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CRH Jul 2013
This city makes me miss you.
And I would pretend to be surprised,
but the ceilings in cities are always too high
and my thoughts tend to wander.
(For the record, I am less than impressed
that they found their way back to you.)
Last night, I swear you were waiting for me to fall asleep
to climb into the rafters, and sneak into my dreams.
I woke up feeling haunted and exhausted.

Now you've been following me all day,
and I'm tired of looking over my shoulder.
Kissing him makes me remember the taste of your bitter coffee breath.
His kind eyes contrast the complex hurt yours used to reflect.
His simple, level-headed ways make me recall all
of the circles our troubled words used to spin,
the endless loops we were always trapped within.

My ears keep echoing with the way
you used to chatter nervously in your sleep.
And I can almost still smell your apartment
with the candles struggling to mask damp laundry,
unwashed dishes, the smell of sweat and stale ****.
The heaviness collecting inside of my chest resembles
the weight of your body wrapped around my lap
the last time we spoke and the way my fingers
still found their way to your back.
I wonder if you understood the things my fingertips traced
while our words started cornering us into our familiar place.

                                                      We were circling the drain anyway,
I was just another silly girl who thought she could save someone.

                                 I'm really sorry
                                You should be
I miss you
Good.
                                                         ­                  
                                              ­                                    You always saw through my *******,
                                                       ­                             it scared the hell out of me.

                    
I would have loved you exactly the way you are-unconditionally  
                                           ­                      You were always enough.


                                                       ­                                                                 ­   I love being miserable.
                                                    ­                                            Well, you should probably get used to it.

                                                        
                                                      We were circling the drain anyway...

Our conversations are the world's worst song on repeat
but I felt such smug closure after that night
things finally felt finished or at least mostly complete.
So why now did you feel the need to start the haunting again?
Call off your ******* ghost, B.
I am tired. Its over this time.
This needs to finally end.
You once said if we weren't careful that we could do this all our lives. But one of us got clumsy and both of us got wise...
Steve Page Mar 2017
I miss my mother most
when I'm in her frenetic company.
Such an angry fragile woman
in the shadow of the mum
she used to be.
Lost and alone, wanting a way home,
one woman against the world
with no old friends
only fresh new foes.

She can identify every shifting lie
sitting scared with no escape
from a hundred shifty eyes.
Stalkers criticise every mistake
watching her practice looping moves
cornering her as if to prove
that we're all conspiring
each trying to rob her
when the screaming truth here
is that her fleeting thoughts
have already gone where
we can never walk
not even in our tears.
Dementia is a slow killer.
From the interstitial bile of the Profitis Ilias, was emanated the inaugural armour of the codes of Radius’s Eurhythmy. With it traces it typology of the three broken areas of energeia purple that will raise from bases it elementary of the contrafactum of melody of the Raedus. First with the paragraph’s of the Prophet Elias in the portion of the firstly 103 meters but awarding the contrafactum melodic same on the text of the Raedus Codex, that they will be rhythmic epigraphs of hallelujah and beginning of the Kirye. The polyphony will be an elevation of liturgy that will deliver doubly for the pipe that carries the prolific ascension to the face of the surface of the Profitis Ilias. Hypostasis Will be the substance, but of be to of way of the true unified to the all of the reality of the Áullos Kósmos.  To some 1, 7 years incessant light followed coming the Fourth Saeta of Zefian, to order the Áullos Kósmos with the ordination of the Go Auric that will conclude the retina that remains of the firmament and of his path like full earthly extra. The quota of prophecies will reside in the tectonics of the cliff and in fail them of the rocky mass, on the upper blocks from this outcrop from the inferior layers, from the start of the materials allochthonous on the hole of erosion, going in the Sibyls and the Prophet Elias until the 103 meters of the height.  

Codex I -Tectonic Nihil

The honor explains the Regressive Legend of this good piece of Meat Corpulent and Brain also, was born to write his astragals in his terminal syllable, whole and dying with the blood of Etruscans Steeds and Macedonics, each had golden piercing hanged internally in one of his six ******* paranasal, sealing the life of this blood caretaker Franciscan and swordsmiths extemporal so that with his last four molars yielded the light amalgamated Crystalline and overflowing in the gums of the lapse that soaks of blood the fields equestrian. In this codex Sibyl Pérsica would enter by the cylindrical vault, she advanced with a light secluded and stepped a snake, under the steeled hooves of Alikanto. She with his veil and oil lamp announced the arrival of the Messiah, here the awakening semblance invokes by the honor of his come, to Parents and the Mothers. The Souls of Trouvere appear beside Estratónice, Lochnith, and Wonthelimar.

It says Lochnith: The world abdicated the pontifical, have run the curtains so that enter the light, Moses here has to come with the true curtains that house the lunettes, the thrones of the Sibyls and Prophets that come us the miracles salvations that are born of his entelechy, for the one who is forbidden in the thousandth portion of the broadcast that break out like an affair signal, and testamentary of the Apocalypse to the Poielipsis in creation testament were live in the whispers of Emmanuel, in the verses burnished and oracular of Sibyl, daughter of Dárdano and Neso. With meager differences and matrices between Hellespont and Dardania, like Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and this last between the outstandingly in Eon Kareem, but in the corresponding bifurcation approximated to the baptistery. The Hexagonal Primogeniture will mandate the hardships of hexameters in front of the hectometers that will do evidence of the Escatón a third world is like a consistent reality, real that will carry us to the hope of a life satisfied and trained.  

Codex II - Tectonics Supra Lithosphere

Three white eagles’ headed flew by Tel Gomel, carrying blood in his claws twisted of spines turgid. They brought the vaticinator of double death predicted, with his double craze put and his double helmet that transmitter the rings of the putrid Tanat’s by the faces, and by his lips lackluster feeble in Him, Vernarth had sent them a missive with the Eagles in low flight; all they were dressed of the stink of the field of yellow fog and black battle, on the silty hooves of Beelzebub that heaved in the ones of Alikanto, they moan on the lymphoma of the size of a dream of six decades in his ridge crucible, that wheezed purges by his full snout of rests of lymph remaining in the interstitial of his teeth Burnished canine-alanos. His heart reconverted in armour red ad limitem with blue endocardial flourishing. When putting the twilight of the blowout lying of wind Eolionimi and Shamal, went breaking the vertical with the halter of his greedy steed to the spit helicoidal volatile mats in the catacombs of Markazí where residents of his lineage forge dwelt in abominations of the Lives that renacían victorious from the fire of cult to the city that houses his true Life and Soul in Sibylla Pérsica.

Singing of Wonthelimar: Already the veils have collected will carry the candles that wire the souls freed of Trouvere cries of prosperity expect us from the medrons that rebirth of the immanent presence of her same, to meters on the level of the lithosphere showed the Rings Ibics to the meeting of a tertiary matchmaker in the Saeta of Zefian,  and behold where interprets the law, the future gives us the pennant of justice insufficient of Light but there of the cavern that is born in the turns of the third world. It says Of Meturgeman or Rabí that break down the avatars of his advances, by ends off-center if they have to be the verticality of the Sibyllas with the mind of God. Like this we go topping by this axon of spiritual fatigue, centering in the nervous excessively that goes out of the body of consciousness of the cosmos, transmitting impulses of the same by Elías´s links, where the motor structure of the teacher and the testamentary of Leví, and Greek Aramaic Leví in Qumram subsisting to the big speed of how has to pass the Messiah priestly will interpret all the word of the Mashiaj in the Áullos Kósmos in his order motor and behold the Messiah  Priestly, and the patriarchs like Set, Enoch, and Isaac having the work of unraveling the illusions and mysteries of the cosmos of the same way that the angel interpreter the nocturnal visions in the apocalyptic relates of San John the Apostle.

Codex III -Tectonic Quartzite

The disloyal Ghosts came from 70 km of the Iranian city of Shiraz province of Fars, near the place where the river Pulwar ends in the Kur (Kyrus).  His construction and destruction would be provinces that will be subjected until the conquest of the Persian Empire subjected in October by Alexander the Great. Persépolis Remain turned into rooms of the Harem and in *** of magnet bizarro between massacred gods. The transitions of the porches in the sides are joined by angular towers in the Apadana of profane interlock. The two big doors remained opened in eternity groaning salts in interminable assets of predefinition and recharge in his abortive degree.

Here they were the comrades of Vernarth overwhelmed of preparations and attires in the lobs of Mars on his shoulders after oracles tempest of the burning sun in his heads.  Anahita; Goddess of the nature, pours the blessed waters of the nature that washed with morbid rains the bodies of the fallen in the ***** battles with the roosters of the Zoroaster, cutting the palanquin where are seated, and enraptured in polytheism with Ahura Mazda with a short difference like cloister and capota, ad carry to shoe the monarchic attires of Macedonia in front of his defeated realm by the subjugated constitution of golden blood of Alexander the Great and Vernarth tied to the Macedón or Zeus, fully Hellenic that ran vast both strides by muted seams of basaltic streets of paving stones, and obsidians between paradises of vintage and wind. The Sybilla Eritrea shows his veil not only collected but significantly knotted on the belly that alludes to the state of gravity of the ****** in Incarnation (scene of the Annunciation). The meters of ascension to see determinant the first 103 meters of climbing insinuate the appellatives of Erqia, Eriflam Herifle, and Riquea.

Singing of Estratónice: In the marble reside of white Apeiron of indeterminate infinite matter, exempt of quality and that finds in the eternal movement of the Eolionimi, that has to dwell in his belly a savior white from the Áullos Kósmos or paradise of Vernarth, the word will say that it rescues the life of the mortal the facets of the Katapausis would make amends the effluvia Hebrew in the ponderation of the mainstay of the virola that embraces the saeta of Zefian falling from the altitude. The biface solitude will trespass the rocky subsoil of the peak of the Profitis Ilias like this with tender meters that will cross the Fero of absorption of his Santity and Salvation of the Humanity.

Codex IV Tectonic Cenozoico

From Rodas, the geological temporary scale will contribute us the evolutionary frame of the rocky mantle, and superpositions in the happen of time. I register fossils of organisms that underlying in layers or endodermis of the prehistory of the Dodecanese. Vernarth After crossing the Helesponto transgressed his for psiquis parapsychological in the substitute Brook to Sudpichi like a weightless mantle of a Machi praying to the Kósmos Negechen by the rickty Rehue prophesying to him on his hands dismembered of bravery, of big assistance in 300 years of souls Nge-Nge Mapus deu in the raging nose that propelled the wrath; similar substitute with which trigger the knot, Champollion with some sphinx uncovering the allegories of Pandora from the Valleys of the Kings.

Singing of Sibila Líbica: The sparking plugs will inflame the Iridescent eyes of the Mashiaj flashed in the likely settlement mortuary of Alexander the Great in the oasis of Siwa: Oh My warm wind of Libya that flatters my chees, and my shoulders that groove in the light of the callous brain coexistence of Zeus. Singing by you my Didaskein; treating or teaching to the baffled herd that confuses the menages that were born to. B.C., not having a reminiscence of Irradiation in the mastery of the continuous-time of not contravening of ignorance, but yes to find him agreed and effulgent!    

Codex V Tectonic Brisehal  

By the desolate empty Dasht-and-Lut, Brisehal a huge shady of structure is moved him when is covered until all half orient, even disobeying to his parents; beings in uncrowded places of contemplation that were surfacing of his big mountain of the delighted desert overflowed the lemurs strolling alone as wanting to take off the last spark of politics that remained them for surrendering in his own banishment encountered. Brisehal Was an eminent mount with a head of the can similar to Anubis, but million times of the size upwards and with a clorhídricbreath, like a perspective of the congregation to go into the garden-realm of The Skies and in his laps. Before shivering the day with the movement of his shuddered step, Brisehal was two years moving day and night in the surface that did alluring of lux Solaris.  Brisehal In this fifth codex liquefied in the black layer of the tunnels of wind that hide by Dash-and-Lut, until the sensory layer of Dasht-and-Kavir, attracting by the tunnel of the grotto of 308 meters of height of Patmos intra geological, all the sculptures and images of the cusps did near to the 103 meters of initial altitude in this vertical underground in attachment with the parallel that retracted in cubic tones drilling the doloninas or geological depressions in the extensive of Lut for a giant that is born of the wails and lacerations of Vernarth when it was tutored by saetas in the middle of the field of Gaugamela, even moving to Maceo. When they moved noisily the dolines, lower mountains conceived deduced with the greater effect of his swivels nerves were immense thunderclaps that even reflected until the spheroids nimbus reddened by the riot of Dasht-and-Kavir. It turned off left to right pretending exile the Desert of Lut tubed in pro generation by both do of optical rope or fibers in high energy density, and that it could cohabit beside Vernarth disabling in the odyssey of the Horcondising (Paradise of the lineage of Vernarth to Gaugamela).

Singing of Brisehal: The veil that receives the indifference, has knotted in the abdomen hatched of the earth, and of the dolonina that protected me of the folio that barter what there was or of will have to become. The Gesta of all those that suffer from foot and rely on, have three abortive routines in his gravidity of a white relative, that did to shelter me in the love to my gentleman Vernarth. Sibila Eritrea neither in Greeks nor Latins has to sortear the breviaries of the maximum pontifex that speaks while dozing of anilines nights where anybody perishes awake in his epítome?

Sibilino By the Saudi, from the vórtice direct the gulfs that hide from where rebirth like choruses of Esquilo, behind the springs of Agamemnon in where Clytemnestra opens plains that do to run the Shamal by his dry disposition of dew, but humid of the sap of Eritrea faces in springs subtropical that tears dry of the tough body fallen in tears that will not hear by the tenacious hemp?

To the-Haffar, the third party is with saetas in his thigs, arms and pectoral, where the star does open shining for the one who dies by her in the first lightning of the night Thurayya, with violent embraces to receive to the one who from a codex receives the fifth bowl for violent winds of fishermen that resolved of the wind in a fine dust of the cleft hands of Aldebarán, peepholes of bilges of ogres that are born hell to die as pious in arms of Sybilla Eritrea, and in prologues of Brisehal with so many meters of wingspan, nevertheless that of any rye in the greater degree that have to ceremoniously in perks of a revived Sybilla Líbica.      


