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Solent in Expiationem Animarum

Saint John the Apostle says: “Zefián, the computer of the Duoverse of the Verthian world, indicates the order of his creation of the world, according to the transcendental plant living matter, in the interstices of time itself that exists within sidereal time. Noting that matter and time, is governed by all mythological beings in a compartment with monotheism, will be defined by atavistic laws, which are the deity of the intense hiding place of procreation, endowing great contextual residences, for habitat and a world in which larger non-residential scales, which go from passerby between the lines of time, and cosmological phenomena, which in the Duoverse face vicissitudes of the stars and their physicality added to the arcs of memory and emotions. Thus the main task of how the structure of experience surpasses consciousness, to novelize the orthogonal movements of the Universe, but in a Vernarthian world with great explorations of matter, which are quantified and volatilized in the field of its ethereal existence. The laws will be governed by your Zefian computer, describing codes that will verify the fulfillment of pivots in the reactions of the universe, but with refractions when reasoning about the consummate phenomenon. Starting from here in the experienced biology that will overcome the laws of physics, since its value is above the limits that allow the bold line of gravity that bounces in the lines of time, and its distances promoting more discretion when resisting threats. of a possible tiring case, a product of some relative dominance not included in all worlds with each other, in some case that does not rescue us from loss of links of some omitted sidereal reminiscence, attracting us to a universe governed by hemicycles of merely material particles, and not existential biological ones. The dimensions emerge from the beginning of the same universe, but more delayed from the interval and the second limit of the space that rests, to inaugurate the one that comes. Being the orbit of translation twice rotating towards the sun, but nth times rotating on itself, to go out to another stellar dimension not present. Its geometry will be from the intendancy of the resumption of Cinnabar in Tsambika and Helleniká, to later cancel each other out, making their integration in Patmos, on the coast of Skalá, with curvatures that validate the nullity of successive expirations of material lives, between spiritual expirations alive.


Duoverso is born and will be reborn, every time the years are subject to the loss of everything quantifiable and not, under the light that will be lit on all the darkness, Zefián being, in paronymy in which they lack to appropriate the support and merit of to have it absorbed in the tabernacle of Vas Auric, in the privilege of nothingness itself and nobody, adding itself in what is preserved of the physical support of itself. For just sidereal speed, in which it will have to travel on its same axis of rotating time on itself, in paradoxical of the One-dimensional Beams, these coexisting with the same low and high universes, reconverted into angelic vital luminances, creating orbits and optics in the visions of Christian temporality. By empowering them to enable them in the overexcited that derive disorders of intermittency of memory and physics of time, to reinsert themselves in the sequence that inhabits the residual of the speed of the Beam, as a Theo-Philosophical entity, of cellular multiplicity or cells of seasonality. of retrograde times, for the independence of temporality, under the regime of the past made up of an unbelievable yesterday. Overcoming the conserved immediacy of conviction in the One-dimensional Beams (Kafersesuh), it is observed denser when every mortal admits to being due to integrating and later brooding, dissecting organic matter into inorganic matter, suspended in the richness of a world of Faith and Prayer, of the most anti-gregarious desert and lost in the world, but supported by hollow walls, which do not exist in Vernarthian emotional matter.

The movements being physical, they take us on conjectured layers to discern their magnitude, emphasizing the rigor of their measurement on us, instead, the ambivalence of Zefian, delivers in both chromatic the Dark and White Duoverse, under the reference of the behavioral alternations of the Diospyros, source of the arboreal, for the procreation granted in the hands of Leiak. Relying on this equational exercise, with less time to design for its genealogy, but rather on its apocalypse, reinstalled in abolished primary unknown spaces, to have it once again in the light of consciousness, recognized as an inert matter of the past, but living off the immanent eternity of nebulae that personalize the earring of the Caltrop, taking temporality, but not snatching any hand to tear it from his own.

Vernarth says: “In the rhetoric of the Universe-Duoverse theorem, it is worth noting the past with entity, present and future also, connected to the time of Verthian inspiration, Holderlin-Heidegger, on issues of physical habitability, as a complement to the entity, which anticipates the present/future in the vicinity of death in the past and future, but tangentially in lively whims of existentialism-mortality, for a way of being rented out at death, as a way of being, dwelling in death itself and in the act of embodiment having existed, but with its own mandate after having been rented. The Vernarthian World appears in this current, prolonging existence from non-existence, granting complementarity of more past existence, before an unlived death. Ontologically, This theory stems from the One-Dimensional Beams of Kafersesuh, in Ein Karem. Essentially Christian, as the matrix of existence between Ein Karem (Nativity of the Messiah) and Gethsemane, as an interconnection of materiality in metaphysical reflections, a product of the immaterial of life not lived, as an urgent sacrilegious death, and of the anticipated dimension of the life process- death-life of Christian Messianism.

Vernarth says: "with the slaves in my disparate hands, one picked up what the other was carrying. With my right hand, I took the Duoverso, and with the other my porter; I held my reins on the maxims of Elpenor, before falling to the cliff. One naughty day but with the worst pain in my chest, I went to see him in his room, and I structured him as an immortal, at the time of forming the world, "knowing not even being part of an identity" favoring him to be part of me. combustion and ignition due to the friction of the Universe on the Duoverse. Such was that fearlessness and affordability that it decorated me with unexpected tears of belonging by imprisoning me with superfluous boastfulness. But his courage will be mine, and he will have to anticipate being in the middle of grace, as in Gaugamela wounding my two hearts, one deleterious and the other not..., verbatim saying:

Says the Carrier: “I have to agree to your mandate my lord Vernarth, I have arranged my emetic knights to take him to the empyrean, more remote at nightfall. I know that my own death will also take him, for we are double lives loving death, which falls on a night given to the seventh Falangist soldier. In the midst of souls already disheartened by the misfortune of life, in the figure of eternal death that refuses to receive us discouraged "

Vernarth says: "I do not know if I am or will be brave, because I have forgotten to die, rather I do not know what it is ?, but in the midst of the horses and the hosts of the block, from the anvil of Gaugamela that I have not felt it again..., which is death after feeling my hands and legs severed, but not felt when appropriating some amputee. I know that among the Hypaspists we used umpteenth arrows to mobilize their war apparatus 665, but from the wasteland jump we gathered the delirium of the Falangist command in the Seleucid 666 row, rather detached from every man, in a substantial way in favor of the Alexandrian life, "Of course he was already in the hands of eternity, which hurts more than the tip of an arrow, even being unfaithful to his mortality"

and not in the Universe chained to its fractality, rather of its present-present of the new universe for those who make it negative of itself, towards a clone and neatness, granting it recklessness, who continues to sweep its entity, its dimension, its space, the distances, the matter to receive it in their being. Vernarth, besieges the discursive thinking, under the tides of the tenements and the fears of late emotionality, changing to all the best heroics of the follow and all the experiences of harassing flat lights of the target, in the necropolis that speak resurrected, not being chimera in the best leisure districts live, but immortal of a district..., with steps to constitutive slogans of "succumbed cities, but..., with eternity", connoting after all abolished transference, in eternity present between two beings of mortal rank, the Carrier and Vernarth, Vernarth and Heidegger, but here the last one bringing him the closest radiogram between expiration and eternity, with significant death (End and chaos) and eternity (creation), in the limbo-purgation ratio, as the source of the potion. His total contention and affinity in Heidegger's dialectic, passing through a moment that marks his reincarnation, in the rambling of finite eternity, moving away from Vernarthian ontological and metaphysical reasoning. It was attached magnetic in the Universe, feverish kiss in ambitions of the temporal Being, as substantial of perpetual objectivity towards the unworthy survivor of the Vernarthian theories. So far no similarity is compared to whoever wants it or not, it is part of any estimate or spreadsheet of a complex Duoverse, Within the emerging frontis of progeny, there are ranks derived towards the first to form compound swaths of shelters in the Camels Gigas, who from Jerusalem escorted them with their plantar consciences to Ein Karem, then returning to Gethsemane, to finish in the port of Jaffa. Originally arranged by the children of Israel and the strongholds; Vernarth, Saint John the Apostle, Eurydice, Raeder, and Petrobus with animality, Etréstles, and Kanti, to finally mention King David, who goes to his catafalque before leaving for Jaffa, to return winds to Patmos. Of this primogeniture, the legatee is Vernarth, being presented as co-first-born by giving his portion to Saint John the Apostle, for trust assets of the benefit of a third party for both, and granting the patriarchal and reimbursement to each of his inheritances, being of expeditious aim the liberation of the world that lodged them not authentically in the mediocrity of ascendant ancestors. This prerogative will be decisive to define the dimension of the Duoverse and the One-dimensional Beams as consanguinity, simultaneous nascent and mortal worldview, to radiate them in the beams that support the universe, and from this same, they are transferred to the vision of child-man, child-cherub., for the purpose of defining the Universe-Duoverse physically composed of four areas of its consistency. Time, Being, Divinity and the Four Wings of the Cherubim, as a concept of biodiversity in Lepidoptera, Bumblebees, Bees, Wasps, and Fireflies as tetra-winged animal entities, originating the warnings and impositions in cardinals and poles of their primogeniture, rising from chaos, up to now as mandatory Duoverso, constituting the alpha world, rising of the Animalia and the intermediate visions of the heights that guide the material essences of the imperishable spiritual elemental and structural physics. Being ineffable matter, in the stars that prostrate itself, before each pause of advent and of creations that ****** other creative flashes, in pursuit of a gnoseological doctrine, as a slavish instant, ending in another for the study of the meaning of conceiving in the diligently part of a new world, on the borders of the unknown and of repelled nothingness, suspecting itself in the living artery of nihilistic nothingness, without leaning towards nonexistence that endorses it, or perhaps from a twin Duoverso univitelino in the chaos of unfertilized nature..., rather empowered to the first heir by the law of the Messiah district. Allow yourself, in this way, in the face of this premise and history, to continue and be part of an establishing whole, looking for God in a new world and universe as well..., but shaking before the nothingness that sustains it, as a basic knowledge of value and of immobile Faith. The hypothesis Prosapy-Centric, defines blood lineage unifying the Duoverso as follows:

a)Eternal Existentialism:

He talks about how compassionate creation is and its factotum, that it will be better that way. At the entrance to the Vernarth mouth, within its buccal cubic meters, the Zig Zag Universe, the promoter that caused the Duoverse, broke out. Here your thoughts of eternity are born; not from your brain and discernment, psyche or mind. It exists in a present that will be distributed without end or beginning, in the holistic of the anticipated existence of the being itself, so that everything holistically arises from the mouth of Vernarth, becoming the light of his luminance-ejector thought, being in some way the Zigzag universe that emerges from the outgoing access of its mouth and that manifests itself in some change of quantum physics in a state of hyper-connectivity and always present. The Zig Zag, coexists in eclectic variability of angles, creating regularities in its time and displacement. For the sake of results and translational parallelism as a promoter of the Duoverse, based on the holistic that brings together the effect of the word-fact, but eminently aimed at the morphology of extra language of intellect, rather in the kinetics of the language of human zigzag and physical-material, typical in various line segments of lightning and space storms, resembling his lost and bleeding soul in full battle at the site of Arbela. The other meaning is his salvation from the Council of Patmos, being already Installed in the Eclectic and invisible portal of the Evangelist of Saint John, levitating 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 archaean clan, which would resemble its proper ectoplasm; thus each one forming a unique part in the masonry dictated to redirect them towards their messianic labors at this stage of the ascension. Vernarth; is aware that he will have to enter the cave, after having ceased his work on standby for three months. He continues to fester in myriad wars and parapsychological regressions, he will remain in a daze to dedicate himself to the beautiful landscapes open towards a horizon..., a neighbor to Palaeolithic and astronomical painting. In the flashes of mathematical prayer, you will capture the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos. The saint appears only on certain days looking at him from afar to encourage him in his progress..., Portal Eclectic and invisible is the facet of the face of light, after the invisible that manages to be appreciated with the principle of transferring its connectivity of the immaterial with the material, but done in the finished quality of "Merciful", deriving everything in what supports the splendor of the facts and their objective analysis, by no means the same, because the Zigzag universe, originates theory or thoughts from the perspective of external language and integrally unites it through the optimal results, always imponderable and categorical to follow them and attract them to eternal spiritual good. Being exhaustive of the fact of action, although it is subdivided into executability..., it will continue to be timeless, therefore eternal, in the hands of a universe of thick eternity and stationary death.

The final communion of Zig Zag with the Duoverse, will make this key momentum to replace the Universe of the former Vernarthian world, for inflections of the continuous present, more in the distance of the limits that have to originate than by a simple gesturing stupidity of disbelief, abounding more than a universe that is created in eternity, and that will never again resurface as a physical dimension. The successive potentiality of this theory of holism subtracts actions and not facts, since it always culminates in the limit of infinity, always beginning and never-ending, to then restart in a present that is reintegrated into the access of the oropharyngeal and non-cerebral embouchure, since it has of limiting itself in its shock and subsequent confusion of language-emotion and feeling, to change all eternal emotion, always going hand in hand with the unequivocal and assertive light,

b) Being Universal multi-evocation:

Over Rhodes the auroras could be seen retreating, to attract the new luminances crossing between the atmospheres of the ancient worlds, with stars that were ordered among others, descending at great speed from the Universe, fascinating all Greece, coming from celestial bodies that brought from great Relative distances and proximity between the Duoverso and its satellite widening, allowing to grant subsistence, and routes to the nascent species of the Vernarthian sub-mythology. The Sabbath energy Light is overbreathed repair; here Saint John the Apostle influences through the conduit of the Cinnabar towards the Light of the Mashiach, with the intemperance of life on drops of crystallized water as gifts of Taphoric Light, with synoptic signs of transformation of all the green grass growing like a beard on the slopes of the Willows, where Saint John the Apostle goes back to prayer prayers; so such in repetitive sentences and prayers towards the Universe, which were falling as it was on Mount Tabor in the Transfiguration. All this in the fervor of the willow chins that fell from the galaxies, with their cascades one after another in orderly colophons of fervor making the sky a great source of Moshaic and Elijah voices. (Moses and Elijah) to Christianize the holy oils of the radiant glory of the Universe that was complemented by the Heliac Ortho that was appreciated in different coefficients according to this new position of the parameter of Greece, observed from the Constellation of Pisces, being symbolized as piece as SOS, since Eratosthenes tells us about the fish that saved Derceto (Goddess of Assyrian mythology), after falling into a large lagoon. Seeing therefore in the sky as Fum Al Samakah, Arabic for “snout of the fish” (or Fomalhaut star from the Greek translation). Pisces being bright and of the great dimension to mold it as a whole iris, which was rooted from the formal pelagic accent, towards a spectral affinity of the Duoverse, like leaves of Willow temperatures, on the reflection of the Multi-evocation. For antithetical referendum of the Pleiades between light-years that diminish behind the stars of the magnetic field and its exo-planet. It is necessary to consider that in the wisdom of God, there would be his ordering conscience, on each constellation, and then detach itself before each other that guards each one in centuries of light-years, and in each one of the children as light-years of millions, but of numerical present time quantum; that is to say, all translation on average over ups and downs of spatiality and in remote ages, to zero or from null numerals in the integrality of millions of non-existent light-years, but accumulated and equidistant between the Universal Being and Multi-evocation. An example of cartographic observation shows us Greece at Latitude 39.074208 and Longitude 21.824312, influencing the Duoverse as a complement to the rise of Greece with the latitude of the Heliac Ortho, being Sirius eleven days after the Ekadashi and eleven days before the other at 10 °, Maximizing the light herbalism of the unconscious, to systematize the rise of the Universe imbuing Greece. Refulgent and small electromagnetic systems, led by the Divinity, are freeing themselves of all the units that bind in the minimal Units that can expand with the apostolic energy, rather than a trans-human receiver, in blocks of circulation of waves, related to a Defined spatiality, divine and with its own energy of opening of small worlds of provision of light, and radiation emitted by the deleterious convex of invisible essences in properties that are released from overflowing stagnations of creation, and from the skylights that are more distant than the wavelengths than from a breath of Demiourgy in the chemistry of all multidimensional hyper-existential between frequencies of energy widely displaceable by lines of how many..., in static energy of rest. Ultra colors intensify on the coasts of Rhodes, as a sulfur photoelectric effect of Cinnabar, formalizing mechanics in those sedimentary particles, which undulate in anticipation of the precise amalgamation of both universes, evolving towards the matrix of origin of physical and non-biological state and period, but of eternal divine inspiration, from the mouths of Vernarth, as a resurrected Being electro vigorous, dwelling spacious and sinuosities of curvature and psychic spiraling, The Vernarthian nature will call this phenomenon the Son, since it is the similarity of the halo in the Taphoric Light and in its effect of the baptismal of this Christian Universe called Duoverse, in accordance with the presence of Saint John the Apostle light, among the attending raptor niveous. strangers, arrival-departure and between the nebula of pendency in the nimbus gaseous clouds of fields that mutually heard each other recognizing each other..., leaving only Saint John the Apostle in the perfection of the sky as a universal and Duoversal shadow, first of all being of light being baptized, crucified and risen-ascended, in the metaphysical transfer of his body, as a universal body, as a quantum point between the earth and the sky, between the universe and the Duoverse as a complement of gaseous and spiritual atmospheric earth. Ministering in the judicious and prophetic occlusion, being a juridical part among the myriad bundles of Constellar Pisces that supported the transfigured and converted prophets, before a brand new universe, "Duoverso", witness to the amazement at the proximity of the multi-evoked Universal Being.

