.
The road backwards is blocked,
I concentrate on what's ahead
My only way is forwards,
So I can begin to run.

Part III: Rebirth

My house is being rebuilt and ever so slowly the bricks are stacked,
The windows are replaced and the cement is set.

But some damage is permanent.
There’s cracks,
And there’s scars.
Electricity rewired
Forcing life where there is none,
Repairing the circuit,
Pumping blood through the veins,
So I can live in the house again
Temporarily affecting the artificial happiness.

The flower grow and makeup the trees
I paint on the outside a sunshine yellow,
I open the curtains to enjoy the view
I restack the shelves with new books
With fresh bindings and different stories.

Yet it can’t help but remind me of the past,
All that has been and has gone,
At last it is almost done.

Part IV: Divine Intervention

A year has circled,
Memories in every alley and lane,
I’m back to the days when it all began,
My past normal is my present insane.

I ran further than I realised,
I wanted to leave my town,
I buried myself in sadness
Further and further down.

Many don’t want to visit,
They’re afraid of all that has been,
Afraid that my house is unstable,
They can’t see what I’ve seen.

But I came back to look clearly,
To live out my days in my home,
My family visit me,
I am back from being alone.

It all feels more homely,
The garden colourfully thrives,
I have redecorated it completely,
Only goodness survives.

My temple could be inherited,
Maybe by a child or two,
But I won’t let them fall,
I know exactly what to do.

So the decay of the house will always be with me,
Despite ashes swept away,
But now that I am back again,
I am here always to stay.
Nabs Dec 2015
By Nabs

07.00 AM :
I rubbed my eyes, blearily heading to the bathroom. Nightmare haunting my steps, as if it doesn't want to let me go.

Waking up was less dreadful than getting ready.

07.03 AM :
Turning the water knobs, was like an exorcism.
More aware, more awake, yet the blankness was still there. I wonder If today's the day.

The shower was cold as always.

I went out to fetch the towel, I never once looked at the mirror.

9.30 AM :
The first period was literature.
We're learning about the classic fairy tales. The teacher asked us for questions.

' Why does stories only tell about the fairest of them all?"

I managed to seal the questions back to where in belong.

9.55 AM :
The girl next to me received a crumpled paper ball.
She's very kind, and have the sweetest dimples.
As she reads, I can see her self esteem crumpling up, not unlike a paper ball.
I hugged her.
She asked, with hollowed voice, If I wanted to know what was written on it.

I shook my head, I already know what it is.
It's the same word, that still echoes in my world.

'FAT ***', was written on the paper.

12.30 PM :
Lunch was always a tiring affair.
Noisy chatters and baleful glare.
Distaste at how the line seems to never end.
Counting calories to pass the time.

Glancing at my wrist, deciding what food to eat based on the way my hands circle my wrist.

12. 34 PM :
Navigating cafeteria was even worse.
It's like avoiding the poisonous full course, that an assassin serve at you.
Bullying as a side dish, teenage drama as the main course, illusion of escape as the dessert.
The hustle and bustle of school life.

You are bound to accidentally consume that poisonous ****.

12.45 PM :
After I finished eating mashed potato and green beans, some hyenas approached me.
They clawed pleasantries and congratulated me.

"What for?"

"You are thin now! That's like so awesome! "

"But--"

"Also a friendly advice, I'd watch out for that mashed potatoes! Thinking about all that calories make me shudder!"

They walked away with a bounce on their feet, and howls so loud that all the others are staring at them curiously.
I am left bleeding out and nauseous at the encounter.

I clutched my stomach, feeling claustrophobic.

Desperately, trying to banish the thought of emptying my self.

12.59 PM :
The sound of flushing, hits my ear.
Shame crashed against me with doubled force.

I heave again. Body trembling.

The bell rang.

14.00 PM :
It's the last period for the day.
It was health class, and the teacher are telling us about the importance of food. That denying your self sustenance was equal to slowly killing yourself.
He looked at me, I pretend to not see.

Last week, a senior died of anorexia.
His body was too used of rejecting food that he couldn't accept their proposal again.
His stomach balked at the thought of getting back again.
He said goodbye to the world after 7 days of divorce.
The funeral was a messy affair.

I knew him.

15.00 PM :
I opened my locker,
Head spinning from all the people that approached me today.

They were people I barely know.
Congratulating me on losing my weight. Said I was prettier. Said I look good like this. Said I should keep being this way.
Asking me, what's the secret?

