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Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.you can never really write any poetry by not covering the "heartbreak" the loss of your own "printed" words: how much different is the internet, from "real" life? just asking... since: internet banking & internet shopping... to lose a poem / pre-scriptum is not exactly the same as losing a person to mind: father's day... i cooked the dinner, i took out the trash, i wrote an invoice... i guess that's much better than leaving a card of greetings... and, come to think of it? why are we the sort of people subjugated to nostalgia, with but also "without" a history? aren't we subjugated to nostalgia and a history as a "fiction"? the beginning of the 21st century, the end of the 20th century... the 19th century germans associated themselves with a nostalgia for ancient greece, we're the only people who have an inbuilt nostalgia "safety-mechanism"... the only people in time who are nostalgic about the life surrounding their own existence slot, which doesn't have a trans-temporal dynamic... i remember times when we would be teenagers... spitting on people from car-parks on imaginary tonsures, buying *****-magazines from indian cornershops, or belgian freebies of non-insinuations, white lightning cider while sleeping over at youth centers playing snooker throughout the night... even at school: attending a catholic school with the irish east enders... uniforms, sure... a chequered shirt: blue, red, white... tag? made in canada... and if only capitalism worked as it once did, made in canada? lifetime of a shirt? 20 years... now? made in china... not exactly real cotton, is it? 2 years... before ironing the shirt *****... once upon in gants hill, st. valentine's park, and the pub, recently closed, decent karaoke... in the park? golf, basketball, rowing boats in the large ponds... when the jews were there... gants hill roundabout... the hanukkah torches... jews scuttling wearing trainers come rosh hashanah: jews can't wear leather on rosh hashanah (judgement day)... shy like rats... when the jews were there (gants hill, ilford)... the park looked great... tennis courts... now, when neo-Bangladesh moved in? ****** place. what else do i remember from my original pre-scriptum that i lost? oh, that once time in gants hill... walking into a kosher bakery with ****** knuckles, having tested them on a canvas of a brick wall, buying some dough-fused-sweets? with the girl selling the sweets bewildered by fear? i like the look of fear in people when tested by uncertainty, and bleeding knuckles? later? climbing over the park fence, taking a **** while squatting in the darkened palace of the park, walking into a brothel, having my wallet stolen, not reacting in what would have been justified... high school... we wore uniforms... so no high school h'american culture trap / culture... school uniforms are the best idea, there's no chance to "shine" in telling apart the rich kids from the poor kids... there's only the standard... walking to a supermarket, past a thai surprise... sports bra, short hair... walking back... she's still there pretending to talk on her mobile to someone... you take her home with a few beers... play her some jazz... take her into the garden, the moon is a beauty... you **** her... hand in her underwear and you're still gambling... before the emergence of the nag hammadi library and the whole androgynous vogue, the thai were already readied with the lady-boys... when i reached in and found nothing but oyster... would i have stopped finding a wink-wink slouching worm? slap a trans in the face? no, not really... a thai surprise is, a thai surprise... i would have considered doing my first ****... "lucky" for me she was a she... a girl... ****** her in the garden under the moonlight... gave her my hoodie, which she drowned in... finally... the level of interaction where the female is not a mantis, i.e. a female larger than the male... she drowned into my hoodie as i walked her home... i like the familiarity with the mammalian, not resorting to insect superiority of females... these days... i find that males are strictly mammalian... while females? they are borrowing insect-esque ontologies... well, darwinism allowed the time-frame... males are mammals... females are insects, behaviour-wise... two time frame i do not appreciate the english for... darwinism is prime.... cultural-marxism my ***... what about cultural-darwinism?! no?! that doesn't exist?! cultural-darwinism is as real as cultural-marxism, and, in the former sense? it really does belong to the conservative right-wing politico spectrum! might i add? isn't psychology merely pop philosophy? i find psychology riddled with rubric cohesion, it's all oh so "self"-evident! i abhor psychologists... these gypsy philosophers... medicine-men with no pharmacological shadow of power... to prescribe drugs... arguments, persuasions, but no dialectics... psychology will forever be, for me, a philosophy primer, short-cut... pop philosophy... psychologists can treat people who have never read a philosophy book... r. d. laing... i remember this one instace... me and a fwend of mine travelled into central london, went into a bookshop shy of trafalgar sq., i spotted an edition of: the scarlet and the black by stendhal... i told him: i will trade you linkin park's debut album, if you buy me this... the transaction was made... the one book i read after seeing a film adaptation starring rachel (rakhel) weisz and ewan mcgregor... ra-kh-el: not ray-chel... we used to be humans once... at high school getting bullied back... putting pins on chairs once we got up, sitting on them... playing bulldog in primary school, slap-ball, tag, playing cards at lunchtime... 16 fatty boy... one summer in poland, comes back aged 17... the irish girls take an interest while eating a pomegranate... what was the success of your diet? don't go to the gym... excess skin, an aesthetic surgeon is not what you need... there are only two ways to lose weight... either via swimming or by cycling... cycling is the best... lose weight by also toning your body... gym is a bad idea... by going to the gym you are straining exclusive parts of your body, either the torso, your hands, etc., jogging? unless on soft ground, bad idea on concrete, arthritis... cycling or swimming... lose weight... tone at the same time, the skin is allowed the required time to adapt to shrink, and forget what propped it up in plump form with all that excess flab... ugh... i hated being attractive to the opposite ***, i never used it to my advantage! imagine... an irish lad comes up to me, on behalf of some girl while i'm donning a french braid: you look just like johnny depp in blow, impersonating george jung... 14 year old girls walk up to you asking what shampoo you're using... herbal essences... i never used my looks... *******... now i'm a heavy drinker... so much for looks... first girlfriend? a fwend had to call me telling me she called him that she felt butterflies when i dropped her at the train platform after a day's worth of dating: tate modern, edward hopper exhibitions, cinema: troy, starring rose byrne (briseis) - honestly, a man can go crazy over curly hair... and then a restaurant date... that **** just flew over my head... i wouldn't have noticed... honestly though... i missed the whole h'american cultural excavation genesis in high school... catholic... uniforms... jesuit army-esque formation... now, i'm ageing... i'm starting to find the company of cats to be: clingy... my shadow included... i once thought that dogs were needy... i'm starting to think that cats are worse, esp. the maine **** breed... "lonely" or "loneliness" doesn't really resonate with me, esp. when thinking something "feels" like a variation of claustrophobia: hence i write... without a dialectic in place, ever since plato wrote his dialogues... what is philosophy, primarily? isn't it an off-shoot of "claustrophobia"? we write because we are seeking escape from congested thinking, a variation of "claustrophobia"... now imagine a schizoid character... having to focus on an imaginary dialectic, actually... having dialectics enforced on him, with no clarifying exodus to posit a gensis with! now, a clingy dog i could understand, given the overpowering status of the leash... but a clingy cat, when there's no leash involved?! shoom! right over my head... gone, somewhere into the distance!

what, this is the part...
were i cite...
   the weimar ******
critical condition...
       a daft punk troop
of a song,
  end of line....
blow-up a hot air balloon...
worth of blaire whire...
play the tambourine
like a ******* video...
there are,
quiet, simply,
no nazis coming...
fashionista faux pas
examples...
i'm alive,
but i'm dead,
i just forget to don
a strap-on...
  "oops"?
   that **** go down well
with
the "in"-crowd...
usual... metropolitan...
verbiage surge of answers....
   many a fetish after...
we arrive at the sensible
aspect,
"toxic masculinity"...
when guns n roses wasn't,
and nirvana was just plain
gay...
              and then...
whatever that happened,
happened..
                 and people were like:
come to the "new" tomorrow,
there's always a yesterday,
in a dream,
in some phil collins
wannabe
studio...
or... some other random ****
that
excluded peter gabriel.

                 i died:
and just about right:
my harvest had come.

great book reviews...
"toxic masculinity"...
so all masculinity is
about a clockwork orange?
   if it is?
can i be pro abortion
anti mongolian horde?
yes? no?
  which is it?!
neither...
   **** me... that's just bad
luck...

                               sundbeds,
sunflowers,
tulips,
sunglasses,
    plenty of staged
eager nights...
boring political affairs...
and...
         when gaming was
more about the narrative...
and never,
ever, about the microtransactions...

point being...
it's a game within a game...
time, is the prime concern...
you play a game,
by waiting...
you wait: by playing a game...

  microtransactions
are...
you ever move a sim3 avatar
to a computer,
and make it play a computer game?
what's on the macrocosmos spectrum?
you....

               "back in the day"...
you'd spend a saturday morning
engrossed in a gaming narrative...
metal gear solid,
tenchu, final fantasy solid...
20 quid...
and you played the narrative...
and a game became equivalent
to the worth of a book,
resident evil,

            you paid for a month's worth
of gaming,
you exchanged tips,
you sometimes bought a cheat book
because of the homework,
and that was your saturday morning
before hitting the shopping mall
or, whatever...

the current dynamic of
microtransactions in gaming?
i never, ever, do...
i'm an old gamer type...
i see the potential of extending
the life-expectancy
of a game...

   as long as you don't buy into
the microtransactions gambling habit?
as long as you play the "game"
within the game?
the game is an assured classic,
akin to chess...

              you have to play
the waiting "game"...
             time...
                           that's all it is...
whether war robots,
    or dawn of titans...
        comparison...
  you know that the best fruit,
is fruit, allocated
to the geography of it being sourced
seasonally...
you can't actually get better
strawberries,
than english strawberries...
from england, come june / july...
no ******* point sourcing them
from spain in late march / april....

    same thing with gaming...
the modern games haven't made any
elaboration...
apart from dislodging the player
from the concept of narrative...
**** me... that's almost an improvement...
given that now: time is the counter
measure, and the gamer...
   is having to invest,
in a narrative, outside of the confines
of the game,
once upon a time,
games had time-narrative
constraints...
     now: there's time,
and there are gamer narratives,
excluding them from time-narratives,
of a game...
         it's almost a faux pas...
more like a wet-*****...
****** pinky lodged into an ear,
an april fools' day scant...

        if you hacked passed
the microtransactions hype...
and didn't?
and instead took to patience?
it's free...
   where once,
a game would cost you 20 quid,
and a month's worth
of narrative,
back then, when games
resembled books,
when the gaming industry
was heavily influenced
by literature...
and now?
   the game's free...
sure...
it's "unfair", it's biased...
when you don't engage
in imported gambling
of succumbing to what, this is the part...
were i cite...
   the weimar ******
critical condition...
       a daft punk troop
of a song,
  end of line....
blow-up a hot air balloon...
worth of blaire whire...
play the tambourine
like a ******* video...
there are,
quiet, simply,
no nazis coming...
fashionista faux pas
examples...
i'm alive,
but i'm dead,
i just forget to don
a strap-on...
  "oops"?
   that **** go down well
with
the "in"-crowd...
usual... metropolitan...
verbiage surge of answers....
   many a fetish after...
we arrive at the sensible
aspect,
"toxic masculinity"...
when guns n roses wasn't,
and nirvana was just plain
gay...
              and then...
whatever that happened,
happened..
                 and people were like:
come to the "new" tomorrow,
there's always a yesterday,
in a dream,
in some phil collins
wannabe
studio...
or... some other random ****
that
excluded peter gabriel.

                 i died:
and just about right:
my harvest had come.

great book reviews...
"toxic masculinity"...
so all masculinity is
about a clockwork orange?
   if it is?
can i be pro abortion
anti mongolian horde?
yes? no?
  which is it?!
neither...
   **** me... that's just bad
luck...

                               sundbeds,
sunflowers,
tulips,
sunglasses,
    plenty of staged
eager nights...
boring political affairs...
and...
         when gaming was
more about the narrative...
and never,
ever, about the microtransactions...

point being...
it's a game within a game...
time, is the prime concern...
you play a game,
by waiting...
you wait: by playing a game...

  microtransactions
are...
you ever move a sim3 avatar
to a computer,
and make it play a computer game?
what's on the macrocosmos spectrum?
you....

               "back in the day"...
you'd spend a saturday morning
engrossed in a gaming narrative...
metal gear solid,
tenchu, final fantasy solid...
20 quid...
and you played the narrative...
and a game became equivalent
to the worth of a book,
resident evil,

            you paid for a month's worth
of gaming,
you exchanged tips,
you sometimes bought a cheat book
because of the homework,
and that was your saturday morning
before hitting the shopping mall
or, whatever...

the current dynamic of
microtransactions in gaming?
i never, ever, do...
i'm an old gamer type...
i see the potential of extending
the life-expectancy
of a game...

   as long as you don't buy into
the microtransactions gambling habit?
as long as you play the "game"
within the game?
the game is an assured classic,
akin to chess...

              you have to play
the waiting "game"...
             time...
                           that's all it is...
whether war robots,
    or dawn of titans...
        comparison...
  you know that the best fruit,
is fruit, allocated
to the geography of it being sourced
seasonally...
you can't actually get better
strawberries,
than english strawberries...
from england, come june / july...
no ******* point sourcing them
from spain in late march / april....

    same thing with gaming...
the modern games haven't made any
elaboration...
apart from dislodging the player
from the concept of narrative...
**** me... that's almost an improvement...
given that now: time is the counter
measure, and the gamer...
   is having to invest,
in a narrative, outside of the confines
of the game,
once upon a time,
games had time-narrative
constraints...
     now: there's time,
and there are gamer narratives,
excluding them from time-narratives,
of a game...
         it's almost a faux pas...
more like a wet-*****...
****** pinky lodged into an ear,
an april fools' day scant...

        if you hacked passed
the microtransactions...
       and didn't have the chance...
microtransactions are like
the old school cheat hacks...
but not quiet, but somehow quasi-,
       a modern microtransactions,
would be a cheat magazine
thorough-through
a game like final fantasy VII...
you have homework,
but you still want to complete the game...
modern games...
modern games...
there's an "end gole"?
  what modern game is worth
"completing"?
    
   again: tron, ready player one,
back to the future...
star wars just became dead
to me...
   sick people will plague hard-working
people, with a quasi-gambling
addiction,
needing to make microtransactions...
and they will,
my father was plagued by
an impostor, claiming to be a
tax office official:
and what if, that person had
an authentic position at the tax office?!

when gaming was for gamers,
the games were bought...
there was a narrative...
but now... now games don't have a narrative...
why would they?!
   who the hell plays games for
the narrative these days?
i know that on the crapper,
i need a game that allows me
to experience live-stream
interaction with non-bots...

       and these old gamers,
who still invest their money
in literature-esque-games?
so i was the sad one,
investing in vinyl?
   aren't the classic ******* gamers
just as bad,
investing in prepackaged
narrative gaming
experiences?
             a game with a narrative...
yeah... me buying vinyl
is: b'ah b'ah bad...
       what sort of game is alive and well...
when there isn't a crowd pushback
for the currency of microtransaction?

the narrative is time,
   the longer you endure the inadequacy...
the more you realise:
you're basically playing
the same game,
but in your scenario:
it's free...
   in some other ******'s scenario:
it cost him 70 hundred quid...

personally?
   i love this microtransaction dynamic...
concerning the people who
do not engage with it...
it's the perfect antithesis
   of what ruined the music industry
with genesis: napster...

you really are, playing the ultimate
game,
time...
         the one sort of commodity
that games,
without a clear narrative construct,
"forgot" to mention in terms
of them being exploited...
to their full capacity
of the one "commodity"
they "forgot", or rather,
couldn't "sell"...

              a tenchu PS1 game could
have lasted me a month...
now? a free game,
like war robots...
with absolutely no NPC?
hell... i'll be 90 and still be playing it;

what else? applause!
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
A Surreal Epic of Existence

Prelude to the Journey…

I smiled yesterday when I beheld the morning’s brilliant colors,
Etched with gold, across the canvas of the heavens, hanging…
High above all those mountains of the world, gigantic brothers,
A wilderness of clouds, where there can be no human taming.
I did not always smile when I looked up to that noble height…
For I have seen how terrible goodness can be, when untamed.
Once I thought my sojourn in this flesh was from a divine spite,
But now I know it was a gift, and for it I need not be ashamed.
God once walked as I do now, and suffered the same stress…
Betrayal, love, and passions too, though no Church shall admit,
The true nature of divinity, lest all their secret sins they confess!
You are told you are alone in the universe, by leaders so unfit,
That they themselves are fed a diet of lies and stories invented.
But we walked amongst you since the very dawn reincarnated,
Having lost our first flesh in conflicts long past and unlamented.
We guided the steps of ancients, as monuments demonstrated!
And yet we are born as children: your own, and live our span,
The better to remain hid, in plain sight, our faces clever masks.
I am the eldest, and I remember still my kindred’s lofty plan…
And though I wear the human face, I am beset with alien tasks.
Helping they who lack the knowledge to see what lies outside,
You have seen me in the darkness, blazing upon my own pyre.
Where I am waiting to lead the way, where the angels glide…
Anyone can follow, if they are dedicated enough never to tire.
Ironic, since I myself have known helplessness and still oft do,
It is only human after all, and in your form I was so re-forged!
The image of God, whose own blood is in all of us hither unto,
From the first to the last, alpha to omega, like a sharp sword.