c) Reflection space (Light-matter)

The Duoverse having been pulled from its entrails from Vernarth's mouth, and objectual free fall is noticed after disengaging from the quantum Universe, rather than an elusive cacophony that unfolds separated from their bodies in all dimensions, except Vernarthian time, Alluding to the stoning him so that he ignores himself in agony and returns to look for him to revive him as Space-Light, in the presence of matter reflected from himself, which will unfold throughout the Hellenic Panagias, from Kímolos to Tsambika, to make the curves the direct passage that once again bends time towards a fragmented dimensionality. Barefoot was the apostle with Vernarth in the three quarters of the axioms and algorithms, where the conceptuality would overcome the low calculation of what was already ministered by them. Creating space for lapses in dreams of the Stairs, with steps of Topaz, in this particular case of Saint John the Apostle, "seeing open skies and angels of God go up and down on the son of man." Here some sidereal Solar gleams are illuminated that have nights for a sunny day, Vernarth resting on the side of the Monastery with a stone on its head and dozing to dream like Etréstles in the Hexagonal Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, but of the compact sweetness of the famous luminous Cinnabar ascending vertically where the Yahvic Being, who was presented to him as the Abrahamic patriarchate nexus. Endowing him with celestial dreams about stones that inherit west and east towards the north noon, in space of hallucinations of Jacob's subconscious, for the satisfaction of the luminous pictorial ligament. Thus, a timid but decisive reflex pointer of space and reflection is detected, which includes fragments of spectrum and tonalities of a machine unconscious, to raise the Duoverse in a depressive day of the scathing moment.

d) Physical energy (molecular entropy)

From the bases of Theoskepasti, the physical system emerged in two sums after the movements of the pendular censers that exceed the elliptical of the Cinnabar and the potential of the ejectable force field, for ductility of its forces that emanated from the triad with the archpriest, helping him Etréstles and Kanti, who would take them to the Hellenika Necropolis. They make of their golden bodies the ephemeral speed mechanized in the originality of the homily system, to break in the guardian friction of the gravitational axial of the body of Light of the cinnabar, which received the sulfur kinetics of the defective organic matter that was wrapped in a bizarre alloy of sulfur light, and in all the forces gathered, not rubbing with the cinnabar obelisk, already invaded by the energy that made it superficial, between the shell of the Panagia Theoskepasti covering and the strange normality that made them physical-organic. No scrubbing would continue the movement of the fleeting angle of the anvil of Hephaestus, but the static on the surface, lay unchanged before the forces of the back and forth of the molecules that sank late, shooting from the pendular area of his bowl and then starting with full power for new angles that will take advantage of the mechanics of the forge and the friction clean and **** before the joint, and the resistance of the reactivation of the second period of the movement, to forward them to Tsambika in the response signal. Quantifying later between the inferiority and the intangible shock reaction in the light radiosities of the cinnabar re imparted towards Rhodes, forming resistance, but with immanent entropy, with a high degree of fineness, in such a way that once the conservation rays are fired, the response to Rhodes will come from Kímolos with the particles and combustions of sulfurous gas and mercury, generating entropy of two quantum and physical times between the Dodecanese and Cyclades, knowing that the inert matter is inactivated alive, thus envisioning the contingent presence of iron in the geology of both islands, with more than eighty percent, and of gravitating oxygen for the Vas Auric and its materialization, as a ****** impression reducing its physical dimension and enlarging its water content in pelagic beings of the Aegean. This would suggest the homogeneity of both island territories, appease the conception of substitutions that frolic from north to south, to break their normal balance, depleting what is island land towards oceanic land. In this way they will be mixed entropically for a new generation of fertile life that balances in chaos, already in the hands of Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth, in the main nave of the Monastery that seemed to oscillate atomized and vanished, but then atomically restructured, slyly dividing the canons of traditional entropy, and making it disproportionate to the biodiversity ordering of the sterile and the fertile, reordering itself as a mutable force excluding the reality of act-effect, invested in the integrity of life-death-life, as a molecular target in a double physical dimensional unit, making the prospective universe by splitting from any other format, to become another and another physical dimension. Universe-Duoverse, they shake like two spheres, almost joining each other, but separating into heterogeneous classics, as a panegyric, under the invocation of Conviction and Faith. The universes self-recomposed and redistribute themselves before our eyes, but before the consistent devotion of this homily, it makes them astonishing and phenomenal (everything that happens is recomposed - if the tree fractures, but then it straightens re-fractured, before our eyes being recomposed). Thus the chaos of the Universe is resolved, appropriating a new sequence of continuous creation, starting from the same creative property, but of molecular entropy, almost in adverse defect, but of constriction of the yielded body, to be incorporated into the Cinnabar beam of light. dynamic, generating ignition at the ends of each part of the structure obelisk, in order to release and stimulate on the absorbent..., of the Hexagonal Birthright in Tsambika,

e) One-Dimensional Beams

From the hexagon, everything is dimensioned on the peaks that can be seen in the starry nights from the curved kilometers of Bethlehem. Everything goes on top of the desert mountains and valleys, above the vagaries of climatic heights, and landslides of an entire believing community and its followers. In twelve advancing camels, of which the first six are exclusive to the Birthright, and then the seventh Giga camel is from King David of Bethlehem.

The beams are the architectural support portion of the physical-ethereal God and of his ethereal-physical word, supposedly of advent in grazing of the hardwoods, and the secret anomalies of a new Aramaic message, anticipating the vigor of insects and birds that were grouped together. in the journey that goes back and forth. The Beams are stars of heaven sustained by the Cherubim and the Archangels, through the paths of conversion and the support of the Christian time; haughty and implacable hegemony for the propaedeutic of phylogeny, but more on the very chemistry of creation carrying its winged Lepidoptera tetra, pheromones, and the obfuscation of an elemental nascent child in his own evangelical philosophy from an inter-sword dimensionality, and of the gloom of a manger shouted Kafersesuh, before compendiums of two pyramidal landmarks of inflection of his word in created animals, in the affinities of the world and the Animalia, personalizing shepherds carriers of pollinations, totalizing the generational of the language that is concealed so far, as well as the turns in the musks, and their legitimacies from the Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, parabolizing their nomenclature and Polygonia of a child made man, already coexisting! but representing himself as a lifeless man in the fullness of a child of a distinguished canon. and his legitimacies of the Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, already coexist! but representing himself as a lifeless man in the fullness of a child of a distinguished canon, that followed him towards the superlative moment of the bending near him, twisting and changing squeezable pressure in the cords that forged his path, towards the cornices and trusses of the upper celestial vault, where the shed of doubts was next to the Cherubs. Giving mechanics to the prism that arched the beams in the horizontal lines, taking them towards the amplitude of other lines, which remained solid before the variation, suspecting mutating to one of sudden two-dimensionality. The sections of the timber framework, which looked fatigued before the primary classification, which showed the attitude of the little Messiah, taking out effulgence from its beams, and rolling on other pillars, postponing the vectors of the tangential, contributing bits in rhomboid specialties, that blurred the cylinders of amplitude and field of vision of all those who remained in their nativity. Making diametrical glances so as not to be distracted and adore him with a broad and rectilinear heart, in transversal visualizing for all, the one-dimensional crossed wood, which in its geometry schematized letters and numbers of kabbalah, which differ in dissimilar resistance of Christic ambivalence, as a forerunner of martyrdom. on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha. This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom. Making diametrical glances so as not to be distracted and adore him with a broad and rectilinear heart, in transversal visualizing for all, the one-dimensional crossed wood, which in its geometry schematized letters and numbers of kabbalah, which differ in dissimilar resistance to Christic ambivalence, like the anticipation of martyrdom on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha. This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom. which differ in dissimilar resistance to Christic ambivalence, like the anticipation of martyrdom on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha? This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom, pigeonholed him towards a pre-existing Hellenistic aspect in characteristics of patronage as a representative figure of a male, and a lady of Ptolemaic Egypt in great iconic religiosity, coexisting as a priestess of a female order in the Greek protocols with him. Becoming inseparable in the preeminence of mother and son, as unilateral gender, and of substantial element for the social and political order that reigned in the ancient era. Laying here the unilateral gender indispensable for the social and political order, which is substantiated at the dawn of the empires of all the time, and the patriarchal society? Symbolically Joshua in this cogitabundant providence, adds the feminine value in the society in the Kafersesuh's outlet of the Judah manger, dispensing mainly to women, A great Zohar light, gathered all towards a whole in those errors that Joshua felt in advance, as reversible entropy, giving back his wise existence to prepare them for the day of his sacrifice. Pre Existing in catharsis and substance of divinity connected with the phylogenetic species, classifying up to an Aramaic pontificate of pheromones settled in the lithospheric site of Gethsemane, in a biological sense and in close coincidence in lapse wading, or the phenomenological simultaneity of Eukaryota and Glaucophyta until late Animalia, giving relation parental in characters of the vibrational timbre of the Beams, and its atavistic pedestal, readapting in evolutionary ellipticals of winged tetra species. Allowing to change the ancestral linguistic accouterments in processes of redesigning the divine genetic historical tree and increasing anomalies in the human earthly culture, and not human anthropomorphic in a reviving profanity of fruitive frequency amplitudes, for those who resort to it, monopolizing and synchronous in diachronicity of their specimens. The lights of Joshua's gazes are the Light of Christian Life and Time, in the entity of Joshua born and bloodless from the nature of Child-Man, but of mortal design in the same compulsion to see the luminescence of life in the manger Kafersesuh and only incorporeal unity. Being in exemption from Ego with its structure of living child and dead man, he rushes rebellious and ostentatious in the architecture of the One-dimensional Beams, yielding the glimpse of the aforementioned progenitor "Eye versus Eye", seeing himself like this..., son hovering in the arteries of a Universal-Duoversal life, from a single dimension of cyclical one-dimensional length, encompassing conjecture and biological, the symbolic-allegorical conception of extreme co-divinity, as an exclusive precept of the delicate infinity of the Being of a Messiah, with paraphrases or glosses of Aramaic exegetical affinity, tracing from a linguistic period. Here are the contortions of the Olive Tree Berna, transfigured into everlasting orality and refractory syllable, to incubate eternal rabbinic gifts of perpetual reluctance, beyond the reach of the ego-annihilating will and of apathetic, inert ultra-affections and of miraculous phenomena.

f) Hexagonal Birthright

Civilization has an arched inflection in its regency at the head of the favorable family caste in the blessing, whose hiding place will have to be entrusted to a clan, having to make inquiries that formerly only related to consanguineal minorities from the same family trunk, thus protecting the pantries and accessories in warfare to consolidate the economy, and invigorate its commercial coffers. The land would be and would be an essential partition insignia for the legitimate transmission of epochs and inter-seasons, which received them from its descendants for representation of geomorphological heraldry, given in its regional condition. In the noise of the seventh seal, heaven was silent for half an hour and the seven angels stood before God, and they gave seven trumpets, the other is to appear in front of the altar with a golden censer, to compile it in other prayers in all the saints, on the golden altar that was in front of and in front of the throne - And from the hand of the angel the smoke from the incense with the prayers of the saints - And the angel took the censer, and filled it with the fire of the altar, and threw it to the earth; and there was thunder, and voices, and lightning, and an earthquake - And the seven angels who had the seven trumpets got ready to blow them - The first angel sounded the trumpet, and there was hail and fire mixed with blood, which were thrown upon the earth ; and a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up - The second angel sounded the trumpet, and like a great mountain burning with fire it was hurled into the sea; and a third of the sea was turned to blood - And a third of the living creatures that were in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed - The third angel sounded the trumpet, and a great star fell from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers, and on the springs of the waters - And the name of the star is Wormwood. And the third part of the waters became wormwood, and many men died because of those waters because they became bitter - The fourth angel sounded the trumpet, and the third part of the sun, and the third part of the moon, and the third part of the stars were smitten, so that a third of them would be dark, and there would be no light in the third part of the day, and also at night - And I looked, and I heard an angel fly through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice: !!

"Being in six instants at the Golden Gate of Jerusalem with Saint John the Apostle, they reordered the majority for a protected subordination in the minor family descended from the eldest son, for the purpose of sustaining them to reach the possession of their theological morphology, in this door, being the only one that will remain closed…, until the second coming of the Messiah. The scheme of the camelids in their osteometry tells us that their heads before Advent! Distorted their calypso lights on the surface of their skeletons, locking the jaws of other camelids, thus bypassing the Apostle's strap, which through the foramen of the supraorbital, thickened the strides that pretended immobile before the opening of the Golden Door. Of course, they were prisoners of their self-denial for the length of their footsteps to the rhythm of the sensitive skulls, In the fourth camel Raeder, he cleared the margins that allowed them to increase their attempts to withdraw them from the golden doors, but the dislocation of the orbits of their ocher eyes, denoted their holes in the condylar fossa, distancing the vicinity of the Tehillim advocated by King David in the Seventh Seal of a stuck Giga Camel. The metric form innovates them of ubiquity, for omnipresence in the camels before the gates, and after the gates, thus leaving the site of the eighth gate, deserting the camels behind the gates and arcades pointing to the old cemetery. of the prophecies that Elijah holds, and in procuring generational stoning of inter camelids, which would be channeled into twelve plus another dozen, but behind all, appearing to be six, later joining King David, who would provide the parallelism of the Seventh Seal. This caravan was numbered from one to six, saving the vertices of the Golden Gate that joined modestly at the odd vertices, under the odd cross of the same vertex, which made the equilateral coherent according to the three angles where Vernarth and Etréstles went, and then joined other pairs of vertices in a crucified chain in the flat and secondary complementarily of the seventh angel, but with epilogue character of the Seventh Seal. Thus it would be numbered according to the Gigas Camels, the Golden Gate, governing them for a family of six family angles and a seventh seal, for the performance of the family sustenance of primogeniture in the reinsertion of Saint John the Apostle, since he was banished by Emperor Domitian. Making themselves succulent of the gold of the Seventh Seal, on the collective unconscious of the first-born, for the good of the sub-genitor son. Here the indication goes for the purpose of populating the consecration of granting greater goods to those who second and could lead forces of abandonment and secular sedentary, for the need to welcome sacrifices of goodness and preferences of lay annoyance and earthly secular strengthening. The kinetics would move the six numbered over the vertices of the Sun in three bevels, joining the pairs in vertices covered in the circumscribed mesh of vehemence, which is impacted with the solid Golden Gate of Jerusalem, depositing the concentric radii of the polarized magnet on the struts of the camel of the central ram, for the affinity of the contraption of a trajectory for all Judah, in six predestined latitudes to Ein Karem, in the Hexagonal Baptistery of the Shepherds".