They all asked with a saccharine sweet smile on their face, as if it is a good thing.

As if being sick, is a success.

I wonder if they will still call me pretty when they see the bite marks on my knuckle.

15.20 PM :
On the way home I saw a burger joint,
my stomach was clawing for food but my mouth tasted like acid.

I wonder if drinking water will be enough to quench my hunger.

15.25 PM :
I passed a water puddle.

I saw a gaunt faced girl, with a pale complexion.
Her used to be lush hair turned lanky.
Her lips were literred with cuts and bite marks,  her eyes had faint purplish circle.
She looks so different from the person I used to know.

I continued my walk, trying to ignore the emptiness that had stayed in my bones.

16.30 PM :
My mother went into my room, when I was lying in my bed, counting my ribcage.
She looked at me, and a pained look crossed her face. I can see that she's holding back her tears.

She hugged me gently, as if afraid I will crumble with a touch.

I wanted to say that I wont turn into a wraith and vanish like my aunt, but I'm afraid it would be a lie.

"I'm getting better mom. Look here! I got more meat!," I said to my mom, hoping she believe the lie.

I know I'm turning fainter by the day.

She hugged me tighter, brushing my falling hair.

16.53 PM :
My mother left me her baked cookies, I nibbled on it. Wanting to stop being so starving. Ignoring the way my stomach want me to retch it.

I took another bite and count it as a success.

21.00 PM :
I stood in front of the mirror, that I had been avoiding for months, hoping to finally see my reflection.
Instead what I see was all the calories that I needed to burn,
The flaws that my body have,
And plans about not eating tomorrow.

I wonder if It's better to burn my self to ashes.

22.00 PM :
I went down stairs to grab some water.
I heard my mother crying to my father.
Said she's afraid I would vanish away from her.
Said she don't think she can take it any more.

Said she felt like she was cracking every time she sees me.

There were red gashes on her arm.

I swallowed the bile threatening to come out, ignoring how cold I feel despite the heaters on.

22.05 PM :
I smashed the mirror with my knuckle.
Rage and hopelessness was coursing my whole body. I let the tears and everything out.
The pain was sharp, and shards of glass were graced with my blood.

At that moment I saw my old self flashing in front of my eyes. So I kept punching the mirror until it is completely splintered. Shards of it was falling to the floor.

Satisfaction was addicting.

22.45 PM :
I went to sleep with gauze wrapped, still slightly bleeding, fist.
Blanket securely covering me, hoping the nightmares will not come today.

They did come, but they were nuzzling me.

07.00 AM :
I rubbed my eyes, blearily heading to the bathroom. My fist throbbed.

On the fractured mirror was written,

OUT OF ORDER:
This mirror is distorted by socially constructed
ideas of beauty.

Get a new one.

(P.S: You look fine as always)
To all the people who is fighting Eating Disorder. We Will make it
Friendship is not like only a hi or bye!
even not like a song of despair
but it is a song of joy,
until we never make it a coy
which is a priceless power that,
unifies emotions that flies together as ashes
It never wants any return but
sometimes it demands more than it deserves,
the moments of the past that filled our memory
with a soft touch of a solace soul,
A song of hope which makes us
desperate to subconscious commit,
though there is no commitment earlier
when you were fully conscious.

@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Friendship, what i realize with mind and soul.
Rhian Jona May 2013
Is it summer yet outside?
the last time i saw
ashes in the breeze
blossoms and swallowing bubbles
for release
i cant stay here forever

i mouthed the words
and hid from them
buried under books
i would have branded myself.

i replaced autumn with your eyes
and the emptiness of summer will replace you


(and) I still miss the starlight.
Literally just found this in my draft poetry folder. Can't see me working on it again, so here it is.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2014
for Kitty Prr*

there is no boundary,
Mason Dixon Line, 49th parallel,
uptown, downtown grooves,
separating human from poetry,
but there is living, daily scorekeeping,
push/pull of taking each breath
in a right mannered way

sometime you gotta dig a ditch
to learn to climb a mountain,
pay dues and even get paid back
for living in a wrong mannered way,
which requires laying down of the pen,
doing shovel ready projects
needy for completion,
yet-to-be plans needy for
formulating details,
forethought and caring, putting the
poetry aside,
on top of the dusty piano