Codex VI - Strigoi Asthenosphere

In the spring of 331 b. C., Alexander the Great left Egypt returning to the port of Shot, where was his fleet. Of there it headed to Antioquía, crossing the valley of the river Orontes, and arrived at the River Éufrates to the height of Tapsaco, were founded the city of Nicéforo so that it was a strong square and tank of the supplies of the army, Here it was learned that Darius was found in Arbelas as he was crossing the Tigris, and heading north along the eastern bank of the river. The Sybilla Cumana found in the height 97 of the tunnel of wind when auscultating these waves very near of the dolonines, in avidity of the Pythia Délfica with divinatory proselytes that visited the folds of his attire, in places of his divinatory crowd cerebral. His relativity Cumana waste of energy of the Mausoleum, prophesying life for all in the passion of the life together with the abandoned bodies by the souls of the Devotio Roman, and in the poverty of the soul that drains scared by not remaining desolate between half of the parchment of Lilith, and in the offering of the Strigoi by breaches of troubling visions in the darkness of the cavern of Chauvet, when sacrificing competitive emotions of the Votum maléfico of Lilith.  Only one can exist like an inviolable part of the tradition of the chastest Wonthelimar, attempting the Xiphos with human chamois in tectonic offering and frizzing the altitude 103 of the tunnel of wind of the Strigoi.    

Vlad Strigoi Sings: Mardiath, noble and loyal hussar of the sea of Vernarth, Boss of the fleets of the Gulf, came by the cover when giving the turn by the bauprés, sees collected and hit by ropes in parasitosis that shined like a stray in the oars of the gods, and pleading that felt in the whistling of the wind. It approaches and it descends by dark sheds stairs with direction to the piston of water, who heresy in the ship Vladiana is quarreling when I training me in writing when saying who love the one who I am not, alone receipt phlegmons multitudinous Saecula Saeculorum, not hitting any foundation to confess me. They say not knowing that reveal due to the fact that it is not content that compares to the one who does not have Age, Life either Compassion that only has to communicate me like messenger Strigoi! Now I know that anybody will sing my thoughts, there is not ink that dares to spread a comparable quill that resists my word of ammonium Strigoi, usurped of a shipping Ballinger to some Flemish pirates, seconded to the side by a barge of Panescalm, that threw to 64 one thousand bodies massacred of the Bubonic Plague. Mardiath, get out of the Ballinger and leaves his sword to Vlad beside a geographic table to rediscover a destination in some doncella that could attend his disorders, more than ganglion suppuration in prostration. It traces back the course to shot to find with Vernarth and his minions to direct finally to the braves fields of Gaugamela and the Prehensile Ctónicos who revered to the gods or telluric spirits in the tectonic infra world by opposition to celestial deities, appearing in the tubular ascension of the warm wind that topped the consecration of my roman arteries, and all those that were up expecting them. The oblations of light lit the particles of the woodworm that suspended expelling those that magnetized the fosca matter. The unconnected syntax did periodically in the words of Strigoi from the Capite Velato or head watched from the Ballinger Strigoi that attained relocate. In double increase of sap did it minor to resist his life and his closure lying minimum in front of Wonthelimar, and Mardiath that satisfied him of the company in the eyebolt that sustains the road in his sullen life.

It sings Mardiath: The troops of Vernarth would split from Shot were found his fleet that came from Sudpichi from the Empire of the Horcondising. It explains the legend that in the heights of the Gulf when his army goes sailing, break out on his squares a mysterious tempest of hot airs of Ormuz to the height  665 in miles of Um Kasar, had found pertinent shipping of current Romania. when spotting them and take part inside this frigid ship at all there was, only crunches of topmasts and his sail greater that was spurring and presenting fenced curtains that came from of Sighisoara/Transilvania; where the alike Vlad Tepes stated seated behind a chamber of captaincy writing in his buffet. Each true interval took out a handkerchief to dry his ****** nose, like a pinch of gelatinous darky ink and sullied. It sings Isaías: The presence in the versed and corresponding folio, does relative the prophecy of Emmanuel been born of a ****** that associates to similar prophecy Virgiliana of the Cumana justifying his prophetic symbolism and beholds the caution that blackens skies where the light retracted, thousands are chained during the annunciation of a thousandth abyss like the fateful Strigoi only troubled pastures will have to transplant rebellions, that dying slept for the winnow of the ideal of incipient spiritual ******* dressed of execration. It has trigged the conflagration of the heart that resists the death and that is in decline several times in the conditions awaited by the apostates when denying of the water that does not do them Optimus and does elliptical the radius of obedience in the heart Vernarthiano satisfied of granules of Physconia grumose, whose frequency they become encysted in bodies of traitors reigns and of fungus lineages. The reign of the saints will judge plurality in the thrones with devastation in fatuous beatifications in Pérgamo, already admonished by me.    

Codex VII - Báculo of Sheesham  

Vernarth it calms lying down on the bunks of the fire of Sheesham. Beam and Incense with ultra olfactory and sensory powers, delineating the elementary and phenomenal cores housing and adapting híper connectivity with probity Hinduist the akasha executed the essential foundation in all the things of material cosmovision; the first palpable material element and concrete was created by the god Brahmá (air, fire, water, earth are the others). Did it treat one of the classical elements of Hinduism, pañcha-majá-bhuta or? Five big elements; His main characteristic is the sabda (sound). In sanscrit, this word means "space. It is the physical and eternal substance Akasha, of the ether that flows by the Akasha-Nautas and by Vernarth in each regression parasicológica. Vernarth Takes of a báculo called Key of Sheesham purchased it once anxious for delivering it to his beloved Toscana in the Cathedral St. Mary dei Fiori, in one of his Regressives Lives. They expected it astonished by the tyrannized impulsiveness of the noble in Florencia, of which once again came delayed of the tillage of the barley and of the god’s fatuous next to the Porcellino. It expected long hours until it went out his beloved Maddalena of the Eucharistic ceremonial, while the carried in his right hand his crosier, and in the left a rectangular box sizeable for his hand, inside carried essences of the potpourri of lavender and vellorita, a ring with a stone of amethyst coated by a concave skittle of gold, in the outline supra circulate carried medieval ornaments of silver of Etruria of the Party of the past barley. In front of this acquiescence Sybilla Samiense, followed carrying the clairvoyance where the prophet Isaías there was untied the conflagration of the heart that resists the death and that is in decline several times in the form today from Kafersesuh in Ein Karem, opens the stamp of residing in the cradle where María poses beside his son, already being part of the lithosphere of Getsemaní and of Vernarth in the heart of Maddalena.

Phylogeny in Getsemaní: The **** erectus crossed with multiple pieces of evidence of beings pro-evolutionary-adaptative, Neanderthal/HomoSapiens. Children of Israel wrote parables, epistles, verses, histories, and books, his vocal tract and phonetic spoke of tempest and environmental factors between sky and earth, of the big noise out of us, but little silence in us. The elementary is larynx that only pronounces the image that reports concepts evocative minimal of the sound in distinct placings of the melisma in mega sound. Speaking us how the language varies according to the history, and the half civic-climatic instructing us to his threshold and descendants when giving off by the effusions aerial of the language in assiduous levels tracheo-laryngeal. Earning authoritatively the intervals of vocalization, and relation of the junction with the agriculture and all his dimension descending by his internal walls, but going up by parietal overexcites out of her same.

Of the little air that remains to the world, to follow digesting temporarily assumes leaving flow his extra-air that possessed this in particles mechanically inert, and no in sanctified prophecies with miracles inferences and Inherence that Innova factótum, in the súper existence of which even do not perish by the hand of a monarchic mandate. Like this, the world swallows air in halves suffocating and contaminated whole, whereas others redistribute it for the one who needs to seat at the table to collect the Bread and share it with the other half.  Here it echoes the echo of body Christic, that in Aramaic syndicate much more than a language in his blood, grapheme and phonemes of stylistic in vibratory shock further of his deep stretch reverberating with the grace of his billed divine. Joshua swallows spikes and leaves simultaneously having us in his arms like children of olive-nursling, risk a sheep in his arms giving us lactate hydro-milk of the sustain of a verb creator. Fact strict to preserve the Aramaic and no stray with turning the turns of the leaves in the history, the Aramaic has to incorporate for the times that Joshua grazes us after more than two thousand years even. The one who is walking of one side to another to say us that it still is here, only comfort suggest your walk plagiarized with his larynx the sound of his expression the sheep is mammalian but mammalian that the man as his billed formulates bleats always reflected in the base of his skull for the rest of his children like biblical language, under all the rainbows of Querubines bawling beside boys surrounding them in identical intention! **** habilis, **** Sanctus in a process that possesses Orthodox bases and peripheral anatomical capacity, a linguistic Pythagorean shortcut of the dalliance and sternum when confusing it between yes, not altering his structural complexity neither functional. Of the potential of the Lepidoptera and winged insects, will arise the phenotype that will relate and relativize the mechanical aramea or Aramaic method for no stray the divine tongue, as well as it also is sublime the laryngitic torque of the one who possesses blood and body Aramaic, as his mechanized mystic devours the minimum words with the maximum in an all of the ranges of cacophonies and of prototyped field, they see to my field here spoke the spikes and the insects more than the own mechanical potential of your Voice.

The tunnel of wind filled with Lepidópteras that flew rising in shape helicoidal, everything sensitized with the imminent advent of the saeta magnánima of Zefian that came crossing the perihelion from the high Áullos Kósmos, dialécticamente with abundance credibility in the interior of the geological tunnel of the Profitis Ilias, list to the turgent of lactation doctoral theological. Timoratas And long justices rounded in those who were even exhausted, entre ajar the colophon of the days that began with the identification of the báculo Sheesham, appointing regent of tribulations that drains by his length of trip, to the basality static focusing idiosyncrasies and interests of the Prophet Elías that it received them in the height 103 with passages of Corintios that the saints go to help in the administration of the saints millenials. His capacity will not have the limits of his previous earthly life?  


Codex VIII - Ultramundis Alikantus

Alikantus Archetype of his a short astral trip three days that topped in Gaugamela...! Bulle In hides and discomfort after lightening his igneous hooves by slippery Lerapetras of Lasithi in stepped that seemed to be the same inflows of committed that brought Kanti of Creta, that pyrographed the floor Traciano before arriving at the request of his address. It resorts to Medea, before arriving at Tracia after errate by distinct places in search of protection and councils to protect to his master Vernarth, while it subjected to the last libations opiáceas of vivid liliáceas and angiosperms encapsulated in his pectoral right in the anonymous of Alikanto, asking him to Medea a potion to be able to supply him to his master and reduce inflammation his pectoral for like this can use his armour Áspis Koilé in the fight, as they subtracted three days for the duel. Medea Arrived at the city of Athens on a tempestuous day with a gray dantesco Fusco on the palm of the cliff escaping previously near Abdera, in which the orient proceeded to evacuate sooty plectrums to the sunset. Medea While it looked to the sky, took a piece of anthracite of feldspar to create javelins of aluminum that would have to carry Alikanto to his return, beside the potions for deflating his pectoral infected. It painted the sky with grey lines plotted and lodged later in his wry loop,  sighting from the infinite signals that came joining up in a ray of an alloy whose semblance seemed to be a king, it was Egeo, that not only offered him hospitality but it would link with Medea with the hope that his sorceries allowed him to conceive a son in spite of the advanced of his age. The sorceress fulfilled his expectations by having a son to call Medo. When Teseo, the secret son of Egeo, arrived in Athens had to that his father recognized it like heir Medea took it as a threat to the future of his son and tried to poison it. But Teseo discovered it, accusing it to commit horrible crimes and witchcraft, Medea had to escape again. This crusade had the assistance of Alikantus that transported it flying from Abdera, not to be captured and can supplement the potions that had requested him Alikantus, also with javelins that had to carry to Vernarth to escort him off the splendorous insult. The convulsed Sybilla Cimera customized the symbols of the ceremonial willing forging classical gestures of prodigality, and that at all less was a cornucopia given to zephyrs of the Ultramundis, that revolutionized the boss around that shuddered in the pickets of the dermis rocky that dressed the walls of the final tubule of 103 meters. The channel located referred inclinations of Likantus that harassed, and customize the final discretion of Teseo to finish with the folio of Egeo downward breaking the sentence of his son, and evading it of his stepmother. In this colisseo rooted Teseo beside his mother Etra that did not reveal him the name of his father until it fulfilled sixteen years. Arrived at this age, Teseo could raise the stone, shoe in the sandals and the sword of his father, and initiate his trip to Athens to be recognized like a son of the king. From this obviously Vernarth in the film of Gaugamela dressed him in the sandals Persikaia that did of him the one who never was, and if it died would carry them settled until the altar of the comedies in the Tristanía, where all that surrealist exceeds the loquacity narrow of reality, more than at all in racked muses in forced symptomatology of paranoia or of a heroine Sybilla, that mediated with the Arms of Christi in the iconology of the Codex Raedus.

Vernarth Seated in the edge of the Ultramundis, and broke in front of the cosmos and the solitude that hid all the beings that floated in the ditch that he collected in his moaning, in such judge that it rejected all the creations when feeling his wails, where the demons looked him from the darkness that fragile hastened his Magro occipital, attacking him in front of Medea evading the Satanic circumscription to contravene it the agreed with Egeo. The perjures reigned in the doubts of tragedy favored of Komedia parading in victorious procession, and singing triumphs of duality paranoic tragic, enthroned in the martyrs of tribulation, and in the seeds of the one who does not cease Tragediopathic Ubis, and in facts that speak of the hunger of solitude in all man plunged of the Ultramundis, as only dimensional of the one who burns in his doubts and of Anastasia frustrated. Vernarth Saysekáthisan and the Duoverso in consequence of the Universe seated to dry his tears then Vernarth received from the darkness of the Ultramundis a golden light of steeds Hippeis with an aura of Tesalia, where the krima or criminality become in three chambers threaten from Maceo to the confrontable in the half-hour of Arbela. Vernarth compress desisting the essays of procrastination reconstructing bodies’ severed here more than going isolating of his own souls and sins, with Hebrew souls of root Néfesh that took spooky in capsizing of decapitation of the one who lives exponentiating in the solitude of the Ultramundis. Inexorably the infra earthly holiness of the surrealism exceeds any verse, if it is that it was Lazarus here in the tunnel of wind the one who raises in front of Vernarth embracing him,  and playing it cool the greek of Likantus to fulfill him his mission.


Codex IX Ultramundis Phalanx
            
The labaros of the Phalanx saw from Asia some of the faithful groups of Alexander the Great. They appeared like ursids and Amphibians that came by the near step from Gorgan. "The Red Snake" was a defensive construction from here come the palfreys of Alikanto, preview with big camerades of animals for the body adhered to the cavalry of Alexander the Big. This incredible barbican begins on the coast of the Caspio, north of Gonbade Kavous, and continues to the northwest and disappears in the mountains of Pishkamar. They continued on the buttresses beside Bears and Leviathanes, they formed part of the totemic dreams, that taenia Vernarth when it assumed hallucinations doped by regressive turn by hieratic spaces to the slip away in hardships and incorporate in connection with animal pets in rhythms and waltzes of the applause of his atabales. Alikantus came speedy flying almost without detaining and without distracting when he brought the poisons and instruments of the armory of the panoply. He came Already had for the hours that came to fill out details before taking the game besides the Heavy infantry, Light, and Thessalonians. Inside the most elementary of his mission, he was to do the protocol of the potion, broadcast the preaching beside the Lumberjack, and distribute the javelins to the Hetairoi of Vernarth.