With symmetrical scrupulousness at a certain time, the rounded bisector of the psychic lines of the peritoneum fold of the solitary flanks of the Camels Gigas, towards a vocal peritoneum set six times more than a seventh, was estimated, in the apothem of the two-dimensional figure of the Febo hexagon angel, with less centrality, for the foundation of the Apostle and Vernarth, regulating them by points and sides, on the perpendicular bezels, prostrating towards a more orthodox and straight line, mutinying with radials phases on the bisector..., giving a quotient of odd numbers, which cut the first round of anointing, among all those that were retained in the daydreams of catching them for involuntary deaths. From Gaugamela's stratagem, three thousand muscular Hetairoi descended, towards the implantation of heart nuclei in the camelids, on the Susa Gate and the oblique break marching towards the war site, creating a fissure between camels, and the sphinx of Alexander the Great breaking into the Left-wing of the Golden Gate. This was the casuistry of Vernarth's psychic advance impetus, who once was at the precise moment of stalking, hypnotizing the gap of the Achaemenides, but unaware of that mechanical moment, persists in going after the Giant Camels. He guided them with his right hand to both sides, equipped with heart irons that exorbitated the whispering of his pectoral canals, interrupting the dawn of the Cinnabar, with the antigen readjusting the hinges of the door before falling untimely. Vernarth, with his sinister, calls upon the Hindu family who tried to open the breach of Alexander with his Macedonian baggage, thus preventing him from lying in the reliquary in contrition towards Vernarth himself. The infamous moment must have passed through the swords of some who resisted when fleeing from the held Golden Gate, giving up the rear of Vernarth with the camels recovered and saved from the abandonment of their afflicted hearts, resigning themselves with empty hands and with an outpouring of victory, but with two units confronted in his Portal of Imagination.

g) Reflection temporality

In cavern series, the lava was converted into cations of hydronium, in underground pits that glowed in Tsambika's temporality when the homily was officiated. Some pieces and calcareous boulders rotated random by the humid and dark narrowness of the subterranean reflection, having lived in the heavenly paradise that formed them by the volcanic tube and its syngenetic, by the erosion of the subsoil of Rhodes. The speculative rock icons expired of the symptoms, with albuminous cliffs of the genetics of the Theoskepasti chapel, Etréstles carried under his arm the expiration contract of the Universe, to deliver it with his signature, for the dimensional transfer will. Everything flourished with attractive mineralization systematizations, under an astral posology, In the cognitive, Kanti memorized his wanderings in Crete, imagining his physical body united with his mind on the paths of the shoulder of his ancestry, with batches of clockwork that went and passed through his physiognomic, bathing with the piece wind, but also with the hard shoulder that came straight towards him, showing him new encephalic pathways, which surrendered in epistemological globes, but levitating in excess of the hard shoulder and the unknowns, for states of temporality that became mentalized in pursuit of a supra desire..., disease or typologies long-standing who used the supposed ontological formalization, gave functioning the property of body with the memory of advanced towards a new Duoversality. The officialization of Ars Choralis, is solemnized for processes of emotional property; In this way the cave of Being and its Temporality is made haughty, self-isolating for intra-cave investigations, as corollaries and agility in those who yearned for identity, being able to attach themselves to deities in dozens of epicenes, which would be from tens to ten, thus being seventy tens and a half, which would be seventy-five of the seven tens, and of the unconscious of the syntagm that Etréstles carried away, separating the syntactic of the Vas Auric hypothesis, so that they coexist..., although the pestilential decays before the rolled-up syntactic of Kanti's head. Untreated and conscious-unconscious to his instinct, resorting and harassing the procedural bars, of the Ergo Sum parameter. The temporality of reflection, In momentum ac Diadem, it shone from the third trumpets of the Seventh Seal to the potential of the twilight corrodes and their regions that made the shoulder of the shoulder the awareness of temporality reflected in required dismayed collectivities, to transcribe exhortations to the behavioral pattern of the temporality of love Faust. Little remains immobile, little drive when two masses of consciousness withdraw to the storehouses of the Universe, already advantageous of their exhaustion, but inheriting them in precipitous emotions towards the pre-consciousness factors in the heights of the mountains of Crete and Kímolos.

Kanti the steed says: “Deus Nostri Pontificatus Annis et ad eum, God is my pontificate and my way to Him…, Adonis in the relative absence of credit, before Ephebos with absolute deafness, surprising me here in the Diospyros and neuro archetype flight. I ride farther than my physical-emotional, contributing in the micro-fusions of the tubules, in quantum, and interacting with the fineness of the minuscule substance, within themselves. Almost injuring the storms that vibrate in the mine of a risk prop of a steed, in pursuit of a trance that only ends up being the architect and augur of knowledge..., of when and where it agonizes more than once, but within the limit of the Duoverse crushed at his own peril, continually evaluating himself to transfer a genetic force into my hooves of solid steel, but ornamental and of Reflected Temporality.


h) Expansion and Aramaic Taxonomy

Organic taxonomy, as a pre-ordering order, classifies the harmlessness of language before the invasion of Alexander the Great. Although there were implosions of the Greek language, its transboundary taxonomy would be shifted towards Judea. Pre cited is its variant pharyngolaryngeal tracheo, in this assertiveness and occasionality, it predisposes emphasis on orthographic rather than phonetic incidents, citing Galilea as a precursor of the Aramaic and taxonomic thesis of Gethsemane, prior to its expansive conventionalism of enrapturing her in her differentiation, and in the expansive hotbeds necessary to channel the basic axons of commerce, between antiquity under the prerogative of supplied ethics and pre-classified inputs, such as food and geographic furnishings of economic arts, as well as, the syntax of words that could have curvature and geometry in the forms or linear designs of the time. Any letter could be interpreted as a physiognomic form or as tools of manifest imperialism, coexisting execrable or blessed as languages or keys of immunological communication, with symbolisms of languages spoken in rituals of systematization, and of obfuscation of a metaphysical Messiah, always an angel, for when this is the case. In other words, the water speaks to him in dialects and adults with an oriental language, appearing cryptic in the appointments that are related to the language of the great Extra Universal heritage.
Vernarth's Aramaic is an ***** composed of valuation graduation and generational expansion, opening evolutions combined with the matrix of “Ethereal Spatiality”, towards a channel or rib with a common end in what is done on the margin of Faith. and it is predestined on the basis of object and substance, as a regulatory organism, for groupings of species within the biological language or not, as well as in the fissure of a Cladia of lichen fungi, forming the optics of expression as spelling and not as a utilitarian concept. Amplifying what a camel is; this is how it is importunate, being its **** consensus with the "S" backward in a perfect camelid, the "T" also being a perfect Cobra approaching the three S's of the Syriac Aramaic alphabet. The “Y with L fused” of the Aramaic alphabet with a large elephant, and finally the “H” as a pelican simile, like the pelagornithids or Pelagornithidae, fossilized in the emotional collective of rock tribes, progressing from elephants, camels or pelicans in the search for a literate language and consonant shapes that are attributed to their jaws and pharyngolaryngeal substrates..., observing long vowels, as in the language of an organic universal alphabet. The matrix is timeless, branching out of the mechanics of natural and phenomenal selections, if it is metaphysical or is contributing Demiourgy on the infinity of the encodings or depending on the size of its geo-referencing, it will contribute energy exchanges with predictive purposes of information of orders, and adaptations of the calcified scientific space, Vernarth, dives into the ponds or Naídes of the Aegean and survives, just when the networked volcanoes were swallowing all the seas in the world. It braced being only part of the laps of the sea, tattooing with its gaze the chthonic nymphs, before envious and backsword ogres with gills, which multiplied more than any myth-poetic. Its power of convergence is inhibited by the poetic myths of primordiality and of cosmology as a natural branch in nautical miles traveled by its arms, without knowing who crossed them, survivor, in its advance, and treasuring the arm plunges on and under the scalded clay objects, perhaps as implantation of the muddy and hyper-flood lexicon, empowering itself in its translation from Syria to Patmos, and from linear B Mycenaean to Syriac Aramaic languages,


i)Sub - Verthian Mythology (Camera Obscura)

Adhered to the ancient parallels of the cult, the mythology of Horcondising lashes out. Stale and axiomatic source of pragmatic and rational earth that emanates from this constrained fusion of the Universe in the metamorphosis of Duoverso-Horcondising. Social and genealogical plates date more than seven hundred years from Lombardy and northern Venice in Italy, Spain, and France. The mission of the Horcondising is the transhumant myth, and Chaos of the ancestral family cenacle, in view of a family rule, succeeding in continuous litanies that consecrate rites beyond genetic archaeological death. The consolation of souls will revive and will be under the edict of the Sub-mythology in repose landing in successive parapsychological regressions, which will speak of deaths suffered at the edge of their test tube lives, Under the mythology, there is the sub-fable, prone to boundaries where the statement innovates the entire structure of hermeneutics, as a written notification and complacent verb, for lords of the grass and granaries of granaries, narrating myth-stories in messes of revived verbality. Thus in Rhodes and Patmos, Andronicus of  Rhodes will guard the doorway of his hobbies again, so that these disciplines are conducive to sponsorships of words under reasons of a nature concerning Saint John the Apostle risen in flesh and spirit, in contrast to the conclusions of the reason to leave breathless the destiny that the just cheer and disapproval of diction of not certain science, under ships that cover the commendable salvation in exegetical storms that go from a liberated shelter, as well as in what differs from the et Grammatica institutione arithmetica in that each one writes what it understands, and adds what humanistically makes existence in a biblical alphanumeric dimension, from the imaginary in some of its leaders such as Zefián, Borker, Leiak, Kaitelka, in Hyperdisis and the Zig Zag Universes. Making the mythical an ensemble with deities that rule the infinite, achieving more secular religiosities than in a radius of religion, founded by characters that are already pagan mythology. This is the raison d'être of the sub-mythology, which springs from one already narrated and rationalized, but in the contradiction of what underlies under the very observance that unites itself, forging itself creditor of very new myths within others, with characters that have never been or have been parasitizing on another source of cognition. Thus becoming extensive and prolonged in its passage liers sumptuousness of other arcane myths, within the same ones that inhabit the mythological lie, without blemish from veracity belonging to the living-lie in pursuit of a dead-truth. Even if it is in this way or hermeneutic method, continue to beat and go to meet the Castellar Imaginary del Horcondising and the Camera Obscura, which always live and revive in the sub-imagination, but from a mythical truth in a regime of multitudinous voice. and myth-poetics.

From the sooty Camera Obscura the spindle was obtained over the diameters of each edge, Vernarth of the same chaos, converged from the square but not the spherical world, from this sooty box together with his master Zefián, who polished and shot vines of light over the projection of the same box, and of the quantum ark on the acropolis of Leiak, simulating entelechy in its projection with the ultraviolet light of light similar to the earth, but not square, rather appearing to be a square sphere. After repeated intervals, Vernarth opened the slits of his hands, also hollowed, here other globules appeared but not spheroids, rather quadrilaterals at the end of the third phase in the last three series that showed the complete reflection of a tiny world, that just clamored for amnesty as a matter that had been beginning to form with another factor on a large scale, from this fractality that would appear as Vernarthian sub-mythology. Camera Obscura, in a combination with twelve atomic masses, stands out starting in the irradiation of sexagesimal nomenclature; imagining fractionality between sixty microseconds to sixty in the hexagonal polygon of the Primogeniture and the Baptistery of Ein Karem. Being used in the elevations of the stars and the Heliac Ortho of dawn, which would find the black box that was nailed in its twelve apostolate angles. The whole times were divided into more exact numbers that surrounded him in his Camera Obscura doing trigonometry with other rectangles of three equilateral, making multiples of twelve on the line of the hypotenuse of sixty, dividing by the hexagonal, which is the angular line of the six sides of progression of the Duoverse becoming a spheroid square, for an analogy of Hexagonal Birthright with the multiple of twelve for the sake of the Giant Camels, leading them to the obfuscation of the Horcondising fused with the Duoverse, by means of Pi (π), in the diameter equidistant between the Universe and the Duoverse disintegrated in two by the concentric radius of both geometric units. In the same way, Vernarth multiplied the existence of his new sexagesimal world in nths by sixty followed by infinite numbers of zeros, canceling the radical time of the masses of anodyne particles. The corondels or watermarks, overflowed with all the irregularities of the system, showing the decimal after the comma.


j)Verthian Apostolic Conception - Kashmar

Vernarth, was in Sardinia in the megalithic complexes Nuraga when he conceived his apostolate as a messenger, biologically entrenched in the taxonomic stasis, with a merely profane and urban framework. Whose classification he would transmit to his relatives after long periods in Macedonia, sailing and doing his falconry and philosophical avant-garde chores with Aristotle, in a laxity that invited him after long rejoices to record and sculpting messages with the doves of his village. Near Pella, in the central region of Macedonia, where his general Alexander the Great resided, south of the Axio River, his abode was nomadic and was on a hill near the lakes and mountains surrounded by Greco-Barbarian inhabitants, tracing the Chalkidian league., after the Peloponnesian War. He was in great campaigns in the former Pella, His will as an artist is precisely to be an apostolate of a thought that would intersect with the Yahwist gift to an apostolate of the Apostle Matías, whose connection would provide his transliteration of the post-mortuary link of the Jesus of Nazareth, replacing Judas Iscariot, due to his apostasy. Vernarth, distressed by this episode, became Commander of Alexander the Great, lying already primitive in his ranks of Hetairoi, transcending over the scourge of Judas Iscariot, to face in the arena of Pella. In a reverie near the Thermaic Gulf, he genuflected under the sacrosanct trees near some illustrious Kashmar Cypresses, channeling his furious and tramontane spiritual into the gulf, to take him out of a banal summer in the transition of an immolated soul, and make him walk for thirty days barefoot, without sweet potatoes in his hands to ego stone him, only naming him slavish stubble of the crops in the deleterious nesting places of the Ravens of Kashmar, bidding him so that his blood is ****** by the heels of the rooted trees of Thor forest, usurping his "Gift of Iahvé ”In dishonor of its Hebraic appellation, for the onomatopoeic of its rhetoric, resulting from the feckless roar of black lineage, which will emanate from the mouth of the Aulos, whistling inside the Cobra. In the aforementioned link, the group of twelve was recomposed, being in the gulf and in the incidences of the re-indoctrination of the twelve apostolates, he is with his prayer and atonement in the mystical character for the community worshiping the Kashmar; which roots hardened towards the silent immolation portent as Judas entered the black night, for excessive twists of the bifurcations, intertwining with the Beams of the Thermaic cliff, like a lynx observing the height and its prominence in that of Judas dwindling over the stained areas of hell..., thus its remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprayed sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of sooty petrified poplar from Hecate boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their factotum after the ritual of the sanctuary of the thus his remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprinkled sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of Hecate's sooty petrified poplar boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their handyman after the ritual of the sanctuary of the thus his remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprinkled sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of Hecate's sooty petrified poplar boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the Holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their handyman after the ritual of the sanctuary of the Dodona, in uniformity towards a murmur in the leaves from oak in the spell of man towards an oracle, to consummate it with the mendicant count of the Ziziphus Spina-Christi; hawthorn of the crown of Jesus but with implants of Kashmar, on the crown of Judas already immolated.

Vernarth walked alone through the inlet of Skala, on Patmos, when he had to undertake a trip to Judah, even so, he also walked bi-location in the inlet of Sardinia, after being in the megalithic complex Nugarhe, Vernarth, Etréstles, and Walekiria, they approach matching Tuscany. Once they were instantiated in Sardinia, a coastal sailboat transported them in the middle of a stormy day, it was a great happy day to arrive in La Spezia. Here they parked at night following the Liturgy, standing out those that coincided with Lent of Holy Week, where one day they were seen talking with Petrarca and Laura de Noves. The olive trees keep pietism with the phantasmagoria of the Kashmar, who made the double murmur of the spell of the Duoversal man. Always in Tuscany, the tracks below the garden have been occupied, which has a distant view of the roofs and towers of Florence. The monumental fountain set on a steep hill on a side flank of the garden terrace has a seated god flanked by lions in relief of stucco from a niche decorated with pebble mosaics and padded masonry. " Here at the Verbena of a long feast day, all together with Vernarth get drunk with Corinth Wine, which they brought and did not stop swinging to the rhythm of the music that made them foresee multi-existence beyond limitless sensibilities, turning their role closer to from the instigated destiny to Patmos in the hands of the original Duoverso with translation, rotation and Duoversal Theurgic orbit, for the spell-dogmatic invoking ultra-sensory powers of angels and gods, in order to signify with his country land near Pella,

k)Fractality and Spirit-Cinnabar Dynamics

In the black camera obscura, certainly connected blues made other dark holographic areas that were enlarged super connected to the optical perspective, conceiving of the infinity of a luminescence that was fractalized, the black-blue pre-existing towards the Z pattern = Exp (Z / OB ^ 4), what is the equivalent to the set of the Bernese Olive Tree Rapa, on the border of its Lipogenesis, which would appear in the chromatic version and final maturity of the olive tree, for the fractal exponential of Z =; where all the points of the complex plane Z = (OB, iy) are iterated in the corresponding function Olives Berna in a set of IY, and in all the iterations where an arbitrary constant (Cx, iCy) is added Cinnabar in lines of orthogonal sets X and Y, in such a way that the choice of the constant "seed" will determine the unique shape of the profile and the color of the fractal, once the chromatic pattern has been defined. In the paradigms shown in this continuation, a constant has been chosen, as it will only produce divergence and will have been qualified with the escape velocity algorithm, to contract exact self-similarity stratagems in this, which is the most restrictive type of car. -similarity; requiring the fractal to appear identical at different scales.

