Kids these days make me sick. Too much time spent on IT. What’s IT you say? Well IT is the only thing that is not. IT is in but really IT is out, like a drunk left in his ***** passed out on the couch. The ultimate cool the epitome of breathtaking, and your left taking this out of proportion. What is so important? I mean really I don’t understand the importance. A synonym for the learned: imperative or even essence. That is the idea of something but your left holding nothing. Not even a burnt out flame like the lack of heat from the passion in your heart. Does it need to start…once more? A muscle unused is abused and left to consume itself. You incite cannibalism! Munching on ourselves to feed our soul lost in this dangerous world. You’re too tough to ask for directions, too stupid to read a map, or too naïve to think you are alone in this? What is THIS? THIS is just IT after THAT. THAT is simply free thought. Yet the brain sits and rots in your cranium. That’s a fancy word for skull. The helmet, not to keep thoughts in, but to let them become mature and flow down into a puddle between my feet. You see this and harmful words escape your mouth and say I ****** myself. I think not; if my head is leaking that means my thoughts cannot be contained. In pain I see the young adults of our time reading line after line of the same crap we are feed everyday of our lives. A lie, a lie I scream from an empty room, a classroom. There are entities inhabiting the same plane, yet in the same they are not here. So far away lost in this digital age. I agree you cyborgs need entertainment all the same; however, the smile I receive from seeing the moon in the middle of the day is the found on your face when someone likes your page. A paper trail untraveled by so many and misplaced in cyberspace. I walk at night to see the darkness, and you see only the lit up text message from your lazy boy recliner chair. I am convinced you’re not all there, but that’s not your fault. I blame it on the generations. I do blame you because you succumb to IT. There is that funny word again that carries no weight, but wait it can mean so much. IT is the idea of reality and your losing touch. Thus, there’s a word I don’t think gets used enough. Thus, reality is known only by how well it is defined on Wikipedia or an online dictionary equipped with spellcheck of course because without that how would we know the right way to spell. Well, well in my lap a newborn child fell. Not crying, not smiling, I’m not sure if it was even breathing. This baby, helpless and fragile, is society. We as an assembly need a babysitter for our whole lives. Why? Why live without experiencing life? Why be content with any answer that was given, not found. You have to search to find and in time life’s chorus line will start and so will the tears. The so perfectly phrased line will place fear in all who understand. How can we understand when all left standing is man? Man a fragile thing like a mansion on the beach. Sand ******* up the existence of all the living. I want to introduce a new word: WHEN. WHEN will we not take the so-called facts as face value and attempt to discredit them with logical thinking. WHEN will we move the rudder instead of waiting for the tides to change? WHEN will we place IT on it’s own head and explain something we know to someone else. Learning is gained not by blindly memorizing facts, like my mac, but by forming an attack on the disbeliefs. Hopefully to hone an opinion and be ready to defend IT, and I mean in every sense of the word. IT is the idea of reality and your catching on. Leave the bottle of forward thinking, and begin to chew on the backwards and sideward food your not use to.  Open the mind and heart to be restarted by learning. Thought is the jumper cables to this world’s battery dead from leaving it’s lights on all night, and now late to work for it wouldn’t start. Roughly 6 billion, 775 million, 235 thousand, and 741 people on this earth and we still don’t feel part of IT. Have we lost IT, have we tossed IT overboard? The only savior to the sickness and now it is sinking to the bottom of the sea to be discovered like a lost treasure. A gold doubloon used to measure the currency of our time. The state of our States is left to us to state whether we hate or don’t care about the shape we’re in, a sphere, a bubble, a circle with no beginning or end. Nowhere to start just have to keep moving in the same general direction or be swept away by the undercurrent. Drop your anchor and disturb the flow, stop the overused pattern. Turn the cycle of a circle into the turning of a wheel and use that to drive. Finally to take a destination of you’re own and truly think of the cosmos. To place you’re cognitive mind into motion and here the notion that there is more to THIS then IT.

