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Coleen Mzarriz Oct 2021
She has freckles like little eyes boring a hole into your soul when she looks at you. She has a face as clear as crystal that when you look at her, you can see your own reflection—mirrorless, empty, and reserved. When you press your lips against hers, a flood of poisonous schemes awaits you, and you'll be lost like Alice in Wonderland.

She's an important chess piece that cannot be easily moved; she's a queen, the ace, the king. A pawn may capture a queen, but she is also the king. Her throne reeks of gold and fortune, her mind flows with wisdom, and her body's attached like the goddess Aphrodite. She's the thunder in the rain. Her cries are a woe of revenge and power. Death can not capture a woman like her. She's Eve and she's Lilith. She's a spirit and she can be a snake—crawling with her reptile skin. Her eyes are as fierce shaped as the diamond's emerald and lastly, she's macabre surrealism that when you read her, her true self shows and pushes you to infinite possible dreams you can dream of. 

Avary is the bird of thunder. In her cage, she's a young soul duplicated to bring misfortune every time it rains in the spring of Casmorville.
Women, regain your power. :)
Casmor is actually a place. I just added the "ville" so it makes more sense. And oh, I wrote this while there was a big typhoon last July.
Harley Hucof Apr 2017
The same scene repeats itself
Once again i run away from my lover's debt

As i breath in your love, i exhale my lies
Am i wrongful to you with my duplicated life?

I will soon disappear and leave you with a letter.
I have to find my freedom, isn't that what really matters?

When will i conquer my cursed ability?
My talent to transform lies into a creative reality.

Is this true? i don't really know
In the end however, i shall die alone.


Words Of Harfouchism
Hal Loyd Denton Dec 2012
Old story man goes to work woman stays at home sounds like a downer for the woman it can’t be
Further from the truth and women are as great in the work place but man can’t or at least be as
Successful in the home he is an initiator she fulfills only woman can tilt her head and smile its radiant a
Guy would look goofy he is the essential steel but for feel the greatest need of human kind the woman
Delivers her voice is power it addresses in the most cogent she is natural man will have to work hard and
Then still possibly blow his top the woman knows the courses that are obvious and all so the subtle
Those that disarm gain with a style that everyone appreciates a taste a flair that is winsome you free fall
Into luxuriant grace that lifts you both to a place of nobility it’s all natural she possess riches that are
Uncommon but they pass without notice because she presents simple promise uncomplicated available
An open what is there to resist you’re in her natural element no wonder they have been called blessed
They use the blessed to maneuver their the most gifted creature for the fact of completing man that
Enriches herself to build others where they fall short what greatness dwells there in simple acts she can
Be breath taking just by kicking off her shoes putting on a man’s shirt how stunning again you see the
Flow she is given power of exactness don’t believe let a woman walk by se what I mean they carry
Unspoken magic that can’t be duplicated you can only say thank you Heavenly Father where would
I be and how incomplete I would be without her in my life well that’s my ode to the wonderfulness
Of womanhood so many abuse cheapen and disallow the greatest gift man was ever given
Poetic T Apr 2016
With gleeful smiles he did love his work, thoughts of
others fashioned into orbs. Those of most precious
moments never to be forgotten enshrined in this
master craft of incantation his palms drifted over
Those who wished it copied for keep sakes worth.

He spoke unto the winds as he formed a bubble
shimmering blank needing's of thought. Slight
images wisped from mind to orb, pictures formed
of what was a reflection duplicated in this spherical
wonder that floated above, he blew gently its form.

He had many of his own, but thoughts do wonder
"No his wondered, out of windows, doors,
soot fused spheres that cleaned his chimney top.
Losing his thoughts were a clear expression with
him but still the originals were safely stored inside.

His smile was infectious his heart white as his beard
with warmth. He never asked of anything for his
thoughts were of those in times to come to see who
they were in a memory. Never lost to generations, wise
words or comical moments all would last bonded in word.
Do you know they have a random wizard name generator, CLASS :)
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
"Every man gotta right to decide his own destiny."
-Bob Marley


"Facts on facts, and things on things: that's alot of ******' *******. Hear me! there is no truth but the one truth, an' that is the truth of Jah Rastafarian."
-Bob Marley

"I don't stand for the black man's side, I don' t stand for the white man's side. I stand for God's side."
-Bob Marley

"in the abundance of water, the fool is thirsty."
-Bob Marley

"the harder the battle the sweet of jah victory."
-Bob Marley

"open your eyes & look within, are you satisfied with the life you´reliving."
-Bob Marley

"in this great future you can't forget your past."
-Bob Marley

"If you get down and quarrel everyday, you're saying prayers to the devil, I say."
-Bob Marley

"Just can't live that negative way...make way for the positive day!"
-Bob Marley

"Life and Jah are one in the same. Jah is the gift of existence. I am in some way eternal, I will never be
duplicated. The singularity of every man and woman is Jah's gift. What we struggle to make of it is our sole gift to Jah. The process of what that struggle becomes, in time, the Truth."
-Bob Marley

"Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you riding through the ruts, don't complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don't bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality . Wake Up and Live!"
-Bob Marley

"People want to listen to a message, word from Jah. This could be passed through me or anybody. I am not a leader. Messenger. The words of the songs, not the person, is what attracts people."
-Bob Marley

"Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior is finally discredited and
abandoned...WAR! So that is prophecy, and everyone know that is truth. And it came out of the mouth of Rastafarian."
-Bob Marley

"The first thing you must know about me is that I always stand what I stand for. Good? The second thing you must know about yourself listening to me is that words are tricky. So when you know what me a stand for, when i explain something to you, you must never try to look upon it in a different way from what i stand for."

-Bob Marley



"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our mind..."
-Bob Marley

"The good times of today, are the sad thoughts of tomorrow."
-Bob Marley

"You can fool some people sometimes, but you can't fool all the people
all the time."
-Bob Marley

"Don't gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver or gold..."
-Bob Marley

"Rise O fallen fighters, rise and take your stance again, He who fight and run away, Live to fight another day"
-Bob Marley

"The power of philosophy floats through my head, Light like a feather, Heavy as Led"
-Bob Marley
that dread lock wearin' Rastafarian always sayin' something good! gotta love him! :D
Hal Loyd Denton Dec 2012
Not the smile the way you pose for in front of the camera no the real you the one that God made when you were born. The completed developed one the one when you fall short of your true self you feel the disappointment acutely you can’t rush perfection you can’t avoid the struggles the test that draw you into introspection you must sculpt this living being go the wrong way take a short cut you bring on the tell tale signs of disfigurement to the untrained eye it can pass unnoticed sorry the soul has a mirror that bears little resemblance to the outer man you learned in school how environment social order can effect outer growth.
This is the hidden man of the heart why are you plagued with self doubt or self loathing or you feel like a world class phony you picked up the hammer and chisel but distraction or higher self interest caused you to rush away now you feel dismay friend the artist in you will not be satisfied with half measures shoddy work are you forgetting you will go to the still bathing light his royal personage will speak nothing you alone will pass the vote to condemn such failure I took the material that possessed endless possibilities of perfection and I through disrespect to my own higher good over a life time I measured and weighed values that cannot be trifled with would I give unreliable information to family and friends knowing it could harm or lead them to ruination no but to yourself you foolishly barter indescribable beauty for rot and waste even in song they have spoken He gave me beauty for ashes. Will you conquer bad habits and the lair in the natural mirror? Turn to the unblemished the true and only master who gives direction in the most dangerous and beguiling circumstances never wavering only the true picture does he draw from these unquestionable lines provide inspiration and heady waves of joy from satisfaction in knowing the progress is real it will stand the acid test you can be duplicated in others they will reverence your integrity as they see it growing in themselves. Finally unbound they secure the heights of rare and noble discovery pressing toward the high calling of resplendent glory. Take these golden reins they lead to streets of purist gold and to the heart to that only one who knows what you can truly be.
norris rolle Jan 2011
Clusters of stars burst to life in your eyes.
Your heart is like Nebulus;
Orion  - your mind.
You are a Constellation
Of magical sensations,
No natural explanation
Can anyone find.