The holistic spórtula of the Cinnabar in some pecuniary exercises, are impelled for a tacit and absent society, in Every night beginning at dawn, everyone retreats and the Cinnabar appears like a kaleidoscope apostolizing in glorious joy, where the Aramaic synergy between the Garden of Olives and Gethsemane, is concatenated with the entirety of the Phylogenetic species with the homily in Tsambika and Theoskepasti, such as the new relationship of the link between species that were improper and endemic to the region near the stable in Bethlehem de Kafersesuh, to be inter-inseminated in the banks of the slopes of Gethsemane, in such a way, that the linguistics would begin to be absorbed in Joshua, and it would go for a closer shortcut towards the classification of the traditional and omnipotent variants, which migrated through the Olives to renew and preserve the Aramaic or Aramaic languages, from a shared origin now, for the omnipotent salvific languages that were to be addressed in Gethsemane. Once starting the splendor in the city of the eight gates, and from such interference, involve the Lepidoptera taxon, inseminating the populations of organisms related to lexicons to shed life and language,

l)Vas Auric – Cinnabar (Φ)

The pecuniary prerogative of spórtula, makes the Vas Auric and the Mandylion its residence, tending towards an algebraic sense of the two diametral in a cross by the perpendicular, towards the tension of the shortest segment by the long, tracing a circumference of radius and a half. Homologating in the interposed eclipse of the golden or golden number, for the divine proportion in consequence of irrational fractioning numbers. Shortening the passage of the algebraic numbers with the infinite decimal towards the Cinnabar with seven arches in parentheses reflecting in the partition of the apse in both temples of the homily, making the period of antiquity, files registered in mega center of the quantum memory of Cinnabar, before disrupting the genesis of the Duoverso.

The First Treatise of the Vas Auric fell into the hands of Vernarth, one day of heavy plutonium sheets en masse of the golden number. The vertical avalanche was segmented when the dichotomy of another line that collided with the segments was not altered, or rather omitted by certain temporary blindness of the Duoverso world that it just boasted. Compositions of number Z are made, and subdivision in its cinematographic optics, divided into two slow shots of a small element that became part of the controversy of Vas Auric as a medallion and Auric as Mystic Gold, with distribution laws.

"Zeus wakes up shaky, full of headache saturated in Pro-headache Herbs
Jophiel is speaking this time in the Kabbalistic Torah language...
with its golden commoner and super zone of Organikon Sorousliston Papadikon….
secular music that supplies Zeus with protein albumin,
to make him more human... Zeus accepts Jophiel placing him in his discernment
over the house of Jophiel; divine island to throw cartomancy...
bring the second ray to the Sahasrara on his crown,
pacified love that is the suspicious and risky loser of everything...
risk in the head, especially when condemnation is born!

And the floristics, over the stolon of the veins, moves synchronously with the prolongations, speeds, and acceleration of the emancipated leaves of the first order of the upper crown, up to the lower ones, thickening the golden spirals of a certain type of inflorescence, confining the umbilical zones of Vernarth, and the plantar area of its feet between three and more than a hundred steps that come from certain metamorphoses, creating peduncular areas, acting as a support for Vernarth and its Elder areas, brought from the Bumodos stream, after a string therapy, creating psychic supports to endorse globalized neuralgic. Understanding that the line of his neuralgia oscillates the greater analog of the Messiah in the cross pierced by the Hastae Praetorian, in the most remote of the elliptical of pain, reduplicated by accumulated energy, almost like mystical suffocation. On the part of the growth of the tangent in growth and of the evolution of the reflection, where the attenuation of the opposite effect is unleashed, allowing convalescence zones in signs of propeller blades around the Vas Auric, crossing vertical and horizontal beams of lights, in search of Light Angled and refractory solar, for the palfrey of the Kanti Steed, abstracted from excessive rain, which uncrossed the tempos of the aura of the organic and aerial underground, towards the duplicity of curves of the multi-cloned numbers and angered by their industrious dynamics of skewed movement, towards the effective solar..., tending to the effects of successive trends of the vaporous numeral of Vas Áurico Cinnabar.

m) Psychic Trisomy

The species and somatic acquired deposits of DNA spirals, given their characteristics, will make transformations in more than one cellular taxon for a homologous pair. Here Kaitelka the whale down from Sub-Mythology, will circle in the Baltic Sea, compromising neuralgia in it as a superfluous essence due to its trisomy, making a comparison with psychic trisomies that Vernarth suffered at least four times a month, from the first and eleventh day, after his parapsychological regressions when he sailed over abysses and anesthetized zones on glacial plankton in the North Sea. Kaitelka individualized her cellular regressions, becoming a prehistoric cetacean and when she lagged beyond or before her creation, she transferred psychic trisomies due to her twenty-one chromosome. Kaitelka's karyotype was directed towards the crease of her eyes, due to an infection in the area of her basal inter fins, which disturbed her heart rate in a short interval where Poseidon magnified her coefficient in high amplitude, after being inseminated in a tempered state and gifted as a Super Goddess. Kaitelka in nativity in the transversal valleys sailed in the air atmospheres of Hyperdisis, and she was always seen in the company of Leiak; the omnipresent and vague spirit of the watery ductile dancer, living on the liquefied element with his astringent slimy chin..., seeing him with his grotesque back-breaking swampy lines between knuckles, and hedges of tricks collected before the first station, in one of the first of the three Remaining nights before reaching Joshua de Piedra del Horcondising volcano, that upset her heart rate in a brief interval where Poseidon magnified her coefficient in high amplitude, after being inseminated in a moderate state and gifted as a Super Goddess. About seven hundred meters high she becomes Kaitelka Down godmother, adding the psychic chromosome twenty-two that contracts in the connection with Vernarth, in the extravagant massifs when in the autumn afternoons they collect Ceratocystis fagacearum Fungi, and irradiating them with insects such as the borers. When   Kaitelka recovers its chromosome by detraction in the natural selection of Trisomy, express is spilling on the dry and gelatinous Laurus leaves of all its dead cells, which are promptly seeped from the retracted membranes in frank adhesion, causing regeneration of the disease. After wanderings and ringed symptoms of lesson in the atmosphere of the ecstatic Horcondising, the wooly will be magnanimous and challenged from the chromosome spilled in the emulsion, is contained in the alpha proteins in the transverted Vernarth genome, as a warned whole and abundantly diploid, before reaching the lethal processes of reciprocal adversity, both as a zoo-anthropoid or a triple zoo-anthropoid-botanical effect. Pre-Existing Kaitelka Down with forty-two chromosomes (22 pairs) and the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus (134 pairs), in its haploid, that is, half remains vitalizing between two species of the sub-mythological world, and in its psychic cellular compound, and later implant it in germ cells for the effect of Venarthian ambivalent psychic transmission and vice versa. By discard, there are four fewer chromosomes than the hommo sapiens and 222 less than the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus, for a meta sense of flourishing with the power of Poseidon, brother of Zeus, Meta sense and discernment, encephalic they will be cogitated by conscious where their sensory cognitive is interrupted, towards an unconscious through the photons of hypocaloric temperature, to define in the prehistoric psychological memory of their psychic, more than random brain, coexisting of habeas corpus content and remote brain energy, before the magistracy and power of Poseidon that confines him. Graduated from southern impassable seclusion, their memory is isolated in their E-Cloud. Namely; stored in electromagnetic and electrophysiological stimuli, incontinent and weighted in the square miles of floating Poseidon outbursts, in the category of super cetacean down, with only four meager chromosomes from the remnants of the human procedural genome. The trisomy field, On the fourth of August of the year of the Lord, 1617, when Klauss Rittke was cleaning the main stained glass window of the Cathedral of Avignon, he heard heated dialogues between a Friar and a Gentleman, who was once an assistant to the clergy. Klauss could come closer and listen to their conversation more clearly, until the Friar Andrés Panguiette, babbling, demanded of Raymond Bragasse indulgence or one or the other. (Compendium of Marielle Quentinnais). Relating in its narrative evolution, about some Albigenses of this work set in Avignon, time of the Antipopes, crossing with the psychic waves that have just been mentioned, and of prophecies of who precisely Guillaume Bélibaste was born into a Cathar family. Having noted that 1321 in 296 years apart from Marielle Quentinnais, it takes place in Carcassonne on the same day as Bélibaste was executed, given his licentious life breaking Cathar dogmas, incriminating himself with civilians from the region, marrying women in exile, etc., was condemned by the Holy Inquisition, where many were purged for the sole fact of holding biblical books in their abode. Among the flames of his bonfire the prophecy of the laurel will be homologated, whose shadow will fall on the centuries to come. Note the coincidence 3, 700 years ago, where the first signs of life were appreciated on our planet and in the Hylates Forest in Cyprus (700, 000 thousand souls) in the imprint that unifies the Christian scrolls, blowing gold dust on Walekiria's hair..., and being liberated, as a tantric body of physicality. No one spoke, not even the 700, 000 thousand souls who also claimed to be liberated (Vernarth, page 313 - paragraph 2). And finally the seventh portion of the sea, with Poseidon. Here the Psychic numeral of Vernarth and Kaitelka coincide, who appears with the laurel of Guillaume de Bélibaste after almost seven hundred years, facing the unification of the prophecy of the Laurel, whose shadow will hover over the centuries to come. Templars, perfect bone Hommes and Cathars meet, in this historical feat, through the secret path safe from traitors and conspirators thanks to the most surprising allies. Bélibaste's fast-paced story will allow us to get closer to the most unknown ceremonies and rituals of his confession, showing us his revelations in the flames and turning green in the Laurel of 1321 in sync with 2021. Given the little and nothing that exists of the revealing enthronement and the psychic environment, it should be noted that historical facts fly like pollen, with the waves in their same vibrations of the aeolian autogyro. This entails physical vibrational material, which is in every corner of existentialism, without beginning or end, only rewinding through the infinite axon of karma and samskara, for physical-ecological convulsed means and intermediates, in revealing semblances of the primitive psychic field before us, like the Aspís Koilé, as a shield or as an omnidirectional parabolic antenna, bringing us events after events that strangely interchange phases, and intertwined efforts over time in quantum physics and subsequent biophysical changes in the genome chain, especially in its Psychic Trisomy.

to be continued...
DUOVERSE
Keith W Fletcher Jul 2016
Ropes are an arbitrary constituent of
My often meandering campaign of self-sufficiency
Where often times I find myself wondering
If I were elected or selected for my role as the dejected

So the sudden appearance
Of this length of rope
Attached somewhere up above in obscurity
To dangle before me as innocently as a kids swing
Or as menacingly inviting as a 13 Loop hangman's noose

Timing is often the real hero
Or culprit
Of any grand production
Whether on the stage or in the simple act
Of oneself coming of age

With open eyes as I taste the lies
That had become so familiar to the script
That I never even trip
As the words  would slip
Lifeless and indistinguishable
From my hapless lip

There was a time as I wandered
Around the cracked and worn down
Asphalt parking lot in my mind
Seeking a parking spot and often finding
Naught- as once again the daily spin
Had ushered in
That loud and obnoxiously redundant crowd
Of oxygen-dependent hypocrites
That look and sound and think
Just like me

That then is the point where I begin
To accept that no parking spot exists
As I make the endless loops and twists
Assuming that I can convince myself
It's just my bad luck
To be looking left- as I drove right by
What obviously I must have missed

LIE... an absolute  lie !!

Right there in front of me like a flashing Neon traffic cone
So even if I close my eyes
To pretend that I don't recognize and realize
Its very existence
But I know and I saw  and I heard
It all... The very second that it occurred
As the blinding flash so intense
As to make me wince
As it penetrates my fragile human eyelids

I am there
So disengaging  the  useless gear
Setting the brake... For my stranded
Almost abandoned
Soul's sake

Killing the ignition as a form of contrition
Open the door and take the key... As if it were a part of me
Wondering what was the reason for
Being that a crowd of me
Would actually steal anything from myself
Wait a minute...
... I've already been doing that. A lot
A whole parking lot

I cannot stay here among the throng
For very long
Reminding me of just how wrong
A man can really be

I need to walk and walk
Let my inner voice and my fragile shell
Have a long past due talk
As a way to maybe break the spell '
So with a swift  backward glance
Gave to me that welcome chance....
... To see
That this was my lot in life
Where what I was leaving behind
was in fact...
Right there- right where it belonged Parked in the very parking spot
I had been looking for
That that I had had all along all along

A crowded mind
Makes it extremely hard to find
The power in taking the lead...
By helping out
That part of yourself that sometimes goes blind

There is not an easy fix or magic tricks
Or any color wax to fill in all the nicks
No school books or rule books
No tools hidden in some obscure nooks
That the ID or the EGO somehow always overlooks

So with wide open eyes
as
I'm walking
in circles
Endless circles
So when that rope materialized
Weary to the bone I'm so dreadfully tired

As if in quicksand I were mired

And so concerned
About the way my directions had turned
I continued determinedly onward
To work out the kinks and find the weak links

   Determined to identify
 As I learn to rely
On my ability to accept
That
To try is to try
Only I will ever know
The depth of that turn
Or the heights of my concern
Or when
I yanked myself
Back up to the surface

The circles that I now walk
Knowing that I have not a single clue
Where or which way I'm going
No sign posts or  monuments to mark the horizon

I'm noticing
That these circles as
I hold on to this rope
ARE
Getting smaller as to shorten the distance
Between the times I wallow in
The incendiary and intrusive and abusive
As the future will be
Filled with those inconclusive reasons why
Across this path over and over and over again
With increasingly diminishing respite

No loss is ever absolute if the resolute
Soul of man can accept that there's  always
A plan when looking with more than just eyes
While hearing with more than just the ears
Believing what was heard is more than just word upon word
Hope is as i am now at the crossroads of hope
A sunny  field of dew - tinged flowers

As that rope has led me down to simple single turns
Each time completing a circle
No slack left
But I am far far from bereft
As I am now aware of where
I am
The end of the rope
And therefore out of Hope?
Nope !!

' I exist  at the U turn
The New Direction
The ever-expanding revelations
The lengthening and strengthening of my path
And able now to see my false trail end

So with key in hand
I  reverse course and with no remorse
I'm going back to that spot
In that now empty parking lot
Marveling at that now pristine silence
So now we have a much lighter load
I turn the key put my life in gear
And get back out on the road

Oh how I love a good road trip
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
you know, on that N86 bus listening to dikanda's
https://goo.gl/OAUjMe (ketrin ketrin),
while going to the brothel, where i kissed *****'s
eyelid skin i turned my heart into a lung...
and it burst akin to muscled stress of the softer tissue,
by heart was the black horse of the race...
she would only be worth £110 an hour...
but in my heart... a lifetime... so classical fm is
asking for three songs to be enlisted in the hall of fame
here are my three:
1. something to think about (christopher young) -
   hellraiser ii,
2. no time for caution (hans zimmer) -
    interstellar,
3. spectres in the fog (hans zimmer) -
     the last samurai, competing with
(4. any other name (thomas newman) -
     american beauty,
and....
5. carpe diem (maurice jarre) -
     the dead poets' society);
i always found classical music invoked
by fast image exchange most adhering
to a modern public... after all...
the notes written down are transliterated
from moving geometries
asking for a human face...
that one abstraction leaving another created...
so enriched we can be living and leaving here,
but leave and live here cradled and crawling
and nothing more than an attempt for
a crafted shawl of woollen care...
assuredly we were the blank canvas,
when the sheep and lion were clothed...
the lizard inwardly having its blood cooled...
and we the mediators...
to evolve from an origin of such biological diversity?
why will darwinism claim to be a humanism
and let no humanism in?!
if darwinism branched from science for a populism
of understanding prepositions as propositions
(given that propositions are allowed expression
with far many more complex words than prepositions,
given the former are deemed a nature or origin
and the latter a nature of coordination)
why allow it a humanistic simplicity
and complicate humanism to a non-expression's
extent of a complexity? darwinism cannot grasp
humanism's complexity per se, for each its own per se
allowance... darwinism cannot relate to humanism,
since humanism deals with the one diluted into the many,
while darwinism deals with the many concentrated into
the one:
and noting the varied dimensional usage of pronouns,
the singular (engaging), the singular (disengaging),
the plural (effective), the plural (ineffective),
to use but a few among others... how would a self,
as either realistically concerned or as expressed
in an atlas pose when one individual speaks of a species
to ever survive... to speak of humanity per se,
is to not speak of being human per se (a self),
but as if under a constant threat from either internal
or external stimuli, it's to speak as if human
but hardly being human... darwinism only said
in simpler terms 1 = ~∞ 0 1 (one equals
approximately infinity denying one... expressed
further: one equals approximately infinity denying
oneness, hence ethnicity, hence disparity,
the infinite approximate is due to the no. of equally
represented identities of reflection as one's akin
in historical content for a vanity representation
of ego) / although there's a parallel disparity:
1 = ∞ 0 ~1 (1 equals a reasonable infinity
of the semblance collective, as approximated within
one's own constitution, denied by the constitution
of the semblance collectivised denying 1 its
oneness by a division, into pop. psychology
of subconscious, unconscious, ulterior and posterior
assembling of identification in order to relate
a concrete un-divisible one, to a oneness
of ~∞ 0 ∞†, whether governed by animate or inanimate
things, worthy of either representing
∞ = 0 ~1, or ~∞ = 0 1 (infinity equating itself to
a denial of an approximation of one,
or approximate infinity equating itself to a denial
of one) - by most standards a collective power
increases, while an individual coercion with
such increase in power is diluted to mediocre representation
of what was once hoped for to be an individual...
as worded: i'm about to inherit a pickaxe, an igloo,
a herd of sheep, a land arable for regular hunts
to provide sustenance, but as i said, the oddity
of increasing vocabulary as body-building index muscle,
will hardly teach you the physics of quanta in
the realm of modulating grammar,
on the basic basis of grammatical as
a method of de-categorisation one word from it being
named, to it being acted upon as a termed way of
walking (differently), or otherwise.