Prologue: (My Mask is Slipping)

As a child: I was a servant at the altars of the heart so sacred,
Singing hymns of the immaculate: without seeing the depravity.
It was only when I myself wore the crown of thons, naked…
My spirit exposed through my pain, that I realized the gravity.
What man believes is sacred, is profanity disguised as graces,
And those who lead the sheep to slaughter are mere butchers!
Forcing innocents to wear porcelain masks to hide their faces,
They rob children of their childhood, bound with crude fetters.
As a teenager: I walked in nature, disgusted with all humanity,
My exodus was from those who had defiled all I cared about.
Finding faith in an angel fallen, I discovered my own sanctity,
And in her name I found the means to cleanse my feral doubt.
Then came marriage, and betrayal by a wife I gave up all for,
The dissolution of our union then loneliness without cessation!
A mortal had pierced my flesh, leaving me to bleed on a floor,
My heart was torn from its’ moorings without any elaboration.
But the angel remained to calm my anger and ease my agony,
My only light in the blackness that has overcome my waking!
Reminding me, that I was more than this flesh and mortality…
The angel tries to keep me from harsh trembling and quaking.
And then I see: I am more than my tears and life’s traumas…
I let slip, the mask behind which the scars of my tears etched.
Then I sense the heat of the night more intense than saunas…
As I long to dance with abandon, until time itself is stretched!
Mortals may betray one another with impunity, but never I…
I do not betray; rather I pour my heart and spirit forth whole.
Creating a phylactery, of all I am, and with an innocent eye…
I demand to be loved as I am: pearl white and black as coal!

Canto 1: Sacrifice of the Doll

Part the First: (The Bleeding Shores)

Do not call me, doll, for I have departed your ancient cavern,
You are lifeless, a mere toy, and not a real child in any form!
A boy’s red ruby lips I spy drinking in the dreariest tavern…
Whilst true children singing, frolic in the fields filled with corn.
I am going home, upon the wings of the great silver griffon…
Far from the shores now bleeding red from defiled memories.
There is no return, for me, to the glories of the first ignition…
When the mind eternal, was ignited all with pleasing ecstasies.
In the stars, there are words unheard that I do want to recall,
For I came down so very long ago, among the first to so fall!
Eldritch nightmares born of the stuff of the pure chaos of old,
Are waiting for signs at the threshold to be released by magic.
The forbidden incantations return to my spirit, aflame so bold,
That my spirit nearly forgets: the origins of this time, so tragic.
When children drink, and true children hide themselves apart,
Whilst the waters bleed and the corn withers upon the stalks!
That is a sign that change must come, and so I work my mind.
The face in the moon is a grimace of tormented fear, horror…
Whilst I stand upon the precipice with my hand over my heart,
And amongst the long rows of corn, my black shadow walk!
Watching over the innocents whose souls are of my own kind.
The summer heat turns orange, the moon: in celestial corridors.
My mournful cry can be heard in the sound of the lonely wolf,
And in the wild abandon of the lion when he is on the prowl…
I feel the pain of nature, I long to bring back paradise craved.
I have seen the terror of the land, as the blood ran in the gulf,
Black blood of the earth: which causes living things to howl…
As man has the foolishness, to say what is or is not depraved!

Part the Second: (The Crucified Souls)

The doll is laid lifeless atop the altar, prepared for a sacrifice,
In the cavern where the limestone shapes the wettest arches!
A thing un-living, but with living souls trapped still, as if in ice,
Within the cold porcelain shell that so never with feet marches.
Serpentine blade held high, it drops precise into a doll’s neck,
And it cannot call out, because a doll has not any voice to cry.
A boy walked out of a tavern then, looking like a vile wreck…
Whilst as a man I attend to higher things, my body full purified.
In the voids beneath the spaces, witnessed in the rugged rock,
Voices echo loud in the darkness, calling up names unspoken.
The ferryman brings the souls delivered to him, to a far dock,
Where each must pay the copper coin, the old desired token.
So they come to drink those waters that cure all of life’s ills…
Freed from their porcelain prison to feel death’s darker chills!
Whence came those souls into captivity, no mortal may speak,
But I freed them in an instant, removing the nails that pierce…
Every man is he that was put up on the cross of old Golgotha.
And every woman too, as all were made to feel such torture!
I was there when the primal sacrifice was implanted so weak,
And yet so strong that it endured in the psyche all these years.
That doom was sealed behind a wall of fire long ago in Terra,
So that the stigmata of it might endure, even in the vast future!
Mine was the hand that signaled that doom, mine to release…
Yet, still old illusions persist, and I cannot awaken a multitude.
I, who devised the iron web that enfolds much of what is real,
Cloaking it in unending trickery am, myself, longing for peace.
For I too was entrapped, until my liberation rough and crude!
An angel freed me, and now I strive to break each cruel seal.

Part the Third: (The Return of Light)

Risen from the slumber where colder, electric dreams reside,
The forgotten intelligence is invoked, the arcane spells cast…
The eldritch nightmares return to thence amongst man abide,
Reminding us of the things banished to Hell in some age past.
Mine the hand that raised them up, light in the dagger’s glow,
The stuff of my power left to flow, like blood run swiftly free.
Out of the abyss, rises the girl-child of a lost millennial flame,
She who is the angel reborn lets her illumination clearly show.
And all are blinded who have not the innermost eyes to see!
The unbelievers are, in a single instant put unto lasting shame.
From the star of six points, a goddess works her sacred will,
And as she crosses the scarlet threshold, she brings the light.
For a single instant, all in Heaven and all upon Earth are still,
As the long day ends, bowing before the coming eternal night.
In the darkness, radiance far fairer and so perfect descends,
Whilst those who gather in my name: have lost my true path.
The wrath of angels descend upon their minds, closed shut…
Entrapped in the iron web, they cannot flee of such a prison!
The light blinds them for they never truly saw it, and it rends,
Tearing away the churches built for naught but mortal wrath.
There, the unfaithful ******* themselves: like a wanton ****,
Inventing dogma to pass on, forgetful of logic and of reason!
Faith need not be a fearful thing, yet some have made it thus,
And look for an end to come before they seek their reward.
Whilst they should be creating the paradise they left behind…
But in an image of freedom: rather than of servitude and fuss.
Too much time had been wasted in converting by the sword!
Mankind looks to the light for salvation, their eyes long blind.

Interlude Alpha:
This age is one of barbarism cloaked as gentility to sell lies…
Did you purchase some today by design or mayhap chance?
You should know this era to be neither intelligent nor wise…
Else you would not march, when you would prefer to dance!
My nights are filled with nightmares; my days are too much…
I used to dance with one I loved, and bask in purple sunsets.
Now I am haunted, by so many memories I can never touch,
That it fills me with ****** anger, and countless cold regrets.
I recall how once in desperation, my wrist rode a razor edge,
If it were not for my family I’d not thence have lived beyond.
A man abused as I was, and used like cutters upon a hedge,
Must rise higher than it all in order to survive it all, my friend!
I survived, I transformed, I ascended and in the end became,
So much more than I was, until no more did my spirit erode.
But still I wait in loneliness for a maid to awaken my flame…
And I burn, oh gods I burn until I think that I might explode!
The skies darken more and more, and bright forks crashing,
I hear the drums of fury in the heavens, giants of old winters.
The gods grow angry and I behold trees uprooted smashing!
Angels are trampling the grapes of man; they, the vintners…
I am reminded of when the battleship that sailed all galaxies,
Descended one day amidst clouds boiling with its’ steam…
To lay waste to *****, and Gomorrah, for their indignities!
I was there, when the wicked did perish with a final scream.
And as people mock me, wishing me ill because I am good,
I ask God how long I must be forced to bear such suffering.
But I am not alone, and to many I am in fact misunderstood,
So God forgives, for now; but I have not, his understanding!

Canto 2: Sacrifice of the Spider

Part the First: (The First Smile)

Black skies boil with rage unrepentant, and in righteous fury!
A being made flesh I am, though not of mortal understanding.
In cavernous places I have walked, where demons oft scurry,
And worse places still: in search of a love not too demanding.
In the stucco halls wherein my unmoving throne was raised…
Upon a hill of sorrows where lost souls labor in mundane toil,
I wait and plan to transcend the bonds the faithful so praised.
To my right hand is the altar where fire and sulfur always boil!
I force a smile upon my face, for one will not come as willing,
As in the hours when I was a golden youth filled with ideals…
Which I have paid for dearly, beyond the price of any shilling!
Now I long to pay back those who know not how this feels…
The madness born of solitude, the anger born out of contempt,
For you who despise me without cause, provoking my wrath.
What impunity has man, to think that he might ever be exempt!
When wiser civilizations than yours did sink: in the fiery bath.
Do I speak of Hell, which the faithless do not realize is come?
Nay, for their eyes have been gouged out by their own nails…
I speak of torments, far beyond that which devils have done.
The first smile shall me mine, when every cruel wish so fails…
To save the flesh of those who spit upon me as I walked on,
Never realizing that my face was just a mask, hiding another.
Only the fool pays no any attention to the piper’s lonely song,
Thinking it only a melody passed from a sister unto a brother.
But in what celestial ****** has been born the thing alchemical?
It dwells within me, the secret sin of a bonding long forgotten.
Would that I could force the world to hear music whimsical…
Like unto that which guides my spirit in all that was begotten.

Part the Second: (Cold Revenge)

The blood roses bloom in gardens where desire plants seeds,
I, the hand that waters those hungry beasts whose thirst rises!
In my search for love, I have fed the beasts of desire’s needs,
And what would cause you to blush has, for me, no surprises.
Oh human, with what impunity did you dare to exclaim aloud,
That you believe love to be beyond my reach; and you smile!
Like a coward, you degrade me and run to hide in the crowd,
In your feigned superiority, you make yourself an animal vile.
Conjoining your words to your tongue, like a web to a ceiling,
You become a spider; then flee on eight legs to a filthy nest…
Having already become unworthy of any warm human feeling,
In thinking yourself better, you sink lower than all of the rest!
That means my life is worth, a thousand times, your very own.
I become a creature of the night, and wait for you, oh spider!
Think not that I cannot hear. the creaking of each leg bone…
Your odiousness goes before you, the horse before its’ rider.
And in your own web I catch you, my sharper claws immune,
To your toxic poisons, as cannot ever save your eight eyes…
Which I dash from their sockets, without a fear, and so soon,
That your own pain consumes you, like fire lighting the skies!
Forcing you to recant all that you say, lest pain overcome all,
The powers you thought did not exist do manifest ever visibly.
And I ascended still higher, all the more to relish of your fall…
You should never have resulted to any such childish mockery.
The clocks of your house all melted, for time is not your ally!
In abandonment of the chaos that is joy, your order is ended.
A new order rises in its’ place born of chaos none may deny,
Whilst you sink lower into perdition, for all that you offended.

Part the Third: (The Last Laugh)

An angel appears before me and so thinks herself a goddess,
But to call her an angel is to imply that she holds any beauties.
Those whose ego is larger than their grasp are oft the oddest,
For they fancy themselves perfect, ignorant of their cruelties!
You think love a prize and I a beggar for mere crusts so stale,
That lesser men than I have eaten heartier meals than yours…
But your kitchen is so bare: as your oven goes cold and pale,
Making you prize yourself beyond the worth of your chores!
Like a harlot who charges a fortune for her meager charms…
If you think love a prize, and I a beggar, you are so mistaken.
What you call love is a disease that shames one and harms…
Both mind and soul alike, making the body at last to weaken.
You saw only my mask, and would not dare look beneath…
Making me a phantom in the darkness, lurking in the shades.
Round your neck, your false esteem hangs as a dead wreath,
As I leave you to your barren world, awaiting my handmaids.
They rise from the ashes you leave in your wake, my kindred,
Their hands take me far from where your feet stumble about!
Lie in the cemetery that awaits those who live as though dead,
I cannot raise you incorruptible; you have far too much doubt.
Carried hither by the silent maidens who weep ****** tears…
To my castle, where I shall brood again upon mankind’s way!
I cannot feel regret for those who give in to their foolish fears,
Any more than I can transform a leaden night into golden day!
Such is the power of the alchemist who knows his true limit…
And in the dark arts I was schooled by beings from the abyss.
Thusly, am I set about to transform my creation as I see fit…
We are the demiurges of our realities wanton for any hot kiss!