Glorious spectacle.
Worthy and respectable.
Very unpredictable;
A Constellation sublime.

Fireworks are boring.
I'd rather be adoring
The beauty of your glory.
A vision in the sky.

Suspended over mortals.
No entry through your portals.
No duplicated models.
You're one of a kind.

You are a Constellation.
A memorable elation.
You'll have my admiration
Until the day I die.
A poem by Norris Rolle
Diction Oct 2018
The worse thing I could see in this life to me
is the insight on what's going on inside the
mind of another person whose eyes when
tested are wide open yet half closed an
glazed fixed with a message
No rest
**** bested
Just like me with a feeling that's overrated
I'm never waking cause your never sleeping
Yeah that's what we call self medicated
Drug dedicated
To ****** up to hate it
Even when your looking into the eyes of another behind a two way mirror that's not so two way
I'm faceless
A psychopath unlike the rest
So let me color this
Wait did you say something
Whos there
No one It's just you
Then whos looking back
Just yourself
That doesn't look like me
Why because they walk talk and dress different
No because I'm here and their there
A fact created by self absorbed ******* who believe to have made it
A bunch of fakes spitting venomous lies deceit filled eyes
Stabbing the backs of friends and foes alike
believing to be justified with what it is they
do
So don't you even begin to believe that
**** too
Now count to blue and remember there's been to few of us created with two sets of eyes so different yet their look is self imitated
Originality being one oh one over one duplicated known to be unrelated
Something I see each time I see my reflection so you're the worst thing I could see along
with this ****** up connection
Now don't get me wrong it’s amazing how we in no way tried to be found found each other
But I don't know if i’m ready for the inside tour of another just like me but uncovered
A psychopathic lover
And as I begin to laugh I hope like me you won't quit because if your like me we're
made for this wicked ****
I'm ****** glitch
Broke like a *****
Why am I so lyrically rich
That being said I gotta say I'm happy that **** so far has stayed where it belongs tucked away unlike this song
Inside my mind with the imagination creations I've created in my crayola crayon nation made education
Sometimes we don't realize a bond until it's gone.
Sometimes we don't seek healing until a wound becomes a scar
Like when a cut runs deep
And then it closes but wasn't treated properly when it was open.
The bodies natural reaction is to create infection
Effects that alert the body, its need for antiseptics
Antibiotics cannot disguise the pain
Feelings are shown on one's  face
And cannot be duplicated no matter the advancements in robotics
So let the tears flood
Tucks overflow like a kid filling up a tub
That forgot to turn it off
We all inhale life and exhale time
We're all a bunch of watches under the sun.
A moment of eclipse and then we turn off
Death no matter how it's sliced, given or served
It's a dish that's hard to stomach
But God endowed all of us with enough strength so in grief we don't plummet
With enough grace so when death surrounds we learn from it
Learn to love greater
Love can fill voids the size of canyons
Learn to love our neighbors
A conversation can provide food for thought when souls are  famished
Learn love through the  lens  of scripture
Because there's no pain we've went through that Jesus cannot  fathom
For us he hung on a cross like a fixture
Died so when can live
Then rose to bring life and it abundantly
Learn from death to live life with purpose
Not coast through like tumbleweeds
Live life.
We all should live life on purpose
Cass Apr 2014
last week i told you that the inevitability of the end was near
you couldn't stop it
i am a patch of black ice and you are a semi
but we refuse to let go,
refuse to throw out what we have
just because we're young and stupid
and you can't fall in love until you have a college diploma on the office wall
and a mortgage to pay
a hundred thousand regrets
and a lost love who you gave up on
simply because you didn't believe in the resilience of young love
we fell in love in spring,
and there's something to say about the innocence of that first love
unparalleled spontaneity and discovery
that will never be duplicated
so why would you throw it away?
your forever is shorter than mine,
so i'll never promise forever
all i can promise you
is now
Scott A Grant Nov 2009
Star quality
Universal appeal
Level unknown
Follow the leader
Conscious thoughts
Creative images
Hidden message
A writers cool
Instant classic
The movement
Others notice
Opportunity knocks
Often imitated
Never duplicated
Try me
Move on
(c) 2010- From Born Scripts Others Tell
Chuck Jan 2013
Do not utter a syllable
For the reaper lurks at the door
Dim the lights as our eyes are widened  
Sit in a desperate, huddled mass
Feel the shivering, helpless creature on the left
Hear my traitorous lungs exhaling, surrendering my position
My heart pounding, screaming at my body
Ordering me to run, to fight, to ****
"Do not go gentle into that good night,"
As Dylan Thomas so elegantly stated
Yet it is not a time for romantic visions of heroism
Beowulf's idealism will not save us here
Sobbing, shivering, ***** stained American Eagle
Sweat drenched Under Amour Tees and hoodies
Feet ironically quivering in red and orange Nike Shocks
A 243 pound lineman blubbering under his breath
He wants his mother, his daddy, his pillow, to go home
Another boy, Darrel, clenches his fists, readies for attack
Cassidy sits silently, emotionless, statuesque, frozen in time
And I . . . What do I do? . . . What do I do?
Do I flinch like Sir Gawain in the face of death?
Or do I . . . . . . What do I do?
God, may I never discover the answer to this evil query
God help us stop the violence consuming innocent children
Render CODE RED obsolete
Yet, CODE RED will parish not
For society feeds on fictional fame
Fifteen minutes that Warhol never could have painted
Now it will be duplicated like so many Campbell's Soup cans
CODE RED    CODE RED    CODE RED   CODE RED  
And . . . What will I do?
What will I do?
Upon practicing safety drills in a high school
Ricky Rose Dec 2011
Here we are just me and you our emotions boiling like stew for each other as we gaze at one another. I approach you standing before you in ****** thought. Studying your beautiful **** figure so innocent in your taunting  poise. I give you my crooked smile with a raised brow. Wanting to show you if not everything I know how. Everything that's not allowed. Now I take you boldly and without warning close to me.

Pressing my lips to yours overlapping each others. My lips almost curl to yours as I enclose over your mouth like a puzzle piece fitting in place. I close slightly to interlock our mouths passionately head tilted to complete the exchange. My tongue exploring your mouth teasing your tongue to play. Ever so long we kiss as we wrap our arms tightly around each other. Not wanting to let go.

Inevitably my arms loosen only to grab your sides my hand slipping down beneath your pants swaying slowly as a tree limb in the faint wind. Fingers expanding apart into your ******* like the tentacles of a sea creature over your patch of ***** hair above the sweet lips of your ******. Longest finger going threw the folds feeling your **** harden. You start to moisten with every touch I give to you playing with your *****. I stop only to have my lustful kisses go to your cheek, on your neck my lips as a suction cup feeling the warm pules of the blood beating in your jugular vain.  Tasting the salty sweat on your skin ******* the blood to your skins surface I leave my mark as a vampire on your neck. My **** hardens unbarring wanting to escape the enclosure of my jeans. I push you on the bed of seduction caused by your temptress ways!  We feverishly tear off one an others clothes all while caressing and pressing ourselves to each other.

My eyes exploring your **** body every curve and shape it brings so lovely in its beauty. It's form can not be duplicated. I stare into your eyes hands at each of sides the prettiest face I've ever seen on a girl. I left your head close to me as I lay over you. My lips going for more of you. My body nudging between your legs you spread them apart slightly I balance over you as if I was readying myself for push ups. We can't stop making out I go to your ear kissing your lobe flicking and nipping the bottom of your ear with my tongue.

My body slides down a little further as I explore you. Going to the finest breast Ive seen. Shape just right I circle  my hand around and over it feeling your ******* hard between my fingers. I massage them firmly and lightly. Kneading them in my hand I start to Kiss and suckle them playing with your ******* in my mouth. Teasing them ******* on hard and softly with the hot and cool air as I breath and blow on them.