†a bit much for me, an alfred jarry moment
at the end of dr. faustroll's opinions and exploits...
papa **** got the dangling essence of things:
je suis jarry among the je suis cherub charlies,
if poet does not appreciate other artistic mediums
he can't mediate them,
poetry is supposed to mediate all artistic expression
with platonic criticism... it's supposed to mediate,
with poets appreciating each and every craft...
whether sculpture we scrap metal stolen from a park,
or whether an oil canvas be worth as much as toilet
paper when the painter is alive, and millions more
when he's dead.. we need gravity a demanding
drama to extend drama into grammar...
poets have to become the middle-men of haggling,
they need to appreciate art in an elitist way
in order that art can't become genealogically defining,
like dramatics of the theatre lost between idols
of 1950s screening compared to idols of 19'90s screening...
we need poets as the glue stuck to every output...
we need to appreciate all art other than their own
to discover their own... we can't have the mindless
jealousy bribe us to reconcile composition,
so that poet against poet is still writing poetry...
he isn't... he's writing a polemic... and that's hardly
a dialogue... it's a mortifying analogue of monologue...
and we don't want poetry to be such a belittling
circumstance of the original intent of practice,
why would a poet's rarity be reduced to
a market blasphemy of ultra-eloquent speech
in order that it might be used to scold?
why the jealousy? why?! it reeks of revenge
that only requires a Darwinism to include it,
as sustainable and necessary,
too many monkeys to create a single man...
too many difference in man from continental span
of africa, to asia... to even bother a standing ovation
origination in genetic scrip of a chimpanzee...
script wants man to be genetically above
a genetic script of a banana numbering more genes
that itself... the biodiversity of monkey
is akin to man... why would the two chiral statues
suddenly become gemini of explanation?
it all fits... but it stinks...
well, whatever that was... it's the pride of a language
that keeps darwinism alive...
but theology is closer to humanism than darwinism...
it's a compound logic, darwinism ends with with an ism,
an empiricism... and the only logic accounted for
is a logic of repeat... just look at the forms of these words...
formulated by L and Γ (origin of the kabbalistic interpretation
of allah)... keep the prefix akin to a suffix composed to
an enclosure... theology provides the better logistics
of expressing being human than an empiricism
known to be darwinism... after all a -logy tends to
repeat a systematic use of words...
empiricism a systematic use of facts...
easier to become bored of facts than words.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
you know that there's a weird
but omnipresent eye
wired in the igloo...
yeah... it encodes a message in
Morse... it asks for darting to & fro,
rather than blinking.

i'm waiting to leave the rhythm section
of pop music,
rhythm that was once a standard
soloist impressions in classical
music, and in classical music
solos that were just asking
for broken finger of piano,
while leaving the brass and woodwinds
worrying about schnittlippe smiles,
Chelsea a mile away:
how about... a todgrinsen...
your lips cut off and forever grinning
like an enclosure for a hyena laugh:
teeth to rattle to cages to bars...
make a big O... a big rat tat tat ha ha...
i pray i'm not you once you
entertained me for a while in silence
and in thinking to equate to my inactivity...
they remembered me as a party animal,
ready for the next friday...
sure, i used to be like that,
but i settled down: ready bodied
with weak thought against
a thought strengthened because the body
weaker, once readied for the look,
the applause... the perfected grammar of
changeable fashion appealing...
that's gone, and so the self that once was,
now standing outside the collective...
peering in, because they never attributed
depression to cancer victims...
apparently cancer just affect the body
and not the thinking,
now they realised cancer affects both body and thought...
you can't think of a friday three weeks away
in soberness dubbed sanity when you have
a physical ailment... so why create physical
ailments from simply having the odd thought:
the ancients dug a fetish for immortal creatures
and lived and slaughtered...
the modern congregation of supposed immortal
beings is a ridiculous thought... but so the antidote...
immortal beings disappeared,
but mortal beings turned to a quickened heed
for immortality with a thought rather than activity...
no heroism in the aisles of hospital beds...
no heroism there...
immunity for ideas also lost, immunised
by gaming and shooting blanks into duke nuke 'em
geography of the labyrinths...
by disengaging from immortal beings
where all suffering took place: let's face it,
mortality understands immortal psychology the best
it's simply unendurable -
we invoked a loss of immortal beings
by becoming twice mortal,
by dwelling among animals for a synchronised
systematisation of understanding we lost
many individuations of the unit, the self,
with too much darwinistic interpretations
we claimed some strange mirror,
a multi-diadem mirror of man: a minute a swan,
a minute a monkey, a minute an ant,
a minute a larvae of flies when naked...
no one said the theory is wrong,
but someone said: but that's how i feel about it...
overly objectifying does not look cool,
it limits emotions ready for individuation...
apathy breeds no pathology,
love embraces apathy: the apathy of
someone selling a newspaper while you
commute, the baker, the butcher, the medic...
hatred doesn't appreciate such an apathy,
it embraces pathology, and because of this,
becomes caged.
i just want one stab at it...
to feel a finite resolve of estimation,
to have camouflaged as a mammal among
other mammals, but thinking more complex
more different...
rather than resort to the simplest of simplicities
for a resolve on the matter of ontology...
a pre-dating reasoning...
but you see... it's not darwinism that governs
humanity... it's a plagiarism...
humanity adapts via plagiarism...
all the poor dream of making it big...
the only thing that keeps us moving
is a stress on plagiarism... you see a homeless
guy you get the defence mechanism usher message
telling you: DO NOT PLAGIARISE...
you see a guy with a harem in a black limo
you get a striving mechanism usher message:
PLAGIARISE! it's idiotic to think of /
utilise darwinism in terms of defining origin...
me? monkey over man any day...
simpler diet... plus endless swings and branches...
parasites no much of a problem...
plus moral killers like tigers not too eager
into sadism and mutilation, because just hungry...
not fetishes with carnivores... quick kosher kills.
the only adaptability we have is plagiarism,
because we have a self to worry about
as a. in a collective assertion of it whether
existent or non-existent... and b. in a singular
event asserted by abstracting it, notably
via existential notation, of a "self";
as someone once said:
animals do not commit to genocide...
yes, that's true,
they don't commit to passive genocide
of enforced laws of differentiation
to look cooler or smoother or just plain
caught up in a cultural grooves and edges;
and from the tree of knowledge
of good and evil you will not eat,
because you'll enforce plagiarism,
a consciousness of plagiarism
a consciousness stressing that no self be attached,
with only attachment being via a "self",
the continuum of misunderstanding,
reaching a potential of understanding
once the continuum reaches a twilight peak
at *ad infinitum
, where a randomised
narrator steps in, and deviates from the
orthodoxy of constants and subsequent remnants
of how man de-glorifies god, and glorifies nature,
but doesn't dare to engage nature as nature
engages with itself, apprehensive of nature per se
man defiles a god to abstract nature,
by calling to question the role of nocturnal beings,
insects and parasites... choosing to believe
in god in order to exact due noun to his fellow
creature... for man defiles god and glorifies nature,
but by glorifying nature he ought to despise,
he creates insects parasites and murderers
he eventually lacks the power to despise...
personally? it's hard to write a coherent opinion
in english, too much prepositional / conjunction
shrapnel... poetry is overly elitist, my lamentation...
in an age where overt use of images
numbs a sense of entertainment using words...
and dialectics just lost a disputing partner...
in an age when each to his own, a free-reigning-free-fall...
where non-engagement with one strand of opinions,
leads to another, even more extreme than the one prior.
Bo Tansky Jan 2019
Nattering **** head of negativity
Birdbrain, half-wit *****
Can’t count on to get on
Ever a nerd twerp blockhead
Braindead- can’t follow a single thread
Instead
Dance to the strings of your puppet poodle
You’re boring attempts are feudal
You’re as appetizing as a ten-day-old strudel
Square head, *******, yoyo, bozo
Backhoe cargo
Exciting as bread dough
Rising
Not surprising
That I’m so despising
You’re constant attempts at upstaging
Left me
Utterly disengaging
Your raging
Left me
Utterly disengaging
Your blaming
Left me
Utterly disengaging
Your constant contradictions left me
With a drug addiction
I’m not blaming
Just saying
Praying for the end
But wait
Why all the hate?
What hate?

Isn’t the mirror
Reflecting the interior
Can anyone save me from my nightmare?
Scared
That must be it
I mean me.
Anais Vionet May 2023
Slang..
Chick-fil-a = the best place ever
jade = *****
brooke = gorgeous
mishin = the boss, as in “You aren’t the boss of me.”

We’re on vaycay. School is OVER, COVID is over. We’re in New York City and we’re doin’ the town this time. Lisa told me, “You showed me Paris last summer, now I’m going to show you New York City.” Her mom, Karen, smiled and gave a little sideways, “Yes, yes we ARE’ nod.

Leong and Sunny, two of my Yale roommates, and my BF Peter are staying in Lisa’s (parent’s) 50th floor Manhattan apartment for the week. The apartment is singularly stunning, with its all-glass views of Central Park and the city, but it only has five bedrooms - so we’re doubled up a bit.

One of the things that makes Manhattan chick-fil-a, is that the Broadway theaters are 15 minutes from Lisa’s door. You step out, whirl around Columbus Circle and you’re on Broadway! Minutes later, you’re in your seat, Oh, and don’t forget to get the cinnamon crusted almonds.

We saw ‘Bad Cinderella’ the night before last - that was only a ‘West End’ show (I’m learning to be a Broadway snob). Tonight, we’re going to see Hamilton. Last night, we saw ‘Hadestown.’ I didn’t know anything about ‘Hadestown,’ but Leeza (Lisa’s 13 year old sister) has seen it three times now.

We’d just finished lunch and Lisa started off a debate. “Is Orpheus (one of Hadestown’s leading characters, played by Reeve Carney) superhot - the hottest man alive - or is he the littlest jade ever?
“He’s brooke,” Leeza swooned dreamily, fanning her face as if it’s hot, “I’d definitely hit that.”
Lisa gasped, “shutUP, you aren’t “hitting” anyone.
Leeza’s been driving Lisa up-the-wall all morning. We had Pancakes and bacon for breakfast and Leeza’s been all rude and maple sugar buzzed ever since.
“You aren’t mushin,” Leeza snorted, and as Lisa gave her a threat-laden look, Leeza finished with, “that man can get it.”
I’ve seen this before - and these sisters are heading for it.

Leong adds “Orpheus sees a submissive woman in distress. What he thinks he sees, is a typically beautiful woman, by societal standards, who he knows nothing about - and he’s like, ‘I want to marry you.”
Sunny leaned into the conversation fiercely, saying, “He doesn’t KNOW her! Wouldn’t you just punch that guy in the face?”
“Probably,” I answered, laughing, “if he weren’t in a frigging MUSICAL!”

“Excuse me,” Lisa interrupts, “you’re telling me that this scene doesn’t perpetuate the idea that only looks matter?” As one of the most beautiful women in the WORLD, Lisa is sensitive to objectification.

Sunny adds, “One reason to cancel him - I assume we’re trying to cancel him now - is that he sees a woman in distress and says ‘that’s the one, the love of my life,’ - a beautiful woman who can’t survive on her own.”

“She didn’t need him,” I suggested, “he was a burden on her.”    
Peter, who’s been working away on his laptop, looked up and said, “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

Leeza, snarked, “Then go back to your little coding.”
I think I gasped and Peter looked a little shocked.

When Lisa, who’d gotten up to get some ice, heard that comment from Leeza, she said, “THAT’S IT,” in a steely voice.

Leeza, who was sitting with her back to the kitchen on the huge white sectional, had a millisecond to look over before Lisa pounced on her. She came in from her backside rolling over onto Leeza, trying to cover her mouth.

Leong, and Sunny, who’d never seen these to wildcats at it before, squealed and flinched out of the way. Peter, an only child, found this delightful and hilarious. He burst out laughing with glee, as he too, cleared some space.

“You’re trying to silence me!” Leeza yelled, giggling and grabbing Lisa’s arms as they got into a full, sister wrestling, flailing ball of hair and arms. Rolling off the couch and onto the floor. “SHUT UP,” Lisa demanded at the top of her voice.
“She’s trying to silence me!” Leeza howled again, “I will not be silenced!” This match continued for a hot minute until Lisa got Leeza’s arms pinned with her knees.
“Apologize!” Lisa said, out of breath, as she began to ponytail her hair.

“Excuse me,” Leeza yelled, herself gasping for breath but trying to blow strands of her red hair out of her face and wiggle free. “I’d like my lawyer - get OFF me - you ******* Karen!”

When that doesn’t work Leeza starts yelling, “HELP, MOM, ****!!” at the top of her lungs.

Karen, on a laptop in a glass walled alcove just off the living room, had seen the whole everything. Folding down her laptop lid, she stuck her head out and said, “Girls.”

Then Michel, their dad, is in the doorway, “What are you two doing?” He asked softly.

The fight immediately broke up, Lisa and Leeza sheepishly disengaging. “Nothing,” they said, together in near perfect union. Lisa gave Leeza a wide-eyed, tilted head look and Leeza said, “I’m sorry Peter, I was only foolin’ around.”
“I know,” Peter replied, chuckling, “but it was worth it.”

Sunday - drum roll please - this Sunday (Mother’s day), we’re going to see Taylor Swift in concert.
On Monday, Peter and I jet off to Paris (and Saint-Tropez) for 10 days. He’ll get to meet my Grandmère and Uncle Remy - I’m SO hyped.

I’m squeezing a lot into the first three weeks of summer. My fellowship starts June 1st, and that’ll take all of June and July. I can’t wrap my head around being a junior next year. Where’s the time GONE?
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Laden: something heavily loaded with something, literally or figuratively.
Michael P Smith Mar 2013
God has given us the earth
To take up refuge
But yet in all staidness
In this home of ours
We human beings
Have been very poor tenants
Take a look around
Scope out the view
Our dying ionosphere
From our constant pollution
Our disengaging ozone layer
Which protects us
From the sun's burning rays
When they someday disappear
From existence
We will all be doomed
Becoming trillions of pieces
Of human bacon
On a global skillet
Take another good view
Of our plants and animals
What all they do for us
And what we lack to do for them
We have killed so many
Many which have met extinction
Our precious plants and animals
Are leaving us one by one
Day after day
Year after year
Soon we will have nothing
Left to our name
Even the water
Is becoming unsafe to ingest
Some places it has been that way
For centuries of time
But why is it hard for us
To remedy
To refresh
To replenish
Our only home
One we can never move from
Why destroy so much life
When we can make it better
Oil is scarce
Natural gas rises from asphalt
Everything is dying
And soon so will we
Change will never come
The damage is done
Oxygenation is so depleted
Soon will be no resources
For us to live off of
Because our dishes aren't clean
Our rooms are so *****
Our floors need vacuuming
Our walls peel valuable paint
Our vents are clogged dramatically
In the air lives dangerous molecules
Speckles of death floating airborne
Also we further the damage
To our already destroyed home
By the chemical warfare
The biological weaponry
Created by the minds
Which are here to help keep up
The exuberance of our home
As does the war of countries
Our rediculous governments
Ensuring war upon us
So called humble housekeepers
Which allow blood and destruction
To overtake our abode
To make our predecessors
Turn in their graves
To make our God *****
A sandstorm of anger and disgrace
We don't deserve to live here
We have not pleased him
We have not pleased each other
We have only inflicted damage
And so much pain
To our home
God deliver us please
Bring us up to par
Or this corrupted home
You gave us to live in
Will be dead and gone forever...