sometime you gotta drink it black,
pass on the milk, cream and the sugar,
even if the waitress just brings it,
pour ice water on top.of your head
just for yourself alone
the how-to-cleanse the eyes and head,
sometimes you got to let the
poetry stand aside

sometime you have to open that
black briefcase^ treasure hoard of
all things soured and soliloquy of
missteps and judgement errors,
letting the
poetry stand aside

sometime you gotta do the laundry,
rediscover the bottom of the sink,
watch the washing machine movie screen
picture making,
asking for its very own poem,
but you know this day,
gotta let the
poetry stand aside
and you stand up
and climb,
straighten up,
back creaking,
joints cracking,
first find the place to rest the body safely,
and when the chores of living crossed off,
then only
ready and somewhat good,
dust the piano,
dig out pen and paper
from the kitchen drawer of miscellania,
and let the reign of poetry
rekindle the Phoenix's ashes
I'm a fan,
letting all the ashes rush.

I'm a fan,
but not an addict.

I'm a fan,
creating movement of the wind.

I'm a fan,
but not an enthusiast.
Third Eye Candy Nov 2012
these are gems
your tongue kissed in a fit of pink.
your luminous dark, weaving sharp cotton to photons as swiftly as first love.
you are remarkable. so mark.
these are the feathers of dead wings, staring at the sun through the ashes of Icarus
unharmed.

a blindfold of petulance between the deep and the blue
aloft.

this is the air that we breathe, you and i
the construct, struck dumb by the fierce knowing of a soul
the ponderous gaiety of lithe thoughts
that shimmer-*****
in the bleak fears
just cause.

an Earthless
poised in random
sky

but now
adorned.
Jaide Lynne Oct 2014
When I say to my family, I don't mean the ones that raised me, I mean the ones that saved me.

When I say this is for my family I mean the one that raised me from the ashes of my past, the one that took the broken pieces of a girl and made her a mosaic, and showed her that even though her pieces don't fit she can still be beautiful.

When I say family I don't mean flesh and blood I mean heart and soul.

So, to my family, Thank You.

You have shown me what it's like to be loved, what it feels like to have someone there when you need them the most.

Thank you to the friend who stayed up messaging with me one Facebook, the one that reminded me that progress is progress and relapse happens  and that messing up is okay.

I now know how it feels to know that someone will be there when I fall

Thank you to the friends who were there for me and ***** you to the ones who weren't

Thank you to the abusive friend who hates how much I dye my hair, for making me strong.

There aren't enough words in the english language to express how much I love you all, and even if there are enough words I can't seem to find them. So I will just say I love you, thank you for inspiring me and making me strong.

Ohana means family, but Hoaloha means friends and to me those are the same thing because the both mean no one gets left behind, even the awkward girl who makes bad puns.
J B Moore Dec 2015
Ashes falling, embers burn,
Sirens calling, "Lessons learned!"

"Help is on the way," they say,
But help won't make it here today.
You try to run but can't get away,
Death will come and fear will stay.

Ashes falling, embers burn,
Death is calling, "Lessons learned!"

Crimson streets, the bodies line,
Those still living are losing time.
Death is searching and will always find.
Fear will take hold and rot your mind.

Dreams are falling, memories return,
Regret is calling, "Lessons learned!"

"Play not with fire," you were always told,
"Lest you be burned before you grow old."
But you loved to stare at the colors bold,
Enjoying the heat, despising the cold.

Ashes falling, embers burn,
Fire is calling, "Lessons learned!"

You loved setting fires and watching them burn,
The only thing for which your heart ever yearned,
 But a flash and a bang say you'll never return;
Life is fading, lessons learned.


8/26/14
david badgerow Sep 2012
right now,
my
bottlecaps
are filled with ashes
and appleseeds.
Broken Layers..................................

Williamsji Maveli

CREATION:

On the first petals of Creation,
sensual honey drops down,
the destiny,  the deed, and  the creator,
filling the syntax of human body,
broken layers of meanings
scattered rhythms and tunes


SITUATION:

Situations beat the drums
Environment becomes "Tsunami"
"KATHRINA" blows the wind..
"RITA" shakes her *******,
Whales swallow the waves,
Fire erupts on the Volcano's
Hiroshima and Nagasaki*
blossoms again

DESTRUCTION:

Baghdad is burning to ashes,
Legs of  "September 11th"
is getting twisted
Someone is planting a bomb
in his own mother's womb
War weapons of suicide's
pierced the concrete jungles
Let not even a baby to be born again,
thirsting for milk,
bursting for food.....