I raise up a little kissing further down your body as your legs spread more before me. I adventure to your belly kissing your belly button in a playful manner tickling you. Hearing your cute giggles laughing so soundly sweet. Now at the entrance of the ***** I french kiss your ****** in a romantically way. My lips pressed to your *****. Licking you rubbing my tongue through the folds and over the pearl that is your ****. Turning my head back and forth as I bury my face more between your thighs as you push my face up to it wanting me. You lift up spinning around to sit on my face. Sliding your self to and fro as your ***** mounted on my lips. Thighs against my ears. I Lick and lick  kiss and kiss in all manner of ways I **** on your ****. Turning over you grab my **** kissing up an down the shaft of my ****. Kissing the head of my ***** your mouth engulfs my ****. ******* on me rubbing me squeezing my ***** with your hand playing with me only as you know how. I continue to make out with your special spot while grabbing your *** cheeks and spanking you playfully. entangling around like two serpents mating. I have you down back on the bed.

My **** hard as its ever going to be in this moment of lust, passion, and ecstasy. I insert myself and enter you sliding my **** in the entrance of the begging of life. Giving you my love and tenderness. Feeling your warm wet ****** around my hot ****. You gasp and moan inhaling and exhaling with every push and release of me in you. Faster and faster I go exploring your insides every which way probing you with every inch. We are at a rhythm of love making. Kissing caressing my movements are like a crazed caterpillar crawling in its way. I tug at your hair as I'm going back and forth inside you. Pounding vigorously against you more and more.

We spin around once more to have you ride me. Back forth up and down. I buck you like a wiled horse. Lean up to you kissing you between your breast. Playing with them once more. In the moment of ****** you ****** uncontrollably scratch my back. We turn over and I lay you back down once more. Never exiting you keeping that good rhythm inside you. Alas I pull out as you can't take no more only to roll you over on your back side and protrude your tight ***. My **** swelling once more. You tighten your *** cheeks while I'm inside you again. I rigorously pound against you as I did in your ******. My hands massaging your back as I press against you. Leaning over to kiss and cress your back with my face. I pull your hair with one hand playfully. With the other I massage your neck. Now with both hands I go to your shoulders and pull your body closer to mine. I *** in your *** as I came in your *****. Our breath exasperated from the pleasures of love we muster up the very little energy we have to shower and cleanse one another. So we can lay and cuddle in our bed of love with a kiss to fall asleep.
TOP RELIGIOUS LEADERS HAD TO MAKE UP FOR THE ERRONOUS IMAGE GIVEN TO THE WOMAN EVE IN THE OLD DAYS SO THEY SEALED POOR MARY WITH AN ETERNAL VIRGINITY TO BE REVERED AND ADORED IN MANY WAYS.
AND EVEN THOUGH JESUS HAD BROTHERS AND SISTERS THE MYTH REMAINS ABOUT MARY’S PURITY. WHAT A CONTRAST WITH EVE, HER SINFUL NATURE IMBEDDED TODAY SADLY IN OUR SOCIETY.
IN LATIN COUNTRIES THE ****** MARY IS HIGHLY WORSHIPPED. SHE IS ACTUALLY DUPLICATED INTO NUMEROUS DIFFERENT MARIES, ONE FOR EACH TOWNSHIP.
THE LEGEND GOES FARTHER INTO NAMING MARY AS GOD’S MOTHER. HOW CAN ALL OMNIPOTENT SPIRIT HAVE AN EARTHLY BIRTH AND MOTHER?
WE SEEM TO SWALLOW EVERYTHING FED TO US AS CHILDREN GROWING UP BUT AS ADULTS WE BEGIN TO QUESTION, ANALYSE AND REASON SO WE CAN WAKE UP.
WHAT IS SO WRONG AND TABOO ABOUT LOSING ONE ‘S VIRGINITY? OUR WORLD WOULD NOT EXIST WITHOUT PROCREATIVITY.
C Solace May 2018
The world looks at him, and gets lost in the confusion.
  She looks at him, and she is lost in his world.
Passers by stare at her unknown, unaware for the beauty within
  To him, her beauty lies far beneath her freckles.
Many of us can not even muster the courage to talk to one another
  Let alone, hold a candle to the splendor of true honesty & compassion.

Often replicated but never duplicated
  but duplication is within her.
Labeled for life to be a stigma,
  a supposed taboo.
Earthly born to be ‘weak’,
  but Heaven saw fit to grant her a strong heart & even fiercer spirit.
Undeserving of loyalty, for man deems her ‘broken,’
  Her presence screams throughout time,
“I am NOT broken!”
  She was made for him.

He fits to her soul like the last puzzle piece,
  Vibrant, making the whole picture complete.
Racing is his mind, nothing seems to calm,
  until he sees her, his fiery red hair gal.
Excitement is a curious creature,
   It can be wonderful, when expected.
Speaking can be useful, after much altering.
   But he doesn’t have to change for her,
She knows exactly who he is, and even more.
   He knows how to woo her, from the deepest part of his heart.

Very matter of fact, no filtering required
  for this is a special kind of love.
A love that many so often throw aside,
  to glamorize a cheap imitation.
Bright lights, loud stares, and quiet words
  determined to shatter their dreams.
Hollywood glitz & glamour films, tell of impossible tales
   knowing that they themselves, long for something real.
Give us a tale of how we should love,
  how not to cast aside the broken.
For it is our true stories, of undeserving compassion
  How we are loved for everything we are,
Give us a Love Story like Marissa & Billy.

Please visit the link below to know more about their story:

https://www.facebook.com/Marissa-Billy-a-special-needs-love-story-166422050876423
Without the souls of Trouvere, will he aspire to spheres from where he can replicate himself in the ductile state of the ceremonious Energeia...? The naive action is univocal as the first practice modulated in inclinations and lexical motricities, where they die within their fears, failing to hope and convalesce their desecrated wounds congruent in concepts of Energeia, as an arbitrary neologism to move what in itself is not self- scrollable. Vernarth after witnessing Stratonice's intermission decides to run barefoot for those who banish needs on the parental scale of his range. Succeeded by the need of Energeia towards the impudent sense of being enraptured in possibilities, and supernatural substantialities that transported him in the Epistle even to his desiring hands, but in natural causes, and kinetic emotionality in the destiny of the principles of a movement that dialogues by a spinning spin; alembicated in particles of displacement time eccentricity, towards itself in the synonymous statics, providing intrinsic angles to be associated with the rotation of time and Epistolary demands so that the quantum light can relate the energetic spiritual emotionality, with the own dissociated relationship in the spaces of appearance; where it is to be believed that there is a moment of bias provided in the emotional-movement rooted in linear memories of the temporality of the Hellenic mental axis. Everything is proper in the coordinates of the speculating, which is adduced and duplicated in Poielípsis or unveiled generation of relativistic emotions. For this reason, Vernarth naughty importunates this metaphysical precognition, alluding to particles that generate dissimilar inclinations in lapses until reaching the threshold from when Stratonice partially divided its material and spiritual origin into stationary diversity, in meditated phases that will not take place nuclear, but in the polymathy of its exteriorized threshold, and of the emotional mass of its free and passionate matter that concerns its strident and impalpable Macedonian origin.