©Michael P. Smith
Raven Nov 2010
creativity
slips away from me
the more time passes
and the longer i'm connected to
the technological world
pseudo linked to people - just people
disengaging myself
unsure if the trade-off is worth it
am i pulling the plug to my tangible reality
to give more power to an intangible one?
when the crop isn't cultivated properly
the seeds don't correctly grow
but there are a few of those seeds
in the field of my creative minds eye that have adapted
to this waterless ground -
a sparse few that bloom every now and then
and then quickly die the moment they bloom  
as if trying to show me how beautiful it is
its up to me to grow them again.
but why should i?
At midnight, the microwave reads "00:01"
And the sound it emits displaces roaches in the cupboards.
The sound of a distant freeway, running with traffic,
Like the blood which flows through my veins, constant.

Neon lights buzz in the background,
And a moth floats, attracted to the light,
Which flutters until it dies, and its final resting place is the window sill,
Near a dying tomato plant whose soil is littered with ashes,
From late night smoking sessions as I stare at the street below.

Pedestrians are silhouettes stalking the streets at night.
And when they pass under a light, you're surprised to see:
The student, the migrant worker, and the mother of four,
disengaging from the hourly buses which run at this hour.  

The microwave reads "00:00," and its beep alerts of the meal,
Mostly frozen peas and potatoes, but the meat is warm,
And the plastic film poked with holes slowly fills the apartment,
With some sign of life and comfort.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
φιλια-   -λoγια... when compounding words as necessarily categorised prefix and suffix: the vowels tango arguing which ought to peck the peacock of being protruding... that's not the same as the english quasi-German flirt with hyphenated compounds, e.g.: hard-working.

when phenomenons appear, there are still
anomalies, another way to say it is
with a Kantian lexicon, phenomena are
all-sweeping, placebo feelings of inclusion
and a plateau of comparative entitlements
aided by the simile of the chicken-strut
(obedient head nodding, like fans of head-banging
music, unlike the geese brigade of the *******),
cluck cluck, cluck cluck, clock in clock out,
i.e.: with phenomenon there's a unit,
a self-knowing "parasite" given the plateau of
an occurrence that's deviating from pyramids -
the Platonic idea of geometry applied to
politics and economics - this parasite is
a protesting unit, hardly recognisable by
the phenomenon of prosperity (e.g.),
know to itself, a mongrel of solipsism and
the idea of a noumenon... noumenon invoked
exclusively is a thing-in-itself, the existential
cry for the existence of the *other
, something unknown
to us, and / or hardly worth knowing, given
the cinema of phenomena marring the existence
of such creatures with the success rate
of the applicability of phenomena... a noumenon
is an abstracted unitary pivot of solipsism,
it's likely to find its way into psychology's lexicon
as the ego: after all psychology loves to undermine
the affirmative onomatopoeia that are chameleon
(cha cha cha? cha melon? why not ca or ka? anyway,
you see, too many particular protruding extensions,
too many third limbs, too many traffic stoppages
in this language) skin worthy to tattoo onto himself...
noumenon are individuals invited to critique
phenomena from their comfortable status as solipsists,
the de-affirmative units (ego) of not thinking and
thinking that such and such phenomenon is worth
applause / inquiry / critique / negation;
noumenon is a measure of solipsism, a centimetre on
a ruler, given that the ruler is knowledge,
and the centimetre is an instance, recurrence,
the unexpected moment - or eureka
(hyphen, prolong the sentence, don't slip into
what ; and , emphasise, an indication for a change of
subject, or digression) - it's about putting the self
into a noumenon and thought acting as an omni-
surgical instrument to inspect it, a Swiss army knife
if you prefer... opening a can of sardines...
ego always prompts thought to be, a consistent verb,
always disengaging from nouns, retracting a noun
capacity, inverted as the usurper of nouns:
sign... oh sorry, slang language.
it's still bothersome, to practice the logic of possessing
a soul (psychology), yet denying it,
it's a self-defeating logic, to presume the study of soul,
the existence of, to later switch to the existence of
thought, and subsequent behavioural studies
whereby thought (the culprit) is the only justification
for odd behaviour... should i establish the non-existence
of a soul in man i wouldn't continue the study of
a non-existence of, that's firmly established,
but going down the hanging garden of Babylon replacing
the study of a soul (non-existent apparently, including
Nina Simone and Ella Fitzgerald) with the study of
thought and its many prompts seems strange...
why not establish a subject matter about how one
person ***** over another and ask: is there love in this
shanty town that's earth? φιλιαλoγια?
love of logic? or the logic concerning love?
well, it's hardly found on the crux, i was looking at it
with a microscope, a telescope, i got nothing
but a splinter in my eye and my tongue nailed
to an ice cube - true onomatopoeic resemblance,
not of meow or coo coo, bah o' woo L   ghh
(but of words) - deep-throat that ****, gagging of
an open mouth. i was prompted by the idea that
we're all getting richer... mm... with the shy economisation
of the arts as suggested by youth? i 'hink we won't
be anywhere worse-off in this society as we might
be better off in Congo... unless of course i write these
poems without youthful energy secure in
retirement, and pretend that gambling doesn't exist...
come to think of it, i'm more of a gambler than an artist.
David Barr Apr 2015
As we run with this extravagant hunt, donned in fine apparel, our forefathers are said to be effectively communicated through the aristocratic echelons of our contemporary excuse of societal connectedness.
However, my meridians ache with this eternally echoing façade, where those insignificant mongers of presumed energy exert their influence and pronounce fabrications of various and mystical cravings.
Therefore, it is important to understand those infantile proclamations, which are inert in their inarticulate and disengaging philosophies.
The sheer magnetism of our awkward interactions is not dissimilar to a child who has been caught in the midst of a forbidden action.
It is all about tidal hemispheres, don’t you think?
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
Descartes' verb interaction is perhaps a shallow fact to grasp, but given the word therefore is an adverb, there must also be a counter to this, given some people are introverted, or extroverted as the original cartesian model suggests - so therefore can also become what the daydreamers get up to, for if thinking precipitates a sort of being, it can also precipitate a sort of non-being (the limit of such reasoning to suggest non-existence is a bit like reasoning the existence of god); i.e. therefore (ergo) apart from being an adverb (toward action) can also be an abverb (ab-, the prefix expanded in modern tongue as: absence - the commuters on the train... just sitting) - hence the after-mentioned mathematical stimulation of deciphering would be better suggested as not =, but as ⇌.

i've noticed this when reading philosophy books,
after engaging in one, you suddenly run out
of steam, you are creating a void, and by creating a void
through lack of hope for originality or demanding it,
and by creating a void you become stalled in what
you deem to be the adequate waterfall of lettering
arrange into word on paper, you create this vast
chasm that's an "antidote" to the cartesian res cogitans...
upon reading a philosophy book you turn into
a *res vanus
, or should i say, an empty thing, a vacuum,
upon rejuvenation you do encounter thought,
but by turning yourself into a res vanus you
encounter thought as equatable with your ego,
as in: this is you, narrating in secret -
unlike the 26 unit equation of Hegel plagiarised
by Ginsberg in his poem the end:
i am i, old father fisheye that begot the ocean,
the worm at my own ear (new testament quote
about escaping hell, the worm at your own ear
gnashing its silica SiO2 teeth turned into glass,
glass teeth that then shatter) - the three words of
genesis are borrowed from Hegel's outlines
of the principle of rights, he too states the same,
the i am i, and furthers it by ascribing the word
am with the mathematical symbol =,
i wonder what word could be ascribed to other
words... perhaps in original terms ergo could be
Gemini as + and ÷... the latter case obviously
symbolical of schizophrenia, - (minus) typical of
depression, and x (multiplier) and ego trip,
that ultimate trip without intake of any Amazonian
substance or ingestion of a Swiss chemists' champagne
moment on a bicycle? i wonder. **** it, i digressed,
moment of rereading to find the river once more.
ah yes, this conception of a res vanus came to me
unlike Paul McCartney's yesterday, right in front of me,
first i read the day's newspaper, very depressing
material... then i picked up Kant again,
only briefly, i felt this sudden suggestion that upon
reading philosophy you are emptied, emptied in order
to become a blank canvas for someone to paint
something into your mind, the reason being is the
championing of thought in philosophical books,
to read them you seem to have to assume being empty,
rather than being brimful with thought,
i.e. jumping to too many conclusions and nodding
or shake-of-the-head assertions - there's no
parallelism with that notion of being a thinking thing
(a res cogitans), it can only come by a stance of
emptying or a pervasive adjective (quality) omni-
as regarded emptiness. i realised that the only way to
reattach myself to my own narrative was to engage
with a philosophical dynamic once again,
prior to yesterday i hadn't bothered to peer in once more
and wrote a detail of yesterday's events, not to my liking,
a lack of continuity rose up, a fizzing nugget of
phosphorus on water. if i left my eyes strained on
merely the newspaper i wouldn't have written this,
it had to be Kant, again.
but indeed upon turning into this res vanus of my
own invention, the principium is followed by
a definite articulation (mediating away from a definite
article) in Hegelian sense with mathematical grammar
via (+, -, x, ÷, etc.) to say: well if am is suggestive of =,
mediating expressive egoism and repressive egoism,
then res vanus, has to provide a similar product,
not a parallelism whereby one man thinks himself
extroverted in the medium of thought, but actually
introverted in the medium of being, but rather a
convergence (Oxford will take years to ascribe an -ism
on this matter)... since after disengaging from res vanus
upon reading a philosophy narrative,
it is a convergence of the pinnacle of decisive identity,
in that i = thought, of course Kołakowsi would
argue counter specifications of this grammatical construct,
he already did so when referring to dancing the tango
in his book culture & fetishes, i'm obviously disregarding
grammatical categorisation as a rigid Eiffel tower
monument to human endeavour,
i can state i = thought since both are personal associations,
Heidegger's famous contribution: we're still not thinking.
i don't care to suggest that thought is an Atlas with
the nouns world, helplessly balancing the many attributes
of what we call thought: the thought to steal, the thought
to care, the thought to obey, the thought to lie...
within such a list thinking is hardly definite, it's indefinite,
but what is definite in this respect is that we can identify
thought as ourselves, this is what stems from the res vanus
principium
, a principle that allows for philosophy books
to be actually read, since reading them is permitted when
the contradiction of the cartesian res cogitans is lost.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
let's just see where you'll be given this current populism of
Darwinism antidote, dietary requirements of
the size of your ****? let's just see where left-off,
let's see where Darwinism begins
and Shakespeare ends,
because we're living in times when the two matter,
the dating scene especially,
the Galapagos intrigues never made it to
Palmer's Green, or Strand,
Shakespeare subjected us to objects within
a framework of potential,
Darwin objectified us to be subjects within
a framework of failure -
which made fashion sensible; most people take
selfies, others write ~poems,
care less about the rhyme and more
about the impromptu tendency -
live it once, think about it many times.
Olympics is pure Sparta, what i love watching,
Edinburgh fringe is pure Athenian -
what i care not to think of, being a part of, crude,
a Spartan in St. Petersburg with my
grandfathers motto: fizyka (physics), matematyka
(mathematics) i sport (sport), one fatal omission:
music (muzyka).
watching the Olympics is primarily a Spartan
past-time, but the brotherhood, **** me!
there aren't any actors on the stages,
the Romanian fencing team against the Chinese
in the épée - dyslexia primus Gael -
secondus Anglia - hidden hedonism -
excess spelling - i was Spartan for a while,
that's when women liked me...
after that i became obscene and dangerous...
you touch me from now on i'd imagine
a fate worse than that of Iscariot....
you can try, i don't mind, just try, i'm gagging
to launch a crusade; kicking a man down
will not excuse you kicking him into a digging sequence'
oh please try! please derive some form of Islam from it...
i got used to hallucinations, i'd like to see too see you
become ultra-claustrophobic, for nothing else than the kicks.
but when they come with their Darwinism i feel
like an idiot having no awe left,
i actually stop wanting to reproduce an have start-up
strategies for families... i want to be dodo
and leave the idiots to their own demise...
every time Darwinism's cheat moves in chess
is mentioned to give me the advantage i turn into a dodo...
it becomes so disengaging with the world having
all the facts for free... it's this new formation from
the Roman legion turtle arrangement excavating assurances:
thanks to feminism she's hardly the prize two
bucks buzz with their antenna in a boxing ring...
can i compete for a kebab or a Swiss roll than her
menopause to simply convene and up-keep her "company"?
my misogyny isn't virus borne,
it's a natural cataract that makes us look like
thanksgiving turkeys force-fed the dynamo we all wished
to obstruct for a gurgling quack, even man's onomatopoeia
worth of echo could not, or ever would depict the
phonetic stresses that obviously doesn't mean
that turkey ever gurgled... man's interpretation
of god's incision into the world left us with
no true encoding of animal sounds, but only
what we approximated: onomatopoeia, the alleviated noun,
being the Genesis of poetic rhyme, so the lessened
suffering eased with rhyme, where man's tongue
exerted influence that it shouldn't have,
rather kept its intuitive sabotage of all other influences.
i mean, how far will Darwinism take you
before the sour or the bitter palette reciprocation takes over?
i reduced everything to juggling,
it's easier in a circus than in some form of the operatic,
as i told my mother: easier to deal with a household
animal friendly than in a household animal hostile,
makes up for sunshine, that schematic,
we mind 1 dead in western society, but simply add up
70 dead in Pakistan, we're unconsciously inheriting
Hindu traditions with full media support,
to belittle ourselves with animal to regain human
antidotes of the myth of the fall erased...
but as i said, concentrating the arrow of Darwinism against
the target of theology will not necessarily let
you shoot that arrow from the bow of chemistry-physics
at the target of dogmatic body-language bending and
kneeling and palm-reading...
not everyone will appreciate Darwinism's subjectivity,
if there is any... if man keeps changing categories,
equating male superiority with mammals
and feminism with insects like the case of spiders
and mantis marriages... i think of Darwinism as some
weird microscope... we are given a rainbow of object
and we're supposed to create a subjectivity from the choices...
in the end we're given too many choices,
and we make too many of them in the first place,
multiply the two and we're only choosing more choices,
by multiplying categorisation we're choosing more choice,
and in the end we only get the "Utopian"
plateau of dissatisfaction...
i'm not saying Darwinism is wrong, i'm saying:
look at the ******* timescales... big bang an the monkey-format,
and our Monday to Friday... it's not exactly
sensible...
                   what to do from here?
isn't it enough that i noticed a problem for our behaviour
without signifying that it resembles our treatment of
criminals with prisons that i have to suggest a safety-plan
for escape when the criminals have no civilisation
to return to, given their uncivilised treatment?
it's seems kinda pointless to have asked that question
in the first place, purposely avoiding corrective
punctuation markings, a depiction of an asthmatic.
I’m sitting in the dark and the sound of the rain falling is just right and silence settles to whatever volume is current. And as you become increasingly aware it’s like all of the oxygen is ****** out of the world and yet you can still breathe.

The power in that grasp. Glimpse. Moment of ‘being’. An active moment of happening now. The current. And it is so titillating, mesmerizing, and transfixing that you suspend time to really see it. It presents itself in many different ways and oh how truly altering they are.

I love the ones with no talking. No words  anywhere for me to hear whether I want to or not. Just colors, sounds, textiles, smells. A unique constantly changing thing.