Who knew that all of the sensations were real?
The ones that we all find foolish.
We find that all of the words are staged, until we become part of the play.
The extremes become the means to our existence.
A broken heart? Who would believe such a thing?
Such an impractical diagnosis.
An empty mind? An impossible conviction.
A pain so sharp, a knife so long and wide, that all that is left remains numb.
Doubtful at best.
All of these disbeliefs thrown into an everyday life.
The disbeliefs that were experienced from the other extreme not long before.

Who would believe love can stop time?
That it could defy the rules of nature and create the calm after the storm?
That it finds life when death transpires?
That it could bring two lives into one?

I did.

I believed it all, and what a fool I have been.
So now I have lost all faith,
all trust that these feelings can coexist with our everyday lives.
I am a fool who has been deceived. A fool who has lost meaning even in deceit.

And now I remain numb in the storm of reality.

Alone.

As we all start, and we all end.

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.

Well it seems that I have spun out of control
Days running by, pathetic and unfulfilled
Turning around, to find the place I once found
But the road disappears as the next sunsets

So I’ll keep on walking,
Making music in my head,
For I have not been able to strum a chord
I cannot stay in one place,
Apartment syndrome
My lease is up next week

No place to call home,
I just keep on walking
Trying to figure out which way to go

Sell my things, to the greater good
Just a mattress, some clothes on my back
A half smoked joint,
I have been holding on to
Some point, I will learn to love
And confess my soul, in a simple 3-chord lullaby

I still believe, music makes us listen,
Say the things in such poetic justice
Combining all of our insecurities
All of our woes, and disbeliefs
Bringing us closer together, being able to trust us

ever since
that brightest of lights
birthed the universe
and all that it holds
our particles have
been striving through
all that is known
of space and time
through countless changes
of form and matter
through our unknown infinities
amidst the infinites known
through beliefs and disbeliefs
uncertainties and doubts
falling continuously
in the path of our orbits
endlessly we will travail
entrained to reunite
with our eternal partner
separated only temporally
impeded by the superlunary
seemingly fated from beyond
the gravity of this mystic tie
binds all sempiternally
and we will be found
one in the other

You're the flower I never had
Precious like the blood that bought my salvation
My heart is painted with your love
And your absence makes you more beautiful
For you who made me abstain from all habits
And i aborted all my fears and disbeliefs

Did I ever tell you you're raised in the
Billboard of my mind
As I see you in every single
Thing I do
I have buried my spects
To see no other and focus on a treasure
I bought when my heart was hunted by
Heartbreaks
I can't see the future but i feel your closeness
like the branches to the tree
Am planting a garden of Faith
Hope to stand over all calamities

Turn on the ac
Freeze my worries away
Turn off the basement lights
Hide from the monsters in my closet
Close the dark windows and shades
Forget about those blood hounds tracking my history
Close the curtain on their act of disbeliefs
Work without truthful sounding distractions
Unplug the life support on all my exes  
Save the love for someone who wants it

I want to be disturbed;
unsettled
from this life.
Consciousness to time warp
like a fly is to honey.
Suspending no disbeliefs,
this place is too small of a world
to flourish.
These four walls
are too tall
to climb over
and too thick to punch through.
But ****** knuckles
and buckling knees
count for nothing
in the end
if you can still count your discomforts on one hand.