From this moment on, the intuition corresponds to the angular reinforcement of "Poielípsis", in this way the coordinate of the Souls of Trouvere becomes present, as pseudo images of the Diadochi, involving magnetized radial movements that will lie in the spheres of physical value., in the garb of the Gerakis and Petrobus, who strived in the sense of the energeia of the Epsilon neologism, not to restrict themselves as Aristotle affirms, investigating the being towards a mono-sense in this causal, of such alpha that it says the paradoxical, demonstrating the diversity of optics. Faced with this diatribe Vernarth from the naturalness decides to empower Souls that are part of both topics according to Vernarth, it is to alleviate the potentialities of the acts that apprehend the light of genius that coexists with both. What the entity justified us in unfolding will be delivered by divine intelligence, so as not to reduce the free power of the Epsilon that was extracted in the welcoming presence of Stratonice still withdrawn in the atmosphere of the Voielípsis (substitute scale of relativistic emotions of Vernarth). There are few seconds that can be extended more from a selective argument of trends in the specifications, which could be attributed to dimensions of the Trouvere period of souls, lacking stillness in simulated biological environments, as if they deliberate the naturalness of an expression of who It does not philosophize if something has to detach itself or grab hold of creation to privilege the natural, re-arguing affection when professing, if there is time to express it, so it is intuited what the virtue of muttering simultaneously in the laborious, and in what does not progress. The dynamics of this Poielípsis is to dress the Voielípsis, as an analogous addition of quantum causality and of temporal and timeless Christianity, since it supports a conjugate mix deified by Saint Thomas Aquinas, heading towards the prop in the mega absorption of Christian Aristotelian ideals. The souls of Trouvere will be residents of the indeterminate spiritual mechanics, to deposit effects of the incredulous versatility in themselves, in the sub-aquatic depths that coexist with the geological structure of the cavern of San Juan Apóstol, but in subterranean concomitance, under the same axial coordinate that is sustained sub-geological. Namely; They will coexist as long as the Mandragoron of the Duoverso and its Voielípsis are established, but three hundred and eight meters from its antipode in the underwater base of the Profitis Ilias.

The antithetical line is the verifiable germinability of those vertical events of the plinth settled by the Souls of Trouvere, containing the germinable starch of the growth of the ergonometric stirrup of the Zefian Bolt, which from zero elevation to 308 meters above the Aegean level will form a mega extra parapsychological bilocation, which will be gestated in its uniform vertical chronological numbering, with the pre-Christian Pythagorean and post-Christian representation in the coronation of Carlo Magno, mentioned in royal visions by the Apostle Santiago, in the versant apology of Pythagoras as an entity supra divine, envisioning the scenographic depository, and fragmentability of these three components of this start of the Hellenic Magna in the hydrographic, sub-terrestrial geological and residential basin of the Souls of Trouvere.
The upholstery of the Pythia of Herófila attacks the subtended of the flying buttress that supported the volcanic cavities of the Sub-Patmos, indicating its agreement with the Souls of Trouvere by its disoriented cognitive dissonance, generating paradigms that traced stones that formulated Aquarian sounds, in a dominant tonality by the minuscule machine of light, more distant from the incommensurability that escaped eclipsed in the resplendent major note that becomes monarchical by the hypotenuse of a rectangle in three subdominant angles. This brings about the thaumaturgy of Pythiais, the mother of Pythagoras who, together with Vernarth's Poielípsis, forge retentive songs given the scarce natural light that was only born from some of Trouvere's souls called Poielípsis, in stories of the oracular Delphians. The Poielípsis remains encapsulated from the thaumaturgy of the banal anti-desires that would make it mortal, for a hypotenuse that makes the gift of poetic prayer tangible, prompting the Bio axiom, by fertilizing scaled suspicions of repeated mortality in the banner of risk. Stratonice well points it out:

“The signal field has been prophesied today for the Apollo tripod. Having to reencause itself in three parts of the support of the oracles, and in clairvoyance in the pre and post Christian insemination of the gift of the word that redeems man from sin, sub-tenant of the flying buttress, from the interface of the supra trinity of sin as a blood element, and difficult to evade or avoid. Here the Hegemonic energy of Alexander the Great has been condensed in the arch of ideas, pointing out that the diseased body of Antiochus; my father…, is supplanted by that of the to happen all the trances and difficulties that are assumed after the hazardous departure in Babylon. Therefore he has to bring all the corollary prophesied in the death of my grandfather Seleucus in the hands of Ptolemy Ceraunos. Wanting to dress up the irrevocable interference that occurred in Judah by his Diadocos gangs, opting for the effect of his offspring, therefore on his spiritual stretch of energetic residual and static mass, ad libitum that will end when unleashed in his son. All will already be consumed in the pathogenic body of Antiochus, and of the love for my mother where she was abducted, and possessed she sees by retaliation from Alexander the Great for proven insubordinate ethical demands. "

Stratonice walks with the sendal that should be translucent by Santiago of Compostela. As an intra-everlasting geometric raconto, subduing fears that slide through the sendal of the dogma of the architrave, where no philosophy can look higher if it is not allowed, typical of vegetarianism or freedoms that turn green in fears that do not illuminate life. eternal, perhaps from the same Matematikoi who doubts a basis for Adfinitas, to understand limitless limits, taking Pythagoras to the soil of Crotona. Always, someone who is ignored of the linguistic power, he plans to rewind spheres that still weave crossed angles, placing himself in scores to consider as an irreplaceable past. The soul of Poielípsis adopted a Pythagorean conception, in the halters of the livid legions of Orpheus, as if it were his consecrated hypogeum where the high position was, to stir to the embankment where it will merge with the Zefian arrow. This liquefaction should purify all storage of cognitive and circumscribes of those ancestral, becoming reincarnable pre-Christians, who transmigrate in the need of osmosis of universal unity. Atonal music will transmigrate molecules to great sidereal distances, being the same replica of the other eurythmic, in multi-trigonometric periods, vivifying the fractional number residues as souls of the same numeral that finally perish of Pythagorean digits, perhaps at the angles of the Phalanxes of Vernarth or in the oblique crucial moment that slumbers in an elegy, flourishing in those beings that do not Live...! Already under-treated, they will only be souls tired of keeping themselves alive and deprived of their morbidity, in a dissociated cause of immortality that will distance itself from the forbidden abstinences, in liberating exercises of any count that ponders in the coming etymology of the Vita Pythagorae, on the divan of the joys of serving his doctrine, which saves himself, and which will save the Messiah, for those who in the soul have no sacrifice of a lamb that grazes..., nor on the pedestal that goes ahead in the centuries..., pasturing what nobody was capable of ?. The second triad of the oracle of Apollo of the Souls of Trouvere reveal Charles the Great, favored by the Apostle Santiago for the protectorate of Compostela and its spiritual regency, invited Charlemagne from Aachen, in 33 consecutive years of dispute with swords, stating that the Saxons never complied with the treaties and signed surrenders. Charlemagne placed himself at the head of his army on several occasions to fight with his sword against the Saxon danger, also entrusting the troops to the counts when other matters required his presence.

In the second segment of the concave wasteland of the straight ascendant of Trouvere, he crowned Charlemagne emperor of Rome and the Franks, predicted by the Apostle James, in defensive papal struggles and in defense of Christianity. In this paradigm it appears how they are transmitted from the dead ungraspable world, they unite here in the axon of Poielípsis for the sake of the times that occur due to the anonymity of a silence that augured to link, and to know within what the endless intrinsically organic movement is, as well as the biological cosmos in the discovery of the Jacobean route. In what better region than the Dodecanese, he will be fused by twelve apostles, and now the brother of the son of Zebedee; Santiago brother of Saint John the Apostle. Dating back to 778 AD, spreading to Hispania. In the ****** and constant fight against the Saxons, Carlo Magno, entered Hispania crossing the Pyrenees, as a preview of the aforementioned Jacobean Route, everything raged witnessing their overwhelmed squares in the fueros of the Trouveres, who were Pythagorean elite soldiers, who had been bilocated in this post was Christian, preceded by the perfidious Basque in the forests, subsisting separated right here from the progenitors of the Trouvers, who claimed to be the strongest to continue them to Pamplona with Charlemagne. All escaped from Islam, and not a few Christians resented this affront, the dynamics will be reflected in the Songs of the French Gesta, to enter the Jacobean Route on the way to Santiago de Compostela, when the Calixtino Codex, in its book IV o Historia Turpini, the apparition of the Apostle Santiago to Charlemagne is told in dreams, pointing to the Milky Way as a way to find his tomb, which must free them from the Saracens to be able to venerate their relics with the enamels and medallions that they issued in the Apostle's crypt in Compostela. The souls of Trouvere, are beings that enjoyed a short life in the Pyrenees, they enjoyed the fortune of originating a liberator of post-Christian inheritances, mechanized by the exquisite citation of Pythagorean antiquity, behind indigo faded in red blood cells, to dress the sendal of the figure of Faith, freed behind those who should have dressed her as a Codex Calixtinus.

