(0)
Fly perfectly straight and high, and show the fly
out of the fly-bottle on your way.
Rise to victory, far above the blue sky,
and reap the reward: the opening of paradise!

The road ahead is clear and open this way,
with things small and big growing and disappearing up this way.
You will see sunrises and sunsets waxing and waning,
with mention of the moon and stars in the dark.
Be mindful as you sway, it's got to be laser-sharp.
There is no hard shoulder on this highway,
miss it by an inch and risk losing everything forever!

There is hope, there is light up high
pick up your paintbrush, just like the sun does
goodness knows how it sneaks in, right in the black
canvas of the night, painting the first light
lo, it shows up in heaven, the candle of the daylight.

As long as there is a man and a woman,
never give up, our canary bird can fly
rosy or not, the nest in every morn nets a sunrise!

(1)
A woman indeed plucks up the courage
she never had to look up to the stars
be it for the guide or the light in the night.
Fathima herself was the full Moon every night
is thanks to her Godsent innate light.

With it, she can bask in the full spread of the pi
on top of its short decimals mounting high
constantly as if countless stars in the sky.

The time and space under the sun
and that under Fathima's light
are far apart from each other
yet they coexist side by side.

As she points out,
"A circle is masculine
while pi is feminine."

Pi forms the circle with fine prints,
decimal dots continue to spring,
sprawling trillions of new digits,
the bandwagon is still increasing.
Connecting the dots is an untouched dream.

The full moon pi picture is veiled,
unseen at large, yet in short, 3.145 it can live!

(2)
Fathima flies her lock of hair
in the lurking air of the transcended pi
the primitive feminine does that,
no wonder she is God's secret feminine opus!
An immeasurable black hole lies in between
the short and transcended pi, running like a river,
dancing anew on every riverbank
in the many curls of Fathima's jet black hair.

She lent out a hair to the planet earth
and crossed over like a silhouette
without spilling out the colour
of the transcended end of the pi.
The earth takes it in the core in her heart
as if it would keepsake it forever.

Weaving the pi in Fathima embeds two hairs ties one
perfect circle at the back and one at the front of the universe.
Inside each hair the earth is finest fluid in the core
none is as deep as high as proportionate a perfect flow.
No time is as revealing no music is as sweet in this orb
no force is as mighty nor as prevailing a true giant
causing gravity and the heat at the earth's core.
Matter and spirit mix free in the play both wax lyrical
thanks to the pure resonance of 'Qun Be' the word of God!

(3)
The way to the earth's core is exposed to none other
save the Angel of Death the lucky one.

See both sides of the one lofty sky swathed in countless stars  
but the day and night render through still remains an unseen one  
Terra is shalet zeroed in Fathima is heaven on earth!  
Up in the sky-high bank turning the starry bowl upside down
Fathima took no star nor a pearl diving deep down the Arab water,
the brightest luminary came after Muhammad (PBUH),
in veil from the Night of Measures and into the flipside in the night
she's gone without lifting the veil but left her penetrating mark.

Few could find the shortcut contemplating on a blank canvas
the Moon looks down into the abyss down the sea eyes on far
for a mirror in the bottom on the as above so below matter
since Godsent Fathima touched on the all-inclusive primitive water.
The sun gets caught up in the very water dew she raised in the sky
the ancient fold of time still unfurls with the sun-kissed flowers
for the new hands yet the fingerprint on the sun remains only her!

Azrael heads to Fathima around the year 632 after death
touches down in Medina on his usual thin earth he steps.  
But this time a little mundane dust couldn't be thicker
he keeps descending deep down to the earth's centre
following from Medina but the angel locates her
inside the perfect circle a closed geometric figure.

(4)
Fathima is the female headline her secret is not all known
when she used to visit the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH)
he would stand up for her hold her hand and kiss it
and seat her on his seat, she would do the same to the prophet
when he would visit her like they did know each other
in and outside the spheres of heaven and earth!

She is the embodiment of the infinite feminine variations
the first spiritual woman created following God's word Qun.
Her is the mother tongue of the ever diversified feminine lingua
no one woman on her own can rhyme with her alone
she has no peer her rhetoric is unique like none other.
The galactic run from planet to planet up on the starry ladder
climbing high up the mountain heaven yet streams out like oval
off their rock bottom stone until that unleashes the final run
in perfect circle delving into the rhythm of the loop at the centre
made of Fathima's hair charged by 'Qun' God's uncreated word.  

Prophet David can sing on the bank of the river
and can see the fish are jumping to him out of the water.
The masculine is open form, eye on everywhere,
but not her the woman is in juxtaposition her
all-inclusive schema supplanting the details rest only on her.
She is the unseen world within the world at best imagine her!
Guess, through this inwardly open door who might disappear?
It's nature before the scientist on ultimate discovery of the matter!  

Aligning with her down the rainbow up high the land absorbs
the grooming sky looking on the running rivers within her.
Her words spread through like the smart cloud that flies far
over the lands and valleys but not even the wind none other
gets a sniff of the potion and melody it caries until that rain down
without a hurdle without a visual she moves on at the target
such a soul needs no after death lift from the angel of death.

Before Azrael Fathima loses an arc of the circle then and there
so not the earth but giant Azrael can take the pressure!
Marked by a fluid discharge since then she is cooling this fire
In Shaa Allah God willing when she ajars it, it will be elixir!  

(5)
Draw a straight line, but it won't be perfect
it keeps bending, fly straight touching the sky
the flight path won't look like a straight line
it would be like the crest of a crescent moon
like curve touched the sky, like climbing up
atop the pyramid is not going high straight on
it goes up from the widespread seked slopes.

Moves in golden ration 1.618 not the full two
and gets the designing formula flawlessly full
micro to macro all levels all the way to the true north!    

Fathima being the original feminine eyeing at her
she can tap in the knowhow of naturally feminine nature.
And discovers the immanent pattern - the world
is pre-designed and measured is never a coincidence.
The creatures' creativity, scientist's science
is to follow, discover working formulas like phi and pi.

Play along it works until an unknown hour strikes
comes with accurate knowledge dead on time
numerically correct never miss taking a life away
as if it was calculated beforehand before the birth.
A newborn is born for a limited time
already set but no one knows when it goes up  
is a deadlock clock but it isn't so shrouded
in the blueprint of the creatures' grand design
there the clock ticks safe and sounds it never dies!  

(6)
Fathima hailing from the other side of the pool
eyes on the ever live pre-design side of the creation!
Then its corporeal face was only a water drop,
the primitive one looks see-through it has dead zero
knowledge of its lively other side of the pool.
She comes closer and perfectly mirrors both sides
that shines through on her reflected face on the water.
An absolute new image that livens up the dead part
Bang - Big Bang! The corporeal world gets the spark
explodes out from the very first drop of the water!

Fathima's appearance was miraculously instrumental
God reveals nature the finite and infinite, 0 and 1,
future in the present and the death and life in play!
Nature follows suit it just saw the perfect role model
banged out but only to its corporeal set
it aspires to be with its infinite reality yet!

Fathima leaves the door open constructing a perfect circle,
hardly straight, took the mixed bag of countless variations
she zooms into the abyss irrational portion of the first matter,
the primitive water drop and aces the circle with her hair
that nothing can equate throughout the corporeal world.
Done the math discovering the zero starting point at the bottom.
The ocean of digit numbers, the DNA of all things material
banged out of it, still, the zero is numberless irrational!

(7)
All things, within oneself and in a set constantly vibrate,
strive to align with the enduring reality of itself.
The atom vibrates to reach out to its immortal portion
that doesn't die and is in the know of its lower base.
The planets are in a defined circular orbit, accurately measured
just the apex on top of their dynamic pyramid the pyramidon
is tucked away; they too have an irrational portion in the circle.

With the finest spin, they zoom in the spacious universe,
in part and like the sun outside the constellations round they go
never miss a target line yet to re-discover Fathima's perfect circle
the origin of their digital essences' breakthrough
the door to their transcended destination de jour.
Lo the matter turns the last stone pulsing across the cosmos
the mortal horizontal spread, the spirit returns home.