A mind so vacant,
ain't it awful
it's still complicated?
Life so full
and weighted with
pockets full of
   hesitation.
Can't seem to let go,
yet so
eager to now cut the rope
wrapped around a swollen throat,
hindering worries.
Not fit for elegance,
true to limbic resonance.
I keep myself closed off,
   tightly
in a mason jar,
you see?
No!
There's no turning back.
The veil's been pulled,
the world's not flat.
Stuck in all these disbeliefs,
while monsters still
control your dreams

I've lost it all...
Lost love,
Lost my family,
Lost my sense of self,
Lost my heart along the way,
For love.
Everyone and everything
Seems to be against me.
******* the world
From my mistakes,
My disbeliefs,
My uncertainty,
My empathy,
For love.
In this moment...
Everlasting,
Painful and debilitating,
Taking over every ounce,
Square footage of my being,
I am drowning without a fight.
How could what felt like a lifetime of happiness
Feel like it is now an eternity of misery?
Knowing it was my fault...
My choices,
My beliefs,
My dishonesty,
Holding back,
For love.
Out of control,
Living a lie,
In denial,
Out of character,
All for love
After I've lost it all.

The man I loved is dead and gone
and rest before me, a carcass;
his shaky hands and shaky breaths
are almost fully silenced.

I don't recognize that sound of his,
unusual and discordant,
those mumbled songs and deepened voice
have surely lost its purpose.

Say it's you one last time,
suspend all disbeliefs;
with open arms and inviting eyes,
tell me all that you've repented.

Thoughts billowed out from the mind
All the disbeliefs and sins whirl around my soul
What's more...
The barbed arrow of time pierces into my heart
And as the witching hour dawned upon us
It snatches my breath away... Am I in hell?

©malavikavipin

Reigniting blood moon,
I have come to
seek my abdication.

After a long haul of
dark clouds, I come face to
face with my failures.

My experiments with faith
and disbeliefs did not help
to understand the mysterious self.

Now the significant hurts have
become my strength, accepting
the challenge of changed winds.

I meet you O god―
midway, one day to
settle the scores.

Disbeliefs on dogmas
We ride south to pretend,
De-bliss your assumptions
On the ladders we ascend,
Climbing and huffing
We puff our lungs out,
Soldering the bonds
Through malts and stout.
Losing awareness
Baiting but not biting
Whimpers of warm wind
Shivers our feelings
Meeting on outskirts
Trusting guts and instincts
Wavering the solidarity
Of rights and critics
Hovering towards luck
On things we avoid
On things we never spoke of
Illegal and unspoken
Unclear and jokingly rotten
Candid thoughts
You ought to forget
Split second
When eyes are wet
Caressing my mind
As you are all set,
Future scoping
Towards my own death.

How I beg for some peace just a moment or 2
A bit of clarity in the confusion that is you
We fight everyday over the simple things.
yet you never let me win.
You hold me hostage with your disbeliefs.
That i fear I will never be free.
O how I wish for some silence just a moment or 2
Just a brake from the kaos that is you
You drive me crazy with your negative thoughts.
From morning till night you keep me in a spin even when i sleep you wont give in.
How I beg for some peace just a moment or to a bit of clarity in the confusion that is you

plucked strings play dooms of love
as my Father moves over them
agonizing
guitar strings into torture
victorious   heated   triumphant
****** sacrifice
crucifixion by melody
made holy despite unimaginable selfishness
wiring His Wounds into connective tissues
through tsunamic surgery
opening ways covered in blood
but we choose to live in our dooms
our pink dooms of disbelief
rose colored glassy, glistering lies
and glossic dooms of disbeliefs

“I am become comfortably numb”


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

I am a phoenix
A legendary bird, a legendary creature
I soar high above the clouds
Even in stormy days and nights.
I know how to flutter my wings.
I know how to sing.
My voice will give you shiver down your spine
‘Coz it sounds very mystical.
You’ll hear it when you truly listen
Not just by mere hearing it.
I can also heal you through tears
‘Coz that’s one magic I have from within.
I can carry immense loads
Even though you never saw me as one who can.
I can do it far better than
Those who never believe in me.
Well, I am a strong phoenix
A phoenix you thought never existed
I am a phoenix who can surpass miles of your disbeliefs.

I am a phoenix.
A legendary bird, a legendary creature
I burn at the right time.
I get caught on fire sometimes
And die right on the spot.
But no worries because I am a Phoenix.
I rise from my ashes again.