When anchoring the cerulean hoofs of the fire unknown of the Gods, attains to discern as to Vernarth took him out of the back of an Elephant attacker was besides accompanied by the cunning guard dog of Alexander called Péritas, that insinuated him start and raise with windstorms in warlike stratagems. Vernarth Came of his last session frugal Opiácea, for institute vegetal nervous lianas that commonly remained with some of them, and remained cut off in his cephalic vein and jugular stalking his ******, that always spreads in laurels of Cocoon, and by averages of intríngulis that had to gobble up by some days. It would follow daily being joined to the infinite that saw him be born, like the most magnificent Commander of Alexander the Great neither imagined nor collated! The wall Gorgan possessed a length of at least 200 kilometers upper to any one of the Roman walls that outlined in archeology like works of bastion. It was exhausting to exceed it and take a course with beasts since they were upset when being near Tel Gomel to the present that they were approaching the mulch of Vernarth; due to the fact that they were his very adored pets besides the Crocodiles Tupak. The Alazanes were prescribed by a watchdog of the wall of Gorgan being of the Persian army that was seduced by the bears to combat beside Vernarth.

Next to the Bumodos, already saw Vernarth play with his pets, Bears, Crocodiles, and the can of Alejandro Magnus. Further submissively approached shoring his frozen neck, Alikanto or Alikantus preceded with donations and drugs for his master brought of the sleight phalanges by Medea. Vernarth was appreciated and almost emancipated of the branch mowing and the strains venal that populated mostly in his pectoral and both full arms of smelly tattoos that had colonized him. Almost when getting dark on burgeoning them and fluffs of Zeus then begin to arrive the phalanges of Vernarth. The Phalanx of Macedonia was the training of infantry created and used by Filipo II, and later by his son Alexander the Great in the conquest of the Persian Empire. The phalange Macedonia arose, in fact, like the answer in front of holistic modifications and tactical Hellenistic of Theban strategists, Epaminondas and Pelópidas of strengths of earth that deployed at the beginning of the 4th century B.C. For opposition to the superiority, although it already was decadent in training hoplític spartan, that had exerted in the terrestrial fights between the polis Greek until that dates.

The Sybilla European carried a Gladius in his hand but exchanged it with the Xiphos in alternation by the death of innocent entrusted by Herodes the Big, and of the escape of the Holy family to Egypt. This confirms the liturgical grouping of the Triduo Pascual; the alluding passion of Christ and perpetrating the typical dolorism of the Devotio to his death, and triumph to his resurrection. The transposed of surrealism transports to San Juan digging in all the layers and hordes of the Faith, his componential of tribulación that moved in the Egyptian and Greek cartography, moving the triangular areas of the Phalanx, that moved en geometrical block reaching the edges of the hypotenuse gradient and of the tunnel of wind that elevated them cornering to the beast that visited them pretending to be feeble and imprecise.

The dolines collapsed in myriads substances in suspension, while the two swords Gladius and Xiphos were satisfied with blood Greco-roman. Here vegetated the verb of Elías in the corporal resurrection with similarity of triangular body Lazarinus that saw dragging by the power of tow of the ionic Phalanx in his stuck. They were Beings Equis that abstracted in a start of the Be X in his contrary algebraic; an incógnita or something that could take any quantity in other words something unknown, so that the algorithmic links and cater corporeality resuscitator in Lazarus of Betania inside his angles of Holy Geometry. The winds of swing presented viviparous in future observances of visions and perplexity of consciousness, governing fiscality that does resurrect in rabbinic worlds from the highest occupying thrones in the bracket, but of thrice ignoring the belief by means of greater incredulities that the direct truth and more brief. Elías is attracted by the Cinnabar that ponders in an apocalyptic mosaic, in the chamber Esdras, at the end of the mundane reign dissolved and that dies in the same Messiah. Satanás Does not tire to attack the credibility of the Phalanx in manifolds of dispensationalism, perhaps being strongly attached to Carmelo and of the unloyal that never revive in his same bodies unconverted.    


Codex X Ultramundis Lepanto  

Of Lepanto appeared exhausted the Armis Christi with burned eyes volatilized in stratospheres that received them Belligerent. Cual if they went alien castes settled in inflexible breath, refloating from his clámide in fuss and idiosyncrasy. They arrived cracking the pristine stretches from Tel Gómel when they arrived it charges it a military strategist asking him clemency to extend.

Falangist: With the crest in my hands and the Dorus on my clámide from the floor said; each disposal that tried in the double edges of my sword that dent. The upper leaf Sansevieria nominated me to a Hebraic past and to a medieval future, it was the Sword of Saint Jorge, notifying that my family in Kalidona was under a state paradoxical, given to my two greater children that were quoted to the service of the militia. The second inferior edge of my Xiphos and the Sansevieria bent me ruin in front of the prosopopoeia to the entrance with discouraged to defray the sclerosis of my soul follows exploding, surpassing and impelling to my wife in spars of easy undress. I know that my descendants remained buried under the effect of mortal meeting in the catharsis of Pompeii, the future of Saint George that patented! All emigrated and will escape afterward to remain desolated, and attain to return the inopportune comrades to the reintegrate in the verbena of St Mary in Athens, the Saint Patron saint comforted me and prepared my resist of such bad numerary so that someday left to fall my seeds in the wisdom of archangels peasants with sacral devotional fruits. I sighed and I groaned rubbing in my animals! my empties eyes day and night were mesmerized to the ethereally magnetized. They did it beside me, with the singularity of not to affect me, they went by little booklet near to moan not to see them demagnetized by some fatalistic effects and consummatory.

Etréstles moved by the tribulations of the Child of the Falange, bent imposing non-existence afterward that his words involved the exhortation to Hera by his benevolence consummatory to be able to reside beside her. Like this, they would remain immune to progressive lives under the influence of sharp primary stew and secondary in arms of the phalanx. Shinings the eyes of Hera when the spirit of the Falangist is entering to her were not vanities but if the advent of the vanity in ínfulas to the Acrópolis is carrying it to her.  

Sibila Tiburtina sustains it gathering him in his arms saying him: You will receive the heat that you will imprison in the house of the great priest, a scene that will be represented in Prócoro in the neutral corresponding folio. Events and expletives will be of the past, no longer allocated him neither he annoyed. The Arms Christi again swirling with the Souls of Trouvere in last irascible chinks of the winds Eolonimi in the holístic of all the winds that appointed to Vernarth. "They did not go back to live your children heard a Macedonio military", The physical resurrection of the unconverted take place after the tree of Mars when they free to the innocent fallen in the belief versicular that divides the ray with his half where any minute will be able to hit it. The passages of the tunnel of wind are the wasteland that dies revived by the *** cutting overflowing fibrils of vitality from the high for overflow it downwards for those who even expect amazing miracles, walking beside the alive with hypocoristic triviality reborn in his same blood that was spilled. Everything famous goes walking with pennants that raise of his own sepulcre, cutting lower capillaries of the impetuous rising of his pale cheeks, where the scepter Greco-tridentate will be a forbearance of the one who frees and purposeful escape of the tree of Mars. Now lie down beside your children and will be between the hazels and Eolonimis doing revived of the Tágmati or order of succession of the Polis like the unit of elite tribulating the final stretches of the straight of the Ultramundis to the fries the 103 meters glorified.

Etréstles during the millennium of the Satagenesis and Deidagenesis beside the Heosphoros and the Uomo of Valplacci they prostrated to Lucifer in front of Etréstles (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Cap. 45 - Palibrio USE), reflowing and emulating wars of the Peloponeso, is being east a garrison of the general of the Athenian fleet in western Greece. The mentor floats were directed by the admiral Formión that defeated all the Lacedemonios in Naupacto. When they approximated to the province of Nafpaktia, of the Nomo of Aitoloakarnania confined followed the indivises and weightless musks disseminated, disintegrating immortal souls with the damage of the break exhaled that is extinguished in his offering. It is as well as it could cause some aversion not to be condemned to the Hadic infra world, to Tee castes of gods and semi-gods with Sansevierias in green leaves, and clover that chained to the freedom of the furious gases of Xenon and Lithium, slipping away by drainages and spaces where any sword neither launches will cross the atmosphere of Gaugamela-Macedónica, only Vernarth here was hádic and will have to pipe by the untouched pavilions of the spotless backsstore with heroic lineage. Any curly tease or flagrant will slice sanctified carnosities purchased in quoted sessions in the manacled of the Bumodos with the drugs and the potions of Medea.

Codex XI - Ultramundis Raeder      

From Patmos saw come hundreds of hanged boys of the stringers of the pelican blue of the Dodecanese. Raeder cames Hanged with both hands on the rings of iron plating of jasper; from the Greek "iaspis", that means "stone marked". Raeder found it in sharp hydrothermal, in volcanic rocks, and in sedimentary rocks in the surroundings. With four palmate fingers that shod in the hoops of amethyst for the owners of the house that celebrated the actions of thank you, and the celebration of the guidelines of Saint John that sent them transported in his peak golden shoe. Generally, they were more than five thousand those that transited by the regions, they swallowed canonized water of the sea Jonico with the big advantage to reproduce saltwater seas in freshwater to drink. They carried them to each house to fill his vessels and also in periods of seed, irrigated his tillage in summery periods where scarce, with his brown golden plumages raffle the fields of olives and of the ***** vineyards of the Goddess Afrodita. With his whites plumages, they spray the tillage of barley with vinegar and recently wheat fields fished of the legs of Petrobus, his pelican of the dreams! From here they were born all the recipes by all the regions when it depressed them the Bread without firewood and tares. Patmos has recorded in the stringers of the pelican planning every day and go looking for houses where arrive to carry them the Gospel. To all the boys like Raeder accompanied him other blessed, to carry the good news to families that seated expected near in denouements of his social limits when they expected them by the afternoons with the action of gratitude. They ate by the afternoons to expect the boys to taste them Tzatziki; Sauce of yogurt with cucumber and candy with drinks of poppies and honey, they received them in chambers near his gynoecium and right there exchanged the gifts that brought of the Grotto of the Evangelist in Patmos. The boys from the same moment in that the future mother knew or suspected that it was pregnant, attended speedy so that the distribution did not have problems considered them a divine gift,  the only children to the firstborn or those that were born of greater parents, was the privilege of these primogenitures. Reckless renowned and quotations that appear in the Apocalypse of John, in whose introduction says that the author was banished to Patmos, where had his meeting with Jesus in the called Grotto of the Apocalypse that originated everything.

The grotto or foundation of sapphire, was just to the addition of the empty that levitated from the walls of the grotto were molecules with mass hyperactive, delivering him tracks to Raeder near to the Jasper, calcedonia, emerald, sardónica, sardio, crisolito, berilo, topacio, and crisoprasa, but he magnetized with the Iaspis of the genealogy of Kalymnos that revealed him the wave vibrational on the Jasper,  the Arms Christi of Saint John in Apocalypse 21, of verse 19, says there: "The foundations of the wall of the city all lovely stone the first foundation jasper; in the paráfrasis predicted that the foundations of the Megarón will be most of these materials, but regularly of Iaspis of Raeder.

Sibila Gets flu carries the relative scourges to the scene of Flagellation in the praetorium here filigrees hematíes ran by exvotos simulating blood from the celestial, representing the corresponding straight folio. The natural laws of the Parables Iaspias do the alchemy with noble minerals immanent and hypocoristic in the cavern that revealed all this grace to Raeder for the propaedeutic of the Mashiaj when centralizing here the spacetime that said that God has similarity to the Iaspis, as its bed of condensed gold in the expiration and metalization of the cosmic essence. The similarity did that all the walls of the vault or tunnel of the Profitis Ilias governed of Jasper and Cornelian, being this last of blue greens eyes of Raeder glittering in his iris, and in the curvature of mass that did apressed in the interior of the tunnel of wind that also expanded, doing rubíes and sharpnesses of her same. The visibility of the Universe still did hyper brilliant on the inlet of Patmos, for this Petrobus his Pelicano blue topped surrounded in the arch superciliary of Apollo, to train similarity of the metals like his neighbor metalloid.

Isaías says 28:16: "Therefore, Iahveh the Gentleman says like this; Love and behold that I have put in Sion by the foundation a stone, stone tested, we look by where it begins, a stone, but first tested then angular, then lovely of stable foundation; the one who believed. From this situation the Iaspis and Sardio in the mountain of Sion the throne of the Gentleman that accompanied to Raeder and to the lamb flashing beside his idols Petrobus. They did angulars to all the stones some powdered finally and all pyramided by the dolines, in the exquisiteness of the son that presented in the cavern of the most refractory way for irradiate light that warned to Raeder to go by his progenitors. The glory of Raeder did of the glow to garrison enhanced in voices of boys by all Patmos, speaking that his parents were similar lovely stones to the Iaspis.    


Codex XII - Ultramundis Duodecim Evangelii

The twine of the Rainbow did to mutate the labaros in each color disseminated, already descends a peripeteia in the chromatic Era and niveous, discoloring in the Antiphony of entrance that says: I will give you shepherds according to my heart that grazes you in consciousness and experience. Oh God, that have aroused in the Church to Saint Joseph, Mariah, and his Rabí, wise priest, to proclaim the universal vocation to the holiness of the Duodecim Evangelii, grant us his intercesión and example, in the exercise of the ordinary debit having us to our Messiah, and serve with fervent passion in the work Redentive by our Gentleman Jesus Christ.

This big event exerts from the chasm of the Apocalypse, where daily inhabitants bound handwritten and ancient treasures  Sakkelion-Sakellarios. They upset conforming a new resolution in his scriptorium in the Byzantine period they administered alms and tributes, Curiously related with Zaqueo appearing in the new verses from Lucas´s Gospel, 19 1-10, when Jesus Christ goes in Jericho. It was a publican, boss of collectors, and very rich. The collectors worked for the Romans and besides asking for more money the Romans demanded doing this rich way easily, by what was doubly hated. Zaqueo was low in height and for this reason, when Jesus went in in the city of Jericho, all the world banked to see it and he remained backward and did not arrive to see it. Then it advanced and it went up to a species of the fig tree, a sycamore (Ficus sycomorus) since it went to happen in front of her. When Jesús arrived at that place, said him: Zaqueo goes down prompt; because it suits that today it remains me in your house. In front of this, the village muttered that it went to the lodge home of a sinner. Zaqueo retorts that it will give to the poor half of what has, and if it defrauded to somebody previously will give him the quadruple. Jesús answers that salvation has arrived at his house because he also is the son of Abraham. From this antiphony arises the Twelfth Evangelii, which arises in a file that celebrates the haughty morals of tributes that have to motivate by tribal crowds of Gaugamela for the presence of God, by what want his will and No!