The earth has a line in its swansong it has a place in paradise
it's not here to stay for good neither to perish forever!

Matters form and break without losing the rope,
it's not to paint the shades of the eternal blue
but to ace an irrational portion in the circle
at the heart of the earth, as above, so below.  
The deep the high the perfect circle
up and down the centre of gravitation for all!

At even and at odd the vibration within the matter is fluid
somewhere is parched there the arch matter must make a splash.
Far away on that dark beach, the full-fledged sea of the matters
outpours its billowy potion with the Moon on the frontline
from deep within the physical world's most glowed up firefly!

(8)
The seven seas swell up smoothly into the moonlight-dip
oh, the waterless Moon at the core is still fasting.
Led by time the sweet swan punting along the waves
streams down the watery inner circle of the planets.
Until stuck in the Moon no water in the last waterfront
but paradise is on the other side of the pool!  

The sun dips away into the night
while the eve baths in the shades of pink and gold,
the dazzling hues soon turn to taupe.
Drawing down painting the picture in full colour
only to find the time is up on the halfway,
yet to print a colour copy of the night!
The other unseen half is passed down to the Moon
tiptoeing in slow motion in the depths of the night
barely keeping the head afloat in a fathomless ocean
of shades of black hails from where knows no one.  

The sun enkindles the moon half-lit keeping itself away
amid shadows as if comparing the shades now it knows
a Mehrem a veiled female is ahead not to look on or
compared to that the sun has no light or true are both.

Wrapped in the eternal night beneath its black mole
once the moon on the front approaching most close
directly down to the centre of the earth eyes on
over that inlaid string hairy black perfect circle
never did it turn back the same gaze is still on
orbiting around the earth in synchronous rotation.

(9)
The never-ending night is becoming a night indeed
it's coming to an end so soon in our time.
In Shaa Allah I will see it with my eyes before I die
in the Night of Measures in an odd night in Ramadan
Fathima from the transcendental end of irrational heart
will turn on top of the curve opening for the first time
a 9-degree angle in the circle at the centre of the earth.

Instantly the leading force, time will get the first sniff
of the other world, so peaceful heart-melting serene.
Rapturous time feeling an ounce of the enduring peace
for the first time cutting all the corners with ease
will be propelled into its yet uncharted golden mean.
Scurrying to the peaceful abode time will be on its wings
across the globe, people will be stunned seeing
how first the times pass from then on incredibly quick!

Fathima, the first spiritual woman on duty, will start
pulling her hair back off the circle at the centre
Juxtaposed in between the worlds of here and hereafter.
She will take back every inch of it, the heavenly bodies
will feel the pinch of her every little subtle pull
that too is a boon helping them perfect their circle.

(10)
Soon she opens it just 9-degree wide at first
the Moon will see a glimpse of the first drop of water.
Without it, it's living perched without the water of life
that's destined to rain down soon and the Moon
back into its original pond shall revive!
Mapping the pi's whole infinitesimals playground
finally, Fathima will turn the circle upside down
on the dot the stunned sun shall rise in the western sky!

By now under Fathima's hair's shaded closed circle
it must have sailed far over the blue sky in the other world.
Billowing with the breeze over the sea of uncharted water
and stacking to the brim with all that it could discover
humbly stood like a cloud in that corner of the sky.

The time is finally ticking fast to rain down with love
paradise's welcoming schema rendering in waterpaint drops
on the Moon over the sea of matters, that's most glowed up firefly
ah, finally can break the fast sipping in a drop of elixir!
It's their heavenly adopted, Miʿrāj performed, primitive water.
The Moon with the seven seas will leave off the corporeal shell
gliding gracefully with this stately water nymph as if it never dies
and will make a splash plopping into the pond of paradise!  

For the matter ultimately is water and its extent is sound
Fathima will fetch it the water of life and take it to the next life!
Oh, the matter shall do both die and revive with Israfil's sound
the cloud will fly out of the dead water on the ground,
like the earth with chorus songs of the rain revives.
When that a melodious nymph in the water makes waves
see paradise is here the Moon over the sea can't take off its eyes.

(11)
Hang on though they all set ready on their horizontal span  
to pull in such a fluid yet colourful descending like a rainbow swan.
First chaste Fathima will evaporate her hair's perfume away
that's yet lingering in the water warming it up to its premium
no crowd then can see where this heady, fragrant cloud will fly!
There are the momentum and delights where that will alight.

Israfil might then blow his trumpet swooning the world away
the secret will remain a secret exception is said in the Qur'an.
A strange sound will silence the chorus of the innate digits
collapsing the floating cosmos bubbling on their music.  
The corporeal circle will collapse as if there is no base no pi
the melody of the first word Qun means Be will still be loud
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious so how can we all expire?

Israfil too will play his reviving trumpet pure mellifluous
and In Shaa Allah numerically perfect Fathima will rise
amidst the resonant Qun as like she did in the beginning
when except prophet Muhammad (PBUH) there was nothing!
Now the earth once zeroed in beneath her hair will follow her
the stunned terra will discover Fathima took her hair away
only to shift the constellation up onto the upper world!

The old songs of the planets the chorus of the digits will revive
from the zero bases in the core the digital panache that dance
planet upon the planet as if they are always at the perfect hertz.

Indeed that is yet to come, the arts of the fine layers
opening from the irrational pi, the finest one is to flower
when Fathima will unloop her circled hair at the centre
piercing the very immanent irrational cut
that no creation can fathom only the loving creator Allah
will turn odd to even in between the here and hereafter
then the ocean stuck in deep salt shall turn to enduring potion!
The As-Sirat shall turn to be the bridge to paradise
the body shall revive with the enduring soul forever
and with ah Fathima couple shall enter paradise In Shaa Allah
with the rhapsody 'all praise is for Allah' Alhamdulillah!

Set of cave genes If you could read... pluri freedoms of the dark light of ignorance teach understand that breathe under the Naturality Natural Nature is not necessary to have an understanding heart and store on their empty heads of knowing ancient rain where wisdom possess. If dance on every grain of chickpea for each foot plant what could a plant obey; foot, Plant, and Plantation...

Resulting in kingdoms on my animals, fungi, plants, and protists, media freedom as a seed to reach our evolutionary lack of ceased hopeness...

First  Ellipsis Angle loneliness"God felt Chained"

Chained down by dragging the last link of its multiple arcane freedom in which transfigured recent swings where he collapsed with the latter being of himself whose life lies lifeless alive but lost. The latter that child not to know and deprived of nascent freedom that will never be born and come knowledge in our genome of Independence.

When the caveman thought to be a complement to the world is enslaved by the mystery of lost in himself... The born and born, never dies, that's so naive and innocent... is still full unaware of their free will, rather it is he who must re-literate and be a living part of the ancestral genome Cavernario component. Oh Heavenly Lord of the steppes I look because more of you today without having lived what you lived, as he would have played with my gaze to succor and keep you had fallen into the fangs of an animal, or you had fallen on the glacier cliff where he has separated you from your Clan Cave.

Emancipation means to be always innocent, my blood runs through yours,
I read and understand any phenomenon of deprivation exist without you lack wisdom satiate if all your generations crushed by the ignorance of falling subject will be well, me and my being I take my precognitions as a tormented child's worst nightmare before about sleeping. Sixth Papal almost, almost kneel before the creation of memorizes creation. This prerogative Lord lives Bread’s God Minor remaining....of whose iconography will not leave this fifth fraternal dimension will not come, if not more will enter the latter end of absolute solitude... and shorter than the last thousand years of Neandertal.