God I love these moments and I intend to go back but the need to express it overtook long enough to use words to write this. I am now disengaging.
I like when it’s just noise. Words are distracting because even though I’m not listening directly my mind clicks on in an area of my brain that I wish to let sleep sometimes. Which if you knew me you would understand how ironic that is.
I did not speak until I was three. My grandmother used to tell my mother to “enjoy it now. Once she starts talking she will never shut up.” She was spot on. I used to talk so fast most would assume I was auctioning off cattle. The truth was I was auctioning off presence. Prattling away like a hen.
I am now returning to my original state of verbal silence. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE words but I don’t think in words. I think in pictures of moving senses. I use words to try and describe the current of those senses when I step out of their embrace to shift into a worded mind. It’s exhausting sometimes and exuberant at others but always disengaging from where I prefer to be. That’s not to say I’m a recluse. I am decidedly not but I do like reclusiveness.
Life is so full of so many ‘suits’ to try on and I do love to wear a wide variety but my most preferred is naked. Natural. Wild. Untamed.
Caitie Aug 2014
Your bones cast a shadow in the depths of your skeleton.
You once took a subtle beating to the skull
and played it off as your hands were wrapped in concrete.
Discovering your own marks and feelings within your body
- unheard truths spoken to the part of your heart
you have not yet discovered.
There your eyes lay to rest on a beautiful being
other than a fantastical collage of the beautiful things in life. Disengaging gruesome faiths to a god you'll never believe in.
Having nothing to grasp leaves your mind wandering
through the dangerous parts of a secret passage in all ends.
Never remembering why you're encouraged to fail
but knowing your fate lies in the hands of an unworthy witch
with a bad head on their shoulders.
With your dues written in stone
trudge along to the sound of your own dismay and sulk
while realizing your worth and your need.

*None of what we are will ever be worth anything that we should be
Molwantwa May 2021
Even after the heartbreak
I wanted to treat your heart like it was my own
The thought of disengaging with you was tormenting
The heart was in a “I want what i want” Mode
Sam Oliver May 2010
I hold no contempt of you
As you seem to have of me.
I stand firm, like a rock
In spite of your mighty sea.

It's not so much that
I see you raging,
You just strike me as disengaging,
Disillusioned,
Disarranging the concept of friends.
Keeping your distance,
Even if they, too
Only seek your ends.
Spare me of your drama,
But bare me in your pain.

I hold no fault in you,
But I'd hold you in the rain.
Briar Rose Apr 2014
Murmuring lyrics to songs i can't sing,
Disengaging asI search for a reason.
A new way to breathe,
And a plea for insanity.
I scale the road for a fork,
But all I see is a one way street.
I know now,
That I was always looking for a way to get out.
Head hung low,
Pacing,
And muttering questions I don't know the answers to.
Collapsing on brick,
And
Shivering in spring.
Spring.
That was the season it all happened in 2013.
Spring.
That was the season it all happened in 2001.
Spring.
This is the season I come undone.
Poetry writing while chortling,
As I excuse myself for my mentality.
Ha!
I was never as happy as I thought I was
And neither is anybody else.
Keith W Fletcher May 2017
Ropes are an arbitrary constituent of
My often meandering campaign of self-sufficiency
Where often times I find myself wondering
If I were elected or selected for my role as the dejected

So the sudden appearance
Of this length of rope
Attached somewhere up above in obscurity
To dangle before me as innocently as a kids swing
Or as menacingly inviting as a 13 Loop hangman's noose

Timing is often the real hero
Or culprit
Of any grand production
Whether on the stage or in the simple act
Of oneself coming of age

With open eyes as I taste the lies
That had become so familiar to the script
That I never even trip
As the words  would slip
Lifeless and indistinguishable
From my hapless lip

There was a time as I wandered
Around the cracked and worn down
Asphalt parking lot in my mind
Seeking a parking spot and often finding
Naught- as once again the daily spin
Had ushered in
That loud and obnoxiously redundant crowd
Of oxygen-dependent hypocrites
That look and sound and think
Just like me

That then is the point where I begin
To accept that no parking spot exists
As I make the endless loops and twists
Assuming that I can convince myself
It's just my bad luck
To be looking left- as I drove right by
What obviously I must have missed

LIE... an absolute  lie !!

Right there in front of me like a flashing Neon traffic cone
So even if I close my eyes
To pretend that I don't recognize and realize
Its very existence
But I know and I saw  and I heard
It all... The very second that it occurred
As the blinding flash so intense
As to make me wince
As it penetrates my fragile human eyelids

I am there
So disengaging  the  useless gear
Setting the brake... For my stranded
Almost abandoned
Soul's sake

Killing the ignition as a form of contrition
Open the door and take the key... As if it were a part of me
Wondering what was the reason for
Being that a crowd of me
Would actually steal anything from myself
Wait a minute...
... I've already been doing that. A lot
A whole parking lot

I cannot stay here among the throng
For very long
Reminding me of just how wrong
A man can really be

I need to walk and walk
Let my inner voice and my fragile shell
Have a long past due talk
As a way to maybe break the spell '
So with a swift  backward glance
Gave to me that welcome chance....
... To see
That this was my lot in life
Where what I was leaving behind
was in fact...
Right there- right where it belonged
Parked in the very parking spot
I had been looking for
That that I had had all along all along

A crowded mind
Makes it extremely hard to find
The power in taking the lead...
By helping out
That part of yourself that sometimes goes blind

There is not an easy fix or magic tricks
Or any color wax to fill in all the nicks
No school books or rule books
No tools hidden in some obscure nooks
That the ID or the EGO somehow always overlooks

So with wide open eyes
as
I'm walking
in circles
Endless circles
So when that rope materialized
Weary to the bone I'm so dreadfully tired

As if in quicksand I were mired

And so concerned
About the way my directions had turned
I continued determinedly onward
To work out the kinks and find the weak links

   Determined to identify
As I learn to rely
On my ability to accept
That
To try is to try
Only I will ever know
The depth of that turn
Or the heights of my concern
Or when
I yanked myself
Back up to the surface

The circles that I now walk
Knowing that I have not a single clue
Where or which way I'm going
No sign posts or  monuments to mark the horizon

I'm noticing
That these circles
As I hold on to this rope
ARE
Getting smaller as to shorten the distance
Between the times I wallow in
The incendiary and intrusive and abusive
As the future will be
Filled with those inconclusive reasons why
Across this path over and over and over again
With increasingly diminishing respite

No loss is ever absolute if the resolute
Soul of man can accept that there's always
A plan when looking with more than just eyes
While hearing with more than just the ears
Believing what was heard is more than just word upon word
Hope is as I am now at the crossroads of hope
A sunny  field of dew - tinged flowers

As that rope has led me down to simple single turns
Each time completing a circle
No slack left
But I am far far from bereft
As I am now aware of where
I am
The end of the rope
And therefore out of Hope?
Nope !!

' I  at the U turn
The New Direction
The ever-expanding revelations
The lengthening and strengthening of my path
And able now to see my false trail end

So with key in hand
I  reverse course and with no remorse
I'm going back to that spot
In that now empty parking lot
Marveling at that now pristine silence
So now we have a much lighter load
I turn the key put my life in gear
And get back out on the road

Oh how I love a good road trip
Lucy Marie Apr 2014
Your love was meaningless.

You used to get angry because I hated myself

and I hated the people who hated me.

You used to yell at me for disengaging;

for leaving my body to be somewhere else.

I thought I loved you-

I thought I was in love with you.

But now that I think about it

you were constantly trying to sell your love to me

as if it was a campaign proposition;

as if you were a politician.

I never believed you

and you abused my disbelief.
SG Holter Feb 2015
I've stood wounded before
Gods and parents,  
Hand on my heart to keep the blood
Inside for as long as it took me to say:
It was me.

It was my responsibility.

It was me.  
At times the only meaning you
Find in a chapter of
Your life,

Is the peace you feel when
Realising that you -all in
All- have no one but
Yourself to blame.
So you don't.

It hurts.
It hurts like bones growing.
Like disengaging from the machine
And learning to breathe
On your own.
Julia Hunter Jan 2015
Tonight feels like salt, but not enough wounds to pour it in.
There is no relief, no distraction
from the feeling taking my lungs' motion away.
I can't breathe, I can't see,
stasis and the puddles that accompany it.
The crushing grip of unproductivity
shakes my soul as a giant would a doll.
Wasted, wasted, another day wasted.
When will the spaces on the clock be worthwhile?
I am perpetually shoving myself off of an edge into a pit of something menacing,
I can't seem to give up on tearing down my own walls.
Two lines, or three, streaking down my cheeks -
a signification of my misery for everyone to see.
Embarrassment, now comes he -
with his lance, sticking it straight through me.
Stop looking, everyone stop looking,
I can't do this anymore.
When tears do not reveal my weakness,
my expression does.
I am quiet, disengaging from what I enjoy -
and they notice, how dare they notice,
I  don't want them to notice!
Curiosity and compassion are two very different things,
and the former is in overabundance.
I feel like a raincloud must, though I don't attain a pleasure of release -
my eyes spill out my insignificance,
therefore it is endless.
Francie Lynch Jun 2017
When I was a child, I was told to be good,
We were never the most amazing children forward from conception.
We tried to please. Compliments were scarce, but not unnoticed.

In my disengaging years, I was clever enough in school to pass (all but one or two usually did). I'm into life-long learning. I didn't get to grade two because I was seven.

It was never suggested that I might be the smartest, most prodigious brain in school, any school in any district in North America. No one framed my finger paintings and straw art.

I was okay in sports. Most sports. Never got a Participants' Ribbon. Make the team or get cut. Pass the ball or get benched. My parents never knew the coach's name, usually didn't know where the game was played. Do something else. Practice. Oh, and the medals, trophies and team pictures are lots of fun.
And, you will handle them every so often, and remember...

Later, I found out I wasn't ugly. I've my share of blemishes, but there are plenty of kisses and dates out there to go around. Trust me.
I wasn't described as David, recently stepped off his dais, or, the heartbreak of thousands, the man you want to be in the mirror. Actually, we all look much like yourself... the same.

No one told us to be clever with money. That, if it existed, belonged to my parents. I didn't get any. I did take out some garbage cans for two old girls on Tuesdays, for fifteen cents. Ask Boomers about their jobs. There's lots of stories about earning money.

We belonged to the Age of Entitlement. Grew and matured expecting a good education, a fair wage for a fair job, a planet to live on with some intermitent world peace.
You are entitled to the same, Dear Millenials.
The same way. It works wonders.
And don't tell anyone (especially your kids) they're ******* Royalty.
We know how Majesty ends.
Grrrrrrr.....
jay may Mar 2015
Everyone thinks there living in a mind of gold, but the simplicity is not in the eyes of the behold. Its all wrapped up in this ****** up equation, for its not a simple game of who's in and who's hated.  You have to look past the positives and the negatives to see everyone is disengaging.  When you see that the positives and the negatives cancel out you will see for life itself will surly bleed out.  The generations ****** up seeing black and white, trying to think and act out everyone else's own life. Its kinda ****** when everyone is thinking for you, especially when they don't truly even know you. We are all lost and no one seems to care, but when it comes down to it it starts with you and a breath of fresh air. So before you go out and judge all those life's just remember in the end you have to live within your own mind.
Dhaara T Aug 2017
"I'm hurt and crumbling
Little by little
Each day"

"YOU are not hurt
Your expectations are
Your emotions are
Your tender little heart is
But YOU...are more than that"

"People hurt me
Especially the ones I like
Especially the ones I open my heart to"

"Because YOU let them. Love them, but remain detached"

"How do I connect if I remain detached?"

"Detachment
isn't disconnection, my child
It isn't holding a flower
and your nose
It is
escaping in the beauty of its fragrance
yet remaining grounded
knowing the fragrance is real
only because of perception
If you perceived it to be foul
It would be foul smell
but you perceive it as aromatic
So, so it is
Detachment is being aware
of perception
and reality
and the illusion of it all
It isn't disengaging
it is knowing
engagement
and of it
within
and without"
DaRk IcE Jul 2015
Blood diamonds dripping from severed veins reign eternally, falling within synced rhymes

Frantic drums rumbling, slurred echos pulsating rich of certainty

Cumulus clouds rolling shadows of confusion

Illusions induce flashbacks lurking dangerous memories left abandoned

Disoriented glares raging upon magical fields of familiar residence

Classical exceptance cuts into battered minds disengaging physical existance
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
perhaps the hardest lesson to learn
is based upon drinking
whiskey slowly...
    you can down one kalimotxo glass
after another, and if you have
to litres of wine, you can also chain-smoke
choo-choo it down the slide
into more uninhibited territory -
but with whiskey: there's a need to
keep vigil, and wait, and wait...
  and it can sometimes be disengaging
that you somehow have to wait
for the right moment, and begin...
      oh, i drink out of choice,
not out of an addict's plea -
   what three weeks in Poland showed me
was that i can switch off the "addiction"
in a day, and feel no cold-trukey drama...
the western world with
its romanticism of madness and its
theatre of addiction narratives bores
me... quiet literally bores me...
   so why am i writing this?
well... i feel the tipping point of the Libra
working its way into my drinking session...
a few aphorisms by a german
philosopher in hardback...
   then a few newspaper articles from
a newspaper (column section, primarily)
and i can begin...
   and i can begin: because i feel no shame
in writing what i would consider to be
utter tosh... but given the Libra principle:
at least i'll write nearly as much
as i have read...
     i find it a disaster to merely write...
to fill some void, as if to rekindle once had
conversations with transcient friends:
notably those in a system of either schooling,
or work...
    i just have a void in my head
that once had pristine conditions (soul-like)
for thinking... now i don't...
  as happens when blood spills onto neurons
and you hear a sound akin to water
on an electric current...
but never mind that...
          do i care for past conversations
as a writer might, in that current film 5 to 7?
well... i'm not really a writer...
   as it is self-evident: i have the least
interest in paragraphs, or ensuring someone
takes me writing to bed as:
the best way to fall asleep... not as depressing
as someone falling asleep with the television on,
i gather that much...
     but i'm not really here to talk,
to orate grand things in the vein of a Cicero...
i thought i could begin citing more
Seneca and Cicero than the Greeks...
but then i found that: they cite the Greeks...
so why bother citing those two?
     pedantry, for the care of it being
a reflection that: there actually was a beginning,
and with that beginning i find myself
lodged in the current year, a.d. 2017.
    it's not that i care about these historical
figures... they're as far removed from me
as someone in a village 100 miles north off
Beijing... gearing up from tending to a field
to occupying a cubicle-sized room
with a naked lightlulb dangling off the ceiling...
it's hardly an umbilical cord...
but such is the contrast i'm experiencing,
a philosophy book on the one hand,
and a newspaper on the other hand...
  you can't find a better case of zenith and nadir...
i read one and i reach a nadir -
because current affairs and my place in the world
are a bit pointless by comparison...
  but i read the other, and i am walking
up a mountain, upon which i find coordinates (0, 0)
and of all things: gravity - a pulling force
that drags me to say, well...
coordinates (0, 0), but that's on an x-y graph...
i'm the z-line, so, more precisely 1 (0, 0) -
neither of these two mediums are actually
three-dimensional, as such, not the objects
themselves, but the content...
   so i have to stand outside the already prescribed
coordinate foundation...
but i still find philosophy books inadequate
in some way... a) no grammatical words...
not using the basis of categorising language,
all the time, just throwing words into abstracts
and geometric bulwark -
      no grammatical words, not one,
only Artistotle nibbling at it: proper names...
       or such thing from ancient lore...
and b) the rigid concepts used, intact,
to further an argument, or merely state
the logic of language...
           e.g. ad infinitum (to infinity) -
and never toward, say, something poetic...
   it's enough that grammatical words have never
been used in philosophy books...
  allowing a pseudo-ping-pong or at least
the quickened step... a wormhole effect...
but the fact that there can be no, i.e.
    αδ μηταφoρυμ -
        for example syllables, diacritical marks
as punctuation marks / syllable enforcers within
words... why then all the way to infinity
and not toward the given, now?!
toward metaphor, yes...
               how there is medicine all around...
a doctorate in linguistics might also mean
using another kind of scalpel to cut open words...
and not begging at the oratorium of:
the pen is mightier than the sword...
         so i guess that would mean:
the tongue is mightier than the thought,
  or as some would say: the thing that incubates
thinking... the in abstracto brain...
why would we begin to think by claiming
the origin of thought is in the brain and is by
brain solely coordinated?
   what of feelings concerning the heart,
and my drunken odes when the liver speaks more?
i can hardly be as merely a brain in a pickle-jar
attacked to a computer (some time in the future)...
the heart speaks as much as the brain,
if not more!
           side-tracking,
and why:                    Γγ      Υυ
   and not akin to Ιι                      Ρρ   Ττ    Χχ
      Ψψ, i.e. identical shrinking?
   some would say: can that ever be a serious question?
well... unless you're part of the crowd
asking about the mysteries of the universe,
i guess it isn't...
                   well... it's there, i'm in it...
it's unfathomable to the extent we currently
understand it... but at least this thing i asked is
concerning a human question,
   not a dialectically theological question
that stacks a lot of brains working on
the cartesian "i am" without much thought,
i.e. the tri-tier dialectics of theism / deism / atheism:
no matter what thought i put into that thing
that boasts moons, stars Jupiter and Mars will
ever produce a lightbulb...
     or a recipe for a well cooked roast...
here, now... language... it's bewildering
on the basis that: well, we're not exactly
merchants on the silk road writing route symbols
so we don't get lost when we travel across
Arabia... by the looks of it... we're already lost!
yes, that really was an exaggeration:
but i like to think it's so,
it's not as simple as 1 (straight), 2 (turn left)
and 3 (turn right) -
so to walk through a maze you were given
the instruction schematic:
1, 1, 1... 2... 1, 1, 1, 1... 3... 1... 2... 1, 1... 3... 1, 1...
bingo!
   and believe me.... you will end up writing
these little codes at some point, wondering
why it was that you didn't remember modern
code given computers... or as i do...
or why i do these little codes, because,
as a byproduct of being drilled 1 + 1 = 2
   from age 8... i feel like taking a break
and writing the most basic ciphers...
a bit like receiving complimentary chocolates
on your hotel bed...
  it's not exactly a chocolate fountain...
but hell... they're there.
yet what was that thing i mentioned,
the Libra principle?
     well... it doesn't matter what i wrote...
i spent the past hour reading...
   which makes me feel, actually a bit shameless
about writing anything at all...
   it's how i find writing to be at best
a chance of being trapped in a moment
    that post-pones more balancing acts...
i just can't stash inside of myself
  this high-air i'm wearing a cravat sort of airs...
like i might need a butler...
     i can't say i write more than i read...
but at feel less urgent in writing anything at all...
and the content just passes me by...
the context is more important:
whiskey, cigarettes, newspaper, windowsill
a bit of heidegger...
               and that's how it should be:
it can never be that important as i might even
like to think...
         and yes, as Kafka noted should
his works be kept, published IN LARGE PRINT...
you seen a Kafka book?
    New Times Roman... probably size 9 or 10...
they overdid the justice bit with Bukowski...
Kafka is stacked on my shelf and he's moaning
saying: you ******* should have at least
published my books in larger font:
so it's easier to read... who's this chuckling Charlie
doing in the myopic section of the library...
i mean: how many insuctices have been served
like that... he can boast all he wants:
the reason he's pop is because they printed
him in LARGE TEXT... Kafka received
a **** when he ordered a steak tartar...
   and yes... the stench of a nation once incorporated
into the Roman empire is all too evident
in an English newspaper...
   coming from a faction of peoples who didn't
experience being brown-nosed by the Romans
or who claim no conncetion with the Roman world
can be a bit daunting...
               it would seem to suggest that there's
nothing to boast about...
    and that much is true...
as if true that Poland: has absolutely no moral
obligation to prevent the people of Hong Kong
from being swallowed up by the one-party Chinese
state...
       because no more Kowtow means: no more Kowtow.
if i were British i'd cite Bilbo Baggins...
Gandalf... i feel streched... like
    too little butter spread over too much toast...
what's with this predicate of having moral
obligations... 6000+ miles away from Dover?!
well... these are middle-class opinions,
   instead of reading a newspaper, i should really
try to get an invitation to some *******'
    dinner party in Devon... or Richmond...
that's what i meant when i meant: two Europes...
  suddenly got the fear
and left: because there emerged a workforce
with a communist work ethic,
a generation who had to join the army for 2 years...
given the conscription laws...
         every time i wake up and feel nothing
but jealousy of not being born in poland in the 1960s.
They say,
that there is no time like the present,