Five sections rose along the straight line of the Trouvere pyramidal axon, the base of the liturgical appendix that honors the multidimensional space, with antiphons for the cult of Carlo Magno on the underlying Patmos. Santiago was lacerated in the Holy Land far from his Brother Apostle Saint John, but he came to meet with the Trouveres who came from the rugged Pyrenees. Santiago passed the Strait of Gibraltar and reached Padrón, which is about 20 kilometers west of Santiago de Compostela; there some angels took him to the place where he actively rests. In a boat he arrived..., and always by the Mediterranean he will now reach Patmos, still acquiring the iconography that attempts to find Charlemagne, and a codex that would unite pre-Christians like Pythagoras and Aristotle united in the relic of the taxpayers transformed into three maritime rivers, concerned with a predicted belligerent episode, to say that all roads lead to Patmos, like Locus Sanctus, of all the shepherds who heal their sheep in which they are not of others that are populated with souls white, for the good of others. Thus the souls of Trouvere from the Pyrenees revealed themselves as predecessors of the raiding of the shells 308 meters below the Profitis Ilias, in agreement with Stratonice who would be arriving in Macedonia, where the passing of the centuries would tell him about the Jacobean Route instructed in confronts, and concordances with the airones of the Trouvere, protected by a rectangle in three subdominant Pythagorean angles in the dissipated darkness of the golden indigo of Theoskepasti, in the meridian of Kímolos.
Poielipsis Souls of Trouvere
Robin Carretti Feb 2019
Going once the
cruise_
One specific lover
What do we uncover
More advice going
twice in (2)
You see an
unexpected
attraction

Like twins with
two heads exact copy
Say Action your movie part
"The offer you cannot refuse"
You cannot duplicate her heart
With another Flower rose
Another heart obligation

"Alaskan Huskies
Twin Adoption"
Two heads better
than one snipper
She- Wolf surf and turf
Mexico taco, at the gulf
Her green planet thumb
Mount Fiji we climb

Right force ruler the heart
divider the duplicate lover
"To Reproduce" over the
a million light-years
duplicated love tears
Years we treasured
It's in our duty

Congregated
United we stand  
Imagine the world
stopped to be buried
The duplicate became a
twin maid of honor
She lost her duplicated purse

"Twin Identity"
Doppelganger
Your heart couldn't
hold on____
Any longer
To reproduce the same
forbidden fruit
voiceover singer

The rare find
someone with a
Giving heart

Having a double
scotch doing the part
The pirate wearing
Eye patch

Twofold twice the gold
one heart match
Poems true believers
One is the snitch

To love life singles or doubles
subjects to catch up in triples
The full house
what a spouse
Your boiling minds
Twice around the
coffee house

The day she or he
was born
The comfort
comes with love
Fire eye lit bedding
(Forever young
double wedding)

You're the one so
gifted hearted
Things become duplicated how we think about them related or love guarded. To be blessed Godly path as one it doubles our happiness like a marriage of two
Let's not lose the one feeling and if it duplicates its a forever love healing
Craig Verlin Aug 2013
There have been a few

like you and there

have been many

who have tried,

but there has never

been one that 
was you.

When you are

old and fat,

and I am old

and dead,

this poem will

find its way 
toward your

blurred, 
flickering eyesight

and you will know 
of a
love that was
 replicated,
but
 never duplicated,
that was complicated,
but 
never eradicated.

No names will

be said,
 no memories

told, draped in metaphor,

simply the words,

but you will know

it was you,

and you will know

it is you

because you feel

it, already, every day,

though it sits denied

in the back of

your mind,

though it sits silent

in the shadow of

every smile,

where it waits

and waits and waits,

with a patience I could

never find,

for that day,

when, old and fat,

you chance
 upon this

and know,
 with
slight regret,

that it was 
always you.
Aaron LaLux Jul 2016
Vegas Baby


Eating sushi,
in the center at the top of the pyramid,
this is The Life,
point blank period.

Hamachi Ahi,
uni unagi,
we eat everything,
up to the last big fish in all the seven seas,
seven seas seven sins,
at the table gamblin’,
wash it all down with all green everything,
green dollars green eyes,
green grass green tea,
from poor to rich tables turn lights switch look how the pendulum swings.

Eating sushi,
in the center at the top of the pyramid,
this is The Life,
point blank period.

Built on the backs,
of high hopes and low self esteems,
where every game is fixed,
and sits upon a million broken dreams,
see I’ve seen,
a man lose everything due to his greeds,
in his passionate pursuit to procure his wants,
he lost all of his necessary needs,

see,
this is Vegas Baby,
where bad things seem good,
and good things seem shady,

though luckily,
I’ve mastered the art of the sin,
so I rarely play,
and when I do play I play to win,
loaded dice cards up my sleeve,
I know the dealer and I paid off the magician,
for I am one of those,
who made it to the top of the pyramid,
so now I sit in a penthouse suite with a sweet freak in my sheets at the Luxor,
I told you before this is The Life point blank period.

Eating sushi,
in the center at the top of the pyramid,
this is The Life,
point blank period.

As I soak,
my bruised bones and my blood diamonds,
in a bubble bath of passionfruit and guava,
this is no joke I exude The Good Life without even tryin’,
my karma mixed with my commas brought me to nirvana,
no Kurt Cobain,
just hurt and pain,
mixed up with this money made my a monster,
no Meek Mills,
or weak wills,
just this student from the School of Hard Knocks that graduated with honors,
some how,
so now,
I’m swimmin’ in endorphins with a princess no tiara,
no tomorrow,
no time to borrow,
and I Bet we’re gonna make Love *** Magic no Future or Ciara,

that’s a pop reference,
if you didn’t get it yet,
Future Ciara I Bet,
Love *** Magic trick,

or treat,
see,

there’s tons of puns and subliminal messages,
in almost ever line I write,
sometimes the sublime subliminals are so subtle,
that I don’t even catch them they escape no alibi,
copy cat killers,
can imitate but never copyright,
they’re just imitation fillers,
while my literature stays genuine,
all illegitimate posers attempts at insight,
pale in comparison to my legitimate ledgers of time,

I’m,
often imitated,
but never duplicated,
I’m,
the Word of God,
plus what Satan said this,
is,
the balance of extremes,
forearms tattooed with pitchforks,
back tatted with angel wings,
this is what happens,
when fashion meets passion,
this is a combination of everything and everything,
this is it that is all,
I am infinitely everything,

and I meditate on all of this,
right here at this restaurant as they stare,
an American dream living legend,
awake in a never-ending nefarious nightmare.

Eating sushi,
in the center at the top of the pyramid,
I told you this is The Life,
point blank period… ∆

Aaron L∆ Lux

Volume 1 of my new trilogy about Hollywood is now available worldwide.
I’ve decided to donate ALL of the profits of this new trilogy to three charities.
Volume 1 profits will go to a charity that prevents abuse and ****** assault on children.
Please support my new book and by doing so you’ll not only be helping prevent ****** assault, but you’ll also be helping set an important precedent in making a statement to other artist,
saying that we all need to start giving back and helping each other more than we have.
PLUS you’ll also be getting an epic book of poetry from an epic best selling poet.
Let’s make charity cool and change the perception of coolness for the better.
Who cares what car you drive or what clothes you wear anymore?
What matters is what you’re doing to help those with less.
We live in this world together and can all give more.

It took me six months and thousands to create this trilogy in it’s entirety,
all I'm asking for in return is a few bucks and a few minutes of your time.
We made the last book I published #1 worldwide and we can do it again.
Simply purchase a copy now for less than it cost for a cup of coffee,
and/or PLEASE WRITE AN HONEST REVIEW about the book.
I’ve priced the book as low as I possibly could with Amazon.
And honestly If you really don’t have 3 dollars to spend,
at least REPOST this message,
or RESPOND to this message,
or something,
anything.
Love.