The tessitura of the wind tunnel transfigured the next height of 103, after the blonde grace of Abraham murmuring his tent to generate height over Israel and Jacob. The dolines of aspersion evaporated the matter that transfigured in celestial plasma with ranks of metric coercive, of what that up to is down and vice versa for the hemispheres of the Sefirot, and for the Shemot or name of the start of the origin transfiguring in would idolise of Creation in the Universe-Duoverso. From all the corners will split to give reading to this big incident no easy to read, and listen neither less feel in his once become vibrations by the immortality of the events memorials of the history like regent conveyor of the meeting of all the frivolous voices that sin of ignorance, and those that know by ensuing ebullient. That they will be quadrupled the parchments to the fighters that finalize alive or died in Gaugamela, each one carrying in his hands one of them bled. All the crosses relations of the ancient society, infuse parallel of sustainability of Faith by means of the generosity, almost transferred of an essential charisma praised of the esoteric core of the Same dogma, confusing on the way that it has to transport it without having consciousness of the destination that will carry it, and comes badly from the limen of the doubt from the beginning. Since a king, impious Manases was imprisoned and exiled, designated king impío, convivió in the depths of the heat of the Averno. For the modern Christians, Manases is an icon of the Divine pardon, of where arises the traditional pray socrative of Manasés from the jaculatory of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, since after being one of the kings more bloodthirsty and pagan of the Jewish, forgave him and even was buried in the city of David, pantheon only reserved for the faithful kings with what deduces that God forgave it entirely.

The Sybilla Délfica carries the crown of spines of the Coronation of Jesús become equally in the praetorium, and as in previous cases to the scene that represents in the neutral corresponding. In the triade Eritrea, rather Herófila, if caste and clairvoyant Délfica and apologetic, his vernacular artery did it native of Marpeso, Trojan Tróade, as in fantasies to be a daughter of a Nymph and Shepherd. It chose it did him escort for the Duodecim Evangelii, from Samos this robbing to Patmos in the foundation of the Megarón with the same polygonal of the Chapel Sixtina in the quattrocento, where Vernarth had assistance in Regression parapsychological of the Quattrocento Duodecim Evangelii, announcing that the Vernolatría serious part of his Apologetic life inspiring prophecies with the Parables Iaspis, extolling erudition after the grave that was in the forest of Apollo Esminteo, returning to his origins to a sinkhole in the Córico mountain.          

Codex XIII - Nix in the Tenebrousness

All the demarcations derived to witness Bastos and impolitic utensils of the undivided Gaugamela. Three days before that the Falangists protested to Vernarth for when they were clouded by the Ekadashi. They fasted three days before and delivered to the visas of Zeus, graduating fulgid movements in his lunar seals eleven days before. It is the penultimate stair; already remained hours to walk by the woodworm that shook the heels of the Phalanges, all the accouterments and animals were conferred to the mysticism of essence and to his disputable worshipper. Now in the boundary circle of the heritages of Gaugamela, Darío came from afterward to move the Tigris, organizing his troops and his harem. The Macedonians had an army that added 7.000 riders and 40.000 children. The heavy cavalry of the elite of Alexander was the Hetairoi and was formed by the nobility of Macedonia, that accompanied Alexander in this battle and went the decisive factor in the faction, Vernarth commanded more than 40 one thousand children, saving narrow relation with the Hetairoi with his arms twinned of divine caste, and the Hoplites Greek that took part to cover the rear of the phalanx, that Vernarth defrays from the more furtive boundary of his doctrine in this mobile taint with thousands of Macedonians singing institutional quarrelsome poetry. From the Dodecanese, Kalidona and all the central Greek archipelagos came to surrender the figure of Vernarth, accompanied by Etréstles of Kalavrita, big hero and defender beside Markos Botsaris (Capitulate 6, pag. 36 Koumeterium Messolonghi / Palibrio USA) in this Magna Epos. Also, Raeder incorporated beside Petrobus the Pelican Blue, Brisehal of Dash-and-Lut and Vlad Strigoi appearing of the transversal valleys of Transilvania, suddenly after having arrived of the Reign of the Horcondising, tackling his Frigate in Valparaíso juxtaposing in the nine elements and in megatonnes to be ratified from the start in a new Celestial wasteland. All camp to five kilometers of the Rio Bumodos, in the ***** north where the shady blemishes favored them of a new lunar phase in tendencies, effusion, and backflow that was the apotheosis influence of energy. The worshipper of the clan did not give him any importance especially only given hierarchy by alone gnosis because in these goods could improve his devotion, so they are occupied in his service.  They are to the expectation to have the juncture of renovating even more his mourning for himself by second certificates to his right-handed with astrológics cosmic interpretations of the Ekadashi, being able to be explained by the shoots of the material world.  The concept contravened to the reverences is that the Ekadashi will be the day in that the Gentleman will persevere attaining the unitary joy dean, contesting flashes incessant by the unbalance emotional community of the assistants, like ingredient spirit that is allocated in his spree, and has to treat to give more start to Vernarth in his regression parapsychological. But besides it is necessary to conceive that we are in singing of subsistence of the hypotenuse, by which do not have to think this Zeus requires extremely our third. He is entirely self-sufficient and is tied to his transcendental world of the vilorta, but not to leave us alone with his vague shimmers of collectivity!

Sibila Helespóntica sustains the cross, the last emblem of the Passion represented in the chaining. As it corresponds in his straight and immediate folio representing the Crucifixión of Christ in the Gólgota, the spaces car selected consigning in the ashlar that came close in technical whispered of works that inspired to Sybilla of Helesponto, she approached with the gear and the utensils of the altarpiece of her same, decorating them with passions that represented in the lineup, eleven days before being sprayed the alcohol on them of first degree in his heads to leave them in the intemperate, and to posterity that came to the goddess of the darks Nix spilling petals macerated and turned sour on all they to inhume them in blasphemies of the god Erebus, in the deep light scarcity of all lethargy marginal to redeem them of the chaos, on an earthly crushed sea unfamous that will be the surface of Gaugamela transiting in the catacombs, with earthy rivers and elusive phlegm escaping of the insectaries light of Ultramundis of the god Tartar. Nix Runs alarming in his muddy tiled, appearing as a winged woman dressed with a black toga cover of stars. It will drive an armature thrown by two steeds properly accompanied by his children twins Hypnos and Tánatos, here besides them trepidation running by any place, for attesting the regrets of the Falangists Hoplites, after being suddenly invaded by mythological strengths of the Auqemenides. Through condensed pulses and of others no designated will be represented on diverse types and in supports of xylographic monumentality in the ceramics and even in the patrimonial immaterial with the hindsight of the Áullos Kósmos. From the Basiliscus will aim to Betelgeuse, dispensing in the Arms Christi to advance to the Fontana's and to Parables Iaspis, staging the Sibyllae Prophetae, vaticinating the paved of the Iaspis of lovely stones for fragment in the elevation and in the maremágnum issued by Sybilla of Helesponto,  raising on the height of 133 in the ordeal of the Gólgota, in orient skull of Abimelech and of Jezabel from the kraníon symbolizing the traffic in places of executions from a kraníon admonished.  

The place of the Gólgota also is uncertain of archaeology. All he knows is that it was out of the city, further from the second wall. It had to be a hill, as it could see from some distance and was near to a way, homologous to the initial of Getsemani, Saint John Apostle amplifies that a new grave was near, in an orchard. The tágmati translated as "order" Indicated the ranks in the Roman army; the saints of the Ancient Will and of the tribulation receive his bodies glorified near the return of Christ to the world. Being Greek root Tagma of put in order from the thoracic head and abdominal, in tagmatization and differentiation of regions of the body or tagmas formed by series of metámeros or similar segments between himself differentiated of the rest. The Ultramundis of the god Tartar here is conceptualized, and corresponds with the metamerization heteronomous of inert organic, and opposes to the of metamerization homonomous, in which all the metámeros or bilateral symmetry in all the appendices that are equivalent. They are those centurions that drilled the rib of the Mashiaj in the Gólgota with whispered symmetry from the head, thorax, and abdómen of the Tágmati, sorting out from the launched Pilum awarding them the Christo Salvatore Vaticinante, but in the dictamen or professing the same symptoms of his passion by the tagma abdominal, toráxico and head in his crown of spines Ziziphus.    


Codex XIV-  Ultramundis Primum apud Orionem finale    

Challenged by the sortilege of the Augur Vernarth gathered with his General Commander and invites him not to separate further of extending them that edging by a docile lunar greyish wind. They gather and they put near one of another.

Vernarth Says: That joy turns to my meditation behaving in this contiguous night to our Falangists Consecrated, and to the cavalry sleeping in Machiavellian dreams when falling in his sink, until in his parishioner and in his steeds so that they do not lose his eyes sung in the drain of the pressing. All lodging as if lying in a genial lawn and honesty of the belly of the Chaos, exhorting hallucinations to those who sleep in the cap of the kraníon, with the wise utopias of the Erebus. Dozing likewise  utopias to the high and rubbering in Orión with a pythoness expression and changing his tacit. Leaving hardly a space of turn to change the tri face cariátide tackling the secondary mirages of Aurion, turned into a decimated Muse captivate for desirous delectation treating them as his heirs, seeing them flatter with his scarlet layer and inscribed with Lambda in your magazine in Gaugamela.  Alexander Magnus answers: That the satirized arms re-spin by the ****** of Amón, popping your eyes-hearings and eyes unheard folded in the martyrdom glaucoma of Anubis, re transforming the constellation of Aurion after we heave us annihilating them in this silent furrowed already embattled! While, I have to wash down your sentences more cleaned with one thousand tempests more than the refrained gallantry that receives in my corrected hemisphere, unbalancing the **** Target of the night, situated in the Lambda on her so that it accompany me with his nurse to the temple, truncating the investment sovereign to the moaning in the lead of Febo.  

When observing Vernarth that the spittle of Febo or the personality of Apollo in Alexander the Great fell repaired, quickly the appraised on his jaw drying him, smiling him and at the same time changing his gestures of nervousness. Taking him and attaching him, since it seemed a retained dizzy of his long addresses parliament with his feudatory. Then it would be prosperous to leave him seated in the side of the aspect that escorts him. In this instant separates and extends his arms to the envious koelum or dialect sky, joint to both swords that also will accompany them with the bronze shake chatter, snorting in the retracted navels.

Vernarth Retorts: Dissolute In my infancy had to walk with my dogs as a ray stayed in his frame when it advanced me to them only sniffed my scarlet aureoles; that they were red stars súper giants and near to the Earth fading. Today it is the belt of Aurion beside the Big General, beating in his groove and changing his course precessional. His hallucinations will move, so that it remains alone in his reddish outline, but not in his physicist componential.

In this way, Vernarth moved the tunnel of the zephyr with the tip of his Dorus when they bent, the shining final of his tip warned to reopen in the intestinal of the firmament when going out launches. Mechanical ran Years light by much more than it has to describe, in front of exact science and in front of a Dorus inaccurate, in a universe that only this distant whereas Vernarth is doing using the protocol of governance, pulling on the floor with the drum, ratling by his dorsal in direction to his shaft that volatile attached of the abbreviated adminícule, for one launches used like Sword Xiphos, arriving at the vertex of Betelgeuse to approximate to the legatee space of radiosity, and of Persia joined in a billed merely advocator. It appears Vernarth behind the cloudscape coughing with cloying fever with a dazzling ruby hypnotizing the muffins of the colossal fénix cosmic, and lighting up to Alexander Magnus when waking up. Sibila Frigia, finally sustained the cross with the risen flag of the same representation that does it the own Christ resurrected in a corresponding scene of Resurrection, in extensive complement of the Sybillas with his Gothic imagination and recentish, with the Sybilla Frigia being the priest that will chair an apolíneo oracle of a historical realm in the western central part of the highlands of Anatolia contrasted with Casandra of the Ilíada.

The incipient muffins sequence to redeemed reigns in that the puérp postpartum aurora, intercede nonetheless of the facets and of the screams of the Cáucaso, of the one who this chained in the irons but frozen of his isolation, for the one who the panic of the Diaísthisi or presage, traps him in millennia taken from a heart stuck in the thorax of the Tágmati, to the Apollyon offered in the abyss of the consecratam, and of the abyssal jumping from the fathomless floor the abysmal destruction providential, and his tulle issuing in those who will not shine after exalting concluded in silty bottoms of the fosca. Regards and Tares will govern intolerable pacts s and promises, early tinted in the heartbreaking disclosures of Saint John, glimpsing to diábolos interventors of Apollyon beside the Sheol of the Koumeterium of Messolonghi, redeeming them in Nínive and ordering in Arbela and Gaugamela in the indissoluble planted zones of the Camels Gigas of Apollyon.    


Codex XV - Apud Secundus finale  

Arbela falls in the hands of castes of the mesnades of Etréstles of Kalavrita, collapsing like lightning and exceeding the charred farmhouses of alien Mosul, to his intrinsic compartments. Of to the contrary was the authority of Maceo, found immediate to Syrian troops, mesopotámicas, medas, split, sucianas, tibarianas, hircanias, albanias and sacesanias, scattered like disturbed Leviathanes of himself same and of debased titans in all the execrations not specified of this avalanche, so that they are carried by his dean leader, and donated to his physiognomy like limpid preys of misfortune when predicting for them in the banishment of his bravery. Later once encysted in the cracks of his stinks would look for in the fatuous emanations of the Phosphorus (Crash of the morning of Venus) drizzled by the glories of the morning and of his distractions, changing the decomposed inert matters to the Aqueménides, incontinenti to be bordered with all the fascination of the dawn. The commanded by Maceo; the commander of Dario, brought a heart to be transplanted from a wise person Dervish that had split to install it after conquering the epic Gesta, and his conjecture of it. They believed to ****** his ascribed gentlemen that seconded to his disconsolate of him…, but brought off by half the substrate character that moves the incessant rumbles in the bitterness of the cicuta unfunded in the Xiphos, offering to the twilight to mark the withdrawal between lights.