Cavernary Political and Ellipsis:

On a day of gentle wind and tense rain proclaiming Clan joined, they all shouted running, the ground shook and the children slept in terror... the 10 infants who were talking about the Sign from above, but the nines they crossed his arms remaining to create solidarity roof that protects the man in your imagination...
The eighth child of the clan ran quickly into the arms of his mother and she imagined how far, how far would never come... uncharacteristically who came with his brother seventh had in their hands the word of entertainment of Being, to be a plaintiff political all of braiding them together with lines enabling the hermit may decide that creation is a mass of lines of certain fashions together, everything sings like the slightest cyclamen dew on the line pointy rough fallen fungus. All arms folded on the upper porch of the Vatican Macario in Franconia, saying that many who unite in their fevered requests large modern man ceased to be autonomous when it came out of their caves and charnel pit.

Ran all she enjoyed doing that almost without knowing whether or not they fall...
Ran because of every day the sun ahead of them a lesson for a man of the future...
They are running to be released the day of his birth chained to stars of light, to carry him to his mother and father, sneaking to his brothers.

Brother worn eleventh birth to her existence as another being evolved Eukaryotic: Surely those provided beings of cell membranes rhizomes reflected in higher liberty lives purged of ectoplasm walk without a discounted subsidiary. Shakespeare in Helsingor appeared immune to a blood brother to all that limits the Draconian feel in the pinnacles drawn 700 greened steeds. From the deepest swoon in the underworld subway Helsingor, follow the prevailing souls presided over by the great ear of the hard sandcastle, stressed hard Ghosts of Stratford upon Avon.

Freedom plague spits words of pancreatic poisoned exordium, spits verses of confusion disorders without permission, without solid bass sound without liquid sea that resists mad edges followed by solid sound...
But smaller stones give priority to conjugate final sentence and noble verses Guardian
to mission how important would Liberation:

Maybe it's a synonymy of Astral Solar...
It is not Solitude, is a free nation that has its own kind prosecutor's office for even when Euthanasia closes your eyes to the astral, will run the stones of the Sea of joy believing that neither you dare if there is no healthy grass to clarify the rainy day terror.


Reverse walk creeks aggravated birds feet, walking great playful ruse.
Reverse run my comrades preparing festivity meals with chandeliers and singing lay plenary., Singing Avenue pine port Firenze, Second run subtracting minutes and hours the minute is enough for me with your face in my arms to recognize your longevity anathema times oblique faces for lip-smacking hailstones Templars.

In 1297 in northern Italy nearby rural families migrate to chalky Venice, Perugia came the exiles walked to find their independence south of the Iberian Peninsula. They were so atoned as in the echoing flutes, harps, zithers, and harpsichords field temperate; They invited the blunting of intemperate monocordio.

Golden Chariot Carrenio

The golden carriage carrying them came without a single space rather than inheritances acquired goldsmiths of ancient noble and chaste solid shine. Carrenio; the coachman wore on his left arm bracelet thousand mobile travel without stopping to drink more water and to feed their horses. After revamping its gold pieces bartered by a slave who was getting Carrenio Christians fleeing the Romans. Well, they fled as far as the plains of great earthly squandered his memory and that end of the end should come.

How am away from my land more I learn it's back to her,
There is no ground for the first time, but that which is foreign
Carrenio of Perugia and sensed that ****** was Jewish ashes,
Luther King black paste of burnt forest,
Mandela and Biko Ogre garage from Victorian Empire,
Gandhi in his humility is always put behind the Sun
to figure out the small
Tagore trashed my heart caressing the entire universe uncorrupted
Hölderlin together in the cabin waiting for his mother at Zimmerman,
That my beloved Borker forest should shine gold teeth with black resin,
Theresa of Calcutta was eaten and swallowed all diseases lepers knowing good taste proverbial dessert psalm,
Jose Miguel Carrera was more than a trench, clay bullets in each of his temples where he received
To be doubly Lonco is to be halved, lacerated by lay his head on his land, not galloping on his back throngs of wit and hope out Nazareth trembles when an F-16 diluted ***** covering landless caravans Heritage continues to lead the people killed but the mosque wall has been Fe Erecta.
Helena plenipotentiary Kowalska at Vilnius, Faustina Divine Mercy Diadema
The agonizing deprivation of millions of people with cancer in every continent of private well-being analgesic, weighed down by increased pain, almost as strong as the Master Hammered Golgotha, so it was that Joshua has cancer always to slow it down on us. Benigno whether metastasis, malignant albeit benign finance.
The death of an innocent little angel devoured by the beast remains as a fluff hairless sardine in the jaws of a shark baron.
Khalil Gibran writes that with both hands to support the reviewer behind in Bicharri and bohemian Paris,

Salvador Allende Gossens was born since he was deceived by his parents who would heal politics, would rather dig their ancestors in their brains scattered in the currency in face seal or tail of.

Frei Montalva that today has to receive the Macro Augusto Heaven their arms, their sorrows, and regrets, although his worst military executioner.

Legion is an offshoot of liquid central gray material, which defers well done becoming but not defeated, it is the decree of the divine threshold space Living or ceases to live, that failure does not exist, it is the postponement of success - success.

The Genocide September 11 in New York was a ritual, who produced was a small wrath strength of the Rotary world, as the camshaft is upset in the history of trying to make more alphabet in schools where the flag hoisting and found scholars in West and East, so they can learn more than reading of both unlettered, lip and water to possess it to write with it. The worst disaster is read with the memory that will never happen... I write my greatest need with lipstick and my greatest need I write eagerly to participate. Yesterday I passed by a boutique and buy lipsticks that are closer to the language, written with the mouth and not the hand. !

Freedom, debauchery, libration, drawer, Bookstores..! Carrenio..: he said see I'm right! Raise and educate has a great synonymy with autonomy because the ancestors wrote everything that deprived them and made them fear, but do not have to eat the autumn gives me to dress the return of spring, bread orchid, and cineraria. Hence by that inner syllabic singing hunger sated that sought sheet to sheet rid of everything until the end of the book as the encounter between night and day without considering oblivious to anything or anyone on the track window swing wind, wind seeping.


It was old Zeus or Hera of Antique,
Cavern to house geometric polyphonic, angular seeds to create fashions kiss kissed everything that any vertical plane does not fit with the closed horizon
For hands and angels, Hebrews the inner soul of every carpenter and stonemason shrunk, wash their eyes and cheeks with songs of vibration and idyllic comfort,
Everything resembled and sounded Bethlehem 2.0 deities choirs sweeping grasslands,
The similarity of this clairvoyant child is born in a cave...
Rising motherly free Soliloquy Papini sitting to the right of ruminant cattle,
So archaic that to be born is not born in a clinic mega Cristus but hundreds of kilometers and hundreds who are born with the undergirding whispers and servitude being.
Where the multi gray impetuous born star is a healthy gauze story in the present tense... this angelic child grows by Miriam washes his feet in a belligerent abolished stone. His father must wash their hands on a stone which is where measured his ecclesiastical mystical stature, stone Madonna to heal his feet where he leaves to free himself, to free us... Marble gamete fémina vault, where he sleeps without knowing whether it is due, the ***** fell from the sky.
How wise is the Wise, it makes permissible for much more than two thousand years we stone quarry wheel and wheel, homily, and blessing to not wake at night to sleep startle middle and uphill.

Me of the referent of antiquity is not me of today is polished cobble stone,
Useful weapon quarry road there and backtrack to have blisters stone and soft thoughts under my pillow soft stone as a whole.

If you're ****** private living and have a free soul choosing coexist, then you are low in the cemetery on a tombstone of heresies.

Neolithic early 4500 after Hildegard von Bingen and his entourage and prowled full and channeled, swooning in her swoon with flowers in his hands and his followers planting forests on top of Stonehenge.

Carrenio says...: you see I'm right, we coexist, I die like the worst ****** cancer and then put a tombstone Stonehenge conspire in my honor black pain prayers of Salisbury. It blooms in vibrant red rubies that detonate in chromaticity and life. The stream itself is exceeded the aquatic plant Macarenia.

Call us and civilize us, outdated as far as my tired feet though I come not ashamed to see my new tracks.

Carrenio says...; see I'm right Joshua has traces of gold from other Caterpillar shod feet. Antique everything is prescribed according to their legacy today is Lent Pro that came before it was Lent vestige Pentecost came to be a nickname of the mystery of the passion in less than a rooster crows.