By: Williamsji Maveli
Email:williamsji@yahoo.com
Related Links of Williamsji
www.williamsgeorge.com
www.williamsmaveli.com
www.mavelinadu.com
www.maveliveedu.com
www.kallettumkara.net
www.microthemes.com
www.thefilmmagazine.com
Today, however, i intend to conquer death. i intend to travel to another dimension being myself. this morning i was lost without his green look. finally the sun was seduced by the darkness, those harboring my soul, and against which fought against succumbing in my attempt to reconnect with her.

   They have been years of depression and grief. and to think that the separation between happiness and melancholy is the thickness of the blade of a knife. for many this has been a reality. for me, however, it was overcome temptation. at the time of his death, my mind could not stop thinking that every day of my life it would no longer be with me. when she died i almost could not find reason to say his name. each time i called in my nights of despair seemed to me that it met all the most beautiful sounds in a word ...

   ... But hey, i'm still here. i have faith, and i have come to think that faith is believing in something when common sense says otherwise. i miss her so much, but i am also grateful to him for all the time he gave me to share it with her. i cried while i had, and when i lost her, i cried ...
   ... my love! your memory has stolen as many nights sleep ... life is an interval between two indecipherable nothings, nothing before and nothing the next. and so i feel the anguish of being alone, that penetrates my conscience as a needle. mr.snifp   throwing your air soft tooted.

insert images 4
[age children - at home] after playing with their favorite toys, snipf go around all your room. see they were ordered, and each is already told not need it, because began his new stage of growth. meanwhile, his father invited sailing in a boat near your home. snifp fishing with your fixture canopy ran down his father, and his father said that if he continued with that, he would be the first fish to be caught. the jumps on his father quikly and hugs - poor snifp already tormenting fears and neglect !!, but his father holds tight and kisses him again and again. his father tells calming him. "a time i will your next entertainment".

   Thinking that perhaps love is an unstable feeling, whose unique nature is perpetual mutation. but there was the secret of our union. we were always the same, and we liked to be that way.'uff think i doing effect of medicine, creo mover tons trillion in my mouth ocean, looking north ocean salivate carrying bacteria armored mounted on bacteria gnawed themselves ... !!

and if i say i really know you, what could you say? if only you were here, here today. knowing you, perhaps you would laugh and say that my words are worthless. if you were here, here today. but i still remember like it was all before and i restrain myself, lest my eyes sprout tears ...

... What happened to the days when we laughed and we played? you never understand anything, but still were together. what happened to those nights when the moonlight coming through your window, bathing your face with your aura? never you understood my words, but you were always there with a smile.

[ellipsis - short - meeting of their souls - what would have happened if they had known within the facility]

In a day of solar eclipse, met her. she was the sun and shadow me. suddenly they met both, until joined us another suicide element; it was a golden key that came giant in a ball of light. be assumed would open our sky and bedroom. and at that moment ...: _ the director proposes recompose the scene _ then studio light dazzles that sub - light, clobbering our eyes. she and snipf face off against, and they both really like, now the shadow and sun was light as a halftones del carmine dazzled cleaned. orchestrating snipf skipping your heart, his face paled and after several reprimands director, and newly entered in si belatedly. she smiled and lowered his head and rie contentedly.

[end ellipsis].
  
Every moment is gone from my hands was covered by the sands of my regret, streaking the walls of your soul to put in you, in your memory, which clamored for goodness me.
   the nights i've dreamed of you like me you appear dressed in white, one dancing ghostly figure of rare beauty, while the wind blows and burning the hills, where the languages disappear and flowers hallow ... i try to keep a mental reincarnation hold of my sanity and make me leave my safe cloister, through which i survived ...
   ... i could not live thinking of another woman, even one day.
   walk down the path has been long, and no one will cry blood for me. mistify all piety practiced baptism without speaking ...

[in flash] - projection simulated -

Adulthood - graduates of the faculty - she sat in her legs. after several hours lounged of some dances  philippines dance, whose movements were causing discomfort their current desire to continue with party. asks the car keys to go to find that some cigarettes had been given, so she and exchanging keys snifp their cars. and before leaving, decide found near the sea. near the sea snipf feel your pet blew necklace snipf, roles as exchanging for that snipf run and drool by the sands and the sea your wicked game beside her. . it stops to think that, and she takes behind.