Etréstles, spotted a stray prescription in the field of battle, expelling it from the divine sky of Arbela. By the conferred adherents him to Vernarth in this round stroking to Alikanto by the gibbosity right of his steed Kanti, this would cause that they would cross on the same line and gave an oppressive split kinetic curve so that the lancers hyper vibrated with the spin of twist of his masses contracted, adding a field in the tips of the sky to the discouragements and the static Persian. Like this they fought together near of the children, infamous legislation plagiarizing the movement and tying the ribs of rows from left to right of the Syntagma, to fluctuate in the strengths of his graceful Falangists of anxiety. When observing this Moving away Magnus, redouble his heavy cavalry and also challenges similar concert in the maneuvers executed by Etréstles, designating it Diabolical Officiousness curiosity, as they visited inseparable in the Runes of the circulatory movement and in the cardiac system or Kardiá, reimplanting in the spin of twist of return of the children and the cavalry, but with the whole mass of his horses bluish lapis lazuli, wheezing of his nasal like a domestic nasal breath!

Auriga Says: Your venerate you milestones come to upset to the new beings, come to occupy your organisms with arrows on his bodies deterred by the quiver magic of Artemis, with new incarnations and manly gallantries?

Etréstles Jumps from Kanti, represses some militias that were surrounded, and reaches to spot Vernarth, to there is of the hubbub of his transmission recharged on the intimidated enemy. Sometimes they affirmed of one of his hangman of him to resist the pain of his ribs of him, while he vigorously tightened his sword and resisted the suffering that paled in his face, but increasing the size of his arms and legs, to unchain the big booming voice of Sheol or Hell, that piped him in the big stupor of the Persians resigned, afterward he clarified an all in the miscellanea was of the ardor and the pain of the souls expelleds, to testify the quantity of his independence consumed. The lightened environment of emptiness in the tunnel of the Profitis Ilias did feel in the peak of the surface, where was and trembled in the acroteria of entry of the Hexagonal Progenitura. Majestic Gravitational waves struggled here invested, oozing from the volcanic base of Patmos in vertexes of the physical fields and of elementary particles of great similarity to the caverns of Getsemaní, in the suggested detain of the phylogenetic mechanics and of the instauration of the phonetics, all embedded and propelled by the particles hitting on them, causing opposition of mass in the empty internal of the pipe covered by chairs of the Iaspis, propelling unions in progressive waves in viscous fields, very dense when being generated by the Arms Christi and the Souls of Trouvere. These elementary particles of God plunged into aroused basilisks in compound particles in the dynamics of energeia, preexisting already quoted, and adopted by Vernarth in his last parapsychological regression where he collided in the field of Higgs Ipso facto. In the areas W and Z, rather in the W of Wonthelimar and Z of Zefian like patterns of Lights without mass in his vectorial that were attracted by the maremágnum of his matter, where the viscosity is maybe, the confused darkness of the material fossil, mutating by atomic energy from the starvation of the Phoebus Shemesh, or false Sun of Apollo-Leviathan in his demolished asthenia. It was captive of a viscous moraine that collides between yes, arousing occupations of the empty field, already typecast in the boson of Higgs, and in the photons of Wonthelimar that taenia of on dowry, to be prone to the binomial W and Z, in the energized tangent of the shallow elementary bodies transformed in particles with mass. The interaction of the particles resembled a quantum field of the Orchard of Getsemaní with asymmetric and rocky graphics, that supremely did immanent in the trinitary energy that absorbed them in his arrest, concatenating the converted tendency of the field of Higgs in a quantum physical structure symmetrical, therefore in a perfect triangulation trinitarian of elementary particles, activating equidistant of his uniformity between if in all the spin of twist and in the three ataxic angles of unsteadiness of Zefian inroads of his fourth Saeta. The statics longed for the tendency that propagated in a fourth Angulo, but this time in the Progenitura Hexagonal in his six sides concealing the two equilateral triangles, subtended in no massive strengths, that is to say; feeble in a load of a photon, but if having to cross the unions of field that were him apt to auscultate the physics of God. We have to understand that all dogma gathers interactions with the field Diaísthisi or to presage, that recovers the mass of all this or that ventures the idleness of some silent particles that conform his weight, and the global mass affine of his material existence, sponsored by the proton in a cubic meter if it is accelerated. The field that underlies here in Patmos will be of upper physics from the Boson of Higgs or of God, for the grant of mass and of weight in the empty tunnel of wind in the Profitis Ilias, re sustaining the necessary ineffective light of the Febo Shemesh apocryphal of Sheol (Hades and Erebo), for constraining the symmetrical balance magmatic basality of intraterrestrial energy, contributing the supernumerary of her, turned into Light for the reborn world of the Apocalypse. The elementality bearer of the particle of Patmos, in his context of quantum physics, will enumerate like the theory of the Apud Secundus Finale, to generate interactions in the spacetime, that reduce physicality and delay when attending his credibility, in front of facts supra abnormal and bearers of his hyperactive dogmatic abulia, understanding that the graphic of his cerebral activity is genius of the quantum physics, provided with energy without mass, that vertiginously adheres to the protons of his physical strength consolidated, turning it into a kinetic inert element atomic, and in one dynamic of physical solidity. For all the solidness of the wasteland of the Apud (In) of Getsemaní, this will not be consecrated like a mystery, rather it will aspire the just act of immense clemency of the body compacted in the emotion of the feel gravitate, and accelerated transfiguring in an atomic elementary impulse that crystallizes the creative Faith, or was to the Vernarthian Duoverse! The Boson is massive, all the matter that is him leading will be poured by the standard of verticality in the creation, predicting theoretically in the tree of physics whose pipe hyper lives between the root and its foliage, and will consult the effect of his origin for greater challenges of his divine experience.

Singing of Sibila Líbica (bis): !The sparking plugs will inflame, the iridescent eyes of the Mashiaj flashed in the likely mortuary settlement of Vernarth in the oasis of Siwa: “Oh My warm blow of Libya that flatters my cheeks, and my shoulders that groove in the light of the callous cerebral coexistence of Zeus. Singing by you my Didaskein; treating or teaching to the baffled herd that confuses the kitchenware that was born to. b.C., not having a reminiscence of Irradiation in the mastery of the continuous turn to the not contravening of latent ignorance, but yes to find him agreed and effulgent”!
Codice Raedus
Natassia Serviss Jul 2022
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
I’ve been feeling heavy
silentwoods Sep 2021
She watches me
as I illuminate her
head on the pillow,
still cornering the daylight
into the rear window.

She lays, outstretched,
filling the back seat of the car
with unwrapped thoughts,
too deep;
my rays can only reach so far.

Her sleepy eyelids blink
at me in question.
A suggestion?
I hide my face behind a cloud.
"'till soon," I whisper.
I'm only just a surface moon.
Claire Waters Apr 2012
he picked apart the movements
of girls' hips
like he forgot what his momma looked like
like he never knew how to believe a female tongue
he never thinks too hard
about the sentences she can make
only what she'd look like if he
forced himself inside of her

he ate his words like
a picky child who only ate cigarettes
and ******
he bathed in the brute fury
of how they never payed much attention to him
until they were screaming stop
and he was going anyways
he hated them for being beautiful
he hated beautiful things in general

but he liked the feeling of cornering his prey
in a dark stairwell
he liked playing the devil
and walking to meet sin with a backwards heart
a heedless skull
a set of fingernails that always chipped
as he picked away at them with his teeth

he liked to think he could have anything his way
if he made it so
he liked to know that if he made himself
the faceless shadow in a dark corridor
he could become the boogyman
he could wrap around bodies like silicon
and swallow them like tremors cracking the earth

every girl he'd ever hated for her body
would have nightmares about him
and he liked them better as dead bodies
because it's the only time they'll shut up and **** him
he boasts tire tracks running along main bloodlines
a broken brain like a land mine
a chance of luck that he could **** some time
following the scent of something feminine
the idea that his presence alone
could shake her down to her knees

he wants to take every thing
that has never been given to him
he takes joy in the distorted
the sick satisfaction
of tasting the caviar that no one ever served him
the princess, trapped, in a black dress
pinned down in the dust
behind the restaurant dumpster after dusk
what an interesting view from above
he thought as he perforated the flesh
and though he never cared for the victim's clothing choice
he liked her best in red

he was not a mommy's boy
and it showed
he took care to take in a way
that he knew left limbs hollow
in it's wake
slit wounds in a human
that were harsh
in places where white legs flashed beacons
a wraithlike shape that closes in
on women wreathed in dark streets
and poetry that hasn't been written yet

she had a sonnet to spout and a poison
of malignant parasites she couldn't shake out
that latched onto her veins
as she arranges them over her arms
and lower around her knees
and he never showed much promise
and he's angry that he has never been able to please
the world
so he waits for her
and he takes from her

and now he traipses out
with the blood
and leaves her to lie there kissing an ink spill
from her pen to the tar
have a billion conversations with the pavement
until the wounds dry up
she'll stumble into the arms of gravity
and leave her dead body behind
live with the infestation of his invasion
fused into her spine

making her squirm and shiver
years after she wormed herself out of your grip
she will always feel sick
of all the ways you almost got away with it
even when you've also died and gone
she knows
you've never been a mama's boy
and you'll never be a ladies' man
you'll only ever be the amens she made
after praying you would die
at point blank range
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
flipping through pages of his mind,
caressing unspoken quotes; I whisper
slang of lust in his ear, ******* his big
ego to the bottom of his page, while his
drool trickles between breast; uttering
syllable after syllable as I re-write his script.

his hardness speaks fluently, inking
parchment with liquid tipped quill, oh! the
thrill as I bend his will, to fluidly flow; dipping
in inkwell of thoughts, penning desires and
want in liquid diatribe of lustful pleasures; like
a moth to flame flickering, as I lick verbs in
hunger to peruse his re-written script;
gripping sheeted pages to uncover his
beguilement; drinking in acknowledgment
of his golden chalice.

I want to decipher his member in autographed
curlicues of calligraphic swirls, teasing and
taunting as he watches, awe-struck; as tongue
etches each throbbing vein in ebonized charcoal,
sketched upon pages of wanton verses making
him scream with passion in prose; on bended
knee tasting my rose, penning his moans in
quotes against throat.

in heat of our passion, pages and scripts are
flipped allowing him to drip ink upon lips as I
whisper softly to his mind; want of him to grind
his neb of ache within my archive, articulating
history of hunger; as limbs mime each cursive
letter, insinuating one vowel at a time; licked
against silken parchment in tender stroked
consonant utterances; shuddering inside  
walls as nouns clench and moans escape
in adjectives shattering mind as wet tendrils
slide down firmness, fore, only she can do this
to me; making me flip volumes of pages while
inside wetness she drips ink all over in
chaptered stages.

each chapter I lick her spine; cornering her
in my mind as a sensual adversary; claiming
her as I untie her collection of copious sighs,
my mind tries to deny copyrights to her library;
as I place her upon my shelf, while against the
wall; ravishing her like the wild section of animal
kingdom, lusting while I watch her body fall
prey to breathless hunger, devouring
and savoring her bookmark; paying full
attention to her glossary of delectability,
that melts upon tongued bilingual text;
her nectar leaves its imprint upon
our handbook of worded aphrodisiacs.

cherishing our artistic volumes in ardency as
we're ready to publish our first draft, but not
before I slide her lubricious cover upon my
shaft; we begin to lay strokes of signatures
against our first editioned copies belonging
soley to us, as we scream in accented jargon
every second I tease; easing in and out,
shouting out in voweled ecstasy; gliding
thickness, gently against taut bookmark.

turning each page with deep thrusts, into her
inkwell; as I swell with friction, speaking in
fluent diction, of addiction to her sweetness;
dripping, as I'm slipping in tomes; thinking
about how she begged me to re-write our script,
spilling ink in delirious closure, in *******
exposure while losing our artistic composure;
writing manuscripts as ink spills upon volumes
of pages in disclosure.
just some ramblings that went through my thoughts one day...hope it makes sense to my viewers and readers
JJ Elias May 2014
Whisper, whisper but I can still hear you.
Your eyes tell it all.
You don't even know me and you don't even care. It's people like you who ****** onto me a two ton weight that kept me from walking tall all these years.
It's people like you that ignited a feeling of torment for the unrelenting realization that I will never escape people’s stares.
Days like these I wonder why, friends aren't friends and everything seems like a lie.
“I never asked to exist”, (words that echo through my head every time someone falls from exceptional to unbearable) .
You don't have the courtesy to talk behind my back, instead you boldly break me with your tacks; tacking your words onto my skin, until my pride and self-worth wears thin.
That’s why on weekends I would sometimes cage myself in my room because though I was not free, I was at least free from your gazes, and though I was not living, at least I was alive.
I stayed inside because outside there were wolves and I refused to be a meal. I've seen what they do to their prey, cornering, growling in order to strike fear, battling with their eyes, and then they consume them until all that is left, are bones.
This is what they do,
and many of us can attest to their brutality.
Players,
Upon people’s weaknesses they play.
Tramplers,
Upon people’s happiness they trample upon.

They preach,
Oh they preach,
Preachers of men,
Preaching their manifestos.

Their mass oppressions,
A whipstroke of slavery,
Keeping freedom away,
Allowing unspoken speeches.

Mr. Government!
Your planting of truth,
Yet acting lies,
Like Lucifer upon earth.

Our lost lands,
The cornering of leaders.
Our cherished freedom,
The bounds of greedy mortals.

Their moral compass,
A dumpling for gutters.
The words of restructuring,
A lie they tell to sleep at night.

The revolting of souls,
A bribery round the corner.
The dawn of a new day,
A shutting down of a never casted dye.

The Bantu they throw at us,
An education of their disloyalty.
Equality they preach,
Yet enjoying the fruits of our labour.

Our heroes past,
A burden dropped,
To be forgotten,
Yet remembered for belly sake.

Me, My belly and I,
A stomach infrastructure,
Catering only to the rich,
Yet diminishing the poor.

The controllers of affairs,
Dictating one’s future
Offering obedient slaves,
A slaughtering for their ****** souls.

Their theatre signatory,
A passing for comedy.
Our leaders,
A legacy of betrayal.

The citations of a bad fruit,
Their forever plantings,
Bringing over odour,
Of sadness and slavery.

An act of niceness,
Yet taking my bones at every given chance.
Giving us no choice,
Yet claiming we have no bounds.

Stirring us along
Giving us hope
Talking of a bright light,
Yet sinking in your treacherous torture.

Stealing of freedom from our lips
Pushing us into the dark quarters
Digging our early graves,
Yet cometh like a Redeemer.

Telling us of your democracy,
Yet ripping off our fundamental rights.
Your dictatorship,
Creating our unfree society.