Here is the link for purchasing/reviewing the book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE
Bryan E StJohn Apr 2016
Cielo  drive up from the bottom they go back to the top of the slide

Reflecting back in time to the night that these five died

Charlie said Leave something witchy and they rode away into the night

Tex was perplexed as he cut that phone wire

Parent was transparent  blood on his attire

Sharon and Jay sat on her bed

In just a few moments they both would be dead

Days before Charlie  duplicated the crucifixion out on the ranch

All the boys and girls caught up in his trance

They took hundreds of trips together and laid in his bed

A Master of word he got in their heads

Hundreds of people Manson wanted DEAD

Krenwinkle  was told to get up out of bed

Go with Tex now and do what he says

**** Sadie was high as hell on  her  life

She got in the car in her pocket a knife

Who are you Jay said  And what IS this?

Tex said "Im the Devil and Im here to do the Devils Business"

( To Be  Continued while i listen to the White Album)
Incomplete
Ricordati di me Oct 2014
every night my mind is suffocated by the thought of waking up the next morning alone, without you by my side.

so i light another cigarette and drag it hard to take the pain away, knowing that it's killing me inside. the easiest way for me to cope is to convince myself that im the cigarette and you're the lighter. get it? without you it's just a cigarette. i need you.

im more addicted to the thought of you than i am the nicotine in my cigarettes.

many of times I've heard the phrase some people are too beautiful for words and you do nothing less than justify their accusations perfectly. Your mind and body is a canvas painted carefully. Every brush stroke telling a story. Every line every curve. you're an original piece of artwork never to be duplicated.

i wish so badly that i could collect my thoughts long enough to tell you how i feel but knowing that words
aren't enough for you I'll just stop here. you deserve more than words, more than the world, more than me.

The voices in my head are screaming now, so loudly that I can barely close
this free write. but without the voices in my head I'm **** near positive the silence would've killed me faster.
A mirror does not stand fixed.
It may seem to do so,
But it does not.

A mirror, bends its angles
Twists it's idols, to a
Creepy perfection.

A mirror never stands fixed.
It reflects you, differently,
Each time.

Nor accurate, nor precise.
But concise, to its beings.

Place a mirror infront another,
You’ve been duplicated upon each other,
Move slightly--

The path has changed.

Break the mirror,
It continues,
But melt it.

It turns aura red,
And dissolves.

Could it be, that the mirrors you see.
That have duplicated you to be.
The very path, you walk?

And could it be,
The only way to destroy them,
Is to melt them,

And hell within it to—
Is the result upon who?

Don’t get too close to a mirror.
It is altered.
To a creepy perfection.
Copyright reserved. All rights reserved to Yassin Adel Osman.
Sharing this poem to your friends is supported and appreciated, as long as it is does not claim to be owned by someone else. Claiming it as your own work is against the law.

June 1, 2016

Egypt Timezone
10:51AM
Pericles exposes: "Content of enchantment I receive your gift, arts, letters where you have to visit a sacred replied that I have made here in the Empyrium, here the Republic will boast of ancient theaters by the hand of Phidias that you will have entrusted to you. Our north has been traced in this replica of the Acropolis or Parthenon, which awaits us in the long chain of Colargos. Behold, I have resumed the descendants that live behind the lion's hooks, and of your name Strategoi whom I have acclaimed to see you perceive you more than silence from those who never knew of your prowess, and your incidence of Gaugamela and Delphi, you must to know that huge Lepidoptera brought me your messages every day of unknown liturgy that I only expected after your investiture, and then to be received here together with Themistocles, that the vulnerabilities would never revert to the disadvantage of Greece because the safeguard of interest is to beat up our surrounded land, not land and sea; but of famous Hoplites who are the ones who have contained the edges of each border, but not of the Areopagus where I had to see you in your Ekklesia or assembly and classicism insult that succumbed with the interference of the Achaemenides. Nothing will I dare to be equal to when redoing or undoing what memory only has to stick to my science, but what do my hands think more than the same thing I did or shouldn't have done...? We are guarantors of our solace and mendicant stay here where you have been privileged to be brought by your Mashiach, and by me for all the declined attempts or opposite that you see in the Sun with his wealth; and all that we have been able to recover from its insignificant parts of those fleeting flashes of democracy, in the Micro Empyrean I have also duplicated the marble that does not compare to Oenidea in the Gulf of Corinth, or of resolved ideas to face in the Peloponnese. There I could see that I could never observe you if someone had recruited you because he had no advice or formats of your existence to bring you. Your storms were already propelling you over the skies of Greece, where there was never time and space that was denied to you, but who belongs to the chroniclers who did not know you until you propelled your Parapsychologies with your Corinthian helmet, and the pompous Light that expanded when they cut the flanks of the world with your Xiphos. What incompatibilities could be added to this old discernment, by tomorrow you will be back on Patmos, and I could clear you from a ministerial or skillful congressional decree to highlight the contentious bodies that want to join all of Greece, with more life than they have fallen and take advantage of its heritage. Perchance a phoro or tax, which relieves the girdling of a mandate that runs with the same vigor of your steed to take it to its bare sender.

The sacred wars have given you the approval that is sensed in the oracles of the world, more than the edicts of a sporadic Apocalypse that will be reversed in the Kassotides. And that the oracles will be invisible particles that file and distill what tends to extinguish a conservative policy and maintenance of the kingdom that survives here in the empyrean. Namely and officially, all the depths of our ocean will never be able to cover up what the owners of their appearance or betrayal will merit to cower by hitting each other's elbows. My fleet will have great limits to take beyond the imaginable with your garments and virtues, as Sóter or Strategoi that vindicates the self-revelation of crushing with politics an alliance that is managed by a will governed by the real sense of Will spread further afield than any personal interest. At the bottom of the treasury, you will find an Acropolis with its priestess canephora and basket full of delicacies, subordinated to a treasury that pours on all the roofs of Greece the profits that will spread everywhere to your new abode, far from the antagonistic factions that, although they show a toast at sunset with your glasses full of must from your servant Pericles. I am and will be a witness that I will deny or that nothing and no one can deny you, because you are part of Hellas, where it's packed rattles roar that will bring bleating and screams of Prometheus, due to such immensity of a Greece that also abounds in the Divine Heaven.
Stay away from Hetaira and Aspasia, otherwise, they could unseat you from your purged being, which can confuse hunger with the icy frenzy of your human impulses, more than the Lacedaemonian wielders who fight for your skinned serge, for new accounts to surrender to otherness with Alcibiades if you find yourself near any wasteland here in the Empyrean. Already the fertilized land of Demeter is proof of a slip of flower clusters that have become encysted in Persephone's locks, and that it is already Equinox! The winds are strongest at more than seventy centimeters from the sheaf that brushes your hands, they are more ferocious if it is that the skies that fall before your eyes when they are more dependent on land, which has an intractable dry well of fewer than seventy centimeters…!