Beside it is the mystery of the disappointment of stubborn demon, which helps you all carry the cross, but not the entire load. Fire and Light at dawns where the splendor born...


Genome Freedom, even today every centimeter of my witness of each component, if the basic origin of the signs of the primitive world, is that we have lost the bark of the lexicon, which does not allow us to understand the meditations to ask for something, not You need to ask something. Today genome is requesting something because thousands of people who asked for millions of years, now it's time to cater to them. They were wrapped in cloth shroud of spiritual sacredness, today cemeteries mega dance their souls leave no sleepers both much grass on their heads not yet sullied by the puppet Azrael.


Impossible not to decorate the rocks forged empires that fall into the rubble, they bring 476 d. C., a new opening Middle age freedom of travel both in history thousands of years begins a new axis Golden Carrenio’s Chariot.

Carrenio Wagon

This great colossal ship Carrenio time is a timber that holds the sky, a beam that does not faint or distended thousands a. C, and the old age of King's large musings that were forgotten. It is astride ship millennium, their history of oppression has seen in the wheel, instrument wise rolling like a wheel before 5, 000 years ago, here  We fought and prostrated to distant lands millennium after millennium him away.

Golden Chariot is the structure that freedman us to enforce a new life on earth, even the Gods prided themselves move the stars to constellations called her noble Auriga sailing in full the Universes and Cartwheel Galaxy or cart Wheel. As if to say that when the Universe and its own mythology, were visited between them inch by inch by wherever they shine.

Carrenio mask and frame used had strength, temper, and tittle. When the first libertarian squall of antiquity came closer, Rome was already small and nobles populate what is a quote, Piccola. The executioner always frightened and starts out of his own wickedness. Markos Botsaris as did in Greece, and surrounding towns Messologhi remote, they were free more than tuned in massif Arankithos high wind. He was riding to Kanti once again with the golden rider Etrestles of Kalavrita. According to the Chronicle that came from distant millennia has envisioning promote its neighbor's heroic to free Messolonghi of ****** wars. All this I saw with his own eyes Carrenio, every thousand years styling with Etrestles, cleaned their nostrils so that new breed of horses to thrive,

Avignon, in the necropolis, witnessed as Azrael was cleaning his wings Jade antipopes, another story begins... even he seeks to candela who can read this story, and who can provide it from hand to hand cutting semicolons who disclosed.


Second  Ellipsis Angle  New Era:

Ara released the ropes throwing a big ship, History makes a man is at the center of the world. Revolutions, thinking, communication, and especially vindicate man in his right-libertarian. artists with their creations flowing all over the world, mutating classic Renaissance to abstract overlook. Family appearing welfare and needs. A ramble and so many broken laws. Mankind is distracted l film and theater artist of tradition. Art now has sound and movement, then social and political revolutions are industrial that unite everyone behind the pivot deployment of social classes.


Everything evolves until we get tired of doing so. It rests and then continues. This is modern reality, we wrote about the history of events on facts that have never been told. The world has tired all the Eras, but each pause time that has happened has been recharged, nothing finished if not started again. After so many wise lawyers, clergy plunged into great towers bound books. Is evident again can not read or understand. Our realities are missing valid without knowing I close and then open another door. human and civil rights, fair wages, so excessive autocracy monarchy. Freeman can walk along the paths, even if they were trenches.

Zephyr soft murmur which clutters in the Irises by Van Gogh, the painter is the biggest star trek, called with his feet images and colors that would make his own liberty to live naturally insane. And many others Brueghel "Triumph of Death" that roam the countryside, perhaps a medieval piece of Tarskovski; Andrei Rublev in futile painters decorating steps in the fontano chignon Androniko Monastery Moscow, extinct Rublev 70 years, Tarkovsky 54.

Early ellipsis - Campo dei Fiori in Rome to see die at the stake Giordano Bruno by order of the Holy Inquisition. The irruption of the Inquisition, but their feet are touching the flowers, the seasoned cassock continues to haunt the universe of Faith Dominica Trastevere, it is seen to lectures on how to be bold with the informers and the Whistle Blower dies without shade in spring, you resist the star on the asphalt on the magical island of holiness.

Carrenio says: Come I'm right, we can not read, because the brutality of the Cosmos is manure per ton weathered in the backyard of the aristocracy. I will continue with respect and crosed in Crete. Lila Kedrova means the fear of bunk bed tied to her bed and is free in foreign lands leg. Queen insular matriarchy, she lives more than any Greek Goddess, waiting for his Adonis, to fill out honors. Win an Oscar but lost to Zorba, he loses his house but won a Tony Awards. How many women teach us that to win you have to give everything to lose his brains, and thus count as the lost number remains to be retained. Zorba whines in her arms, she moans in the arms of her husband Zeus Steve, proof of a new era. Onyx for his tomb, plate of this great tragedy.

On the evening of December 14, 1964, attended the premiere. Soul of Carrenio was with them but was denied his attendance at the banquet, finally running out and watching the glasses lips and stoles spent his neck.

                                          
          ­                      Numbered Mysterious Death
                                                  Mané

If I have to feel floe on my feet and cold in my prayers will be the Dark Glory. What is slimming rays of the day, everything smelled of silence, maybe it was Kennedy, or better was The Mané.

Closure of my glory suffers the wind...
Flowers lying silence my soul alight,
Thick square displays the song of my voice...
When they speak Quadratils one to one order their
Spirituous voice.

And the spirit singing fiber of my heart told me:
Never you say I Exist ¡ not exist because they do not exist!
Only face daily the different reflection of your body
In front of yourself with another face and another body...

I want to talk with the thought
And this same subtract my little silhouette,
Lavishes wingless bird that flies only in their theology...
That is the duty and melt with my look,
Solid colors components
Crunching the altars of heaven retaining its pale warmth of anorexia.

Yellow Glory hair good event...
If you receive yellow lights, plus I do not sing my own game here in my empty veins,
Yellow my heart...
Yellow my heart
Yellow my collective heart.

They are run by large green and sunny meadows, children who had Mane in this major milestone in its last gasp. Now she is the mother of his children; it up and them in the last temptation of the mystery of death.

Carrenio keeps rolling, the brightness offered his Golden wagon to the ground. Gold grooves ago, and looking at where it realizes that it's landmass light mud. Since he felt whispers from the confines of time he had never felt as if you were finishing your journey or the world. It raining years and years and continues because nobody mends the mysterious death Numbered.

Heaven and Earth did not hold, the bottom fell precipitously pocket Lord and denied several times uncontained. She shivered in the World and the rooster crowed several times to never be heard or the Pentagon.

He is walking and knees bent,
we embraced by the golden chariot and oxen nor held
we bent us all lying on his knees,
up shoulders not hear from where came the bad grace of his departure,
numbered all the time of complaints of how then she would come,
It is unknown who would be but brought wine in his hand on the crispy mask
We ran from side to side and nothing was real

Everything seemed to sing in the chapel on a sad day,
But I hear loudly like Latin and watchfulness,
Those who know his mystery is no stranger to them
They all look but transgress the sin of silence.

Carrenio still absorbed in the hallway,
Angulo ellipsis she comes winged like a star burning tar,
A high speed to give us the new
No garden can deprive greet in speed visit
Dome comes, it comes on the eve of the new moon.

Numbered Widow mysterious,
Mané is a land of golden color and no celestial whoever wants in his cell,
A breath test, and feeding the Toffy and his henchmen
That sustaining more lively detail, there is no one that can not be targeted

It was modern, it was night, it was his torn life as an accomplice of his exile abandonment in his allegory of tender dismissal. Carrenio achieved so say goodbye to the beams of light that told him of the mysterious death Numbered. He sat on the roadside and drank some wine. Then dry with his handkerchief his neck, and have never wanted to experience such an event in a toast ever drunk.