Coming out,
Telling us of our victorious times,
A bribery to generations,
Yet helping to dig out graves.

Giving heart-warming patriotic speeches
Telling us not to be afraid,
Portraying tunnels of hope,
A bribery we didn’t reject.

Your illusion of a god-complex
Crushing everything in your path
Giving false hope
A mockery we carry on our foreheads

Our daily tyrants,
Walking freely,
Taking slaves,
Yet leaving no man to rise.

We envisaged a better tomorrow
Leaving the past behind
Creating new dreams
A dream you cut short

Our pens as placards
Establishing dictatorship
Safeguarding a revolution
Writing hopes of tomorrow

Your speeches
Bringing apathetic graves
Letting out your brutality
Showing life’s forces

You stand on the hill
Shouting your command
We all gather in fear
Singing silently “dictatorship free us now”

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
This is me telling the story through poetry how leaders in Nigeria behave.
Alexandra Provan Mar 2017
I know.
I know it feels like your body is disintegrating,
How it aches in places you didn't even know existed;
That you want nothing more than to rid yourself of this skin that burns with loss in every fragile movement.
Your heart and mind are betraying you.
Bones incapable of carrying around this
Palpable heartbreak.
The infrastructure
Of everything you had carefully built
Shattered beneath your feet.
I know it seems like the walls are closing in,
Cornering you,
Suffocating every airway
Until you cannot see tomorrow through the darkness.

Darling
Be patient,
I promise you'll find seeds of recovery amongst the rubble -
Your stems of self worth were never rooted
in anyone's actions but your own,
Your flowers never fed by anything but love for yourself.
Your crushed spirit will break through
These confines of hopelessness
To blossom, once more.
Nurture your growth
And protect it like a diamond;
Cover it in gold.
For you will never own anything more precious than this existence.
You have all the minerals you have ever needed
right there inside of you,
Blood flowing like lava,
Fire burning through your veins since the day that you were born,
Strength emanating from your core.

I know.
I know you're struggling to find the light
But in this darkness you begin your healing.
Remember all that you are
And all that you have been through.
You are loved in ways you can't even imagine
And will grow to love, once more.

Darling
Be patient,
For you are as tenacious as the sun,
And every sun will rise again.
Sarina Apr 2014
I once wished
that we first met as friends, rather than
lovers,
that I knew your tongue

rolling against your teeth to
speak something honest before I felt it curling
around my skin.

Ever since,
I have tried to stay separate – I wanted

to paint portraits of the
earth, of luminaries and geodes,
but every picture looks like my body after ***
with you,
little crystals of you

cornering the emptiest parts of me.
I part as a flower blooms,
two years

and I realize I must believe in falling stars

now.
Installed in the Eclectic Parallel World of the invisible portal of Saint John the Evangelist, everything levitated in his sacred basaltic cavern in Katapausis, in the Patmos archipelago (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Chapter 16 / page 114. Editorial Palibrio-USA). They would find themselves in communion with the clan count, resembling being in their proper ectoplasm; conforming to the only part of masonry ruled to redirect them in the messianic workings of the ascension stages. Vernarth; he besieged in the conscious state of him having to adhere to the cavern, after having finished his labors by waiting three months. He risks being consumed by the myriads and conflagrations, retracting them in parapsychological clouded ways, which subsisted to consecrate themselves in the lavish places divided towards the horizon. The iridescence threatens the primary ultraviolet, lifting the carriage of Apollo Citar, a neighbor of the astronomical cave sketch of the Muse Urania. A lame nuance escapes and dissolves from his mathematical prayer, capturing the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos, inserted in the death throes of his embryonic revelation, to pour him into the Megaron to build.

The saint appears only on certain days looking at Vernarth from afar, to encourage him in his progress on the rocky rocks of sharp silica, he is seen as a beautiful adonis dressed in a chlamys with delicate pinkish tones. With such scruples, he redounds a psalm of the angel that normally accompanies the Evangelist around him, with greenish and indigo tones in the perspective quadrinomial of heaven, that he was perishing in his most afterlife redemption in the glory of the empyrean. More convenient than the superlative spiritual intelligence irrigated with the aldehyde, and the condensed water of Skalá, in hecatombs that indicated anarchies of the luminous prophetic men and the habit of the exokarstic soil, endowed with a small perforated Epsilon demon, obtaining its chemical weathering in certain limestone rocks, dolomite, and plaster. Diverting the attention of Etréstles that he glowed overwhelmed and charred. He was not stopped by the currents of splendor and the stormy pollutions of Cymopolea, in his hieratic invocation of the scalded typhoons of the drills of Hephaestus. This demon could be Tytillinus timorous in the defections of the deities of Mnemosyne relegating himself from his precepts, which according to this legend induced protervas inclinations of the clergy during the omitted religious services, he is the one that Saint John the Evangelist feared, that he would not give him the Asfalés Pérasma “license” to enter and be able to commission them in tasks that had been predicted for the Katapausis services after the quarterly. The Travertine silica, with residual sedimentary rocks, was partialized from the extrinsic biogenic that is deposited outside, the travertine predicted the monumental rocky karst of Patmos, for the secretions of calcium carbonate, among so much modest certainty taking you through the Invisible Eclectic Portal, and their Mundis Parallel that crashed with attached carbon molecules that, in disarray, manned them. The chasm was a cascade of weathering that became stalactites in the runes of the travertines, Thermo dynamizing the cavities that were conceived in the invisible caverns, under the parallel caves of the translucent travertine and in the sapwood of the troglodyte ghosts, materializing on the top wind tunnel.

Vernarth; I was with everyone working in the building of the Temple near the outside walls of the Cavern of San Juan, there was Etréstles Eurídice, Raeder, Petrobus, and Alikanto immersed in the Aulos who rang about exciting their ears with the royal denotes, which always had a special quality when he remained in Kalimnos. In good ink, knowing that the entire limen of proximity to the cavern was flooded by the enigmatic revulsive with the presence of Tytillinus, all are reordered towards the poles of tangible etherization with Psalms 120 to 132, thus they would give the antipode disposition with the Divine Mercy, to compensate the crown of the fifteen hours in the afternoon, thus disintegrating the agonizing parallel world that coincides with that of the fifteen hours in the morning. Somehow refraining from the northern paragon with the Tytillinus' shadowing, with the hooks of bewilderment and its scathing thoughts. With precisely this conspicuous shape; Vernarth will allow himself to be swallowed by the beast and reside in his abrasive stomach, making him believe that it will be consumed by him, so that he will soon fall close to it when vomited, thus confusing him, to make him believe that he was the same baby from his conceived womb. Vernarth manages to capture this exotic sinister image near the sinkhole, seeing him depressed in the Tytillinus Prisco; where all attentive listened to the textual vocabularies of the beatific, with the fruit of Karpos, for the benefit of a descendant gained by defeating the devil.

The European Sibilla carried the Gladius in his hand but exchanged it with the Xifos alternately for the death of innocents entrusted by Herod the Great, and for the evasion of the Holy family into Egypt. This confirms the liturgical grouping of the Easter Triduum; alluding to the passion of Christ, and perpetrating the pain of the Devout at his death, and triumphant at his resurrection. The sense of surrealism transports Saint John digging in all the layers and hordes of the Faith, his component of tribulation moved in the Egyptian and Greek cartography, mobilizing the triangular areas of the Palan, which moved in a geometric block reaching the edges of the hypotenuse gradient and the wind tunnel that lifted them, cornering the beast that visited them, pretending to be weak and imprecise. The man will carry the simile of his name, with hyperbole more or less in men who dare not to anticipate the conflicts of the gained space.

Vernarth, plots to continue insinuating with his labors, sees with optimism escape from this calamity, calls everyone to be close to the law ..., once they continued taking the steps towards the cavern. He emerges from convulsions on all edges of the cave, leaving everything dark and with vanities deterred at the end of the temporal Mundis Parallel. In the intermission, Saint John towards the response of Psalm 120 to 132, the fiery roar of the playful roar of the Tytillinus interferes, banishing the shaking of its **** to banish it from the Basilisk's egg, avoiding creating its heavy monarchy over them by prostrating them, as if to dissent. by being repentant or beheaded. Saint John the Evangelist will be an egregious demonologist, compiling thick volumes with the names of the attributions of each of the demons of infernal hierarchy. In this Venusian Aion symmetry, he moves them interconnecting with sublime periods where the intuition of the zafral of the human scale is lost, and of the archetype of Satanism or Satagenesis, with austere precision that includes Leviathan, ruler of the demons, to Ukobach, procurator of keeping the infernal flames alive. So that the manumission of slavery finally reigns according to one's own demonized moral individuality. The amount of an invocation of this type is always the soul of the unconscious individual, who will end up going to be squeezed into the underworld. The demons are invoked and they will invoke themselves in their dawn, to walk in their own darkness of the stagnant past, the mechanized present, and the multidimensional conscious future by means of exclusive enchantments that will be found here in the Mundi Parallel of the Invisible Eclectic Portal.
Codex XXIII - Mundis Parallel Portal Eclectic Invisible
Creep Jan 2015
Once upon a time,
there was a prince,
the prince of all the VASHs,
aka Vampire Angel Super Humans.
He lived amongst them,
cherished by all his subjects.

He had everything but what he needed,
he had the good looks,
the "L" skills,
the girls,
the money.

What he longed for was
his parents to help guide him through the wonders of the world,
a girl to treasure and be by his side.

But his parents were gone,
and no girl had a heart as golden as his.

One day, as he trekked through the swamplands with his trusty horse,
he came across a peculiar little girl.
She wasn't much to look,
dark hair, large brown eyes, button nose.
He walked up to her and asked,
"Hello, miss. Might I ask what you are doing here on this splendid day?"
"SHHH!!!"
He stared at this bizarre, short thing and listened.
All he heard were the wings of the dragonflies,
the fluttering, haggard breaths from the girl,
the chirping of the cicadas.

She collapsed.

"Milady!" he caught her in a french dip, right before she fell into the mud.
He carried her over to his mighty stead and carried her home to his castle. There, he brought her to the infirmary and stayed there as the doctors tended to her. Luckily, she had just fainted. What a peculiar thing.

She gasped, and sat upright, looking around.
"Where am I?" she whispered, and turned to the prince, wide eyed.
She fainted again. The prince shook her, calling desperately, "Milady! Milady!" and finally she woke up.

She shook her head and ran out the door.
He caught up with her down the hallway, she wasn't a very good runner.
He cornered her, and leaned in to ask her, unintentionally very sexily,
"Are you okay...? Why did you faint?"

She just looked away, terrified, her eyes round, her face painted red with blush.
"I... I... saw you and was... astounded that you, the prince, was talking to me, and that you were so... dashing..." she stuttered under her breath, and looked up, straight into his cerulean eyes.
He blushed, a bloom of crimson sprinting across his face.
She looked away.

They remained in that awkward position of him with his arms cornering her to the wall, she trying to meld into the wall, for a couple more moments, until the young flabbergasted prince realized what he was doing and let go.
She scurried away and the prince shook his head.

What was he thinking, getting mesmerized by her?
He didn't even know her.
But yet...his heart pounded.
Or rather what was supposed to be his heart.

He walked to his bedroom, locked the door,
and went to sleep dreaming of Ms. Peculiar.

The next day he awoke,
showered,
the girl still running through his mind,
and went to breakfast.
As he sat down,
a servant asked him,
"What would you like to drink this lovely morning, your majesty?"
He looked up, startled, to see the girl he was thinking about all night standing before him, in the traditional ****** maid outfit, blushing, hiding behind her hair, looking at her shoes.
"I would like some orange juice, and some of you please." he replied, realized what he said, abruptly stood up, and walked out of the dining hall.
She stood there, in shock and turned slowly back to the kitchen.

The next meal,
he walked into the dining hall again as if nothing happened.
"What would you like to have to drink for lunch today, your majesty?"
The girl. She was still here.
"Water. Just water. And, I would like to talk to you after lunch, if you would mind."
She was startled, but she nodded and walked away.

After lunch, he fetched her and brought her outside the dining hall.
"Miss, what is your name?"
"Alice, your majesty."
"Alice, would you like to accompany on my adventures? And please, do just call me Cole."
"As you wish, your majesty."
"But do you wish to accompany me? Please, it's Cole."
"I do. Thank you, Co... Cole." she bows deeply, waiting to be dismissed.
"Do you like nature?" She looks up, startled.
"I do, very much."
"I remember you staring at the cattails yesterday. I hope you do forgive me for startling you yesterday."
"No problem, Cole. I shall see you tomorrow?"
"Certainly, I will find you." She scurries away, and unknowingly to him, her heart is pounding, and as she rounds the corners, she presses against the wall, trying to stop blushing, to stop smiling and the drumming in her chest. She peeks around the corner to see him looking longingly back in her direction. They make eye contact, and she quickly hides. He blushes and walks briskly away before he can do something else to embarrass himself even further.

The next day, he jumps out of bed,
Refreshed and awaken by the thought of
Her.
He eagerly gulps up a quick, hearty breakfast and finds Alice with a call of a servant.

"Shall we leave mademoiselle?" He bows and kisses her hand. She blushes, nods quickly, and they walk side by side out of the castle and into the woods, both on horse. She trots slowly behind him, taking in the scenery as he takes in her, her practical clothing,  tough leather boots, tied hair.
"What are you looking at?" She self conciously looks down at her frayed old clothing.
"I'm just looking at the beauty in front of me."
She looks up, startled. He looks ahead and continues down. For the rest of the day, the two talk, about aimless things at first, but soon began to open up to each other.

She longed for him, but he was a prince, it was forbidden.
He longed for her, but she was a maid, it was forbidden.

By the end of the day, both knew each other very well, like old friends, but both yearned to learn even more. Both were shy.
Days like this continued for months on end,
They never ran out of things to talk about, things were so easy between them.

Then one day,
The prince made a picnic.
It was basic, just ordinary peasant food,
Layed out on a blanket
In the magical meadow they discovered not too long ago.

They sat down to eat,
Them afterwards,
Layed on their backs in the grass,
Watching the clouds pass overhead.
When they got up,
There were little shards of grass in her hair
And he laughed.
She looked around,
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, you just look really cute with all that grass in your hair. Here, let me help you out with that..." he brushed the grass out of hair and tucked her soft hair behind her ear. He slowly brought his hand from her ear to her chin, followning her jawline, gently, delicately cupping her chin, bringing her face closer to his, brushing his lips on hers, ever so faintly.
He opened his eyes, looked at her.
She stared back at him, smiled a little bit,
Surprised them both by leaning in to kiss him full on,
just a bit more passionately,
and he felt the playful smile he had come to love play across her lips.
They melted into each other,
And for a couple more hours,
They lay side by side, hands entwined,
Looking at stars, quietly taking in each others love.
It was a nice kind of quiet.