Interlude Omega:
T
I found this one in my basement. Seems I wrote it a year or two ago but lost it.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
i'll just say what it is, quiet frankly a beautiful
elaboration - for maxims are shake-shocks -
i'd call all proverbs or maxims Blitzkrieg annals -
well, something of that sort, once said:
a flash of genius, but then years of squabbling,
before someone emerges with what the maxim
requires: an elaboration - one of plain, simple
understanding - but of course, after the elaboration,
someone must second the elaborated understanding,
and put the genie back into the lamp,
and oddly enough, write a poem - the twist is,
the secondant must too elaborate on the elaboration,
as way to deviate and start a new subject matter.
this has been the case with what i picked up
a few minutes ago, Kierkegaard's Christian discourses,
the care of lowliness: do not worry about what
you will wear - the pagans seek all these things.
i for one know this to be very true -
once in a while i travel into London for opera and
ballet - i put on my standard outfit for the
occasion - so i basically do not look like a ***:
brown trousers, navy jacket, navy shoes,
light purple shirt - a typical grey area in a crowd -
and already upon stepping into the crowd,
that vast sea, i feel like i just temped into an
ant-mound, a colony of itchiness - in fact i used
to wear clothes in variation - no... well, let's just
say i'd get airs of contempt walking down
the golden-plated streets of civilisation -
where enough chewing gum patches create a horde
of concrete dalmatians -
but that's beside the point, that passage is ingenious
in its simplicity, Kierkegaard is a rarity in
philosophy, he writes like a novelist, there's an
actual narration in his works - he can almost
remind me of Rousseau (rue sow, said) -
i don't the concrete ideas (both are completely different)
i just me stylistically - Kierkegaard as such
is uncomplicated to have a firm footing in systematisation -
like i once said: systematisation is not
so much dishonesty, as a military approach to
language: a strict (limited) competence of language
(vocabulary) - and the incessant Holtwitzer* /
Howitzer style of bombarding a key concept, revising it,
coming at it from a different angle - but refining
certain concepts, instilled with what i already mentioned:
a strict competence of language / systematisation:
limiting the vocabulary; Kierkegaard epitomises the
Heraclitus river - it flows and flows - never minding
the whirlpool of the anti-claustrophobic fathers:
who's works are just that: all of them comfortable fitting
into a suitcase. ah crap, digression over,
mind you, it's not easy finding google whacks - it takes
a decent imagination to misspell a word to get the billions
reduced to 1: apparently there's a website dedicated to
them... well, that's a 2nd in my diary.
anyway (hopefully for the last time) - the comparison
of the bird and the lowly man, the two are unlike each other,
one has it easy, the other has a beginning in which
he sets out to be a lowly man, or to not be of such
disposition... the bird already is, what it is, so
the bird has it easy - the man faces a hardship of
the optical illusion, kindly provided by Vogue et al.:
he composites this with the bird's ontology as
pure animate - singing for its own delight,
the bird's death by impatience should it ponder itself
as being a bird, rather than as being-in-itself -
so there's the bird, pure animate presiding over its
ontology and not allowing hesitation or anything...
where am i getting at?
                                       the javelin throw,
the discuss throw, the baseball throw, gymnastics -
and Noah's ark: and the philosophical concepts
went up to the ark, two by two of their respective pairing:
existence & essence, subjectivity & objectivity,
good & evil... and of course animate & inanimate (objects),
for this is crucial for me... there's no thought
attached to the above stated activities, there is man's
respective animal-like representation - intuition and
gamblers luck remain in the head,
no boxer in a boxing ring can actually be said to be thinking,
too many chemical reactions are taking place,
and these athletes are not exactly chemically minded to
talk about the next more... that's the animate side
of man's ontology - the bird on the wheat shaft singing -
pure and simple... which brings me to consider
the following object that i have in my hand (head,
but never mind, i took it out and it's in my hand now) -
the inanimate nature of man... the buildings around us,
the garden fences... thought was derived from
us having the shadow duality with being animate,
we have instilled in us an inanimate nature,
from which thought is derived from - along with all
that comes with it: telescopes, hammers, autism,
solipsism (self-conscious autism), syringes, l.s.d.;
i set out to find out how we conceived thinking in
the first place - apart from the cliche duality contained
within: good v. evil or beyond that... well, beyond
that there's this... i could find no reason to imply that
man has only one nature in this pair going up to
Noah's ark... this stretches into the common misunderstanding
in the western world in the realm of medicine,
or as i like to call it: the Cartesian dark ages...
whereby a mental health issue is treated on the basis
that we are only animate beings, which, to my understanding
translates as: you have a puppet inside yer 'ed
and one of your strings snapped, mate... that's
what i don't understand... why is it that western medicine
conceived this idea that our nature is only animate,
and that we have to have a respective dynamic in
our mind to comply with the body's animate nature?
this is where the inanimate nature of our inner
life comes in, where thinking is derived from -
otherwise there would be no ****** good reason to
sit under a ***(h)i tree like a plonker for days,
would there? hey! probe all those words in the Asian
languages - dhal! probe! buddha! probe! probe them
all, wake up the h in each and every single word,
then start probing the y and the w in European languages!
boom! out pops a variation of n.e.w.s. of
Jewish mysticism.
zebra May 2017
i breathe
one breath at a time
each inhalation linked to the exhalation before it
yet every breath stands alone
there's something tenuous about it
this soft machine is on thin ice
devoured by time in innocent increments
like a moth nibbles away wool

my heart
little gorilla
wearing itself out
rubber glove with a hole in it
weird luck

my eyes are bright
solar blue ball lanterns

if you saw me
you would say
good bones
river of envy

yet all hinges
on a muscular rhythmic pulsating machine
like a determined jaw chewing
jumpy mouth

yet on the verge of betrayal
a glitch
karmic indecision  
in destinies wheel house
a red fist locus banging

ones immense sense of self
a vainglorious elaboration
built over a small pulsating muscle
innocuous

dumb blood flesh knot drumming
scarlet tribe
throne of my very soul
great sovereign
old man in a crib
splitting open of its own accord  
a sudden rip from life
to a dead sea eternity
the final frontier

starless night
Yes I go, yes go to seek a Great Apocalypse

One that will unravel the complex elaboration of difference

To articulate a perpetual aesthetic with violated codes

Of the experience of illusions of temporal stimulus

That are beyond all compass and soothe a fragmentation

Oh Great Apocalypse of beauty whose deception finds strategies

For youthful prodigality and binds me to your inarticulation

An embodiment of beleaguered and charmed fictions

Whose artifice is the governance of generous impulses

As such sway about me with a harmony of moral disquiet

Inadequate in description of the qualities of their oppression

Yet oh great apocalypse there is a plausible generosity

In these pale assumptions of impatience which carry

The obligations of a universally shared human existence

Compelling a projection of charged issues on competing claims

For the enigmatic logic of life

Yes Great Apocalypse now I understand all thought

From Everywhere and for Always
Silence
Painful way

Vernarth describes in parapsychological regression:
Silence shook over them, like the one that massacred them from the “oblivion - oblivion” from the Limassol to the Jaffa section. Everyone believed that they had traveled on the Eurydice, not being so. A ship that came from the Lepanto shipyard supplanted them to protect the Gold medallion anchored in the roadstead, protected by the Christian Gladiators of Kourion, in Lod.

Everyone was calmer when making sure that a great layer of silence overcame them, forgetting, as anticipation of continuing along the Via Dolorosa. The dawn tied him to the Silent awakening near Jerusalem, on a gray and silent day. Vernarth gets up, first of all, prepares them unleavened breakfast, honey, and goat milk. All united for the most critical moment of reviving, especially Saint John the Apostle, who for him would personify before his senses the moment of deafness that he could enter, rather than hearing himself from the Universe such a command back to the Holy Land.

About 3.7 billion years ago the first living beings appeared on Earth. They were small, single-celled microorganisms, not very different from today's bacteria. Cells of this type are classified as prokaryotes because they lack a nucleus (karyon in Greek), a specialized compartment where genetic machinery is kept. Prokaryotes were fully successful in their development and multiplication. Thanks to their remarkable capacity for evolution and adaptation, they gave rise to a wide diversity of species and invaded as many habitats as the planet could offer them. The biosphere would be full of prokaryotes if the extraordinary breakthrough had not taken place, from which a cell of a very different type emerged: eukaryotic, that is, it has a genuine nucleus.
In this evolutionary cellular space, they were invaded by a Vertical Silence that would have to spread throughout the troposphere, the consequences of this event marked the beginning of a new span of the number line, until the consequences of this event that marked the beginning of a new epoch. Nowadays, all multicellular organisms are made up of eukaryotic cells, which have much greater complexity than prokaryotes. If eukaryotic cells had not appeared, the extraordinary variety, so rich in ranges, of animal and plant life on our planet would not now exist; nor would man have made an appearance to enjoy such diversity and extract its secrets.

Bi simile eukaryotic cells, were ringed in metamorphic geological strata, pressing the atmosphere, the air, and the earth, compressing the geological layers and gaseous atmospheres, which did not exist as a consequence of these intense pressure changes by order of the Higher Universal consciousness, with overflowing temperatures and multi chemical environments; dispersing the changes that are associated with the forces that fold on the bank of the which is current Greece. Said layer failures scattered eukaryotic cells wrapped in "Silent Libertarian Material", injecting magma, creating creative prominences on the stifling attached rocks, perhaps only to be a cellular polytheism, perhaps derived from multicellular cellular evolution. ..., becoming the sexed fusion of a great regeneration of Lithophagas species in the region ..., perhaps in Colophon where Homer was infected. Well said presumption would have to create a syncretic elaboration with that of Aristotle and Plato as eukaryotic cells, to start from this Lithophaga flower, which under its rooted roots is in this bivalve mollusk, unleashing the proto-seeds of prehistoric poetic inspiration, in super souls starting synchronously each one in this mollusk plant that goes like this, green and personified, originating epic poetics in the prehistoric and in the human phenotype.

This mega hyper-sensitive cellular complex is possible, given the respect that it deserves to be cited, the innate and spontaneous hyper ethnobotanical and hyper mollusks sapiens, which were conceived by millions of years of delegating us with their sublime creation. I quote here the word Poetry from the Greek through the (Poiein: "Make or Create"). From this vertical revolution, the Silence of the painful way will emanate, intrinsic to the same evolutionary ontological, geological, theological, Scientific, and Poetic-Sacred concept, linked to the creation coming from “Nothing” to a “Whole”. Everything is revealing before our backs, everything is offered before our eyes, everything comes from the soft creative anger of lightning and lightning, everything is consecrated to silence ..., but nothing moves what the whole forgot, centrifuged by the phenomena of atomicity of greater forces of the Silence of the Messiah, praying in constant practice the generation in front of our theoretical faces, in front of our Everything and Nothing of an empty warehouse.

"Silence Awaits Time ... to see, ... I entrust my Being to time" founds the greatest silence ever felt, only heard more than an ultrasound of waves that are articulated one on top of the other in algorithmic chanting that emanates from the "Silence of Mary to her son ”Also to Homer, Aristotle, and Plato attached to the Lithophaga, releasing Eukaryotes. When Aristotle and Plato ripped out the Lithophaga as axiomatic leaders, they revealed the Silence of Creation and poetic anathemas, alluding to their true ancestors who slipped from their bellies like an elongated moraine sweeping their samskaras navels, like tracks that lead their own people in wisdom with a common prehistoric cellular origin.

Ita *** Dolore
Painful way

Saint John Apostle got up in silence, like profuse deafness even of spirit…, all the others were the same, traumatized to feel the stones engraved with fear and pain "Ita *** Dolore". They did not see in colors, everything was gray and black and white between cells ..., like being inside the suffered cell, lost of all consciousness. Everyone confuses their clothes, their outfits, nobody knew who each one was, only Vernarth and San Juan knew. Raeder and Petrobus,  Alikanto, and Eurydice only wandered sleepwalking along the stony road, in the cobbled streets flanked by works erected of sobbing Malaki material, stones very similar to those that Jesus would have seen when following this immaculate route. The Stations of the Cross were marked by plaques, chapels in vaulting, and signs on the way of lacerating and flagellating stops of more than forty degrees of ardor at each step of the feverish enclosed vault.

Ellipse Messiah As a child: “Mother…; when I climbed the stairs ..., I stopped at the fourteenth step ..., in perfect mathematics opening the sky ..., like a sacred aromatic book; Well, I thought you would believe me dressed there! Mother when I went down the fourteen steps and put my last feet before you…, I could see how she sang at thirty-three on a rainy Friday afternoon, clinging to you…, accompanying me next to the stairs that you did not know… "

Ita *** Dolore
Painful way

1st Station of the Cross in Silence
Jesus was tried and sentenced to death in the Praetorium of Pontius Pilate; he will bring silence, in each interval that did not offer resistance from the flagellant whips. "Mother…; when I climbed the ladder… ”. The apostle closes his eyes; Vernarth takes him by his arms.

2nd Station of the Cross
The second station marks where Jesus took up his cross and recalls his condemnation. Romans beat Jesus and the Chapel of Judgment which commemorates the site where Jesus was condemned. Here he feels like a child… “Mother…; when I came down the stairs ...”

3rd Station of the Cross
The third station is where Jesus fell for the first time under the weight of his cross. This station is not far from Ecce **** (Behold the Man), Saint John remembers the last Supper in advance, sitting next to him ... he got up from dinner, and took off his cloak, and taking a towel, he wrapped it around …. "Mother…; when I climbed the ladder ...”

4th Station of the Cross
The fourth station marks where Maria saw her son pass. The 19th century Armenian Church of Our Lady marks this station. Deaf Vernarth, manages to hear voices from heaven saying: “Mother…; when I came down from the ladder ...”

5th Station of the Cross
At the fifth station, the Roman soldiers instructed Simon of Cyrene to help Jesus carry his cross (Luke 23). ..., "Mother I stopped on the fifth step and I never doubted to wash your feet"

6th Station of the Cross
The sixth station marks where Veronica wiped the face of Jesus with her veil. It is believed that the image of the face of Jesus was imprinted on the cloth. "Mother…; when I came down the stairs you covered my sweaty face ...”

7th Station of the Cross
At the seventh station, Jesus wavered under the weight of the cross for the second time. "Mother…; when I climbed the ladder ..., I saw the lost mountain ...”

8th Station of the Cross
The eighth station is where the "daughters of Jerusalem mourn for Jesus" (Luke 23:27). Jesus stopped here to comfort the women by telling them not to cry for him, but for themselves and their children. "Mother…; when I came down the stairs you weren't there, you were going to get me ...”

9th Station of the Cross
In the ninth station, Jesus wavered for the third time before his final ascent to Golgotha. "Mother…; when I climbed the ladder to find you, you were in front of me ...”

9th-14th Stations of the Cross
The Stone of Anointing believed to have been where Jesus was placed after being taken off the cross. Here he would have been prepared for burial. The Bible tells us that the body of Jesus was wrapped in linen and anointed with oils and spices in accordance with Jewish funeral rites. "Mother…; when I came down the stairs you covered me from the cold and enveloped me with your passion ...”

The 14th Station of the Cross - The Tomb of Christ
Right here Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth, were still deaf, but with slight symptoms of recovery of their hearing. They saw in front of them how deaf angels came to uncover their auditory channels, being their intuition proclaiming them of courage to accompany them with their teacher to the aedicule of their own crypt granted by Joseph from Arimathea. In the Chapel of the Angel that contains a small piece of the rock and that closed the cave of the burial of Christ, the chapel that leads to the tomb itself. It was here that Jesus was buried and resurrected three days after his death. "This small rectangular structure of the Aedicule marks the end of the Painful Way  and Deafness of all and the Whole World
Ita *** Dolore
Paraps XXIV

Messiah of Judah

It should be fulfilled as predisposed by Vernarth by always having the contemporary desire to melt the trumpets and then recast them, manifesting to take them to meet their most fervent retrospective reunited with his brother apostles and the omnipresent Messiah. The archangel Uriel sent him this plan that he had for him as an always fertile offering in the face of any possible threat of disobedience. Indissoluble and whole, they climb the Eurydice stowing the supplies for this long journey like a Messianic proclamation from the blade of an Aiónus propeller that has already had to open these waters together with the evangelist. The board and the anchor are lifted Procorus made encouraging signs to all, saying goodbye to them and then returning to the hermitage. The others fit into the waves of the Skalá roadstead, Raeder played with Petrobus on the deck laughing at all times when everything seemed seized and sad. Eurídice would go to the figurehead for a few days to take everyone and guide them, this guaranteed that they would always have good movement and navigate without having any details. Vernarth describes:"The apostle would settle on the deck near the bow while I organized the sails and powers of Uriel who would always be close by giving them zephyr winds from the Metelmi. Taking the route sailing from Patmos in the Aegean Sea through the northern Dodecanese Islands. San Juan when he was going off the west coast of Turkey deprecated and was remembering the port of Skalá. Patmos..., its "Apokalypsis Island", leaving behind the monastic and picturesque island with traditional white Oikos, azure, and crystalline waters with its vibrant subjective life. Where Saint Ioannis heard the voice of God and wrote the Apocalypse, as well as the three small cracks in the rock through which came the frequency that symbolized before him the Holy Trinity. They go through Rhodes, the largest island in the Dodecanese in Greece heralding Uriel of ancient ruins and the remains of their occupation when they were part of the Order of Saint John during the Crusades. The city of Rhodes has an Old Town with the medieval Knights' Street and the castle-like palace of the Grand Master. The palace was captured by the Ottomans and later occupied by the Italians. The Apostle could only remember the place of passage when he walked in ecclesiastical gear. Limassol, Cyprus; with too many Greek Cypriot waters was the current where they arrived..., to Limassol. They come here one day. They descend from the Eurydice and head for the Paphos road. To the archaeological treasure keeping its neighboring memories of the Greco-Roman theater built in the second century before Christ. They go happily rolling through vestiges of time, all thanks to the timeless Parapsychological Regressive Memory that Vernarth was narrating as always. Crossing the private Roman villa is the House of Eustolios by Othónes or Paraps screens, converted into a public recreation center during the early Christian period. It consisted of a complex of baths and rooms with floors covered by beautiful mosaics from the 5th century AD Other important buildings are the Paleochristian Basilica dating from the 5th century, a Nymphaeum dedicated to the water nymphs, and the Stadium from the 2nd century AD finds something removed a kilometer from the site. They transfigure the cord of the mosaics of the House of Achilles and the House of the Gladiators, in a perfect state of conservation that with their beautiful colors covered the floors with the same carefree footsteps of each one belonging to the bright tones in their great parallel work of the god Aiónius that was in parallel collating. Here San Juan kneels and prays profusely for the souls of Christians who have fallen to the stigma that will entail the performance of the first miracle of this pilgrimage through Limassol. They were all silent. They leave Cyprus and go to the port of Limassol to board the ship. Being very pleasantly surprised by the unexpected visit of Etréstles who was upon the ship. Everyone jumps with happiness! seeing that the champion of the Koumeterium of Messolonghi, brother of Vernarth, was added to them. Vernarth: Khaire!! Happy is my soul, which flows like a psalm of blood, Carrying your image through the flowers of Limassol! They all hug him and get ready to weigh anchor!