Third Ellipsis Angle  of  New Era

Independence of Chile, it concerns Mapuche atingent case. Araucania pound, then 1818 central Chile. In Brief, Earth makes free an entire nation. His naive and primitive braves inhabitants emancipated themselves from all sides, they came to save a people who were just following where nobody can reach. Independence of the United States separates us for approximately 42 years, breaking up owners of nowhere. Industrial Abolitionist and South Slaver and Agraria. The biggest event that more than 640, 000 men and fallen activists planted safely from repression fields.

In Chile all rule resembled this secession in today's Araucano man prays for his fallen by almost more than 3 centuries in Chilean lands of Araucanía’s men. Lautaro genius and his supporters the heart of Pedro de Valdivia ate; Map ever made to your battle mapping Tucapel. "Initiation and final symbol occurred after 282 years of fierce war" and Mapuche land forever their independence from the Spanish Empire Captain-General important in foreign lands never subjected to foreign rule would eat.

The Machis and Loncos make supplications in native forests falling on them pollen on its back as if nothing out 10 times better...

To Libertas strengthen in the west is necessary to push the limits of the earth beneath his tongue and penance for the greedy entangled in the lines of bloodied sky, rebellions Chieftains death-defying all together at the edge of a cliff. 1769 The Pehuenches led by Lebian Cacique, joined the Mapuches razing Yumbel and Laja, the most peaceful Huilliches also joined mass alerting perhaps innocent people land blood-stained war and the Mackay Luchsinger.

No doubt portals military rebellion trigger blood, where they opened a tip and swords in the past. Here's reading concern is that the succession is timeless time, a sword without a sword, but on the tip of her blood is seen where there were herds and warriors crushed by their own footsteps. Here the phenomenon of freedom begins; Humanity runs treading his own footsteps, to save his family from a threat, but not strange forces that force you to use your defenses, because in the groves populate many helpless souls with his sword unused at the expense of being forced to use.

Freedom genome; It aims to reach where it has not come without looking back,
Chalices pour out is where the troubadours do not cuddle her close looks like time, singing while watching the changes are not of a new life


Heaven star,
Come to me,
I ask a sign to see them arrive,
Because I want to thus been dragged
Being together Eager to feel...
Those respites without being comforted
going to the mouth of the serpent.

About the Garden,
My home is to put my love,
He has to put the days imagining close...
To enjoy yourself is nonexistent...

Oh, my house tormenting me...!
Because in it I feel your smell
They are alone lights
Where I would wait for me to be in the dark...

In the coming future,
You will not see or hear my anger...
Perhaps my happiness nor peace praying
As the spear in the hands of the perpetrator.

You know a storm of whispers
I do sow your name in the wilderness,
It's because my judgments of hope
They mount up arable land deposited in my frenzy
Misled by a love which is my love.

But you never understand,
Because time has invaded my dwelling,
Invading my brain to give
It has invaded my choosing to love...

On the grass path,
Every time I move away from you,
I turn to see if you have not been...

Love came,
And I think that leaves us alone to avail ourselves
Ranging in our time...


But I can not resist his silence,
For my house want the noise of its action,
Why keys to the gates that serve my understanding.

Tramples my heart the fragmenting oddities into smaller pieces,
Your answer that call.

Tur love be like if I had created...
As if only you had appreciated your beautiful creation.

Do not destroy your work expresses in his mystery give life to your dreams!
Man aiming better earth, ask some of you to join your dreams...

! Your wife of this land does not procrastinate your misfortune,
I discover far peaceful landscapes like an echo in the spring,
As large and deep as your forgiveness for loving me more


It tells the Earth to the Sun in its perky tear benefactress of new opportunities as good and healthy smile rainbow on the back of Oviedo sheep valleys of freedom of Pietrelcina life.

To be continued…

Dispatched to seek out the “traitors” of High,
Michael, Archangel of the sky,
With God’s wrath in heavy tow,
Would bring about our kind to woe,
He tortured Angels and Devils alike,
Until he came to Azrael’s Scythe,
One of the most glorious battles,
Michael and Azrael had no previous quarrels,
They slashed, parried, savaged and fought,
Until such a time as a season wrought
The Snow and sadness of Death and Decay,
Azrael’s strength was abound this day,
And as the Scythe found Michael’s neck,
Michael lowered his sword, all vexed,
Afraid of his Father for his apparent failure,
Azrael began to speak of the Savior,
Who one day would save the good of Earth,
Although Angels do not share this birth,
Michael then decided to stay and in moral,
Like Azrael, protecting all of the mortals,
He chose to leave Heaven for Earth in time,
Until Gabriel was to come collecting his fine.
And in this decision, Michael hid himself from God,
So that The Father believing Michael was lost,
Wept in His glorious stead,
Thinking that His Archangel was dead,
He spoke unto the remaining Six,
He spoke and then they were convinced,
The Parents of Nephilim had struck Michael down,
It was then, Gabriel swore, he would see his brother found.

Azrael, abre tu ala negra, y honda,
cobíjeme su palio sin medida,
y que a su abrigo bienechor se esconda
la incurable tristeza de mi vida.

Azrael, ángel bíblico, ángel fuerte,
ángel de redención, ángel sombrío,
ya es tiempo que consagres a la muerte
mi cerebro sin luz: altar vacío...

Azrael, mi esperanza es una enferma;
ya tramonta mi fe; llegó el ocaso,
ven, ahora es preciso que yo duerma...
¿Morir..., dormir..., dormir...? ¡Soñar acaso!

The angel, Azrael,
came unto me -
he'd been drunk -
and showed me the true meaning of life

was inside of my glass:
"Swirling and burning;
a sour taste
in the back of your throat.
Something to sip wearily,
or gulp down in
devilish earnest. "

But of all things
the glass would empty
and the angel
would close His book
on us all.

I have never wished
for anything from life

But if there is one thing
I truly wish for before
I am in the arms of death

It is
to be held
by her

To soak in her
warmth, scent,
and harmful touch

To melt deep
between her thighs
till I dissolve completely

To release an inhuman cry
from under my skin into
the dark abyss of her pupils

To be kissed by
her cruel mouth
before death comes to kiss

My bed felt like a coffin,
shivering with agony,
I laid

Both the weeping angels
and the weeping ghosts
sang me a lullaby of sorrow

I drank a sea of my salty
tears hoping to drown

Hoping to meet you there at
the end of the shimmering moon

Covered in my gushing blood,
I asked Azrael for a kiss

A beautiful dazzle of sunlight wakes me up,
Slowly opening my eyes feeling numb.
Slowly remembering the taste of my own cup.
Karma, that ****** ****.

Splattering blood in the parking lot.
Severely beaten,
All of the memories and regrets are brought;
Left me bleeding.

A silly smile on my face.
Waiting for that fatal coup de grace.
A bludgeoned arm, a fractured leg, a broken nose...
Peacefuly falling in the arms of Azrael, to forever repose.

The pulchritudinous aquatic lair,

Of resplendent melancholy depth,

A place damaged beyond repair,

Teeming of glazed ghosts of death.



Hither and yon an offed world lingers,

The alluring charm of the cadaverous expanse,

Where bony-ice settles deep in frigid fingers,

A bloodless shore of gothic romance.



Eyes burning with a copper glance,

Vermilion waves wash over the bare sea-bed,

Waking the argenteous sand lance,

From their hide-out in death's head.



This oceanic God's acre,

Populated by inert remains,

Destroying the soul of a ballad-maker,

Hang-out of many sins and life-banes.



My languid, crippled stony heart,

Floating in this burgundy desert,

In fragments shattered into pieces of ****** art,

Blown away in a riotous explosion of subvert.







A/N: This poem is a tribute to the thousands of forgotten lives lost under the sea.

Is this the end?
I ask 'Azrael'
Where shall I depart
Where shall I restart
Where to take my heart?