I will donate the Parthenon to you, the harvest and the gracious gesture of it will not tire of your determination to surrender to its perfection so that it may be optimized. On the present day of 323 B.C. C. the ashes of Alexander the Great of Macedonia fall into our hands, and Vernarth his commander, together with my fleets of thousands and thousands of Syntagmas, with the allegory of Camels and cowbells, will take your sheep together to your Kafersesuh or manger that only has a promiscuous thirst for brave odors of piety, if it is from the plausible future to write everything that I have told you today of the Duoverse on a puny Ostracon, writing your obsequies of what I will have to exile to the border of the sooty Angels so they don't have to intimidate you. All the lands belong to you and plead for your guardians, who in the hour of your departure have fled farther from the entangled leaders. Today I have addressed, and I have harangued you, leaving to your possession my own pecuniary, and duty of Hegemon that I would leave no one else from the Kathartyrium, and pecuniary so that they promote you with my purging bordering on your celebrity by enlightening me in the Stars of Athens "

At the culmination of the course, when he let go of the Mashiach's hand, Vernarth dropped from a strong and fast scene of Othónes or screens, which made him fall to a vacant farmhouse called amphiprostyles; with porticoes and snowy columns that made him green at his feet and above all his will that was preparing for the Opistho that precisely protected his Energeia of rest, which was his great treasure that will carry him through all the ages, times, spaces and galaxies of the which with his gnosis could accumulate it from the God of all who goes more to the other side of the divinity, who can be contained in a mural in which the entire universe goes to embed itself of all physical and material forms, here is the philosophy of a Universal man that appeared with great similarity to the scattered spaces of Parapsychology instilled by the conspicuous Parerga and Paralipomena; of which he vindicates his versar by saying that intelligence is not capable of monopolizing more than the ego itself that cannot stand itself, for this reason that in his collection on the shelf of this space he places it next to the hybrid booklet of Messolonghi's Koumeterium, on this versed metaphysics here not degraded of the minimum parts, adorning them with the largest microparticles of what is made up in murky and intermittent beats of the unviable of the soul, and etheric body that would now sustain it. The reason for these inclusions were supplements, and quilts that will be put in the universe to rest with this work. The soul of this mission would be read by the most daring professor decipherer…, The Messiah! that lay on the slopes of the Talamí river, or paths of leaves through this river of leaves that carried all the parchments of books from the creative world, of which these will be randomly in the ascending areas that traveled on this selected *****, and later they will be read by the Messiah and Vernarth. The generalization of this celestial philosophy was summarized in booklets that were growing, whose reality surpassed the unreal, making it the most evident stratum of a posthumous theory, and discernment that promotes the paths of the Opistodomos of the Talami universe, and its leaves that bring riches of all the literary works, architectural musicals and all art that is enrolled in the science of its unmistakable reality with the same presence of all the worshipers of Liberty from where its primary sanctified origin is born, more than any treaty of a work that should go through all the static of the world being able to do what they deserve by having in their hands the same book Schopenhauer's Parerga that sustains the entire world, and Vernarth that maintains the Universe of fusion called Duoverse with the exclaimed doctrine breaking the inertia and static of what reality becomes before your Being, of what is present is of any dimension of the body and its existential relativity. Of all that it cogitates or not, it could be individualized and alternate with the freedom that the object thinks by itself. In this evanescent instant, the aerial masses of the internal warm air of the Iridescent Nimbus addressed the absorption of the sapphic limit of the Opistodomos, in such a way that the words could have verses that could be long and short as a single in the womb of everything created..., The universe has been dismantled on its own implied, however, it folds…! That from the remains of your soul wounded in occasional disasters revives because what you saw is the light of heaven. In this way, the sapphic element swirled above everything that was not holistic, which was only going to collapse on the ground of ignorance that was beginning to rebuild itself. The obvious explicitness made all the beauty in the world fleeting and ephemeral, but Vernarth recomposed it with the seeds of the Talami leaves, and the garrulousness of the tributary of flax leaves and pasted leaves of wisdom that ran through the nominal and famous matte, wide and short.
Ékthesi Pericles
Red is the colour of my blood
Red is the colour of my heart
Red is the colour of love.

My love is the spirit of my heart
My heart is the sanctuary of my soul
My soul is the sacred chalice of my spirit.

My heart is a bouquet of red roses
Red roses, the ambrosia of my spirit
My spirit is the immaculate dove
The dove bearing the olive branch from above.
My spirit descends in the feast of the Eucharist
The Eucharist is the sacred sacrament of Christ
Christ is the eternal spirit of the love of God
For our sins, He bled and shed His innocent blood
And by His blood we have been redeemed.
The blood of His covenant
The covenant of His new testament..

~ By Orikinla Osinachi, Saturday November 8, 2014.
© Orikinla Osinachi. 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this content can be duplicated or reproduced in any format of media and anywhere without the authorization and permission of the author and publisher.
Tammy M Darby Nov 2013
The emotions of a human
Can be lightly
Played and strummed
It can resemble the steady beat of a heart
The sound cannot be replicated
Repeated or duplicated
Once the disturbing melody starts

The highest strings
Penetrates the mind
Representing the sadness and anxiety
For now you are quite alone
The shrillness will increase in strength
But will remain dark in tone

The lower strings
They are the loss of hope
Relaying disillusion
These strings are taut
Specifically for you
In my composition
I will most certainly use them

To complete my vengeful melodies
The strands I pluck and choose
Shall be your life's situation
For you, my sly one are the harp
And I am the musician

I strum the strings one by one
In a familiar rhythm, you know
I am smiling at your rapid demise
As your heart implodes silently and slow

I will continue to play you
Throughout your life
My tunes filled with retribution
Have no doubt
We both know it is true
You are the harp
And I am the musician

The strange and eerie song I play
Notes chose for their intent
For all the damage you have caused my dear
The strings I choose will represent

Now I perform this song
For your blackened soul
Upon which there will be many lesions
Till the echoes of this music
Shall drive you into madness
For you are the harp my darling
I am the musician


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
JS CARIE Mar 2019
For a relic of honor
my onward progression and patience has to once again,
gear up for its most lengthy and wearisome, waking battle

Out beyond the center light of diving snow
And spiraling wind
Where shade sustains itself with duplicated shadows around the lake of envy

Under the hood of the forest
that stretches under serene pinholes of sprinkled radiance
Is a rehab for hollow reaches of emptying brittle skin and perpetual bubbling
Inviting fruits along with blackening kindling and timber reduce to ashes returning the cycle
A cure of open arms that create parallel warmth
the genesis of what makes fruit so inviting

If tomorrow opened path for that first step to be taken
Winds would blow so hard:
the hood of shade would push right passed the forest
splitting cracks multi directional into the pinhole for sunbeams
Allowing all collected snow to flood over the lake
Soaking all the wood
Causing any potential burning to be blackened
derailed by a dense heap of soggy innards
Consequentially taking away any chance of warmth
The initial make of comfort that raise up her open arms
Navigating through darkness
She had a soul, one that made her feel free. She had a soul, one that made her feel like a beautiful rose flowering. She had a soul, that made her smile so bright. She had a soul, even through all the hatred and treachery. She had a soul, one that no matter how much the world tried to break her she still stood tall. She had a soul, a soul that would carry on for centuries, bouncing and changing from person to person. She had a soul, that only certain people with certain hearts get to feel. She had a soul, one that only a few people in a lifetime get to have. She had a soul, a soul that would be carried on to only ONE of her grandchildren because it is so rare to be able to see the beauty of a dark world before her. She had a soul, a gypsy soul I might add. It is rare and beautiful. It is dark and mysterious. It is wild and adventurous. It is kindhearted and colorful. It is................Me. I have a gypsy soul. I am a gypsy soul. One like no other that cannot be copied or duplicated. One that speaks and acts on freedom, beauty, truth, and love.
Thank you for reading my poem. I hope u like it. I thought it and posted it right off the top of my head. I've never actually kept a book of my poems. I just think of them as I'm going with the flow. And i also know that not every poem has to rhyme so I hope u enjoy and get a chance to feel what I feel when u read this.
Thomas M Franey Aug 2015
I sit, in my prison of fears, dreams, hopes and consequences thinking,
I am thinking about my life, but most  importantly, what I want and desire. Tonight my thought is of you, as I look back and ask why? Why do I care, why do I feel, and why did I give my true love and honour.

In better times, you were the symbol of fun, new hope, and excitement.
I laughed a bit more, taste the fruits just a bit better, and saw the colours a bit brighter as excitement ran through my veins. I remembers days conversing about everything and nothing, exploring each other's favorite music, dance, style, and humour.

I grown to trust as a friend and romance as a prospect as I seen bits and pieces in you that I have not seen in others. As comfort set, so did fear and anxiety of the next chapter. It hindered, broke, scared, and hurt us. We experience forces that successfully broke us out of envy and jealousy of our closeness. Half the times we were stronger, other times, weaker as other people painted green while we only saw mud brown.