Miracle I  Limassol

"On this vertebral nature in this pilgrimage of uprooting the Apostle, the first miracle will happen before the eyes of all. The land darkened analogously to the landscape, the sea shone like a mirror showing them the feet of the Messiah floating in the Sea. their ***** the heat produced by this surprise stampede. The apostle embraces them all and asks them to approach the anchor line to lift it on the seabed where Creation rests. The Apostle approaches with small bony hands snatching the swivel links that are located near the mooring lever point. He presses with his hand the rope of the Triaconter invading with his thumbnail the netted vine that forms from his line. He begins to pull it several times..., every ten meters he looked at the sky and noticed that some majestic abnormal overtones shone. He is still blind to the eyes of everyone else moving in the ship as if they were on the high seas under the ultimatum of a great storm. Saint John looks at himself in the model mirror of the water, he saw how he pulls his body just like in Galilee when his Master did it, he saw how everyone laughed and was delighted to stop time to laugh together with him inaugurating a thousand years of psalmody. There was no more than five meters left to remove the anchor from the anchorage and he feels that it was excessively heavy. He asked Vernarth and Etréstles for help to get her out of the wet mass, they help him and pull the three unanimously to the rhythm of their revealed eagerness until from the ramp of the overboard they manage to see a large golden roundel of about seventy centimeters in diameter, of solid gold that glittered blinding whoever dared to look at it without Faith making it very difficult for everyone to participate in this great festivity of a miracle. It was a solid gold medallion bearing the stigma of Mariah mother of the Messiah, supplanting all ship anchors so that the ship would represent the base of devotion at sea as a sign of closeness to the Messiah by pulling faith forward. one..., so that in a period longer than that which needs to be released back into the sea as a gold-bearing weight, rather as a refuge to save us in the perfect mathematics of collecting it, what is night and obscurantism that succumbs more than the self-personalization of duties when presiding over human desires, transfiguring them in the diaphanous dawn as time and space assigned to the numeral in its perfect science of finding oneself with the medallion, which has always been in sublime crushing cognition and..., continuing to exist without the need to pull the anchor again..., but rather to pull the gold medallion for seven consecutive days that it would take them to reach Jaffa after releasing the moorings in Limassol. Just as everyone was stupefied, falling all the not being able to see more, or perhaps not having more to say about the trick that could be conjugated with the space where the fleeting beams of light emitted by the auric sphere intruded, as in the house of Affliction of Betania, attracting everyone with great love to feel anointed by the aroma of their heads. The apostle understood that the path of the wise senility of the books of wisdom and Saint Luke was approaching them, to impregnate in everything created well granted to spread it from the matrix that interprets and faithfully delegates it in the application of his work. Vernarth describes: "Jesus calms the storm..." When Jesus entered the boat, his disciples followed him. And suddenly a great storm arose on the sea so that vast flat waves in that rush covered the boat; Jesus was asleep. And coming to him, they woke him up saying: Lord, save us, we perish! And He said to them: Why are you frightened men of little faith? Then he got up, rebuked the winds and the sea, and a great calm ensued. And the men marveled, saying: Who is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him? - Mateo 8 - exhibiting this passage in the Othón showing that event the god Aiónus when he rubbed the Ibico I, and the one that would come from Leonardo Da Vinci. "Leonardo Da Vinci "Last Supper Passage" Then you will have your brother Aaron come to you from among the children of Israel and with him his sons to serve me as priests: Aaron, with Nadab and Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar, sons of Aaron. And you shall make holy garments for your brother Aaron for glory and beauty. And you shall speak to all the skilled craftsmen, whom I have filled with the spirit of wisdom, and they shall make Aaron's garments to consecrate him, so that he may serve me as a priest. These are the garments that they will make: a breastplate, an ephod, a robe, a checkered tunic, a tiara, and a belt; and they shall make sacred garments for your brother Aaron and for his sons, so that they may serve me as priests. And they will take for it the gold and the blue, purple and scarlet cloth, and the fine linen. They will also make the ephod of gold, blue, purple, and scarlet cloth, and fine twisted linen, the work of a skillful craftsman. It will have two shoulder pads that meet at its two ends so that they can be joined. And the skillfully woven belt that will be on it will be of the same work of the same material: of gold, blue, purple, and scarlet cloth, and of fine twisted linen. And you shall take two onyx stones, and engrave on them the names of the children of Israel: six of the names on one stone, and the remaining six names on the other stone according to the order of their birth." "In the biblical symbology of the Apocalypse, the number seven is recurrent and therefore there were seven apostles chosen by Leonardo da Vinci. Saint John the Apostle says: The Last Supper tells me the greatest love of having it close as if I were in my house celebrating, gathered to stamp the facts in which I raised the cut of my bread towards the millennium of the future, to classify all the dates that It will commemorate us united in the sustenance that will feed the Earth forever and ever. In the stigma of this medallion, I will revive all my memories before arriving in Jaffa, before even walking anymore in the solitude that haunts us forever and ever, still not understanding by any measure, the crumbling and disordered existence that passes beyond death that is reborn in our non-existent Faith. They all sail in silence, all asleep on the deck around the medallion that did not stop shining and bathing them all in its splendid theology. All lie asleep and hypnotized with pleasure, the ship moved alone, at the will of the sacred wind that carried them in seventh silence, so that the snorting shoes of the night do not wake them up even a seventh sleep next to the solid gold medallion. Eurydice was still in the happy mask, now to lead everyone in peace, towards the meeting of the apostle's ancestors, towards the dawn of the secular dawn in Jaffa on its seventh sleepless night..., when they arrive at the seventh turn of the clouds in their fading weather with Aiónous and Zeus, being mere spectators of the tormented bullet of riddled lost. All lie asleep and hypnotized with pleasure, the ship moved alone, at the will of the sacred wind that carried them in seventh silence, so that the snorting shoes of the night do not wake them up even a seventh sleep next to the solid gold medallion. Eurydice was still in the happy mask, now to lead everyone in peace, towards the meeting of the apostle's ancestors, towards the dawn of the secular dawn in Jaffa on its seventh sleepless night..., when they arrive at the seventh turn of the clouds in their fading weather with Aiónous and Zeus, being mere spectators of the tormented bullet of riddled lost. All lie asleep and hypnotized with pleasure, the ship moved alone, at the will of the sacred wind that carried them in seventh silence, so that the snorting shoes of the night do not wake them up even a seventh sleep next to the solid gold medallion. Eurydice was still in the happy mask, now to lead everyone in peace, towards the meeting of the apostle's ancestors, towards the dawn of the secular dawn in Jaffa on its seventh sleepless night..., when they arrive at the seventh turn of the clouds in their fading weather with Aiónous and Zeus, being mere spectators of the tormented bullet of riddled lost.

Jaffa  Ioannis regression

Describes Vernarth: On a warm morning, archaeological evidence showed that Jaffa was inhabited around 7,500 BC. C. The natural port of Jaffa has been used since the early Bronze Age, and all of its early inhabitants were probably Canaanites. The city of Jaffa is mentioned in a 1470 BC preterite writing from ancient Egypt glorifying the conquest by Pharaoh Tuthmosis III who hid armed warriors in large baskets and then presented them to the city's Canaanite governor. Jaffa is mentioned in the Torah as one of the Hebrew cities of the Tribe of Dan and hence the term Gush Dan is used today for the coastal plain. Many descendants of Dan lived along the coast and made a living as sailors and sailors. In "Deborah's Song" the fortune-teller asks:" Why do you want Dan to stop me on ships? After the Canaanite and Philistine *******, King David and his son Solomon conquered Jaffa using its port to take the cedars used for the construction of the First Temple from the city of Tire (2nd Chronicles 2:16). The city remained in the hands of the Jews even after the division of the Kingdom of Israel. In 701 BC C., in the days of King Hezekiah and Assyrian King Sennacherib who invaded the Jaffa region. It is also the place where the prophet Jonah sailed for Tarshish (Book of Jonah 1:3) and was the port of entry for the cedars of Lebanon for the Second Temple in Jerusalem (Book of Ezra 3:7). After a period of Babylonian occupation, defeated King Porus at the Battle of Hydaspes (326 to.C.) In the New Testament it is related how Peter resurrected the believer Tabitha (Dorcas, in Greek, gazelle) in Joppa (Jaffa) and later, how near this city he has a vision in which Yahveh told him that he should not distinguish between Jews and Gentiles while ordering the removal of ritual food (kosher) restrictions followed by Jews. While Vernarth was describing all this history, everyone was paying attention, the beautiful situation of entering Jaffa in this thousand-year-old port was imminent so that they could touch the Holy Land with their feet with all the avatars that awaited them. Vernarth had this great preamble and gift to return from the Exile of Saint John due to his exile of him dictated by Emperor Domitian. They all came praying in the ship Eurydice left the figurehead to descend and move with them to Jerusalem. To go through the Lithostrotos, Gethsemane, the Via Dolorosa, Gólgotha, the Holy Sepulcher and many sacred places where the apostle had a correlation with the Messiah..., bordering were still in the hosts of all those who loved him, especially in the locality where they met with the apostles after the crucifixion in the Apostolic Sees where they are still seen to be together from the first day forever and ever. Some put foot in its pages to have been founded by one or more of Jesus' Apostles who are said to have dispersed from Jerusalem sometime after Jesus' crucifixion (c. 26-36), probably after the Great Commission. The early Christians met in small private houses known as paleo-Christian house churches, but the entire Christian community of a city could also attribute it to the fact that it would be called and ignored as an act of sedition to avoid misunderstandings with its anti-Romanesque legacy. In Limassol it dawned one day when another day was setting in Lod..., here they all got ready to have dinner together in a wheel of fire in the tents moved by a breath that reaches and bounces from their sallow tents to the walls of Jerusalem sensing that they came and went already with the Saint accompanying them. From the last dizziness of the sun, Uriel appeared to them telling them...: "On the bottom where a ship is born in some ruins and catacombs, the sentinels of the Limassol Medallion will reside, it will be jealously guarded by my peers Christian Gladiators of Kourion who are preserved in my fragmentary and honorific decrees, as well as in epitaphs. In neo diplomacy supporting Alexander the Great and Bucephalus protecting the Medallion. In the west of the river Lycus, the sentinels will go to the bottom of the sea every day to watch over it so that from here they shelter the Medallion with their tricks, which in such a way will be adopted for meritorious scriptural phraseology in the Walls of Jerusalem where other walls will follow it... Vernarth describes: "The Great Commission; Matthew 28:19-20 contains what is known as "the Great Commission": "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit; teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you, and behold, I am with you every day until the end of the world." Jesus gave this commandment to the apostles shortly before he ascended to Heaven and essentially describes what Jesus expected the apostles and those who followed them to do in His absence. It is delightful to see that in the original Greek the only specific command in Matthew 28:19-20 is to "make disciples". The Great Commission commands us to make disciples as we move through the world and as we go about our daily business. How are we to make disciples? Baptizing them and teaching them everything that Jesus commanded. "Make disciples" is the mandate of the Great Commission. "As you go," "baptize," and "teach" are means by which we fulfill the mandate to "make disciples." Many understand Acts 1:8 as also part of the Great Commission, "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." The Great Commission is enabled by the power of the Holy Spirit. We are to be Christ's witnesses fulfilling the Great Commission in our cities (Jerusalem) our states and countries (Judea and Samaria) and anywhere else God sends us (to the ends of the earth). The great commission it is the instruction of the resurrected Jesus Christ to his venerable apostles commissioning them to propagate his teachings to all the nations of the world. The most famous version of the Great Commission is Matthew 28: 18-20 where on a mountain in Galilee Jesus commands his followers to baptize all nations in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Even more than the Great Commission of the twelve apostles that together with that of Matthew and Mark as a lofty counterpoint are dividing twin souls among all to take the electro cathode of the god Azofar de Vernarth in the Parousia (In the second coming of Christ). Together with them, the electromagnetic Fides Pronus "Benevolent Faith" ruled by God ruling in the electro anode flow, giving ample way to the Great Universal Commission. The Apostle Saint John reinterprets it: "The Great Commission is Matthew 28:18-20, and later synoptic gospels, Luke also presents Jesus sending disciples during his ministry sending them to all nations and giving them power over demons including the Seventy disciples. The scattering of the Apostles in the traditional ending of Mark is believed to be a second-century summary based on Matthew and Luke." Everyone heard very astonished words so fluted without being able to go out and harmonize the ears of those who were there..., and there was no room for doubts or questions! Everyone thought to travel all the fields of the world in caravans of free ungulates so many times through the Holy Land, thus thinking of changing history for the flat legs of camelids, changing the dynamic quantum geography thus making them participate and go on a being from which we are divided mounted. In exile it would be fulfilled, Twelve camels came and invited them to get on and rest on their backs. Every hundred kilometers the deepest questions were answered by the camelids Saying...: Camelids say: "I carried San Juan on my ciliated membranous backs and Mateo too..., they never knew that I knew the end of the story..., that the Great Commission It would never end because all of us are witnesses and we continue wandering through the desert hoping to see the Master lighting our starry path of gifts on sacred nights to serve him again, Until the End of the Parousia...