What if the answer is silence
And if
Angel of Death
Steals my breath
And Says:
We Love you more
Then you adore
Your Leila

What Shall I say
On that day
When I will be alone on my way
~
Mirza Sharafat

Ignorances innate wove curtain of veils
Cut usunder heretofore obscuring
Bodhicittas valedictory wintry gloom torn
Of enlightenments will factioning the
Silenced mammonish city kingdom truced
As the wings of Azrael clinch
Earthly thistles; monolithic raiments
Deposed Hull, Hell and Halifax parcae
The willowing of light unfettering Fenrirs
Durance, howling aconite psalms suspiring
Suffrage relict paving with mewed stars
Redemptions tithed talents bequeathed
Of Heavens sinister prayer burning
Acinta dusts thine ashes threading
The wilful sword of Gods destruction.


ELEETE J MUIR.

A rotten skull
wired to feel melancholy

A nightmare self
that only saw freedom
at the tip of a kitchen knife
isolated from this life

A mind
with death plants
flourishing inside it

A garden of Angel's Trumpet
abloom with a deadly touch
recherché but poisonous

One of Azrael’s early visitors,
I’m now a flower in his graveyard

I am wrapped in her algid arms.
I am lost in her evocative glare.
I stand, environed by the Keres,
Those dilapidated demons.

Azrael, my craven shadow, clings
To me as a vulture stalks its prey.
Thanatos does each step possess
Forward into this acidulous air.

Fissured masks release languid screams
That fall upon pallid faces that have
Long since wilted in her Stygian womb.
Enervated laughs drone in mangy ears.

I stand on the periphery of this
Asphyxiating cistern. I ambulate
Across this sable field that shall
Become the executioner’s blade.

I'm there, but invisible.
I think that I'm invincible.
But I'm no Iron Man.

I try to be a Green Lantern
In a room full of Red Lanterns.
But trying is never enough.
Trying is never good enough.

Rage-filled regret
Strength-radiated reliance.
They call me devoted
Little do they know,
I've just deviated
From them all.

They tell me not to
Put up a fake front
A façade of sorts.
But I have to
To hide my scars
And shattered mind.

To say that
I'm good
When I'm not
Like aspiring to be
Like Atlantis
A picturesque paradise
An upsized utopia
An insecure phobia.

We were born
Into this world
Told that we were meant to
Change it.
Told that we were
Superheroes and princesses.

But I'm no Superman.
I'm a Sentry at war
With my own self
With those around me
With my own mind.

The happiness that I see
Is one that I cannot bear
Like Batman re-living
Past deaths in his lair.

I live it everyday
Feet full of lead
Like Doomsday and Superman
Here I lay,
On the ground,
Dead.

I know about lying on broken bones, beading into my back.
She was missing something.
She was lying on hands searching through the trench coat of a bathroom romance, watching butterflies melt,
She was becoming herself
At four thirty am I write her account, embroidered in a diary of lullabies,
“this is what death must feel like, being  left alone in a street screaming of footsteps and blacked out whispering.”
She threw deliverance, caked over old vengeance, out of the car window with daybreak’s kisses. She writes,
“I sit in the heavy sleet of the delta drowning in resurrection, grime from age wipes over me once,
twice,
The broken blood pools out of ‘I love you’s’ and islets.”
She slept with the darkness.
“Prayers don’t come for me anymore.”
She glitters, shivers, tactless as a teacup in an earthquake,
She is awake.
”I am awake.”
She documents God- "I feel God,"
- in herself. "In myself.”
There is a silence.
A burning, left, cold to dry alone,

This is for her.
Call it, my face, swathed in the impenetrable darkness when it is no longer my own, call it an aunt’s love when a mother’s doesn’t suffice any longer. Call it,
cigarette buds and elevator rides to death’s door. Call it power bubbling up from the violation.
This is for you; call it Cuban cigars, show tunes, and Marylyn Monroe;
call it misery. Missing, call it hues and paint, my life prostrated on a disgruntled canvas. Call it fate.

This is for you.
Call it liquor stains and tarot cards in a fit of ecstasy. Epilepsy, call it the most intricate balancing act of existence.
An unseen performance, a lyric with no voice,
“a cry in the night”
”a scream of supplication”
The hunters’ march to death, the Holy Grail’s melting between your fingers, civilization pouring through veins,
“death, destruction, life, happiness, Azrael, Abbadon, blood, Rome!”
“I don’t want to feel this!”
Call it whispers of unspoken meetings and witches in the night, threatening,
“I know you!”
“No you don’t! Leave me alone.” Recognition. “I don’t want to listen…”
She writes,
“I loved you…
On purpose and…you left me,
with,
myself.”

Call myself a Christian,
what the *******!
If Azrael was to get up close,
Then to God He'd run and tell.
"Father, goodness check this one,
something is wrong and needs to be done!
He wears red nail varnish and sings to the dead,
with powerful women alluring his head!
Death Metal songs, Pagan best friend,
flippant poems, the list won't end.
The lost soul should be flogged and hung,
he listens to Camel and Neil Young!
I caught him missing church last week,
his doubts are strong and will is weak.
His other best friend is an Angel he says,
he's seen Her pure light, the love in her gaze
And then there's the spirits, the circles the mirror,
and he says it all works, oh my what a horror!
Just to love Jesus is never enough,
can't tolerate all of his poetry stuff.
Won't you send him a plague, or a bolt from the blue?
There must be some kind of way to get through!"
The Good Lord will pause, says"Azrael you pratt!
It's only Jeremiah, the skinny welsh ****!"

My dear, I am writing you from the depths of my solitude, to ease your worried heart and mind. Loneliness has been gnawing at my terrified flesh as of late. Yet, my only wish is to remain alone. Unseen and untouched. I think this is pure joy, or the illusion of it. But I am content at this very moment. I promise.

You might think that I am slowly sinking. That I will soon reach the bottom of the ocean, and you fear it is too dark and solitary there. That I might not survive my own madness— not this time, not by myself. That I cannot swim nor do I intend to learn how to. That I willingly gave my body to Poseidon as a peace offering. That I finally made my peace— not with God, but with a god nonetheless. That I am all swallowed up. That I will not see you again. That I will die lamenting your forgotten smile. That Azrael, the angel of death, weeps over my doom. That I have died long ago—
But how can a corpse feel such emotions?
How do I tell my stubborn heart that it is not beating for you any longer?
How do I comfort my frantic soul by lulling it to an eternal sleep?
—And if so then tell me, my dearest one, don’t I deserve serenity, too? After burning for a decade, yearning for a safe haven. Do you think I finally deserve to rest?

un-damaged brains are such fertile fields
waiting to be sowed - as those with infantile
imagination are prone to dyslexic deficiencies
and given their dreams, have ensured their imaginations
be like foetal embryos - those prone to nightmares
will never be prone to Disney's wedlock being fulfilled -
dreams are imagination's thieves - and memory short-circuiting
a fake - analysis of conscious memory
is unlike analysis of unconscious memory -
albrecht dürer seemed sensible - we've become sensible,
but also too naive - our modern sensibility
extends into a belief in demons and angels
with modern pharmaceutical companies -
nothing has changed even though man is
in flux - with modern dentistry's trickery -
how can man trust man
and not feel obliged to distrust him
for reasons that provide us with travelling communes
or jeep-sees - see what lost diacritical approaches does
to the tongue entombed in optics? chiral-optics -
you can say gypsy and say jeep-see like a handshake.
god, we're paying for our original sin
with the virtuoso of animal plagiarism -
a mere peasant is also but a mere Mozart -
i too claim my right to talk easily among scaffold-men,
talk of his girlfriend and Smurfs due to height
and Gargamel - i rather among them than in
what is talked as the pop of the Smiths' vocab
of schooling and regret blues; cats demonic, dogs
saintly.

Crown the king wanderer
Keeper of the souls
Spare me not the mercy
Of a heart decades old
Trapped in this world
Out of time and out of place
Across the line of reality
Between this rock in the space
I will journey back home slow with no haste
The sights and the sounds will be here
Forever to keep my place.
Her voice will guide the walkers through the pale white shades
Pull back the curtain just to say.
Where are the legends that hide in plain sight ?
Reveal the way home through the blinding crystal light.