I spent many upbeat nights , dancing in my mind the beauty of the friendship and the words once said, and many nights crying, for the pain and hurt that is inflicted.

I will always not understand everything, especially the small magic that occurred as sometimes I feel insignificant to the only person I feel who is the most significant.

For the first time, I held the hand that shaken, cleaned the tears of confusion and pain, and gave only from my soul and heart, because I  just know it felt right. I watch every time unneeded, I become again void as once again I am imprisoned under negative energy and mirrors.

Always looking to cracked the bad mirror to prove the beauty and love within me, asking for a glare of notice, because as every day unfolds, I have a basic feeling of deep admiration and love solely on the history and fantasy combined we created. And I have no fear as the worst always have happened, leaving deeper in sorrow.

I realize I am a failure, not because I fail, but I found a reason to refuse to fail, as my stubborn heart persists and my mind fights. Despite the exposure of love and acceptance, for each positive influence I experience, I cannot fully appreciate as I wait for the perfect connection between what I admire and my self-reflection. When I promise to cross waters without swimming, taking hits without shields, and stopping time to fulfill my integrity, I meant it deeply as I have already executed my words.

Many times that I have drowned, shot by criticism from within and afar, broke past self budgeting, and surpass my expected limitations, I just know would do it all over again just to reflect on my mistakes to give a better story. It is my creed.

I may be a fool in many eyes, but finding a diamond with so many colourful flaws is very rare to me, and cannot be duplicated in effort or by chance. Seeing someone hold your hand as I wrapped in cold quietness is my pain, as I run out of ideas to bring forth the smile I have seen before, and the meaningful tears of love I once heard. If you were  colour, you are that shade of violet. Very loud, misunderstood, never available in most settings, but yet the shade that always sang to me.

Crucify me for being an idiot for loving, as I stand by whom I chose as my twin flames of friendship. I miss you because I have too. Some days I am glad I met someone who taught me that I could love for real, and some days I regret demeaning myself. I am guilty by creed.

As i always say, you given me spontaneous energy , in which gave my life some flavour beyond salty-boring. This here, what I am saying now, is just another random of spice to add to the ***, but in deep honesty, this is farther from the truth of randomization. I have written this starting from months ago, only in heart in mind, only to be transposed as words today.  I plea insanity, I plea the fifth, but I plea for recognition as I am guilty of melting by your presence. I refuse to walk the lines of this magic as a failure.

I offer my heart, eyes, soul, wisdom, fruits and prospects, just to see the smiling thanks and admiration I saw before existence of my deeper prison. Let me drink a cup of java and dance the floor of reality one day, and I promise the music will be more than moderately dismal. Within many days, we could choose to flour that pasta, and dip it into the sauce I prepared slowly. Let's ad-lib some more words into a book, and see what the sunset really looks like. With all of me, Peace.

Thomas~
Deepest and truest words I can spell that can explain 10% of what I'm feeling and what I see. If hawking can find a way out of a black-hole. So can I? Maybe I should delete this.
Hal Loyd Denton Sep 2012
Not the smile the way you pose for in front of the camera no the real you the one that God made when you were born. The completed developed one the one when you fall short of your true self you feel the disappointment acutely you can’t rush perfection you can’t avoid the struggles the test that draw you into introspection you must sculpt this living being go the wrong way take a short cut you bring on the tell tale signs of disfigurement to the untrained eye it can pass unnoticed sorry the soul has a mirror that bears little resemblance to the outer man you learned in school how environment social order can effect outer growth.
This is the hidden man of the heart why are you plagued with self doubt or self loathing or you feel like a world class phony you picked up the hammer and chisel but distraction or higher self interest caused you to rush away now you feel dismay friend the artist in you will not be satisfied with half measures shoddy work are you forgetting you will go to the still bathing light his royal personage will speak nothing you alone will pass the vote to condemn such failure I took the material that possessed endless possibilities of perfection and I through disrespect to my own higher good over a life time I measured and weighed values that cannot be trifled with would I give unreliable information to family and friends knowing it could harm or lead them to ruination no but to yourself you foolishly barter indescribable beauty for rot and waste even in song they have spoken He gave me beauty for ashes. Will you conquer bad habits and the lair in the natural mirror? Turn to the unblemished the true and only master who gives direction in the most dangerous and beguiling circumstances never wavering only the true picture does he draw from these unquestionable lines provide inspiration and heady waves of joy from satisfaction in knowing the progress is real it will stand the acid test you can be duplicated in others they will reverence your integrity as they see it growing in themselves. Finally unbound they secure the heights of rare and noble discovery pressing toward the high calling of resplendent glory. Take these golden reins they lead to streets of purist gold and to the heart to that only one who knows what you can truly be.
Tuffy Mutombo Apr 2021
Her: Hey how are you
Me: I am still a fool
Her: Why
Me: Because I am still willing to fall for you
Her: I just called to check up on you
Her: Heard you been facing a tough time
Me: Yes I have been facing a tough time
Me: I have been feeling empty inside
Me: I been feeling like a hole has been ripped in my heart
Me: Even though my heart beats,
Me: It still beats to the soundtrack of your voice
Her: I am confused
Her: I gave you my heart and you decided to break it
Her: Now you crying and facing regret
Her: I gave you my all, and you gave me just enough of you
Her: Enough to keep me interested
Her: While loving me from a distance
Her: As you fought the resistance, you never gave us a chance
Her: You ignored love when it came knocking
Me: I know, I was wrong for thinking you would stay forever
Me: I took you for granted, I took what we had and destroyed it
Me: You calling me shows me that we still stand a chance
Her: Some chapters are better left closed
Her: I am just keeping my promise
Her: I told you I would be there for you
Her: Even if it meant loving you from a distance
Her: I see the good in you
Her: But I can't be with you if you don't see it too
Me: I see what you mean, I still have a lot to learn
Me: I tried to find you in the last person who claimed to love me
Me: But failed to realize that a love that you gave could never be duplicated, a love full of compassion, desire, a love so deep the soul can feel it. Now I get it, I was numb at the moment because I was afraid to feel loved, afraid to lose myself in you, afraid to face my darkest fears
Me: I was afraid to let you hold my insecurities, thinking it would destroy me.  So I never gave you all of me. Because I thought it was impossible to love me
Her: Impossible is a word cowards use to ignore life's greatest opportunities. I believed in you and saw all that you could be
Her: I saw past your insecurities, I just hoped you saw me for me and stopped running away from me
Her: Your fear introduced countless hours of tears to me
Her: You left me outside your heart as I knocked for you to let me in
Her: Now that I healed from the pain and hurt you caused me, you want me to open up those old scars, those old memories
Me: I am sorry, that I hurt you so badly. I hurt myself too along the way for being ignorant of your love
Me: Your words were the closure I was looking for
Me: The piece to my peace I was missing
Me: I now undersatnd what it means to have had and lost
Her: I am sorry too... I wish you luck as you search for the real you
Her: When you find him please tell him next time to love instead of run, tell him its ok to feel too. Tell him true love comes to those who seek it with all of their heart and soul. Tell him its ok to fall
Me: Thank you for everything
Me: I now understand
Her: You are welcome, I will be here until the end
Kaleb Vernon Oct 2013
She takes her nightmare home;
It shifted and breathed deep
As it sheltered itself in the cave beneath
The cloud on which she stood
And down in the sheets under her feet.

It duplicated her lovers face;
A beast at least
She tries to cuddle in
But it seems absurd to find warmth
Next to a man who just beats
From the pounding of his heart through to his fist
Where intoxicated swings meet you in defeat

Still she has no reason to leave
Because at dawn she hides her bruises with cloth
And paints her scars with makeup
Even though he doesn't have enough devotion to her to make up

Now this man walks the streets to find his next lover
While her bones lay next to the fire
Berried under the soil because his heart was spoiled;

A bright girl with golden pearls left as a lesson;
And god bless such a confession

You see, Her heart shined brighter then all
But was pushed back because of withdrawal
Rest in peace to all who are victims of such, and an awareness to those who are in current relation like this.

— The End —