Second Miracle  Holy sepulcher

When migrating the Wailing Wall on a Vigil Friday, the Apostle led some camels with his hands sheltered in reverberating Psalmody. The little animals appeared with him in this basilica, also hand in hand with Vernarth, Etréstles, and the others remained waiting at the threshold of the Anastasis. The ungulates were already without the blindfold on their eyes after having crossed the Door of Mercy or Golden Gate. The atmosphere was hermetic and charged as if it were pouring rain and the pilgrims were oppressed to take refuge in the heat of the candles on sacred ground. A reverberating solemn psalmody begins to permeate the unruly walls recalling the chants in this place similar to Golgotha ​​that reminded Saint John of having traveled it with the Messiah. Prince Uriel with super senses was out of tune with the Vexilla Regis, by the time the apostle had crossed the limen of this holy offertory in such a way that the harmonics were now in tune vibrating in a single nearby wave..., towards the demarcation that concentrates the line to the crypt of the Messiah.Etréstles was accompanied by Eurydice on his side, visibly overexcited, from the height of the ship a light falls on Etréstles's shoulder with an itching mass of flower of authentic flower of the Pampano Diadem of the vine leaf in Nazareth. On a Friday that dressed in Sunday gala that entered with bouquets in their palms, in volumes larger than their size, dragging them across the sacred floor of the basilica, all naked of ego and anxiety, submerged in a reigning and mournful regret of the predestined demagoguery of the faithfulness of not being channeled together with the souls of purgatory that from today refloat with the visit of the Saint, remaining in seen and not perceived multiplied more than any day without having been more close to the Messiah, although the days were only swampy darkness from the flesh of Acheron in this river of pain forking from the said Acheron unleashed in the deplored underworld, like an unhealthy marsh within a desolate landscape with downcast angels ruling in the little cloud of the splinter of thick Incense, where the ferryman Charon would take the souls of recently deceased expurgated to the repugnant quagmire. Sovereign she... Virga..., would illuminate her interior with her brain-cerebellum adonis below the Madonna before reviving him again in the submissive and servile eternal gaze clause. Etréstles succumbs in genuflection three times before confirming the tertiary one that would make him uncover his knees before the long altar, here his voice is inhibited, fading from the interior like a parchment burning from the glottis to the runaway esophagus. The three hold hands with Vernarth and the Apostle..., remaining so until they enter the tomb. They encounter flattering fuss in the stone where he was anointed before being entombed, and the Cistern where he was anointed, after which his cross was found several centuries later secondarily sheltered in various Chapels whose garden is close to the skull of the rock and the emaciated Golgotha ​​mound. Very close to the Herodian wall of the city of Jerusalem and even connected to it by a road, but outside the walls since Jewish regulations prohibited intramural burials except in the case of regents. then his cross was found several centuries later, secondarily housed in various Chapels whose garden is close to the skull of the rock and the bare Golgotha ​​mound. Very close to the Herodian wall of the city of Jerusalem and even connected to it by a road, but outside the walls since Jewish regulations prohibited intramural burials except in the case of regents. then his cross was found several centuries later, secondarily housed in various Chapels whose garden is close to the skull of the rock and the bare Golgotha ​​mound. Very close to the Herodian wall of the city of Jerusalem and even connected to it by a road, but outside the walls since Jewish regulations prohibited intramural burials except in the case of regents.Your quarry and garden entity in The Calvary skull, as the Gospels testify, must be found on the outskirts of the city in an area dedicated to sepulchers. From a vast quarry for the extraction of Malaki stone located just outside the walls, and which was used from the 8th to the 1st century BC to build the buildings of the citizens. When the quarry was abandoned, this area was used for small orchards and cultivable gardens on its rocky walls along the hill, and a series of family tombs were made. Golgotha ​​itself, the "mount" on which the crosses were nailed, had to appear as the top of a higher rock separated from the hill, a suitable place for the newest law of demonstrative execution of capital punishment. Since Herod Agrippa in 41-42 AD extended the circuit of the wall of Jerusalem to the northwest, Golgotha ​​began to form part of the city, and from an isolated place over time, it became an integral part and center of the city, again Aiónius seconded this assertion before protecting the Vernarth words.   Etréstles with his Hellenic heart of Messolonghi approaches his leisurely aura below the garden, here he suppresses his icy feet towards his head of Greek innocence in flat sustained prayer, ends and gets up without being able to turn around to see him again in this garden of stones abandoned, he retires, leaving only Vernarth and the Apostle. He runs off for incredible distances, retreating miles from there to an adjoining desert area. here he suppresses his icy feet towards his head of Greek innocence in flat sustained prayer, finishes, and gets up without being able to turn around to see him again in this garden of abandoned stones, he retires leaving only Vernarth and the Apostle. He runs off for incredible distances, retreating miles from there to an adjoining desert area. here he suppresses his icy feet towards his head of Greek innocence in flat sustained prayer, finishes, and gets up without being able to turn around to see him again in this garden of abandoned stones, he retires leaving only Vernarth and the Apostle. He runs off for incredible distances, retreating miles from there to an adjoining desert area. Midbar Yehuda..., north of Jerusalem to Tiqwa, where he stays for two days before returning to Jerusalem. Being here in the middle of the desert he realizes that he had lost from one of her saddlebags a sacred image that had accompanied him since time immemorial, it had been given to him by his wife Drestnia in Koumeterium Messolonghi after her awakening. He searches for her for two days following the same path that he took from the basilica, not being able to find her, until he addresses the archangel Uriel, answering him himself. Uriel exclaims: ...On your back the offertory, a few steps in front of you the Apostle, beyond the crowd looking at you. The souls in purgatory will ask you for help, they will do it for you. You will have to give them their demands in freedom from their purges. The Messiah in miserere from the roof will come down to love on the esplanade..., on your conscience with rays and lightning he will caress your face with his host, and those who do not enter his consecration will take them to pick them up from his own hands in your lost image escorted by despondent angels whimpering and embracing you...! Etréstles, goes terrified from his Anastasis and enters the palm of the last acid words of martyrdom in prosody of the cross hammering and unrolling before his eyes in a long trail of a woven shroud, presenting him with the recolored image to be rescued by his soul from throbbing thunder with numb hands and bolt of bushy and inappropriate displays of disbelief. It would be a great miracle not to lose light in the superior lights that bring the Sun closer to your hands. In this way, a holy miracle would be fulfilled, like the ramp of the silence of the celestial karmic boomerang.

Silence  Painful way

Describes Vernarth in parapsychological regression: Silence crashed over them in such a way that it massacred them from "oblivion - oblivion" from the Limassol to Jaffa stretch. Everyone believed that they had traveled on the Eurydice, but not so. A ship that came from the Lepanto shipyard supplanted them to protect the Gold medallion anchored in the roadstead protected by the Christian Gladiators of Kourion in Lod. Everyone was calmer when they made sure that a great layer of silence overwhelmed them, forgetting as a foretaste of continuing along the Via Dolorosa. The dawn tied him to the Silent Awakening near Jerusalem on a gray and silent day. Vernarth gets up, first of all, and prepares them unleavened breakfast, honey, and goat's milk.About 3700 million years ago the first living beings appeared on Earth, they were small unicellular microorganisms not very different from current bacteria. Such cells are classified among prokaryotes because they lack a nucleus (karyon in Greek), a specialized compartment where the genetic machinery is stored. The prokaryotes achieved complete success in their development and multiplication, thanks to their remarkable capacity for evolution and adaptation, giving rise to a wide diversity of species and invading as many habitats as the planet could offer them. The biosphere would be full of prokaryotes if there had not been the extraordinary advance from which a cell belonging to a very different type arose: eukaryote, that is; It has a genuine core. In this evolutionary cellular space, they were invaded by a Vertical Silence that would have to spread throughout the troposphere and the consequences of this event marked the beginning of a new numeral linear lapse, until the consequences of this event marked the beginning of a new era. Nowadays, multicellular organisms are made up of eukaryotic cells, which are much more complex than prokaryotes. If eukaryotic cells had not appeared, the extraordinary variety, so rich in ranges, of animal and plant life on our planet would not exist now; nor would man have made an appearance to enjoy such diversity and extract its secrets. Bi similar eukaryotic cellsringed in metamorphic geological strata, pressing the atmosphere, the air and the earth, compressing the geological layers and gaseous atmospheres thatthey did not exist as a consequence of these intense pressure changes by order of the Higher Universal consciousness with overflowing temperatures and multi-chemical environments; dispersing the changes that are associated with the forces that fold on the shore of what is current Greece. Said layer faults scattered eukaryotic cells enveloped in "Silent Libertarian Material", injecting magma creating creative prominences on the attached rocks, becoming exhausted, perhaps only to be a cellular polytheism perhaps derived from multicellular cellular evolution..., turning into a sexed fusion of a great regeneration of Lithophagas species in the region..., perhaps in Colophon where Homer was infected. Well, this presumption would have to create a syncretic elaboration with that of Aristotle and Plato as eukaryotic cells, to start from this Lithophaga flower, which is rooted beneath its roots in this bivalve mollusk unleashing proto seeds of prehistoric poetic inspiration, in super souls synchronously starting each one in this mollusk plant that is thus regreened and personified, originating epic poetics in what prehistoric and the human phenotype. This hypersensitive cellular mega-complex is possible with the respect that I deserve to cite it, the innate and spontaneous hyper ethnobotany and hyper sapiens mollusks that were conceived for millions of years delegating their sublime hypostases in creation. I quote here The word Poetry from the Greek ( Poiein: "Do or Create"). From this vertical revolution, the Silence of the Via Dolorosa intrinsic to the same ontological, geological, Theological, and evolutionary concepts will emanate. Scientific and Poetic-Sacred, linked to the creation from "Nothing" to an "Everything". Everything is revealed before our backs, everything is offered before our eyes, everything comes from the soft creative wrath of lightning, everything is consecrated to silence..., but nothingness moves what the whole forgot centrifuged by phenomena of atomicity of greater forces of the Silence of the Messiah, praying in constant practice the generation in front of our theoretical faces in front of our Everything and the Nothingness of an empty supply. "Silence Waits for Time... to see,... I commend my Being to time" founds the greatest silence ever felt only heard more than an ultrasound of waves that articulate one over another in algorithmic chanting that emanate from "Mariah's Silence to her son" also to Homer, Aristotle, and Plato attached to the Lithophaga releasing Eukaryotes. When Aristotle and Plato uprooted the Lithophaga as axiomatic leaders, they revealed the Silence of Creation and poetic anathemas, alluding to their true ancestors who slipped down their bandullos like an elongated moraine sweeping their navel Samskaras such traces of their own personalities leading wisdom with an origin common prehistoric cell.

Ita *** Dolore: Saint John the Apostle stood up in silence with profuse deafness even in spirit..., all the others were equally traumatized from feeling the stones engraved with fear and pain "Ita *** Dolore". They didn't see in colors everything was gray and shades of white, black between cells..., like being inside the suffering cell lost of all consciousness. Everyone confuses about their clothes, their outfits, nobody knew who each one was, only Vernarth and San Juan knew. Raeder and Petrobus, Alikanto, and Eurídice only wandered sleepwalking along the rocky road in the cobbled streets flanked by works erected from sobbing Malaki material, from stones very similar to those that Jesus would have seen following this pristine route. The Stations of the Cross were marked by plaques, vaulted chapels, and signs along the way of lacerating and flagellant stops of more than forty degrees of burning in each feverish step and enclosed vaulting.

Ellipse Messiahas a child: "Mother...; when I went up the stairs..., I stopped at the fourteenth step..., in perfect mathematics opening the sky..., like a sacrosanct aromatic book; Well, I thought you would believe me dressed there! Mother when I went down the fourteen steps and put my last foot before you..., I could see how I sang in the thirty-three on a rainy Friday afternoon, clinging to you..., accompanying me along the stairs that you did not know..."

1st Station of the Cross in Silence

Ita *** Dolore, Jesus was tried and sentenced to death in the Praetorium of Pontius Pilate, he will bring silence in each interval that did not oppose resistance from the flagellant whips."Mother...; when I went up the stairs..."The apostle closes his eyes, Vernarth takes him in his arms.

2nd Station of the Cross

The second station marks where Jesus took up his cross and recalls his doom. Romans beat Jesus and the Chapel of Judgment which commemorates the site where Jesus was sentenced. Here he feels like a child... "Mother...; when I went down the stairs...?"


3rd Station of the Cross

The third station is where Jesus first fell under the weight of his cross. This station is not far from the Ecce **** (Behold the Man), Saint John remembers the Last Supper in anticipation, sitting next to him... he got up from dinner, took off his mantle, and took a towel, he girded himself.... "Mother...; when I went up the stairs..."

4th Station of the Cross

The fourth station marks where Mary saw her son pass by. The 19th-century Armenian Church of Our Lady marks this station. Deaf Vernarth manages to hear voices from heaven saying: "Mother...; when I came down from the ladder...?"

5th Station of the Cross

At the fifth station, the Roman soldiers instructed Simon of Cyrene to help Jesus carry his cross (Luke 23). ..., "Mother I stopped at the fifth step and I never hesitated to wash your feet"

6th Station of the Cross

The sixth station marks where Veronica wiped Jesus' face with her veil. It is believed that the image of the face of Jesus was imprinted on the cloth."Mother...; when I went down the stairs you covered my sweaty face..."

7th Station of the Cross

At the seventh station, Jesus faltered under the weight of the cross for the second time. "Mother...; when I climbed the ladder..., I saw the lost mountain..."

8th Station of the Cross

The eighth station is where the "daughters of Jerusalem weep for Jesus" (Luke 23, 27). Jesus stopped here to comfort the women, telling them not to weep for him, but for themselves and their children.."Mother...; when I went down the stairs you were not there, you were coming for me..."

9th Station of the Cross

At the ninth station, Jesus faltered a third time before his final ascent to Golgotha. "Mother...; When I went up the stairs to find you, you were in front of me..."

9th-14th Stations of the Cross

The Stone of Anointing is believed to have been where Jesus was placed after being taken from the cross. Here he would have been prepared for burial. The Bible tells us that Jesus' body was wrapped in linen and anointed with oils and spices in accordance with Jewish funeral rites. "Mother...; when I went down the stairs you covered me from the cold and wrapped me with your passion..."


The 14th Station of the Cross – The Tomb of Christ

Here Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth were still deaf, but with slight symptoms of recovery of their hearing. They saw in front of them how deaf angels came to uncover their auditory channels, being of their intuition proclaiming courage to accompany them with their teacher to the aedicule towards the crypt itself granted by José de Arimathea. The Chapel of the Angel contains a small piece of the rock that closed the burial cave of Christ, the chapel that leads to the tomb itself. It was here that Jesus was buried and rose three days after his death. "This small rectangular structure of the Edicule marks the end of the Via Dolorosa and the Deafness of everyone and the Whole World"