She Cuts Too Deep
Gypsy grant her wish and take her away
She cuts too deep, her riptide veins are dry like Spanish wine

The world brings pain to her shed, she cries too much her salted tears killed her mother's favorite flower.

Her pillow speaks ill of her, she sleeps no more. Her entwined stomach grows lonely, full of rage she eats no more.

She's lost in the dark, lost in the delicate night's of September. Gypsy show her a glimpse of light, show her where words of wisdom are written.

Her eyes are starring at the galaxy from far, she's trapped in the clouds isolated from the treacherous crowds.

She cut's too deep the ground is familiar with the taste of her bone marrow, Azrael sticks around but the pills won't go down fast enough.

Gypsy grant her wish and take her away
Take her to a place of sonnet's, a place of rhythm and rhyme, a place of poet's.

I am so nasty
people stand aghast
I am so bad
you feel a draft
on a summers day
murderous glances pave the way
I am sick, I am ill
babe with every hero it’s a battle of wills

I am so abrasive
I am like invasive surgery
I am so evil I burn bibles and call it purgatory
the devil herself could learn from me
I want pounds of flesh so burn with me

I am deathly shade
stalking the sun
I am the nightmare
in the night you run
I am evil
I told you to die
but chances are you’re petrified

I am so dishevelled
I make Darth Sidious look sprightly
Sith Lords can’t fight me
With just one flick of my fingers
death lingers
I am psychologically deranged
so psychopathically strange
you wondered if I was ever sane
I just got back from Frankenstein’s lab
I killed the hulk yes I am that strong and bad
I framed Sherlock Holmes
and made him into an ****** addict
cause all my plays our that strategic
I even cheat death
in fact I own Azrael’s blade
I am villain the one you crave.

Croon thy words
In a tune loud.
Wrap me ****
In a white shroud.

Yell thy whine
for my chained soul,
What shall determine
The dead one's parole?

Solace me dear
For death I Fear.
Strange is yet
That All I hear!

Dead one fears
As corse is hurried.
Don't haste to the yard
Where bones are buried!

Since I hear,
Speak to me dear.
As far I am unalive
Azrael won't arrive
And
Speak to me a lie
Until I die.

Hurled, entwined, the eyes go black,

Steel sarcophagus, demons stare back,

A glimpse so foul, of the abyss,

My life, it ends, possibility is missed,

The blood, gooey warm, and slick,

Lubrication of foulest finery and sick,

Glass shattering in mindless trance,

Thrown in the air to land on our back,

Twisted, cruelly formed, we look in oblivion,

Nothing sacred, it fits my life's ruin,

"Take me now Azrael, for I fear you not,"

Death will allow me to find peace and rot,

Worried, fearful, the gore too much,

Too little for my hands to touch,

Scalp displayed, upon landing safe,

I cry out, calming and wait,

The blood drips down upon my hand,

The pale skin turns sanguine, I find it hard to stand,

Entombed in metal, a twisted turn of fate,

She leaps to thought, I caress her cheek,

"Safe, be still, I'm here" I repeat.

I relocate my shoulder, a sickening pop

stomach turning pain, the faint I stop.

I wrench the door, and run around,

I rip hers open and rip casing to the ground,

Too shocked to cry, I gaze upon the wound,

I assess it as severe, although life is imbued,

_

CALL FOR HELP

I scream like the Devil.

My wrath for nothing but fear of loss

Drives my fury for her safety lost,

I hold a bandage to her head, and wait the eternal wait,

Speaking comforting lies, hoping they were true, and damning my own fate,

I hold her close and kiss her cheek,

I wipe the blood from my lips and realize I am weak.

"God, I'd give my life for her to heal"

Maybe it's a nightmare, this cannot be real.

-

In safety's arms, I still cry out,

I'M FINE, SEE TO HER, in doubt,

I leave my bed to wander the halls,

Searching for my name be called,

To be exhaled through the lips of a love,

To find my heart flutter, the wings of a dove,

The sight of her stabbed my eyes,

"Something so precious...", myself I despised.

I fought my way to her, and was almost placed in arrest,

I returned calm, I'm no help in duress,

I stand by her side and kiss her hand,

As my heart died, she smiled, I could stand.

She was born
Some time in spring
On the year I graduated
I was still in school
When my parents split

My brother
Was off "playing solider"
As my dad would say
Doing things the army way
He didn't know
Until he got home
That my mom had left
She took me with

My mother
Made me keep
Our move a secret
I wanted to tell dad so bad
Wanted to warn him
Of the misfortune ahead
I didn't even want to leave
I was caught in the middle
of everything

My father
Tried to make things right
But my mom wouldn't have it
I was all alone in a new town
No friends
I felt as if I were stranded
Or cut off from everyone I loved

Then she came
Some time in spring
She stole my heart
Almost instantly
Something so pure
Was hope to me
A new baby kitten

I named her Azrael
After the angel of death
And she was an angel to me
Not long after, my aunt died
And she was all I had

Then The time came
To come back to my dad
I left my mom behind
My dad didn't like Azzie
But let her stay

I would love her
Brush her and sing to her
And she followed me
Everywhere I went
We were so close
Me and my angel

She grew Ill over time
Became so thin
And was losing hair
Living in a basement
Began to take its toll

My father told me
To take her outside
And find her a home
I couldn't keep her anymore

But the fresh air
Healed her
But she still has to go
I never want to part
With my angel
For, she never left me
When I cried for my aunt
She never left me
When I felt regret
She was all I had
After I'd lost everything
Now, to keep her,
I'd give anything

Azrael Azrael sweet angel death, send your body unto me, let me partake of ritual and rise, flawless and enraptured, into burning sky and hysteria

Pink haired staccato speech acid tripped tongues and twisted mouths you were conflicted, you were conflicted you were and then you weren't

Fallout of frat house suicide party remixed to ****** birth, holy degradation raise your weak and trembling wrists and want for more

Opiod mass epidemic and rising real estate costs, everybody wants a ride on the wheel until it drops off and takes everything in the periphery with it

I'm singing, I'm singing Mary mother dear Mary, will you come to reclaim me, I have waited here forever for a sign

Can you feel this, lover?
I am your death mask
I am your ghost and I speak through you
Kiss me hard with your open Judas mouth
Pray forgiveness into me
Cauterize me
**** me like an open wound
*** into oblivion and never wash your hands again

I am vessel
Open mouth begging hands
Drain into me so I may exist

Empty spaces in childhood bedrooms,
Abscess of feeling **** of spirit
Pure ******* energy
Siren call of the solipsists and the narcissists and the junkies at the church and the poets at the bar and the once sacred twice ****** ego
Nihilist **** and surrealist *****
Somebody has to clean up all this mess

Hit a last high and coast down, come together, shatter
Natural symmetry of becoming and unbecoming
We are working towards an end we will never see

But I can almost feel it coming, yes
I can feel it rise
Christlike and bleeding from the tomb of want,
Raise me, raise me,
Sanctify and cure
Strip me to naked soul ******, light
Light, heat, beginning, beginning,
Send me higher
Send me infinite and screaming into a moment, world historic and vicious, let me emerge ****** but alive, steel and gunpowder

Take me in all my pieces,
Ash tongue to golden hair,
Magician to magic,
Life to death to back again,
Take me by my cinder burning hands,
and teach them how to explode

The grave thunders were of great coexistence in the mystical legions that turned around the nocturnal advance since the kingdom of the Subclavia and the Macedonian Psiloi began to raise the active groups that had to continue above the dusty silica, speaking no more than another doctrine that the tree of life in the geographical diameter of the town of Sapsila and Grikos on the war route to Skalá, but rather of epigraphy that was kept anonymous until they really saw each other face to face, fading from everything that will remain of the body that lies steep from the specters that will fight in the roadstead of Skalá.