   ... how i would think that the female being, that ideal that god and man dreamed of since ancient times, and at the end of the life of a man becomes everything that has sought, never disappear.
   how i would like to believe that essence that pervades the living soul, is once transmutes every hundred years, to see the end, in the middle of a dream summer from heaven they have fallen into your hair those mysterious rays in that woman's face, bathed in raindrops hit the ground turned into tears.
   it is in the soul, dwells somewhere in this universe, and sometimes do not need me.

   The feminine being, what the world craves, and that is almost incomprehensible, can only be reached by a man in every century. my search began early. i lost, and i have not finished.maybe the eclipse of truth will come now.
   my mind dreams with open eyes, and i can see your silhouette floating in a vacuum, and i can not help but talk like a child and looking at you as a man, as the search engine of your being, because i have the heart in each place they trod ; if all my blood is like a swollen river of love.

   if you are away from your memory it is. when you were close was your presence. therefore there was always something in you that enveloped my soul with a haze, which i do not want to try out.
   woman! with a look of yours if you crossed me the soul, and the dreamy whisper of your voice was like ripples on a calm lake. would like to hear your silence again, see your sleepy eyes and count words maybe i'll never say.
   how i would think that every man will have his being. but that's idealism, so spare me. optimism hundred percent verges on stupidity.

I remember the last night we were together, before being separated by distance. he moved his family had to go south. and after a year of romance and dreams everything was going to lose. I remember coming home and seeing all the beloved objects in boxes. until then, never in my life had felt so sorry. it was christmas eve, and there would be nothing to celebrate on that occasion. moreover, since then i never celebrated these holidays.

Ellipsis - "the greatest happiness of snifp" - comes home an insurance salesman, the manager receives proposal. the let’s at her desk, as they fell ashes of his pipe on the envelope. snifp kept writing. standing and looking on opens. reading the content and smiling uproariously. va rises to bank takes all savings and invests in small and loose film archives disaggregated, which were owned by a collector. with the rest, bought a motor scooter, which was behind a small deposit to carry small loads. filling the pond, buy wine and cheese. after party without destination highways that if for long enters a southern city.

Enters  does a little tour. until it reaches a cathedral. there was a director, leading a small choir, back, semi musicians around the pool. curiously in between was a woman very close to it. snifp are about to vitral, and backlit start simulate in unison the sounds mouthfuls of wandering the sites involved. the leading mimicked, strong to your arms movements with same music interval it stops, leaning against a column, to convince if i were really she. slowly, slowly, snifp approaches her and sits beside her. says: i am snifp, she looks and strange, the rises, smiles and leaves. but its immense imagery, its immense emotion unified makes influence it. she immediately, ascribes a state of grace, it will comfort her and hugs. both they embrace. under no circumstances blaspheme his three blankets golden the reencounter spanks by them, but not forever. but his greatest happiness was annulling of trails candidly created by generated by their parents, rather, he became a believer and reordering of their abilities asleep. he knew the physical resources scuttled, but if there a new opportunity to live not miss it next to her, so not to lose or waste this time insurance beside her. he became a believer and reordering of their abilities asleep. he knew the physical resources scuttled, but if there a new opportunity to live not miss it next to her, so not to lose or waste this time insurance beside her. he became a believer and reordering of their abilities asleep. he knew the physical resources scuttled, but if there a new opportunity to live not miss it next to her, so not to lose or waste this time insurance beside her.

   They went at dawn, but still could hang out with her. we walked, we gave mutual encouragement, separation would not be so short, we were going to see soon. i would travel at the earliest, would call for christmas and would send my letters the day after his departure. we sat on a bench in the middle avenue. people circulating quickly with shopping bags. vehicles pass did not stop us. it was cold. i warm up your hands in mine and gave them my breath. when looking into your eyes saw what i hate most in this life, tears. we could not contain ourselves, and not ashamed, for the first time i cried in front of a woman.

   And i cried all those days.
time has calmed the faint wound, when the whisper of the world touched his premise. singular dream cloud passing through the western sky when it becomes dance all fears. green water are stretched his hands without mockery. friendly land, give me your singing .... i still dream, give me this life.
   how many times i screamed your name to the wind, breaking the silence misty harbor, calling no more voice than my memories, wanting to feel that you no longer die of pain that is enveloping me ?.