Saint Ioannis Song of the Messiah, Vernarth describes by the voice of Saint John the Apostle: "Since the beginning of Samaria I had my father Zebedeo in my manifestations..., my mother Salomé and brother apostle Santiago together with me in my declared voice. My father as a fisherman if he saw us grow and left us in the boat after the Messiah called us believing he would not see us grow anymore! My father lived in Bethsaida and developed his commercial activity on the Sea of ​​Galilee or Tiberias, together with us between Capernaum and Bethsaida I walked escorted by the voices of the silence of freedom; Said peace prostrated me to monuments that oscillate on the invisible wings of the legions asking me to join their hand in hand for hours..., and in great circles, since I got on the boat flooded with Faith with the Master. This is what I call seeing the homonymous village located on the western shore of this sea become its monument of silence and the heritage of the House of Fishing in Bethsaida. I always knew that my father had a parental agreement with the Master, being my uncle since my mother Salomé has been identified as the sister of our Mariah.From Capernaum, since I walked and grew up among nets, boats and from where six others accompanied me as my brothers and fellow apostles. Thus, natives, we give our seals and predilections to the Lord for navigating us in the divine water of the Jordan, here I was a fisherman and brother of the fish that also spoke for me..., for the proverbs that identify my closeness with the family lineage of Capernaum. Jesus from the depths of his being with his throat upwards called Santiago and me "sons of thunder" for our impetuous character that was revealed in some events reported in others. The two of us together with San Pedro..., constituted the most intimate core of the master. I was favored by those who reserved my presence with the ****** Mariah where she was trembling in her clothes at the foot of the cross when our Father Master Messiah died, drawing us closer to all of us from that day further than we thought could protest. In this epithet now is where I point to the one who invited me to his boat in Skalá, Patmos; "Vernarth", also a son of the Lord, invited me to return to my original land. Always from Patmos He kept sending me, I received messages at the crossroads of the winds and through anagrams on the tail of the fish..., in their mouths in Aramaic, so that they could be brought from where my roots fill your abundant fish farming..., a common rhizome that in his parables they hear him, that from his brambles the crickets boil in his golden presence, golden passion, and golden agony even me looking at him with my eternal eyes with my painful eyes of apocalypse crying..., even seeing how I went with him to Golgotha ​​in his arms, imitating him in his courage more than in himself and in all those who did not see him leave." "Far away in my exile sentenced by Domitian, I wrote the Gospel and their epistles in Ephesus and the Apocalypse on Patmos, in the Aegean. Both in our Gospel and in the prophetic visions of the Apocalypse, I was invaded by the high-altitude doctrinal and symbolic language of the passages next to the Master. I was the eagle evangelizing, flying in terror to Patmos, and I know that your eagle will take me to Ephesus to sleep in the gospel of the Lord eternally." "I was never a child, I was always who I am if I was a child..., only my parents managed to see it because I was already sitting as if I were in the same Transfiguration, Pentecost, with the daughter of Jairus, in Lake Tiberias and in his miraculous departure in Gethsemane." "I was always who I am..., I never felt that my bones grew in proportion to the distances that would allow me to walk faster than an Eagle, but not so in my parents who did not see my leafy feet of plumage, Next Reign of Jesus of Nazareth in a kind of apology I will be for him again as a child recognizing him even as present and future Father" here he was housed in these Othóns or quantum Azofar screens, guaranteeing him to be federated to his inheritance for the centuries to come. Christian Itheoi genus. Vernarth looks at him and hugs him for a long time, everyone else does the same. They leave Capernaum to start their way through innumerable routes to Nazareth, trying to find a new path but a Golden Eagle or Gerakis appeared to them telling them where to go next...it would probably be where the Master went through the dedications on an INRI wood...where thousands of eagles would pose his claws containing his bleeding..., more than a "Meta-language reigning in all Believers of attachment sustained in his shroud" as I did, perhaps singing in conspicuous languages ​​that would meet him more than an expert, more than a language close to the zeal that covered us, dismantling itself from the friendly path that sustained us, shortening its objective. Our mission is to meet the ancestors of Maryah and her Sigil, which floods with essences towards her son,



Paraps XXV

Messiah of Judah II part

Miracle III - Nazareth

Parapsychological regression, Vernarth describes by the voice of the Apostle Saint John: "They all came from Capernaum with the embedded shutters of INRI in their hands, Alikantus in their hooves and Petrobus in their webbed golden fingers. Everyone walked unevenly perhaps because from the Higher Consciousness the Abba had leaned towards the south center towards the west tilting the earth twelve degrees which made him change course to Nazareth. The miraculous thing was to see how the animals Petrobus and Alikanto felt them and saw euphonies coming out of their mouths in octaves multiplied by eight; that is to say, sixty-four inverted notes, averaging the notes that arrived the other way around from being heard in their retro melody, perhaps diverting them to a hillside in Canaan. After such a miraculous phenomenon, the golden eagles perched on the heads of the twelve ungulates, diverting them to Nazareth and guiding them to an ancient stone where the inscriptions in Hebrew-Aramaic "Stem-Branch" can be seen. They were sweating on their Gigas camels like Nazarene princes reigning in consolation by forking like the ground even beyond the two-dimensional concept of Nazareth, either a stem proclaiming the ominous prophetic of the Messiah or proclaiming the Renewal in sacred circulation to have a 360 ° perspective, for the ancient worldview being housed as a perfect clone on the geography of Nazareth in 14.14 square km, based on the southern mountains of Lower Galilee, 10 km north of Mount Tabor and 23 km west of the Sea of ​​Galilee. Miracles must be outlined between the extreme points of each cross..., the stature of the image between foot and head, the cosmogony of the link between Nazareth, Capernaum, and vice versa, mysteries of the silence of those who only see in light and dark of Marian repentance, would be now in front of everyone with the Credulity Gene. The Giga Camels carried them tenaciously with their wise feet from Capernaum. Here is the Miracle; They were at the fourteenth station in Jerusalem, which St. Ioannis later explained in his childhood memoirs with his family in Bethsaida. It was then from here that in some bend of its inspiration that the valleys would turn towards another geological family to present it at the table with renewed olive oils together with its parents. Where they would leave directly guided by the royal eagles towards the stone of Nazareth. Describes Vernarth in the voice of Saint John: "The Archangel Uriel dictates him; those who preach alone in the streets or corners preach the rejection of those who do not count how many times they were approved or challenged, and at least the times that more than any extreme had to be heard beyond the most distant hiding places in which they did not they will be able to know to be recognized" Saint John continues: "On this tacit diameter in the narrow part of the bergamot that is towards the south and opens through a narrow and sinuous throat towards the plain of Esdraelón. It would be pointed out here as "the top of the mountain" from where they wanted to throw Jesus off the cliff. But the traditional place does not have a true ravine, as a story would seem to require. Further only to a spring in the town is the so-called Fountain of the ****** where Mariah obtained the consecrated water for her family from there. "In this super diameter, Etréstles wanted to find the childhood periods of the Messiah and thus be able to see him advance in his growth, but he knew that perhaps the hidden mystery of the stem that only grows in the discord of Nazareth, invaded by foreign civilizations, could not be verified. that did not allow them to stretch boundaries beyond the entire concordant Universe. In Patmos I always had the precognition that above..., above the doors of the unknown..., there must be anti-material physiognomies that will move offspring that in twin lands would be housed in Judah. As we approached the perimeter of the city we dared to cross, whose text contains the decree issued by another Roman emperor not mentioned, which prohibits under pain of death the robbery of tombs including those of relatives or changing a body from one tomb to another. The date of registration is discussed. Someplace it at the beginning of the empire period; others in s. II AD It is highly unlikely that they have any direct relation to the ignoble accusation leveled at us disciples that we had stolen our Master's body. I keep digressing without the accuracy of what I say, it's been tens of years without being here, I only know that I am attracted by the rhythm of the music of religious worshipers from Nazareth. just as I heard when they were at the height of a rosy vine near Mariah's house in Nazareth..., here Uriel describes Nicodemus: Uriel says: (Meditation of Saint John the Apostle) "Nicodemus talks about the meaning of being born again and mentions the Kingdom of the Heavens, very rare in the Johannine texts, Jesus was surprised in short to see that a teacher in Israel did not understand the discourse on rebirth in the spirit. Later, in the council of chief priests and Pharisees, Nicodemus defends Jesus, explaining to his companions that they must listen and investigate before making a final judgment. The question they ask him may imply that Nicodemus was a Galilean or it could be an irony of his companions." I'm still on my own from today rambling without accuracy in what I say..., it's been tens of years without being here, I only know that the rhythm of the music of the religious cults of Nazareth will attract me. These images will make me observe Vernarth notice in me and in all these advanced episodes, this is transmitted by Saint John the Apostle. Eurydice took note and dared to dance in the warm senses that throbbed under her feet, signaling to renew herself in an Offshoot of the seed that grows hidden in the shortness of every Nazarene born here.Expressions of freedom and glory appear throughout the village the world dances in the part of the ministerial bends attached to the Holy Spirit. Flowing dance ministered by Levites and worshipers of the Lord God Almighty God or Yahweh in a spontaneous way, salvific and with healing interweaving the existential and vernacular ribs of the chosen people worshiping the Prophet. All danced together and anointed, enjoying the ceremony. Vernarth thought his magical ears thundered with Levitical echoes as he was under the supra-starry sky of the Christian world that repeated itself, returning with a new one appearing at each interval of the festivities, everyone did them as they came and went with the pillars of their Faith rolling, and they covered with the mantle of the night flooded with ceremonial Vines and ministerial Bread like a great vault in a great ominous mansion. Here where the Messiah from heaven will trepan his senses, Feeling emotion and art, all braiding like alpha beginners until finishing the stupid omega dance. We will fulfill a company of prophets descending from above preceded by lutes, drums, flutes, and harps. Thus the sons and daughters will be celebrating with Cherubim in unmistakable steps praising Him.This Hebrew-Biblio dance will end in adoration on a warm night that continues to reach the imperceptible senses where everyone celebrates and intertwines with trans content affection with everyone celebrating in the ceremony. Then they went to the tents near the Messiah's house to sleep concelebrating in tiny circles. Everyone was very excited..., not being able to fall asleep believing not believing that perhaps they would never again live something like this in a city forever whether to live it or not..., eating and drinking the same Nazarene Bread and Wine. All this was closely witnessed by the god Nothofagus in the middle of some brambles, it has adhered to the fungi that persisted in the brilliant brilliance to personify them in the Genus Itheoi. Hanukkah was coming to Vernarth, it was the Liberation of Judah as another purpose of Vernarth's physical and parapsychological regression in the arms of Hanukkah, purging his spiritual body to leave his Piece of Muscle rubbed on the helpless ground, perhaps carrying his non-biodegradable shell matter in his Leonatus; as a new prince replacing Alexander the Great in the true Hellenic polis adopted and claimed on the soil of Judah. On the walls of air in Gaugamela, I sliced ​​with my Xiphos and Kopis leaving them now dry and sheathed..., to serve Saint John the Apostle and our Lord in the work of the Messiah. For this, we have been revived as inclemency in this festivity of the former Hetairoi strategist of the hosts of the Great Alexander the Great. For this task when they left Nazareth, When it arrives under the finger of Nablus, it is intercepted by these voracious sacred lights coming from the Abrahamic eras, perhaps from Lot in his cave to immunize his offspring. Also known as the "Festival of Lights or Luminaries". This Jewish festival of lights commemorates the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem and the Maccabean rebellion against the Seleucid Empire. Celebrated for eight days, the Hanukkah festival dates back to the time of Hellenic hegemony in Israel, beginning with the conquests of Alexander the Great in 332 BC. C., who at his passing freed the Jewish people from the oppression of Persia, leaving Israel as an independent kingdom-state. After his death, the vast empire remained in the hands of his generals, who entered into war conflicts with each other, for which centuries later the Seleucid Greeks tried to gain control of the region, as can be read in the books of I and II Maccabees, where this festivity commemorates the defeat of the Hellenes and the recovery of Jewish independence at the hands of the Maccabees over the Greeks of the Seleucus dynasty, and the subsequent purification of the Second Temple of Jerusalem from pagan icons, in the 2nd century BC. C. Vernarth, was here as a commander when he freed them from the boot of the Persians, remembering the epic of him when he was a servant of the oppressed legions. He thus freed them forming part of this history which has threads of messianic history and culture cracking gaps for evangelization, that looms under the robes of El Nazareno like a child's story..., to be told to adults with nine Hanukkah candles. Jewish tradition speaks of a miracle in which the temple candlestick could be lit for eight consecutive days with a meager amount of oil that was only enough for one. This gave rise to the main custom of the festivity, which is to progressively light a nine-armed candlestick called Hanuquiá, one for each of the days plus a pilot arm. Vernarth describes: "Our Entry into the soil of Judah..., as luminaries we were received, our messianic introduction will change history in its objectivism freeing the Hebrews from the Persian empire. Inopportune were the new masses of the departure of Alexander the Great who, after freeing them, his minions wanted to appropriate a free inheritance that only belongs to Yahweh. Seleucus, being an officer appointed by Alexander the Great, was appointed chief of the Hypaspists (elite soldiers and spearmen) on a date close to 330 BC. C., for this reason, I looked many times at your countenances, seeing in them the voracity and anti-national vocation to exorbitant the limits of unwary power. This is why in the death of our great general..., Seleucus tried to dominate Judah, skillfully raising the exhumation of the general pointing to a drastic change by pointing his finger at the transgressor! Being justly consummated and deported by the Maccabees. Festival of Lights Celebration of Dedication and Celebration of the Maccabees. Children receive gifts, especially in areas where Jewish and Christian children are in close contact. Hanukkah commemorates the victory of the Maccabees over the Syrians as well as the re-dedication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem around 165 BC. The re-dedication was necessary because the Seleucid king of Syria, Antiochus IV Epiphanes had desecrated the temple by installing an altar to Zeus on the site. When the Maccabees began to prepare the temple for rededication they found that they only had enough oil to light it for one night. In the end, the oil lasted eight days until the new delivery of the new consecrated resource, the candles are lit every night of Hanukkah to commemorate the miracle. During the first night, a candle is lit in a special candlestick called a menorah or hanukkiah. Here Reaeder with Petrobus joined this beautiful festivity, paying special attention to the Dreidel pirinola, which seemed very didactic among the game that captured their full attention. Eurydice and Etrestles holding a candlestick in each hand would begin the second night by adding a candle until eight candles were reached on the last night. The candles are lit by a separate candle called a shamash here was Alikanto and Vernarth with Saint John the Apostle lighting it first and then using it to light the other candles. The candles are installed in the menorah from right to left but are lit from left to right. A symbol of Hanukkah is the dreidel, a pirinola with which a game is played. Before the Maccabean Revolt, it was illegal for people to read the Torah under Antiochus IV Epiphanes, when the soldiers arrived the Jews pretended to play a game of chance involving a pirinola. They satiated traditional Hanukkah foods such as latkes or potato pancakes fried in oil as another way to incorporate the memory of the Maccabees free from all invaders, predicting more light than their own Sun.This is how they would culminate this festivity among themselves, in Nablus before reaching Bethlehem south through the desert with their twelve Giga camels..., the luminaries would take them camping through the Nablus desert south to Bethlehem.