news just in,
the present passed and is now the past,
present that to them.

if we're on a learning curve
I think that I got one of
the pointed ends.

My Friday evening will consist of
one meal
a great deal of chatter,
the former as good as the latter,
and
a glass of wine.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
title: cow borrow...
body: oranges smile.

https://www.unicode.org/L2/L2018/18323-open-four.pdfv(freeze: 444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444)

weak spot: Lao Che: Powstanie Warszawskie: the Warsaw Uprising... i tend to cry... when my heart constrict into being sized akin to a pebble... then: ah... release! tears! there: stands! a mountain! a monument of me!

i couldn't possibly give either the Hindus or the Arabs
credit for our modern numbers...
given the following rubric:

ένας: 1 - one - I - iota
δύο: 2 - two - Z - zeta
τρία: 3 - three - E - eta
τέσσερα: 4 - four - μ - mu... of h
πέντε: 5 - five - S - esse
έξι: 6 - six - b - ba-toom
επτά: 7 - seven - Γ - gamma
οκτώ: 8 - eight - B - beta
εννέα: 9 - nine - P - or rho
μηδέν: 0 - zero - O - omicron

the numbers were already here...
             "hidden" or rather... the Romans knew arithmetic
in the following fashion:

XI + IX = **
                
                  so... it was nothing new...
to have ascribed something numerical to what was
otherwise a letter -
a sound...                   hmm...

what of the Japanese?
               六 - or... ロク: which is six...

there's a reason why i won't budge on this matter...
i had one Egyptian fwend "friend" once:
what a disappointment he was...
like with most Muslim acquaintances:
the feeling of conversation soon turns into
a feeling of conversion...

               such nagging *******: always looking
for proselytes: who'd they'd treat as inferiors...
not even as Janissaries or Mamluks...
just... eh... some odd convert...

              obviously i didn't, convert...
but i'm looking into a second Islamic schism...
oh no... the Persians wouldn't bow to an invading
horde of Arabs: Muhammad was not a man
of his word... that chapter has been covered...

i'm looking for a second schism toward...
the Turks... spearheading it... with Hey-Zeus...
Isa... being... well...
        Ba'al Yatoosh... lord of mosquitos...
another day another reiteration of my conviction:
since i won't be siding with the Gnostics
when the proper **** hits the fan: proper(ly)...
i'm bailing out... on this whole history...
the Pontius Pilate stance...

            it's also called the waiting game...
my neighbour's son's wife is having a baby...
the waters broke some... oh... 48 hour ago...
but the national health service didn't intervene...
C-section phobia... ****'s sake!
get that tadpole out! imagine having a child
stuck in you for almost two days...
the waters have broken...
  where's the necessary lubricant for her to push
the baby out? why can't all births be done
via a C-section? eh?! costs too much?
what's so good with a natural birth...
by comparison to other mammals...
  we're pseudo-mammals...
you watch a birth of a gazelle... it just drops out
(the mare) like a diarrhea sludge of a serpent...
plop: and it's out...
******* "dyslexic" in its ability to stand up...
but hey presto!
                      it's blinking: so it's receptive...
but my neighbour's away... i was giving the duty
of looking after Bella... this white beau of
a heterochromia: so a Dawid Bovie type...
rebel rebel... doesn't know whether she's a meow
or a woof!
           i love my neighbour to bits...
but i walk in... first things first... my library shelf
is a mess... by my standards of cleanliness...
i walk into her house: shoom! i get the whiff!
i think i just walked into: a museum dedicated
to Ed Gein...
      i'm not even joking...
  i start looking for the cat... change the water...
add some extra dry-pebbles of food to her dish...
change the stale, dried out sachet
with two options: on the menu... some parody beef
and some parody salmon in: probably not so
parody jelly... pig brain remains gelatin...
which is good... i like being reminded...
whenever i think my life's ****** up...
someone else's is... more...
                hence the topic of jealousy disappears...
thank **** for this little...
i'll take these shoes, these socks...
   and... yes, thank you: ******* into the forest
come sunset...

because why is it, in Latin... that... letters do not
have names, akin to the Greek
"fashion" of naming A: alpha... and B: beta...
hell... I is not aye: a yes, affirmative but:
iota...

i might be drinking... i might be drunk...
but i still cycle like a madman through
the traffic... next time i give a ****...
i'll give a **** when a teenage girl breaks her shins:
folds her knees and says: i love you...
blue moon... i.e. that's never going to happen...

it has happened before: Nietzsche in the zenith
of his furore pretended to be a ******...
Polacks are the Frenchmen of the Slav...
yeah: #metoo... i sometimes forget i'm a ******...
i'm more prone to suggest myself as:
HERR SWAB! ******* schwabian!...
not the tourist elder Saxon that became the islander
Englishman... something more focused...
but i get it... i too get "confused" from time...
time... time... space...

but you can't really measure language... sounds...
not really... sure...
you can... elongate an omicron into an omega:
*** via through to pool...
that's an omicron to an omega transfer:
and... no diacritical markers were or are to be used...

as a microcosm of the totality of man...
as: but one... i.e. 0.1...
this implant in me: of the retrospective of man...
history... that... however written...
just... erases itself: because... nature...
doesn't allow for a celebrity horse...
or whatever... replica after replica...
no distinction: the authority comes from:
you will not keep an Alexander the Great for...
what nature allows... scheme... little man...
nature will soon yawn and settle the matters
into creating the replica of the vast void
above it...  the game is to replicate...
      
only now i walked around a supermarket...
whiskey: check... pepsi... check...
turkey steaks for the cats: check...
wow... such... such unremarkable people...
have passed through the membrane of time...
2 children, 3 children... most of which look:
underfed...
   oh so, well... moi..
             i tried to give a ****: once upon a time...
now? well... if i'm not getting any satisfaction...
what? marry a ******* gargoyle in the making?
she drops out two plump-plum-pig-cheeks
of babies and then what?! watch television with her
till we grow old and tired?!
oh **** no!
        make me a warm bath: i'll do the vein slitting
myself... at least when i'm alone
life remains bearable... interesting:
i get to surprise myself...
      sure... sometimes i **** prostitutes...
like a good Teutonic knight might...
                   but most the time...
spare me the ******* details... there are no details...
i stroke my beard pretending to be playing
a violin... it's not going to happen:
i have a blank canvas for company...
that's my epitome... and... probably a ******* epitaph...

but i will not, give, credit... to the Arabs... or the Hindus...
for... giving European numbers...
****'s sake! XI: 11: elven eleven!
people on this continent used to substitute letters
for: abstractions akin to: the necessity of numbers
to measure... space within space...
space counter to time...
  time and... whatever...
Meister Ronaldo Retardo: no... it's not going
to happen...
             i'm not going to allow these copper-necks
to have some up-right: we evolved prior to you:
sure... now you spend a winter in ******* Finland...
******* copper-necks...
can't call them "*******"... can't call them albinos...
those supposedly tanned people of the desert...
my my... 2000 years... you ever wonder...
why the Hebrews became so... ******* pale?!
oh sure sure... we inherited numbers...
but... with the letters we wrote...
we already had the numbers!

   let's have some... pseudo... insert burp:
something akin to the Copernican revolution
implosion...
                     ౺

      μ                           h

                   4: look left...

huh? because it can't possibly be
the 5th disengaging with the existence
of Poland...
like that... ha ha... joke... from 19th century
France...
Ubo Roi... by Alfred Jarry...
  ha ha! it's really funny now...
oh, don't mind me minding the English:
they are island dwelling folk...
half fixated on being Saxons: half fixated
on being Welsh: Celtic...
           never mind them... how England stated:
war against **** Germany!
but... but... last time i heard...
Polacks waged war on these isles...
in the spitfires...
  but what Englishman ever fought their
claims on the lands of Poland?
             mind you... it took **** Germany
combined with the effort of Soviet Russia
to conquer Poland... than it took for...
**** Germany to... conquer... France...
seriously?! France? the birthplace of Napoleon...
France wasn't conquered during the second world war:
France simply spread its legs...
it: capitulated...
the Palestinians have a term for throwing
children against grenades...
the same... the French: just throw easy *****
against anything that wriggles!

because it's funny now... the joke had to ferment...
all the way back from the 19th century...
i needed to feed my neighbour's cat...
walk into a... a... a... a ******* Ed Gein museum...
seriously... i spent the rest of the afternoon
pretending to be drunk... sitting it the garden
admiring the moon...
getting drunk on: how i ordered my household...
i'm drunk... on how... erratic... guillotine... prone...
some people are... sort of like:
   vlad: land-zurückgefordert!
but the Alfred Jarry joke is joke, right: proper...
did it age? really?
oh: the Polacks are king King John of England:
lackland hipsters...
the lesser Hebrews...
        now... oh now...
   hmm... France... post-colonialism...
the "history": how's that working with you?
if it's necessary: tear Ukraine into two!
i don't care... i'll be more than welcoming this:
Russophile attititude!
       it was a good joke... in the 19th century...
but... given France... and the 21st century...
post-colonial realities...
eh... i smirk...i'm trying ol find someone
under 5ft4... who's... greedy with canons!
Elba?! nice... pretty little island...
want to repeat history?!
          Alfred Jarry: ha ha!
who runs Paris, these days?
oh, wait... ******'s dead...
              i want to live in Tel Aviv....
or... like a lot of the Beatnik poets...
in... hubris...via: Tangiers...
                         funny joke... the French, though...
huddling... into shadows...
there's nothing to laugh about at...
is, there?
            
bewildering:
we have names for numbers...
but we don't have names for letters...
undifferentiated:
nouns conrta consonants...
1 is indivisible...
2 is...
   well... 1 is divisible by 0:
ergo 0.1...
            moons and monkeys and money...

time to pretend to have hair
and comb it...
such that is history that is France:
that is post-colonialism...
and... whatever the hell is allows...
let it... 100 years later... some variation of
a Reconquista?!
             great joke... the Polacks having
no land...
           like: you have a history or just:
the ******* architecture?
    it's not nice... seeing you being *****...
Charlemagne is... twisting... turning
in his grave... shouting via death:
death to all that live!
              ROT... and by now: rot is best.

no! nein! nie! niet!
numbers didn't arrive from India... via the Arabs!
we already had the numbers!
within the confines of letters!
*******... take your pride back to the camel jockeys
you were originally bound to be:
******* sand people!
  i can't fall asleep lovely bound to the temp.
of the equator... check me... come...
hmm... the northern bound... height...
come... the darkness and the silence...
and the coldness of Siberia! *******: Baghdadi:
ummah: chasm of wants... *******...

******* luxury of temp.: ******* inbreds:
me too... i'd love to **** my cousins!
i'd love to be a cousin ******.
K G Aug 2015
Deregulation of the day, Hey say we both give a message for weeks to come
Ending up with a dusty note, we are not going to worry just stick to what we know
Disengaging through the day, I don't know what to say
Javanne Feb 2019
I am disengaging with reality
I don't mean to but
I've measured my days in unrequited affection

Each day ends the same
Never is there a change
The sun still tumbles out of existence
Releasing a shroud of turpitude, for me to cloak myself in

Watching doves has become an annoyance
Daydreaming on how easy they can fly anywhere
With whomever they wish
I draw my knife and poke it against my temple
And feel the wetness of frustration tread lightly

Down it drips,
Splashing against wanted hips
Staining painted fingertips
Solidifying a destined kiss
Down, it drips

All I'm left with
Is a streak of
unrequited affection
Hoping it fades someday

But for now, it drys
Giving me the mark
Of unbridled emotions
In the shape
of a caged mourning dove.
Could we make it otherwise
if truth are lies?

What the eyes see
is that truth enough for me?

Are the hands of the almighty
so tightly wrapped around the cause
for effect?


Shazam,
the caped crusader
Batman's on the lam.

I'm crawling up the walls here
climbing through my veins
slipping down the drainpipes
disengaging from the mains.


But it could have been so different
if I had worked to make it last

But again a but, but better that than not a
but at all.

I'll climb or crawl the wall again
or fall again in the attempt.
I like when it’s just noise and not chatter. Words are distracting because even though It’m not listening directly my mind clicks on in an area of my brain that I wish to let sleep sometimes. Which if you knew me you would understand how ironic that is.

I did not speak until I was three. My grandmother used to tell my mother to “enjoy it now. Once she starts talking she will never shut up.” She was spot on.

I used to talk so fast most would assume I was auctioning off cattle. The truth was I was auctioning off presence. Prattling away like a hen. I am now returning to my original state of verbal silence.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE words but I don’t think in words. I think in pictures of moving senses. I use words to try and describe the current of those senses when I step out of their embrace to shift into a worded mind. It’s exhausting sometimes and exuberant at others but always disengaging from where I prefer to be. That’s not to say I’m a recluse. I am decidedly not but I do like reclusiveness.
Graff1980 Jul 2020
I lost Jupiter
in a crumpled notebook,
as my pale white
queen of the night
passed me by
and got on with her life,

and my sweet potato,
fellow fairy poet
has long since
vanished.
Don’t I know it.

I’ve parted ways
with many friends
who will not
message me again,
and I miss each of them.

As they go,
so do I
disengaging
from these sites
as tiny bits
of my poetics
are divested
then invested
in friends that
discard the heart
I handed them.

Sometimes,
I wonder
if they remember me
or if I was just
a passing word fancy,
indulged and forgotten
in less than a breath.

— The End —