Azrael "the help of God" began to be characterized with thousands of crowds that began to settle to witness this phenomenon of the military forces that had been annihilated in Arbela, and now revived were taking compensation for a credible epigraphy, more than people who were also crowds of souls that competed when contemplating the axon between Grikos and Skalá, attributing shared contemplation with the visions of the fragmentaries and the surplus epidermis, which were abandoned by both sides with the complexions of the same Angels that they left to reside and renew after the splendorous light that was dissimilar to their interests, and escorted them to define the strength of Baal prostrated to the Primordial Ether between all the opposing explosions that obviously divided the Mashiach, which was weighted with the gear of Light that was mediated in infinitives colors, between the banners to the source of Light of the Lights of the Kassotide as the o mphalo of aspiration in the Awir Qadmon of the Zohar, or explosional source of Light from where the Sybillas would descend from their vortex of admission that electromagnetically surpassed them from Hyperborea, and from where it looked like a millennial bleached that was reinserted in the ultraviolet, until degrading even in the pale celestial light from where the infinite playful colors of Raeder and Petrobus are divided, once again characterizing the families in their oikos, giving them holy water on the peaks of the Pelicans to be scattered in all the spectral figures of the Hoplite military forces that are they made upright and humble pro-courtiers who augured the strong influences of their eschatological, which would bring water and bread to all the regions of the Dodecanese after the Mega Seismic of Agios Andreas, from an orthodox rationalism instituted with super munificence withdrawn by the oppressor. The inclinations of both sides were different, those of the Persians were adverse to contemplations of greater emphasis and in the repairs of the medical battles of the past, since Bessos after the flight of Darío and his subsequent crime, he assumed as his Satrap car proclaiming himself as Xerxes' successor.
Fundamentalism brought the anxious troops in the Kabbalah of the Emotional Subclavian since it raises a colossal anthropological remnant of the spectral silica that unites Grikos and Skalá, arguing that from there in this subclavian the hormones of corpse mummies roar, with the greater flow than those that They are destined to die several times without having compassion for their ancestors, turning to the dust brooms that leads them to impieties that contradict the pietism that still did not lie in treasuring them, but wrapped themselves in their own syncretic sarcophagi, to praise the revolutions of woodworm. of dust with the hyper kinetics of Kabbalah that will bring light in meadows, and waters in streams that will be visible by the human eye towards the ecstatic, leaving them uncertain in the reality of joining the Merkaba as a coalition that has consonance, quality, and evidence with all the currents of thought and scholarship of irrational imperialism not adhered to the holiest and most generous to the action of service of Saint John the Apostle.

The strings were seen from great height like chains of Prometheus adding more links for those who made the syntax of Jakob when he came back from the lands of Laban leaving behind the cornered voices of the desert that clarifies everything, and leaves them in the spaces of the graphemes that make up the phylogeny of those who have walked day and night in the desert, at the expense of consonants such as Alpha and Aleph to develop the tracheo-laryngeal voices of Aramaic that were pronounced by all parts of the flint, and of deproposited inclinations of those who are paired by the coveted desire of the virulent result of the temptations by wanting to take all the material gains beyond the grave with Asmodeus or Lilith, if it is very broad to capitulate to the theories of the mysterious becoming, and how this colossal image will rise among all where the figure of the anthropological being rests that was flat in the subclavian, throbbing with so much flow of red blood cells, and Letters of Light where the Eagles and Oxen of Apollo will have the same inspirational wings of one who becomes divine after having been a mythological prototype, prostrated in all the powers of the Lion and the Gerakis as a master of the air and of the lion like the Cherub who he is jealous of the syntax and coordination so that the world began to speak of the common language with a language and its vibrations that rehabilitate the cosmos that had been twisted cabalistically since the Kassotide pit had been sealed. The communities made their souls cultured and genuine, allowing these militia networks to collide, claiming to sustain possible escapes before a body without a soul, being only specters that decomposed as time passed in the heliacal rise that made the pseudepigraphic alerts, to re-contribute to a literary reality that can be incorporated into the elite of anthropological literary works where spectral rooms can themselves contribute and build foundations, that are diligent succumbed parties having to go in the Zohar Light exhibition who stands indoctrinated to rise in these spectral posthumous Battle of Patmia.

The venom in my words is acid

as I look at the lake, so placid

I gander at the bodies floating,

their rotting corpses decomposing,

synergy of death and life,

their faces contorted,

expressions of strife,

Their dead eyes meet mine in search of a blessing

like that of which I could care less of caressing

-

although I hear them clear as day,

their ears are deaf to what I say

It truly is a pitiful shame,

those who Azrael never did claim.

only they know what they’ve done,

their mouths are stitched, they’ll tell no one.

as they rot, their minds will burn,

silently screaming what they most yearn.

-

Though on the minds of some, they creep,

Their lamenting screams lull me to sleep.

and as I drift off, my words are acid,

as I smile and gaze upon the dead lake,

So Placid.

Death comes quickly now with deceit
Azrael's swift ****** and repeat
No time even to check his receipts
Where is the forty days' notice?
Covid. the Avatar's fatal diagnosis

Perpetual mourning is our daily hymn
As we dance to the Viral god's rhythm
No end to these incessant chords
Or spiraling treatment algorithms
  
A requiem for the abundant life force taken
Unceasing cantata from the earth's broken
The dark composition's erratic notes
Orchestrated death, or science hoax?

We don't need fireworks to end the year
But answers and solutions to our fears
Ring the world's religious bells instead
For a shrouded New Years lies ahead

Peace to the departed too soon

Winter 2021

As quickly as the mind can fathom,

descended I into the chasm,

I am a hate-filled ****** cage,

A blade-****** creature of rage,

A tempest in the gale of Darkness,

A bloodied cruel phantasm.

from His palace, to this earth,

I have traveled and been through rebirth,

I have come to cleanse your sins,

to absolve your evil,

to **** again.

I am Azrael, The Angel of Death,

The Left Han of God, and Man’s Lament

You have displeased He who is Holier than thou

although you regret what you know,

you refuse to know how

you were and still are ignorant of the rules

That He Himself laid down

therefore you will be smitten

by the king of the clouds.

there will be no forgivenness

he has been a witness

to this pitiful world

an your wretched existence.

you will feel my scythe

as I cut you down

like worthless, fetid crops

rotting like the bodies I drown.

you will feel also my anger

at your cursed race

though He is not,

I am consumed by hate

for all of you who took this for granted,

just know I sat in the Kingdom looking down,

unable to understand it.

Now the Reckoning, the Reaper is here

and I can smell and see, even taste, your fear.

I have been sent to claim EVERYONE,

and I will not stop, rest, or sleep,

until I am done.

This is a story of man who defied all odds, and his name was Henry Fredrick. Henry rides the train every morning on his daily commute to the city, which is where he works. He is a repairman for Azrael Medical Center, a local hospital. Henry is a single man who lives alone and does not like to keep company very often. As said before, he takes the train from his residence located in the outskirts of the town. He seldom makes friends, but the friends he does have keep in good rapport with him. T’was the first week of April in the year 1987, that he departed like any other day when suddenly the train derailed. He was tossed about from roof to floor, and this vicious cycle continued until he was left lying on top of someone else’s luggage. Henry laid there for quite some time fearing no one would know where to look, and he began to think what he could have done better in his life. The only thought he had was of his death. Trying to rid himself of this misery he began to ask why he did not simply buy a car and take that to work instead of the train. The train was so close and inviting to Henry because he could spend time alone to think before having to deal with the occupational world. A few hours were spent and he finally attempted to move his carcass so that he could perhaps be found. He struggled to crawl up to the door, the only escape route. That’s when the feeling hit him, like someone was watching him or planning his demise. Henry frantically looked around but saw no one. He began to yell for help when someone or something showed up. The two of their eyes met and instantaneously the two of them became preoccupied with the other. As Henry began to widen his gaze from those engulfing red eyes, he notices that indeed that thing that was watching him was a dog. The dog grabbed onto Henry’s shirt puling him from the wreckage. The dog seemed to have supernatural strength and Henry felt as if he was floating on air being carried on the shoulders of some strange beast, but was most likely due to the fact that he lost basically all of his blood. The dog dragged Henry’s broken body to the street, and that is where Henry blacked out.