Bethlehem ******, Hemophilic Camel so Vernarth describes: "They were falling down a ***** typified as a rebellion of angels. In such a disorder, they have seen a new language and numeral concept. Given before the componential of Steeds, Pelicans, Masked Nymph, Leader of Messolonghi Cemeteries, Vernarth Commander Hetairoi and Saint John the Apostle, wading through the desert of Nablus on mission ****** and the Giant Camels, the twelfth and last of them afflicted with the morbid sin. ****** or ******; is the name of the biblical character described as the son of ***, son of Cam who was the son of Noah. Although the Bible does not mention him directly since ancient times, tradition has considered ****** as the builder of the Tower of Babel. Since the tower was built on his territory and during his reign, it is assumed that it was under his direction that the construction began. But there are also other non-biblical sources, which indicate the opposite, alleging that ****** was not in the region of Shinar when the construction began. His name became proverbial as a "mighty hunter in opposition to YHWH (Jehovah)" His kingdom comprised Babel (Babylon), Erech (Uruk), Accad (Akkad), and Calneh in the land of Shinar also known as the land of ******" Vernarth replied: "They came and went, dragging their ancient Palestinian and Hebrew feet..., helped by ****** to understand and adore each other "When they were on the road from Nablus on the carpets of Kfar Tapuach, a hemophilic effusion occurred in one of their Giant Camels that accompanied them so separated from the remaining eleven, remaining in the hands of Saint John the Apostle. "From that moment on seeing how the camel was bleeding, the apostle falls into a trance remembering the annunciation that will have to take place in the whirlpool of biblical time when they arrive at Bethlehem." The Angel Gabriel will reincorporate right here when he said to Mary: "Do not be afraid, Mariah, because you have found grace before God; you will conceive in the womb and give birth to a son, whom you will name Jesus." Then the Camel turned around and said...:"I will be there..., seeing his short feet and his long crying confusing them at night in those who are jealous of him for his smiles of an infant of seven..." The camel in telepathy transmits to Saint John: "All of us have a long road ahead of us, the road of life that we have to follow day after day. Today it flows strongly in me, unable to stop my torrent like my previous parents who were never able to cross Palestinian land. I represent the line of Gigas Camels guides since the angel Gabriel spoke to Mary; For this reason and because I am an energetic guide on the path of life leading the chosen ones of the Messiah. With challenges of long distances and terrain with adverse spiritual conditions, that is why I have inherited the ancient blood that has traveled over my Palestine and Hebrew. Biblical time... It has determined in me that so much blood has been shed since the Messiah left for the House of our God, that being a camelid in flower every two years when this hemophilia crisis hits me, incarnating in others the sins that will be amortized with his body and his blood. My liver belongs to my Palestinian masters, they eliminate the viruses in my body but the healthy genes are Hebrew and remain in me for a short time until dawn. My time is more than the southern time process is the southern temple opening it on my consciousness of the pages of the Bible "Before the stakes of the World come out of the straps that hold it..." that being a camelid in flower every two years when this hemophilia crisis hits me, incarnating in others the sins that will be amortized with his body and his blood. My liver belongs to my Palestinian masters, they eliminate the viruses in my body but the healthy genes are Hebrew and remain in me for a short time until dawn. My time is more than the southern time process is the southern temple opening it on my consciousness of the pages of the Bible "Before the stakes of the World come out of the straps that hold it..." that being a camelid in flower every two years when this hemophilia crisis hits me, incarnating in others the sins that will be amortized with his body and his blood. My liver belongs to my Palestinian masters, they eliminate the viruses in my body but the healthy genes are Hebrew and remain in me for a short time until dawn. My time is more than the southern time process is the southern temple opening it on my consciousness of the pages of the Bible "Before the stakes of the World come out of the straps that hold it..." Saint John the Apostle replies: Few words and numbers are rolled from Nablus, they will be decoded by ******..., collecting the months so that we can see an increase in the proteins responsible for blood coagulation and in the reconciliation of the Palestinian-Hebrew world. This treatment will actually heal his hemophilia with both fatherlands in me, not only by treating him and reducing the bleeding but to pay for the sins of these salty nations already prophesied for our salvation that the Messiah judged.Saint John, taking the leg of the Giga Camel, caresses him..., he makes a gesture not to feel pain, but as an anti-death, he begins to heal his wound, covering himself with flowers of the Hebrew spring. A candid and volatile mass of Rose of Saron petals settled on the camel's leg. While Vernarth tried and helped him cut off a certain portion of his leg. But a miraculous fusion flower occurs that is mixed in its leg and from the same stem of the flower, regenerating the gangrenous part of the Giga camel..., in a great time of the Temple growing in God forgiving the Palestinian and Christian sins, juxtaposed to their illnesses almost being guests of a crippled scientific metaphor..., but much more Christian Salvific. The camel recovers and they put out the fires, they continue through the desert on the carousel of the camel's parents' lullaby, singing tenderly to their son camel, that they would never leave him alone and that his words were restored and decoded by ******'s command to his ears. Not far from Him, with words and strange Palestinian neologies and numbers of the Menorah lit up to the right. Shortly thereafter to reach Bethlehem, almost like synchronizing the magical steps under a star that heals and renews all the meat of the camels in the human world, before being listed to the eternal wind of the native village of the Messiah. with words and odd Palestinian neologies and numbers of the Menorah to the right lit. Shortly thereafter to reach Bethlehem, almost like synchronizing the magical steps under a star that heals and renews all the meat of the camels in the human world, before being listed to the eternal wind of the native village of the Messiah. with words and odd Palestinian neologies and numbers of the Menorah to the right lit. Shortly thereafter to reach Bethlehem, almost like synchronizing the magical steps under a star that heals and renews all the meat of the camels in the human world, before being listed to the eternal wind of the native village of the Messiah.

*** bei Hinnom  Crypto-Crucified

Following the route of Arimathea and then Emmaus with our tired feet we entered the region of the southwest towards Jerusalem, to *** Bei Hinnom specifically. Obviously, we were going to Bethlehem, but the Apostle decided to spend the night here.Vernarth speaks through the voice of the Apostle: "The open southwest gate of Jerusalem points into the valley, which came to be known as the valley of the son of Hinnom. Here the Israelite residents used to perform rites that worshiped Moloch presaging destruction. In those ancient times the Canaanites sacrificed children to the god Moloch by setting them on fire and burning them alive...; a practice that was outlawed by King Josiah when the practice disappeared, it became a city dump where garbage was incinerated, and also the carcasses of animals or those of some criminals. The dump and the fire make the metaphor to indicate that "Garbage" (disobedient) are those that burn day and night. Later, after this narration..., the Apostle took them to Mount Zion, where the coffin of King David is.

Parapsychological insert Vernarth Pandemic MMXX, comments...: (Here the god Vélus has Zefian's arrows to wear the Magaf or boot that would unleash this Antonine plague in Italy, until the resource of the MMXX in the modern world, as it was in 165 AD C.: Magaf in Hebrew means "Boot" since the quarantine began in March..., it continues to occur in Israel in a nation with a vast history of pandemics, it is that since immemorial biblical times it has always been hit by plagues, it has been a maximum in comparing it with the reality of the world that does not mutate in its virulent evolution. It has a Bota root, which could be related to social passages of the Bible in the context of Quarantine, which in Hebrew means isolation "בידוד", which has a similar root to Magaf, giving the genesis to which this apology coincidentally raised the virological expansion in Italy, suggesting its geography in the form of a "Boot" such as Italy. From where the itch of this Pandemic began to the secular world in great mortality statistics reissued in the current world. The Valley of Death exemplifies water opening, and Arab and Israelite slopes. Polytheism instituted among the archaic social networks degenerating the infallible root to which each one belongs in its independentist root of aggressive trait and autonomous to survive on themselves. Moloch or Melech, as they are called by the Jews today, is a conductive agent of overcrowding of the archaeo-cultural, practicing trades of high violent Intercultural Religious confrontation. Two intuitive cultures two nations, with different gods and languages, both walked through burning Gehenna as ancient culture in their inseparable history that tied them by invading hands in the past-present. Avodah Zarah in Hebrew: "foreign cult" is the name of a Talmudic treatise of the Nezikin order of the Mishnah and Talmud. Nezikin is the fourth-order of the Mishnah and the Talmud, Nezikin is an order dealing with the laws relating to harm. The main subject of the Avodah Zarah treaty is the laws regarding the Jews living among the Gentiles the goyim, in the treaty are included the regulations on the interaction between the Jews and the "idolaters" which represented the majority of the population not Jew or Gentile during the writing of the Babylonian Talmud. The Apostle says:"On Mount Zion I was with the master in "The Last Supper". Very close to *** Bei Hinnom, what predicts Life and Death beyond our beliefs but if it is death..., it is the angel in his consort who is accompanied by others, freeing us from the sin that we hide, crushing us in the overloaded Karma" Replies Vernarth: "beyond our paths to build..., today we are submerged in a techno-idolatry, subjugated to the trans-nationality of global networks that deliberate and trans-compete under our tutelage, with no other options than to live together avoiding slavery itself before Moloch, sacrificing our children to the altar of the aforementioned "Technotheism", giving them intelligence beyond all the valleys that force us to depend on an overwhelming social and technological electromagnetic dependency. Falling noisily backward onto a ritual hillside to plausibly be handed over to us as "Human Technological Trash." Depositing in us millions and trillions of neutrinos and radiations through universal space like that of any Mythological god, lying abandoned in time without end..., beyond Life and Fabulous Death. Or perhaps our Last Supper..., it will be very present in our daily lives in this incipient technological techno-theism, worshiping the God who will imprison us in his algorithms as a whole man, or perhaps one day be traded in Crypto-Currencies by a broker on Wall Street, to be handed over and betrayed by this Broker-Judas to our crypto-crucified collapse, paying for the sins of others burned in Gehenna, on burning garbage that we ourselves have deposited and No! emits Amblyseius: They were on the Hebrew ***** of *** Bei Hinnom preparing to sleep. Bright wells could be seen around him, once everyone tired joined their experiences around the campfire, the Apostle went with Vernarth to pray on the northeast *****. Walking in silence and with burning fear they were circulating with austere care not to fall into these imaginary wells in the fangs of the gates of hell and its crater tempting them to get lost among it..., before reaching Bethlehem Says Vernarth: "They estimated a well of seventy meters in diameter and equal in depth with high temperatures that emanated from there in a sulfur mixture..., the apostle prospected and witnessed how the earth swallowed some natural elements that were there. The most surprising thing was the gases that flowed through real Gerakis that were abducted into permeable, heavy,  and bluish monoatomic that emerged from the underground cave of some Canaanite god.Thousands of years of expectorating and having the bronze crackle of swords of justice in the "biblical blue" of a possible Hebrew tekhelet, neither I nor anyone else could recreate or imagine what it could be in itself. Random face from the time of the Second Temple, which towered over Jerusalem until it was destroyed by the Romans where a blue dye of the same name would be used to color the fabric used in the clothing of the priests..., admonishing them on its perimeter."A Jewish man who was still commanded to wear a 'tekhelet' thread in the knotted fringes of their prayer shawls, although it might seem that was left unclear for years.The source of the Tekhelet is not specified well in the. According to himTekhelet's dye is produced from a sea creature known as the Ḥillazon; which is the exclusive source of the colorant. There are three opinions in rabbinic literature as to how many are to be blue: 2 cords; 1 rope; 1 half string These strands are then threaded and hang down like tassels that appear to be eight. The four filaments are passed through a hole 25 to 50 mm away from the corners of the four corner fabric. A comparative deception has been made of trying to touch it because they looked harmless and silky when touched.Fearing that the crater would cause the appearance of apocryphal mites dressed as a priest with Tekhelet that was sustained in its physiognomy, with the escape of various dangerous natural gases determined to self-incinerate. They estimated that they would be extinguished in a few minutes, however, it has been burning for centuries and parading before curious maravedís; As precognition to the business of the Inquisition charging money to Jewish converts in exchange for rehabilitating them.Since then it has burned non-stop and provided an impressive melodrama in keeping with the creaking of the valley walls that were outside and close to the southern wall of ancient Jerusalem, also stretching from the Valley of Hinnom to the Kidron Valley. Saint John the Apostle speaks: "I will mention a Valley like that of Cedrón..., a place that our Messiah traveled as the Gospel refers to He passed with us to the other side of the Cedrón torrent where there was a garden into which he and his disciples entered. The ravine of the Cedrón valley begins northwest of Jerusalem resting on a slight depression of about twenty meters that reaches a depth of one hundred meters. The wells like a quantum leap, he rushed us into both depressions, witnessing pre-cognitive Christology..., "The henchmen took him along the Kidron Valley to the gate near the pool of Siloam; and then they scaled the steep path that led to the common palace of Annas and Caiaphas, on the height that is now called Hill Zion." We feel divine and mystical assistance that were intertwined from *** Bei Hinnom to the Kidron Valley in each depression that flowed the extradition of the Messiah, whose previous referendum would splinter his hands staked on his resonated feet and his intra rib. On the way between Gethsemane and the palace of Annas and Caiaphas, I felt an aggressive impulse pass over the bridge over the Cedrón torrent, throwing our Messiah to the bottom of the torrent where the imprints of his feet, knees, and hands were left on a very hard stone. and head" From both sites the depressions twinned the facts of geological upheavals that would cause the implosion generating noises and silences of greater size when ignoring it, by the time it began to decrease in frequency and volume heightening that would fracture with the decibel in the middle ear with total disorientation. In the Well of *** Bei Hinnom, Mites would begin to ascend Amblyseiuss wirskiique; that they are a species present in regions of Israel for that bad effect. This predatory mite was found in large colonies suspended in numerous grasslands, among them they were hidden and neighbors to the horticultural crops of Los Olivos. These crop larvae are assiduous to migrant citrus trees that spawned Cypriot whitefly larvae that came to mourn the mourning of infants under seven who were incinerated. Predating young larvae of other species by means of severed white mosquitoes. They began to radiate horror at the cries of the burning children of the time with the martyrdom that pierced the bark of the bushes entangled by this unusual phenomenon between the valleys. This colony of mites frightened the apostle and Vernarth by making them believe that fever of degenerative abundance was symptomatic in them in the flagellated human species, with whips in their tentacles degrading in tiny status between food chains, for more predation towards them and their companions that they were in the camp resting next to the warmth in the atmosphere of the unknown. Vernarth ran swiftly to open some gates that contained the doomed river, levered some stones to increase the mechanical noise on the growing colony of mites in such a way as to lessen the dominant action on the arboreal and horticultural species,