When it was time to leave, they kissed sweetly goodnight
Both wanting to be with each other,
Both waiting for time to pass so they could be together again.

And time did pass.
Maybe not quick enough,
But it passed.

At court, everyone argued,
Saying a prince should never be with a maid!
But his mind was made and there was nothing anyone could do to change it.
He didn't try to change her,
Nor did she try to change him.
After a month of trying in vain,
Everyone gave up, and let the two lovers be in peace.

After a year of
Loving each other,
Always being there,
Cole took her to the same meadow again,
The very meadow they kissed for the first time in.
The same day,
The same picnic.
But this time,
Once they got up,
He brushed away all the grass from her hair,
And got down on one knee.

"Alice. We have spent the last year together, and I actually lived for once. I have never felt so alive until now, nor have I ever felt so much in love with a girl as I have with you. From the moment I saw you in the swamp, I knew you were something special. I loved you then, and I love you more still today. I don't think I'd ever be happy without you in my life... so I want you to make me the happiest man alive, and be here with me on all the journey life brings, I want you to be with me always, so I can always protect you and cherish you. I love you. Will... will you marry me?"
Before he was even able to withdraw a ring, she kissed him fiercely.
"Of course I will, you dummy!"

And they lived happily ever after.
The end.
Guess whos who? No? Well kiyu, ur the prince. Guess who I am? XD sorry this ***** and came out hella rushed and long and weird.... guomenosai! *bows repeatedly* i deeply apologize for this being so terrible. But srsly, I do love you and I hope we do get a happily ever after ^^ started this early this morning, ending it late today. Yay ^^ this shall be the first in many.

Pretty woman
By roy orbison
Don Bouchard Nov 2016
He was five or six when he first challenged her
To play a game of checkers.
Fresh-faced and eager from battles with friends,
Young master of jumping and double-jumping,
Connoisseur of cornering and kinging.
Ready to wreak havoc on his grandmother,
A simple farm wife, unskilled in the battle of the board.

He didn't contemplate that the checker set
In the old farm house was hers....

Their battles raged,
Sometimes every day,
With, "Want to play again?"
His constant question.

I would watch her lose,
Seeing what my little boy,
The often conqueror,
Could not see in victorious glee.

Twenty-five years later,
We sit again at the old farm table,
And the two are pitted in their checkers game;
The same, but wearied box waiting
While the battle rages on the old scarred board.

Her hand, uncertain, moves the pieces slowly
As though she is off somewhere thinking,
And he, now patient, waits in a treasured time,
For her to contemplate and make her moves.

He is twenty-nine, and she is eighty-nine,
And though the opportunities rise,
Through my misty eyes,
I see my son, pulling punches.
Braden and my Mother, in their annual summer games....
Awakened and running from the tomb,
I held what was dear, intellect and groom,
The grooming of intelligence and common sense,
At one point I thought there was no difference,
How could all of humanity be this insane?
I try to help, I’m no hero, in vain.
-
Running wild, I found the path
The winds and turns, cornering so fast,
I got lost within its woods,
Until I stopped, lost, and stood
Aside a trunk so broken and old,
I caught my breathe before a cold,
The breeze picked up and kissed my cheek,
I pulled my collar and felt so meek,
At some point, I started to endure
The path again, walking once more,
I thought of everything today had brought,
The lesson, the woman, the thoughts they wrought,
I thought of old times and hating things then,
Not knowing in time I’d hate like a man,
Pre-determined, with knowledge and ability,
To make the judgment with further virality,
In contempt I held all that I’d known,
A willing sacrifice upon a stone,
I walked with venom until it struck,
A visage so wrathful, it had me stuck.
-
Speechless, I paused and looked,
I stood there agape and almost mistook,
It for a leviathan, it was that grand,
A massive tree that surely there stands,
It must have been a thousand years old,
Seeing true tales of stories unfold,
Its grandeur surpassed all before
I’d seen or heard of in stories of yore,
Its beauty was a roaring wave,
Its white, dead bark and leafless branches depraved.
-
The dead, white Sycamore stared at me,
A bench underneath it beckoning,
When I sat, I knew nothing but dark tranquility,
I felt my blessed suffering,
I’d only ever known what agony,
Had life ever had in store for me,
But sitting under this guardian,
I could have slept soundly and quite solemn,
The chill in its bark warmed me inside,
I shared something with something in mind,
Its arms lingered over me and forewarned all out,
That I was not to be touched throughout,
My journey here, or ever again
Would the dead infest in me herein.
amora Aug 2018
Another day has passed by
The moon illuminates up high
Shining through the window's blinds
The cold wind begun to crawl behind

The crickets I hear made me unknot
Such a stressful day for a youth
A day of harrassment became so blunt
A part of me was lost like a missing tooth

I was intimidated by the fact
The truth that I was bullied by the society
Daggers of words are still intact
Cornering me in a room full of despondency

I let people disgust me
I let them misjudge my sincerity
I let the day becomes my misery
I let the day becomes the night of melancholy

Tick-tock-tick-tock
Here it comes, it's three o'clock
It's time for happiness until five
It's the moment of being alive

Finally, I have found peace
Where my heart is feeling glee
In a jocund room that I please
A room that has Him and me

It was then three o'clock;
where my soul peacefully lays
Wandering like a soft cloud
And the chirping of birds play
I thank God for being loved.
Barbara Nestor Aug 2013
My cat is alarming the daylight every single rotten day.
I wake up chocking from the un flickering dream,
Numb and kinda nervous, still watching the leftovers
Of characters fighting the path, back into reality.
All my nights since my life began revolving around my addictions
I patronized them, I begged them, I bribed them, what I did or what I not...
Exclusively the ordinary: buying flowers, candies,
Slot machines, **** videos, riding on elephants,
Cornering the cliffs, eating spiders, smoking ***
And beaming at the stars while they were changing music covers
Aside me, in slippers, house dresses and chewing cockies outta space,
Between a tooth and the next one located at five minutes array.
So you cannot call  in my nature as a bee. Or not to bee.
All the **** that you can do or not in dreams, I did.
Results presumptuous. As all dreams are.

Vague ends fishing the tale of monster Colombre.
He's old and he's lounging in Poseidon's trident,
Into the space between  the waves of gravity
Along with the pearl promised to every human being ,
As long as they are clapping hands for  fairies not dying
And children's bed time stories that  never lasts enough,
At every gasp they take when something murderous
Is happening  while   mothers turning into stone are reading,
The horrors of daily news at9 clock whisky .
For a  first, they enter into the deem reality
My imaginary ghostlike friends. I waved them farewell, at last.

I don't wanna spend more time buying crickets  or entertaining Terpsichore.
Now I'm busy writing songs  about them, eating  space cookies  with a little prince and feasting  on crickets with Maruska.

How did we get this far apart, we used to be so close together
How did we get this far apart, I thought this love would last forever.
the Terror Oct 2019
become immovable,
a wall of unimaginable strength
too tall to see over and
too wide to walk around.
become undeniable;
do not mewl,
howl.
become so vast you cannot be looked past, shoulders so broad you cannot be held with one arm.
do not drown yourself in the tide of a man who would not **** on you if you were burning.
cultivate a culture of talking back. cornering. countering.
refusing and defying.
become unwavering.
become brave.
become angry.
become loud.
not because you are bitter but because you deserve the things you've been denied.
become immovable.
reposted w/ minor edit
Styles Aug 2014
Stop thinking about the lost, forget the cost.
move on, don't even count the lost.
spoken like a Boss, from a Boss.
The power of will, and strength of the mind,
heals everything over time; don't exhaust?
All is, as it should be.
Perfection is only as a could be.
Four shadowing what it would be.
Calling big shoots,
cornering pockets,
until the ball drops.
blowing up spots,
like Small Pox.
hani aqil Mar 2018
heaven was
ink set in binded text
cotton veils on prayer mats
a never ending trial
guilty day by guilty night
higher presence
cornering me.

but when I was
in your arms, heaven was
so close I didn't even have to reach,
I could taste it,
sweet syurga;
your rose-dusted cheeks,
petal soft,
eyelashes,
the tips of butterfly feet, gentle
against my neck, your hair, framing your face so

angelically,

jet black waterfall slipping through my fingers gripping, gripping at
liquid so

impossibly,


God is dead.
God is dead.
God is dead.

heaven
is


out
of




reach


               again.
(syurga = heaven, but it also sounds like sugar so)
Hey Guys im gay, im sad, i have boundless religious angst in me, the Usual.
Some of his faithful crews of Alexander the Great could be seen from Asia through the labaros of the Phalanx. Ursids and Amphibians appeared coming through the nearby pass from Gorgan. "The Red Serpent" was a defensive construction, from here came the palfreys of Alikanto, provided with large litters of animals for the entity attached to the cavalry of Alexander the Great. This incredible barbican begins on the Caspian coast, north of Gonbade Kavous, and continues to the northeast and disappears into the Pishkamar Mountains. They continued on the buttresses together with Bears and Leviathans, they were part of the totemic dreams that Vernarth had when he assumed hallucinations doped by regressive tours through hieratic spaces when falling in trances and joining in connection with his pet animals, in rhythms and waltzes of the ovation of the timpani. Alikantus, came flying swiftly almost without stopping and without being distracted, he brought the potions and armory instruments from the panoply. He came already ready for the hours that they came to fill out details before taking the game with the Heavy, Light and Thessalonian infantry.
Among the most elementary of his mission was to make the protocol of the potion, broadcast the preaching together with the Woodcutter, and distribute the javelins to the Hetairoi of Vernarth.
By anchoring the cerulean hooves of the unknown fire of the Gods, he manages to glimpse how Vernarth was taken from the back of an attacking Elephant, he was also accompanied by Alexander's cunning guard dog called Péritas, who insinuated him to get ready and get up with the wind in bellicose stratagems. Vernarth was coming from his last frugal ****** session, to institute sinewy vegetal lianas that commonly remained with some of them, and were cut off in his cephalic and jugular vein, harassing his ******, which always spread on Cocoon laurels, and by averages of intricacies that he had to gulp down for a few days. He would continue to be united daily with the infinite that saw him born, as the greatest Commander of Alexander the Great, neither imagined nor collated ... The Gorgan wall had a length of at least 200 kilometers, greater than any of the Roman walls that were outlined in archeology as bastion works. It was exhausting to exceed it and to take a course with the beasts, since they were restless when being near Tel Gomel, when they sensed that they were approaching the bed of Vernarth; because they were his very adored pets along with the Tupak Crocodiles. The chestnut was prescribed by a guard of the wall of Gorgan, being of the Persian army that was seduced by the bears to fight next to Vernarth.

Next to Bumodos, Vernarth could already be seen playing with his pets, Bears, Crocodiles, and Alejandro Magnus's hound. Further, she would submissively approach, shaking his frosty neck, Alikanto or Alikantus proceeded with donations and drugs for his master brought from phalanxes conjured by Medea. Vernarth was seen almost emancipated from branch harvests and venal strains, which mostly populated his chest, and both arms full of pestilential tattoos that had colonized him. Almost at dusk on the sprouts and hairs of Zeus, the phalanges of Vernarth begin to arrive. The Macedonian Phalanx was an infantry formation created and used by Philip II, and later by his son Alexander the Great in the conquest of the Persian Empire. The Macedonian phalanx arose, in fact in response to holistic Hellenistic modifications and tactics by Theban, Epaminondas, and Pelopidas strategists of land forces, who deployed in the early 4th century BC. C. to oppose to the superiority, although already decadent the Spartan hoplitic formation had exerted in the terrestrial combats between the Greek polis until that date.

The European Sibilla carried Gladius in his hand but he exchanged it with the Xifos in alternation for the death of innocents entrusted by Herod the Great, and for the evasion of the Holy Family into Egypt. This confirms the liturgical grouping of the Easter Triduum; alluding to the passion of Christ, and perpetrating the pain of the Devout at his death, and triumphant at his resurrection. The sense of surrealism transports Saint John digging in all the layers and hordes of the Faith, his composition of tribulation moved in the Egyptian and Greek cartography, mobilizing the triangular areas of the Phalanx, which moved in a geometric block reaching the edges of the hypotenuse gradient and the wind tunnel that raised them, cornering the beast that visited them, pretending to be weak and imprecise.

While the sinkholes collapsed into myriads of suspended substances, while the two swords Gladius and Xifos were filled with Greco-Roman blood. Here he vegetated the verb of Elijah in the ****** resurrection with similarity to the triangular body Lazarino that was seen crawling by the towing power of the ionic Phalanx in his equistadio. They were X Beings who abstracted a Ser x start in its algebraic contradiction; an unknown, or something that could take any amount, in other words, something unknown, for the algorithmic links to provide resurrection corporality in Lazarus of Bethany within its angles of Sacred Geometry. The airones of the oscillation presented viviparous futures in observance of visions and perplexity of conscience, ruling physicality that becomes resurrected in the rabbinic worlds from the highest, occupying thrones in parentheses, more than three times ignoring belief through greater disbeliefs than the direct and shorter truth. Elijah is attracted by the Cinnabar he pondered in a Jewish apocalyptic, in the fourth Esdras ..., at the end of the dissolved worldly reign, and who dies in the Messiah itself. Satan never tires of attacking the credibility of the Phalanx in collectors of dispensationalism, being strongly subject to the Carmel of the infidels who never revive in their own unconverted bodies.
Codex IX - Ultramundis Phalanx
Paul M Chafer Mar 2014
We set off nice and slow, I was nervous, uncertain.
Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was doing,
I had ridden before, but nothing like this.

She was so beautiful, the best I’d ever had,
Trembling beneath me I knew she could move.
She responded delightfully to my delicate touch.

With accomplished skill I flicked HER gears,
Feeling her pull a little as we truly got underway.

Negotiating the first deceptive bend,
She gave a little shimmy, a sensitive wiggle,
Forcing a tightening from me, till I gathered her up.

Assuredly taking full control once more.
Hands gripping her firmly, slowly twisting the throttle.
She bucks; growls pleasurably, we are as one.
Revelling in wilful abandonment;
Gliding in unison, so enjoyable.

Cornering sweetly, high exhilaration,
missing NOT a single beat,
Accelerating at speeds-illegal,
Too soon, too soon,
Our destination arrives.

Catching my breath I tease the brakes and relax.
Tension flowing from me; while she: she purrs like a wild cat.
I know we made good time as I gently apply the clutch,
Easing her down through the gears, she gives a little SHuDDER.