Insert 5 - snipf (degraded)
in and absolute soledad colder snipf was hovering around calderon, if you wanted to take it, would be like a shrew trying to claim your destination.
   how much i wanted to forget your hate and cry out to your mind just forgetfulness, not to wander more between your eyes and stop getting lost in your tears, silent martyrdom of my fingers.

this first letter never sent. i did not dare to be so bitter. i could not travel as fast as i would have liked. his eagerness to see me began to be an ordeal, and this would mark much of our journey together; the impossibility of being close and always face the fact and accept this situation.
    
Instead, i wrote other words, perhaps more sweetened, but less full of guilt: moon night waiting for the soul to pray and answer the call of dawn will i be able to expect your touch again?
   come quickly to the call. come to the dark cover of night, when they sleep forest and sun when the stars of heaven just look at you.
   night descends quickly and wrap your shadow; fog cover it, oh night with your night time already approaching.
   do not let her realize that without their long lineage no longer beautiful, and culminates before his eyes hidden mannerism of a star.
   oh night with your night time, deflowers your thoughts and pour into honey. remember this i dreamed since i saw her, from the moment i opened my eyes in the middle of your night time it was close.

I'm thirsty. death absorbed all the liquid from my body. a drop of life left in this frame. sometimes at night, i have visions when anguish seizes my reason. during sleep the overwhelming thirst makes me see myself flying flush with the ocean. it's me. it's my body, but when trying to drink the water my tongue becomes a stingray ... and their fins are formed other stingrays! my voracious tongue consumes a large wave the water needed to live. my tongue is a horizontal army that steals the sea.

" Dresses and throwing acids on one another, they were joined by corketear clavicles, pretending to be vomited chains forgotten by god a tyrant -
these not forgive the unforgivable your starperson
forgive the shadow of your arcaica esfingial figure, parent your food channel dilating essence of your fears and fearless ... "
TO BE CONTINUED...
rachelle bromley Dec 2010
crinkled love notes litter the battlefield that had
spread between us. and we are nothing now,
nothing but ashes and stone. you spoke in a
whisper too slurred to decipher and i swallowed
words too ridiculous to comprehend. and
papercuts line my throat from the nights i consumed
all your lies, like a child riding some sick, suicidal
carousel. and as it turns out, i’m delusional. lost
and oh so terrified of the dark because there
are ghosts, and they whisper to me, telling
tales of lost boys with beautiful eyes and
heavy smiles who want to be found (just once
more.) and i know there were faults and there
were breaks. but i swear we had each other at
goodbye.

because i’ve always been addicted to catastrophe;
and you were just the beginning of my end.
march 2010.
Katherine Paist Jan 2013
So long as there’s society there’s much to haunt
and hate. So long as the world has its cages and
everything has proper place the future is no option
until the streets are dressed in flames with torn
pavement roaring as loud as the voices dancing

where nothing’s left empty–their bodies, the buildings–
all glowing, negating the inert night. And when
the walls turn to ashes, they’ll dance in a flurry
to kiss the ground as if smudging their past lives
off surviving maps.
Cali Nov 2014
it seems as though
when surrounded by smoke
of different illicit substances
that numb the minds of sad mortals
I tend to sit silently
feet stomping by
hands being held as different couples
one by one
pass by to visit the sanctuary of
a lonely bedroom
table for two
the breath I let out smells
smells that belong to broken promises
I made when I was young
no difference between the heater
above my head
and the door inviting in spirits
who were too cold to last outside
they both bring chills
they both bring memories
of the different places I have been
sitting on a staircase
the green carpet
upset from ashes flicked
into its skin
kinda like that one time
u burned me so hard with the fire
I saw inside of you
the fire I thought was a flame of light
and not a flame of hell
it burned through my flesh
and the scars
don't look like the burns that usually appear
deeper
smaller
can open just to close
to open up again
but here I am with those
just as ****** up as I am
hoping these brain cells will do all of the talking
but no
instead it takes me back to the same staircase
where I sit after taking too many drinks
and I wait for you to answer the phone
Danielle Rayn Apr 2016
small secrets
whispered under the covers
candle wax and promises
you will keep forever
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
faery wings and pixie dust
cake with milk
all eaten up
sneaking a lick of honey
and rich butter
I'll never grow up and wither
I refuse

— The End —