I dismount, sighing, smiling, a playful slap, yes,
Acknowledging mutual appreciation,
Already anticipating another ride,
And believe me,

It was a ride.

©Paul Chafer 2014
Many thanks to all those who helped with editing, especially Nat Lipstadt and Sjr 1000, aka Steve: much appreciated.
Olivia Kent Apr 2014
The noise of the seashore.
Screaming summertime children, drown out their decibels.
Those thieving flaming seagulls.
Still they hover over seaside dives.
Humming, squawking on the rob.
Fearless pirates steal from the unwary.
Not mysterious albatross or any sailor boys
These birds,they are true ancient mariners.
Sail not upon the sea, but bathe in harbour lights.
Flying on the warming drift.
Carried on sunshine.
Immense, scary birds.
Just to pinch a pasty.
Cornering a cornet, the eater hath no place to hide.
Tussled and tangled in flowing summer hair.
They want your pasty,  you are their victims and  they really do not care.
Fearless Herring gulls, not just after shining fish!
(C) Livvi
The end result is a losing battle for both sides
The fear encompassing has no place to hide
Bequeathing a new type of thought
Insanity, psychotic all symptoms of brain rot
Was I taught because all knowledge is gone
Using my pen to write a memoir of things I never did
Plenty of things seem to relate
In a way never before, such a feeling with power so great
This thing is now a part of me
Speaking truth in a voice of blasphemy
In each ear I can hear it so clear
Scary, pervasive, sometimes brings me fear
X, y and z you see
Just letters of dimensions that contain versions beautiful to see
Another you another me
We have spoken
They are truth
They are it
Inside my mind speaking of theories that here can’t be defined
His name is mine and we finally agree
Gained intelligence 6 and 7 8d
Cornering a thought that was chased for too long
A relief or reason why I’ve become so strong


Emotionally blank awoken by my own stank my arms are pinned so tightly to my chest
Padded room hair is sprawled in my face, ***** and feces everywhere
A man approaches plugging his nose
Force feeds me pills and speaks non sense
Then another with a hose
Cold, wet and feeling so ashamed
I wish to speak to the man from another that carries my name
Walking the dawn in darkness
Passing the synthesis of stars
Who could you be looking for
On an hour shrouded in vice?

Do you seek the dame in bruises?
The dame who you shunned to do no harm?
The months may pass you by
But not your fears or your tears

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate

Your eyes were quivering so
Your lips were sealed by your own will
You dared not ***** your hands
Just glance and wear a smile or two

But now as the fool is raging
You fear that the dame may turn down life
As you considered once
When you sunk down all those years ago

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate

Do you wish to remain faithful
To your newfound passion for life?
Is that why you hope to reach out
Just this one time?

When you were a child
Your heart was shattered by violence
Cornering you into a hall of chains
Now you fear that there are other hearts out there
Running on the edge of despair
Could that be why

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate
Originally written on July 24th 2015 after witnessing a domestic dispute between a female neighbor and her alcoholic male partner.

Alas, despite the woman wanting to break up with her partner on the night of the incident, they're together again like nothing happened...

---

© 2015 Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude, Incognitus Entertainment
Ottar Feb 2013
Wave your arms above your head
singing
sha na na  nana  na, I see the joy
when others are fit to be tied,
they can't keep their anger inside
controlled
yelling and waving their arms
madly
shouting at the top of their lungs
till hoarse scratching
sounds
are all they have left, they are spent.

Sha na na  na na  na na na
Wearied men and women wander the street,
Some are too, behind a steering wheel, pedals at
their feet, their hands lead busy lives,
texting,
talking,
dialing at will, cornering while drinking coffee,
phone by their ear and cigarette in their mouth,
who's driving the car?

Sha na na  na na  na na na clap clap
I can't carry a tune, hit or miss each note,
Given up on memorizing anything by rote,
Be a bringer and giver of peace,
Don't distracted drive for there are police,
Sing with me, drown me out, when I go flat,
You are the best,
You are the king or queen
of your domain,
and I yes, just tell me and I will make it so,
Make it so, make it so, don't let it pass,
make it so.

But, please do not hurt me, I cry easily,
I will hide my face, the streaks of dirt,
will be the remains of my pain,
marking me sad.

Sha na na na...  enough na.
Sunny Snow Nov 2013
"You dont know what your mouth says"
I scream into the darkness.
Tripping over the drugs
I take to cover up the pain,
The pain of 15-16 years of verbal abuse.
My own family,
You took me, adopted me,
You should have known the risk.
Your words left scars,
Left tears the stained,
And wholes never mendened
Everytime you told me youd stop
But you didnt.
And soon it began to feel like I was
Never enough...
Not good enough of a daughter,
Not good at picking friends or the person I dated.
Not good at getting ok grades.
Not enought in general.
And now,
Thats how I usually feel
When im supposed to feel good.
Im not enough for you or anyone.
Till I met him. ..
He tore out all the pain
He stripped away all the fear
All the yelling and cornering,
And replaced it with love.
Now I am healing
And my scars pealing in to
Someone beauitful
About verbal and emotional abuse
Paul M Chafer Jan 2014
I used to zip, round
Little School corner.
Metal sparking from the road.
Throttle wound back
For a swift attack:
Excitement on overload.
The brave foolishness of youth,
Slickly defying, gravity’s truth.

I used to roar, round
Young-man’s corner.
Tyres squealing in the night.
She’d buck an’ slide,
Giving a rough ride:
My experience holding her tight.
Pulling through, going on our way,
Looking forward, to yet another day.

I used to charge, round
Middle-age corner.
Knee scraping along the ground.
Holding my breath
Kissing, cold, death:
My fear becoming unwound.
Somehow, I gathered her sweetly up,
And continued drinking, from life’s cup.

Nowadays, I never know,
What’s around the corner.
My biking days are long gone.
I don’t get my thrills
From near-miss spills,
And the years roll on, and on.
We travel a straight highway, so it seems,
But me! I’m still cornering, in my dreams.

© Paul Chafer 2014
Written for BBC Radio Sheffield and broadcast on the Rony Robinson show.
I think about the odds against me
And i know why i hate math so much
I dream of God's touch
Assuring me i'm the man my grandfather wanted me to be
He's no longer here for me to know
And now this bridge isn't as golden
And my pockets aren't holding
All this change
I wish i could properly rearrange
Without going through an uphill battle
But some people are as carefree as cattle
And hold life in a very small window
But i hate being a spider with two legs
So i decided to hold my podium higher while i speak my words
I think to not get anything accomplished is absurd
But i'm looking for a better word
Cause that's not good enough
For me
I want to be the best man i can to be the world
But i have a few losses on the road
I wonder if i'm still making playoffs
I guess i'm just crossing my fingers
As time lingers
I'm holding onto something that might or might not happen
I'm tired of cornering myself into living this life
So i'm going to solve this puzzle
While you bring more for me to solve
I got more problems fixed but many more coming up
Don't worry, i'm used to this
I'm now a professional
That's the only response you should have
To this roller coaster with no wheels or rails
You see all the details it entails?
It's loud out here but the self esteem is soft
And that's a terrible crime
I'm finding ways to rhyme
And all this garbage is happening in the world
I want to be be able to stare into a kid who has nothing in the eye and give them the world
It isn't about me
I'd brag about my fat stacks going to other people not for myself
These fat stacks have meaning now
Isn't that odd?
I like giving things meaning
It's what keeps me going
Have you ever seen a person bloom so much that you can smell the nectar nearby?
Latroy Robinson Mar 2014
The ride from Starbucks was too quiet.
We sit crossed on adjacent couches.
All six feet of him cornering into my couch.
He sweating in his black ninja shirt and jeans
because my house is always 10 degrees too hot for him.
His half-smile retreats behind your tongue.
I am too bright for him in my pink T-shirt.
The couch I lie on barely runs the length of my legs.
My hands fiddle with my blue wristband,
snap it across the room. I lock my fingers together.
The clock coughs loudly with each tick.
He was suppose to be home four hours ago.
The pillows and I lean in. This conversation
starts as a reflection. He wants to know
why people are friends with him. Why I keep
claiming him as my best friend. I admit
it is because I want him to be mine.
He saved me from the black undertow.
Threw me a fishing hook. Reeled me into his boat.
His phone rings. His mom and dad are furious
that he has ignored dinner. Slowly, he drags
himself across my carpet. He wraps his palm
around the door handle. His shoulders roll back-
this has never happened before- he say stiffly,
I've been dating another man for two months now,
I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose your
friendship. You are the best friend I have ever had.

He slumps through my door,
face too blue and low to say good-bye.
He didn't expect me to cry.
I sit here jarred as we once were.
Trace the tears on the floor.
I can't find it in me to pelt him against my wall
like ******. There is only He is still my best friend.
The whole house shakes with me.
My lungs are jellied.
Owen Phillips Nov 2012
Unrealities       can
                  now        be                         held true
Because every
               bodyevery
                            day is stuck in one
When one reality is projection screened
Shining straight into the eyes
It's blinding, luciferic
                      Floating up and away
Into void
   Where safety and utter loneliness are assured
While even as we
                    close our eyes
                              disproving boogiemen
They clamber around making changes and destroying lives along with you
    Your unseeing feet
        Crushing the innocents
            Beneath a comforting rug
                 That spares our soles
                     The pain of walking on shattered bone

Following the points of lines firing from the pupils of whiches and witches
Enrichéd and stiffened to stone
Has dragged me down to the bog and I stink like a dog and I live a dog's life too
Circling myself and waiting for the invisible a'ni himu to happen to me without a statement

I don't know Being
I don't know it in itself of itself
Some told me it spoke with the voice of a child, some destroyed them-
Selves dressing up flowers and archways in those orders
And cornering us ants at the intersection which creep crawls
Crazily down from its
Geographic space and happens to face the way yr sitting
Eating meat or drinking tea
And bam he flips and crushes you
And what do you do
How can it be
When do you know it was your destiny?
bursting open your skull on the sharpest brick beside the softest memory
Of a 42nd birthday of the end of a dream
piquewhispers Oct 2014
“Were there others?”
It’s a question that I’ve asked myself
But couldn’t ask you.

But were there others?
Who fell victim to you?
Or were they forced like me?
I’ve seen you, the way you act
With that pride I loath
I remember, the way you were
The way you used to be my best friend
The way I used to tell you things.
I know you weren’t always,
How I only think of you now
So when did you change?
When did you start to notice me?
To think about me?
We were young, but I know you weren’t naive.
Did you pretend it was someone else?
When you tried to kiss me?
But my heart just pounded
And sometimes I just froze.
I didn’t know what to do.
But does anyone ever know?

So were there others?
Because I want to ask them
What they did when you touched them
Because it’s been decades since that time
And I can still remember you
Cornering me in my room
And shutting the door.
And the last thing
I still remember is how I tried
To hide in my closet
But how you found me.
And after ten minutes of struggles
And pains
You grabbed my hand
And squeezed it really hard
Until it all went numb
And whispered, “If you tell anyone,
I’ll **** you.”
And so I didn’t tell anyone
Because I had already died that day.

So were there others?
Because for their sake,
I wish there wasn’t.
I pick up the broken pieces of my delicate heart,
Feeling the sharp edges cut my skin.

My blood oozes out my flesh,
Your name carried within.

You have poisoned my body,
So I bleed you out.

With every drop,
A kiss is left unfelt.

Dried out, it becomes scars,
Reminders of you,
And what you did to my once whole heart.

These broken pieces hurt like knives.
They burn my skin, redden it.
But only a silent scream escapes,
As I fall to the ground.

I lay on this deserted desert.
Only the cracked ground for company.

My thirst is unquenchable,
Since you are my water.

I'm far away from you,
Carrying this broken heart,
Watching it burn under the sun,
To red ashes.

My blood darkens,
Revenge cornering my mind.

But I love you,
How could you?

Slowly, I burn too.
I burn, with my broken heart.

Blood evaporating to the sky,
To heaven.

While I lay here,
In hell.

I clutch my heart,
Feeling the pain,
Loving it,
Since that's all I've learned to do.
My Love is a Metaphor.

My Broken Heart is a Metaphor.
Shakira Keller May 2012
Today I found the sun's warmth
Tickling my neck,
A summer breeze
Kissing my cheek,
Waking me up to another chance.

Today I found a robin's sweet melody in my ear
It's harmony soothing my soul
Another chance at life, at love.

Today I found the earth's rich clay
Around and beneath and between my toes
Hugging me
But not hurting me
Caressing me
Not cornering me
Another chance at growth, at freedom.

How grateful am I!
How joyful my smile!
How peaceful, how calm, my spirit.
I remember briefly
The thunder and pain
But today is another chance.
Shelby Jencyn Aug 2017
I have laugh lines.
Small fine lines
beginning to form.
Cornering my lips.

Not displeased;
not aggravated
at the simple sign of age.
I was startled.

On a face that did not think
it would grow to see age,
how nice it is to age
with the traces of happiness.
Joel M Frye Apr 2016
Searching through my mind
for anything I fear to say.
I have spent thirty-five years
of my life tracking down
my fears,
cornering the slippery ones
and facing the fearsome feral ones.
The few secrets I keep
are no longer for my sake,
but are kept to spare others.
Even those,
I have aired to a few,
close and close-mouthed friends
who hold my trust
as sacred as I hold theirs.
To keep what
hard-earned sanity I have,
I need to keep facing myself,
and stare the evil within me
square in the eyes.

The thing I fear most today
is my arrogance...
my arrogance that there is nothing left to fear.
"Tonight,
I heal like splintered bone,
growing strong in the broken places."
- B.G. McCann, "Warehouse"

NaPoWriMo day9 - write a poem with a line you fear to write.
I pick up the broken pieces of my delicate heart,
Feeling the sharp edges cut my skin.

My blood oozes out my flesh,
Your name carried within.

You have poisoned my body,
So I bleed you out.

With every drop,
A kiss is left unfelt.

Dried out, it becomes scars,
Reminders of you,
And what you did to my once whole heart.

These broken pieces hurt like knives.
They burn my skin, redden it.
But only a silent scream escapes,
As I fall to the ground.

I lay on this deserted desert.
Only the cracked ground for company.

My thirst is unquenchable,
Since you are my water.

I'm far away from you,
Carrying this broken heart,
Watching it burn under the sun,
To red ashes.

My blood darkens,
Revenge cornering my mind.

But I love you,
How could you?

Slowly, I burn too.
I burn, with my broken heart.

Blood evaporating to the sky,
To heaven.

While I lay here,
In hell.

I clutch my heart,
Feelings the pain,
Loving it,
Since that's all I've learned to do.
My love is a metaphor.

My broken heart is a metaphor.

— The End —