Hex Birthright

The composition of this Hexagonal primogeniture is changing by itself visiting you in this hexagonal course that is now oblong by the rays of the determined morning, inviting you to take the dry cove to Bethlehem in the company of The Apostle, Vernarth, Etréstles, Raeder and Petrobus, Eurydice and Alikantus. They get on the Giant Camels and meditate on them, it was not yet dawn, there were six camels for this hexagonal brotherhood, and the remaining six were for supplies and clothing for their retinues. They all stand in an oblique line looking towards the Valley of Hinnom and Cedrón..., waiting four minutes before the Sun appears. In each one, a legaña of balsamic acetol would begin to skim off with the generous Sun reigning on their Davidian faces. At that very moment, the King appears to them from the front, strolling through the long Davidian caravan..., in their very faces, thus stopping in their march and seeing their imploring and bronze hair like an alliance of lights on a cold morning. Davidian Presence: "There are four minutes left for us to appear in the morning twilight, it has been four hundred years since I ruled Davidian as the second of Israel, I was born in Bethlehem where I will go with you until I reach this pure oasis of the House of Bread. center of the Old Testament, I was the Eighth and last son of Jesse or Jesse, a member of one of the main families of the tribe of Judah, the prophet Samuel secretly anointed me sovereign of the Hebrews when I was just a boy taking care of his father's flocks in Belen. I have created a united and powerful nation of a markedly theocratic character, though short-lived as it vanished shortly after the death of my son Solomon; while in the religious sphere my poetic compositions stood out, "recognizing myself as the author of a total of 73 psalms", and the great project that I ordered to build a great temple in Jerusalem to house the Ark of the Covenant building that would have ***** my successor on the throne." David, get on the seventh Giga camel, and they all go in a file when four minutes fell on the sand of Northeast Jerusalem turned into burning flames in the hair of Davidian dawn. All catch their shadows with a vocalized assembly by the turquoise stripes of the Tekhelet that he carried on his Davidian skeleton. From the minimum moment that allowed him to climb his bones until he mounted the Camel on its exterior, his past became lightening of volatile blue flesh, leaving for the first sabbatical day that ran through his calendar. He tempered over him the compromising memory of him that wandered before his birth and after his death where many wanted to incinerate his Tekhelet for him, or perhaps plagiarize him in his agony with the Messiah when he met with the apostles. above his grave. Davidian Tomb: "When the Lord was over me, I felt his aroma of Davidian flowers approaching, covering my coffin with two square meters of the perimeter of my death that began to be purged in the Messiah. My body was ingested like horchata in my blood vessels. Many times I wanted to get up and break down the barriers that separated us, but I was distracted by the serpent that seized in front of me, co-indexing the apples of my tree that never got worms..., turned into brass serpents on slung chariots pulling me away from the arms of the Messiah. I saw myself at his service in nine light-years from the twelfth applicant with billions of kilometers more, that is, a quarter of light-years to reach him, estimated. My four minutes are what I aspire to reach the five that remained of my temporal origin..., to restore the last thousandths of the end of my life to honor him ubiquitously, even looking at me from the universe from where he observes me, listens to me and will speak to me Davidian..." turned into brass serpents on falcate chariots leading me away from the arms of the Messiah. I saw myself at his service in nine light-years from the twelfth applicant with billions of kilometers more, that is to say, a quarter of light-years to catch up with him. My four minutes are what I aspire to reach the five that remained of my temporal origin..., to restore the last thousandths of the end of my life to honor him ubiquitously, even looking at me from the universe from where he observes me, listens to me and will speak to me Davidian..." turned into brass serpents on falcate chariots leading me away from the arms of the Messiah. I saw myself at his service in nine light-years from the twelfth applicant with billions of kilometers more, that is to say, a quarter of light-years to catch up with him. My four minutes are what I aspire to reach the five that remained of my temporal origin..., to restore the last thousandths of the end of my life to honor him ubiquitously, even looking at me from the universe from where he observes me, listens to me and will speak to me, Davidian..."The Davidian Phenomenon continued to impact everyone because this happened to the ungulates when they sensed outbreaks of the cluelessness of the sky, believing they were a part of it, but the bodies of space are so far away, just as their whimsical light would take a long time to reach us, wondering about the universe of another ravenous dilapidated galaxy. The more distant the object of our consecration is, the longer it will take for the light to arrive and therefore what we see is even further away than in the past. Perhaps his lineage was a thousand years before it could materialize after 1040 years..., after David he did not seem bothered by the refractory passing of the degraded millennia. This equation was worth using to ask the Messiah for mercy for not having made his nation the best it could have treated and inherited towards him in sync at the time he was sentenced. In such a way to subtract years from the one who was born and ruled, so they would be subtracted from him as it is due to his soul that comes traveling with the invisible speed in the bluish light of the Menorah. Light Davidian: "it was 1040 a. C. that I saw the birth of light approaching the same one that saw us born in Bethlehem in the same village of the Messiah after 1040 years in which it separated us both and saw us born in different age phases..., he arrived at his stable next to his Davidian mother. Messianic I fell abruptly from the burst of beams of extinguished light years similar to those that accompany me today in the ceramic that also appears in Bethlehem.In this way I will follow your exalted Hexagonal primogeniture together with the Davidian spectrum, accompanying him to the people who gave birth to both of them."Sheba Dean, Vernarth states: "The Hexagon turned us around and we looked at the Zoroastrian sky, a new star guided the seven of us mounted on golden backs on camelids, now King David on the seventh Giga Camel". Saint John the Apostle intervenes: "In my symbology of the Apocalyptic as an ancient Davidian I give the testament of liturgy and that which appeared in the first centuries of Christianity in which its praises, prayers, petitions, characters, cults, ornaments, incense, Eucharist, chalices arise. , the saint, the amen, the lamb of God, the ******, the interception of the angels, the archangel Michael, the antiphons, the priesthood, the faithful, the meditative silence, the nuptial supper of the lamb; so are the numbers. At the same time, a symbology of the numbers is brought, giving them meanings; this is why for this author the "one" refers to God; the "three" can represent God although for the Jews it represents the divinity, and for the Christians the trinity (father-son and holy spirit). In the apocalypse the three appears as a fraction instead of the whole number a third part, a third; which indicates that neither is a full God nor the "fourth" that is the creation, and that two-thirds are not affected by what the third part is; the half and three and a half taken are from the book of Daniel and mean fullness as well as the "four" and the "seven" perfection, as well as the universe or creation of the representation of the four cardinal points, the four evangelists, the four living beings with God. In the apocalypse "the 5th and 6th" originate cataclysm and the "sixth" a vision of hope, the "seventh" the trumpets. The "six" denotes imperfection but one is missing to reach seven which is perfection; this last number in Hebrew is called "Sheba"; "twelve refers to the 12 tribes of Israel" (Jacob) (16), to the 12 apostles. If we make a calculation of the twelve tribes of Israel we also have to make it of the 12 sons of Ishmael that we can also consider them as twelve tribes. Which is equivalent to two pairs of 12 or 24; this last number multiplied by 2 is equal to 48 and 12 times 12 equals 144. Here we can continue calculating the multiples of 10 and 4 and thus group figures to give them interpretations. The number 1,000 would be the general idea of ​​a great number, the 1,000 years of the confinement of the dragon. Observe the negative aspect of some numbers that do not appear in the texts on "numerology" "King David, goes on the seventh Giga Camel, that there are five that are missing from the camels of the twelve (he being on the seventh) to get to mount the last one before they reach Bethlehem. "the 5th and the 6th" would originate a cataclysm but also glimmers of hope when they hit the sixth, and this could happen in multiple ups and downs in the lands of the birthright that saw both Jesus and King David born. The raison d'être of this Davidian way is Davidian Way He says: "Being on Mount Zion below the subsoil I imbued my proportion to my cenotaph asking to be my rest here or another. In the Old Testament, it says that I was buried with my ancestors in the City of David. Archaeological ramblings and excavations place my City south of the Temple Mount and not on Mount Zion where my current tomb is located. My city was the original settlement that became Jerusalem, they have searched for me in excavations of the City of Davidiana but they have not discovered my Tomb. Some have thought that I was buried in Bethlehem..., my city is also known as the Davidian Way,... but they look for me in excavations in Bethlehem and they do not exhume me from my grave. On Mount "Sion is my spirit" that looks for the Messiah still by some stairway that indicates looking at us both as humans..., both as kings but He is my true King. Here the pious and spiritual boat of Bethsaida had to pass as a consort in the Miracle of Pentecost that took place in the same place where the Last Supper was celebrated, the washing of the feet of the Disciples, the Meeting of the Disciples after the Ascension of our Jesus, Apparitions of the Risen Jesus and the Election of St. Matthias as an apostle, which was located in a high room on Mount Zion. He could be found in many places, but where I have wanted to prevail his well-deserved and welcoming place shared with me is in the Cenacle near me in my Tomb where he celebrated his first Eucharist. And now especially that I am on the seventh Giga camel hoping to reach the five that are missing to achieve the twelve that are missing beyond the cataclysm of the five that remain to get the twelve. That by equivalence it should have a correlation with my numeral year of my birthright 1040 BC and by a factor of multiplicity that if we make a calculation of the twelve tribes of Israel we also have to do it of the 12 sons of Ishmael that we can also consider them as twelve tribes. Which is equivalent to two pairs of 12 or 24; this last number multiplied by 2 is equal to 48 and 12 times 12 equals 144 as an arcane and secret measure of the edification of creation. Here we can continue projecting my work as a geometer calculating the multiples of 10 and 4 and thus group figures to give them interpretations of the size and measure that unites me and separates me from the Messiah."

Filled with a great piece from the cruise through the sands and the Judean desert, They were almost asleep in the hemispheres of each region that waited and recirculated with the energies of the desert. With its shifting landscapes, constant limestone hills between canyons of deep Philistine souls, with rivers and oases like Nahal David. They marked the passage of the camelids and the hydric solitude that dominated their fictitious vegetation. King David as the seventh horseman went far from those who opened fences at the tip of the anvil of the caravan. He felt moved to release the clothes from the cenotaph... from him, perhaps entering the Eucharistic pavilion that resembled his open mouth; He as a Young King was proclaimed, and he remembered when he was active in reacting to retaliation to scare off the Philistines, with his namesake Saul. They used to raid herds and fertile agricultural land, for which David begged the Lord what he should do in the land of Adullam? the Lord spoke to him and told him: "Let him rise up and destroy them", he did so and rushed over them thus beginning his reign of liberation from these barbarians. As they made their way to Bethlehem, the King felt that something was missing to fuel the atmosphere of his return to his homeland. Since then from the sky descended a flock of migratory birds that joined him when he fed the abdomen of the desert attracting six hundred Hula Cranes. King David whistled copiously which attracted lake birds creating an atmosphere of trance. Here time stopped and it rained softly sweet water with messages of love and everlasting avian hubbub. He recalled six hundred Cranes like the ones that sheltered them when the Philistine troops escaped, taking refuge in the cave of Adulam. Everything seemed scarce biometrics of the arid event in an arid destination. All embedded in the vegetation of xerophytic thickets and exegetical brambles that lit up with calypso color at each shoot of the past millennium in its early biblical time, when they approached the vicinity of the valley near Bethlehem near Beit Jala, erosive processes were imposed with meta desert factors of vile landscapes. Aeolian Eolionimia tramontane winds were falling on his Tekhelet, letting himself fall from the relevant heights with cranes with gravitating mud on their ends, with gravel from colonized riverbanks of the rocky Hamada desert areas, three fossil birds were climbing the rays that reflected the crown of two Kings to meet at Bethlehem. Arriving at the sacred native city and beginning in Christmas choirs and passion for the faint whistle on the twelve Giga camels, they venerated the hemispheres of energy prayer that insufflate from the eternal walk of the guide of their breathing wounding them as migratory birds of a series of fraternal cranes that invited him to be confused with the whistle of the divine Solano solar wind that calmed and stimulated the enormous breezes to warn the villagers of his enormous arrival together with the Apostle Saint John, converted into dusty fissures in quarries of the surroundings, where they stopped their work and deposited another rebuild in another temple with a greater whistle than a Sheba Dean.Shavuot Messiah; Shavuot is the second of the three pilgrimage festivals of Judaism (the others are Passover, Passover, and Sukkot..., which is walking in the desert after leaving Egypt). The Hexagonal Primogen took seven weeks through the desert and the Holy Land to reach the target that is Bethlehem. It would coincide with Shavuot; with bucolic meaning corresponding to the time of the year in which in Israel in particular the first fruits are collected. This is why the holiday is also called the Feast of First Fruits. During the festival, it is customary to eat dairy products, accompanied by the seven characteristic species of Israel, based on yogurt, honey, fruits, vegetables, and spices. In the existence of seven in their camelids is the vibration of their fruits and spiritual messages. The Shepherd and His Flock According to tradition, the area located to the east of the city, belongs to the fields of the shepherds, "they only keep watch in the dark for the shepherds who are in the field." Several churches have been built to commemorate this event. Even today local shepherds can be seen tending their flocks in the same area (even on Christmas Eve). The relevance of this land of herds is the conclave of this brotherhood, Saint John the Apostle, King David, Vernarth, and the retinue of animals plus Eurydice. They are beings of light that come to pick up spikes and sheaves, the seeds of the gramineous environment that surrounds historical vibrations of dissolution of resurgent energies from all corners. Despite being a thousand-year-old Canaanite city, this city now has the visit of this conclave that is going to loosen the chains that had been folded in its geomorphic genesis. Here the memory of the seeds and spikes are impregnated with the "Lady of Light" made and made of the divine seed that feeds generational infants, whose silence generously retransmits all those who will give birth to pain and all those who memorize your gesture. Mother, Parents, and children will go through the past of a farm that only admits one seed "Gleaning his Divine example". Flooding and spreading beyond all limited expansive creation of the Marian World. Before approaching the confines of the village, Archangel Uriel becomes aware saying: "Gramineous Consort..., herbaceous Shavuot divider Spike between races, lineage and family, typology, lineage and hyper gender... Here lies your superfamily thickening ancestral in daily sheep...energetic molecular matter..., golden passers-by flowers of Sutra thorns, glucose polymer molecule, herbal and decreed perennial network...vascular bio Mariah..., graminaceous chopped stems..., crowns to the precept! striated Angiosperma, the tabernacle, prevented weeks of your veil and hoarse ritual...Bethlehem..., on veiled feet, golden tornado wind....extreme advance..., carrying flowers to your Messiah, re-blooming womb, scales and pitch collapsed on your candle..., varnish between milky honey... traditional ancestral embryo... full holistic, skillful milk and aloe-myelin and consummate Messiah..., pheromone teaching nativity..., rescinded to Nacer. Here is your Shavuot Hexagonal Architectural Primogeniture where nothing is born and nothing dies, mutualism roar great prayer of subspecies... high-sounding and metabolizing Big Bang..., intra-species, specimen Guru-intuitions, Sheets in beads..., between Ruth's fingers and her uninhabited herds, Druid plant ficus..., sagebrush, plain rock, and rainy past weaving, Here below you I double its wool in July... Sheaves of wool that undress, Brave Period and histo-weaving tillage..., fateful hunger and cotyledon... Bread on tiles of your altar; germ to satiate..., awning to heirs to plunder...A quarter of your barley toast..., will prostrate itself fascinated supposedly in a rooted basket, Junco discerning in thunder, pseudo-diaphragms reflowered millennia, perfect Sheba of Seven knotty and amplified trumpets between the eye of the Universe... thousand-year-old Reed roots on the back of my hanging donkey distilling in the confines, affirming themselves still and tremulous of ogre sheaves..., restless Davidian affirming themselves in secondary roots..., in bifurcated grass lights,... in empty Davidian center, through the Davidian center big bang space of Bethlehem, Messiah..., ear of the Lady of Light...! between prayers of forty and more to the right..., multi germinating." ... in the empty Davidian center, through the big bang space Davidian center of Bethlehem, Messiah..., a spike of the Lady of Light...! between prayers of forty and more to the right..., multi germinating." ... in the empty Davidian center, through the big bang space Davidian center of Bethlehem, Messiah..., the spike of the Lady of Light...! between prayers of forty and more to the right..., multi germinating."

Saint John the Apostle is frozen by this senso-oratory, lengthened his phonetics, his words, and accents, making himself almost unintelligible as he tried to record himself and imitate what the archangel recited. The slopes that formed a beautiful valley moved to the opposite ones. The verses transmuted clarified energies, caloric and meteorological, the wells of the oasis sites that dwelt for millennia lit up like rubies in a Pingala aphorism, resurfacing in borders that adorned the presence of visitors. With energy channels and energy wheels, they traveled like turbines to the left brain of Bethlehem where north and south intersected vertically, pouring out the Prana that threatens the storm of the intellect, which sleeps what awakens in the port angle of North and South. Thus Bethlehem received visitors who entered with their ungulates, faking being nomadic mountains on camels that prowl in random sedentary circles. Shofar and Asherah, already set, begin to direct their destiny to the heart of the Nativity area where their origins and areas of the omnipresent West Bank strip were. They entered with strong winds clinging to their bristling camelids, everything had the atmosphere of a city as if it had never been inhabited. The fringes in floods of the sun were distinguished orange-reddish weakened before storm gradients from the Red Sea and the Mediterranean placating the Hexagonal primogeniture. Although squalls were appreciated with agile movements in the local atmosphere, several layers crossed with the inheritance of Persian cloths in colorful blues and orange tints coming from the red sea and the quarrelsome storms of Asherah "The mother of all the gods", and He who was the "father of the gods". Known among the Babylonians as Ishtar originally called Athirat (or Afdirad). She is the great Semitic goddess of fertility. In the Bible it receives the name of Ashtoreth, a distorted pronunciation of the original 'Astart by including the vowels of the Hebrew word boset (shame) according to the custom of the rabbis, to discredit the pagan divinities. Asherah from the Bronze Age (before 1200 BC) The Greek form is Astarte. Astarte was considered the "goddess of the Sidonians". In the Amarna Letters, she is Ashirtu and Ashratu. The Ras Shamra texts identify Asherah ('atrt = atirat) with El's goddess wife; they call her "Lady Asherah of the Sea" and "progenitor of the goddesses", here she would be the mother of these discredited Babylonian forms caused discomfort and discomfort in the face of a living past and present in the intangibility of inheritances that greet others that could supplant them. This caused heating of the ground in the podiums or legs of the animals with an abnormality of the Greek-Babylonian wormwood prostrated at the feet of Asherah, leaving an odorous atmosphere of wormwood in the land of two native Kings of this jurisdiction, attracting dissipation on the roofs of some surrounding houses to the precise place where the Messiah saw the light of lights and those who waited for him together lighting him with candlesticks. This sacred wind caressed everyone's hands and insinuated them to take charge of the new Bethlehem, a vicissitude that was being reborn with the illustrious visit of the Apostle. His consolations were dilated as any caravan that increased its predictive volume equalizing the pressures of the air that surrounded the streets where no one appeared and was seen generically. This centrifugal force rotated their terrestrial spirits, originating the birth of a great thickness of crazy gases that populated the roofs of the village. Thus creating greater weight and highlighting the freshness of essences that were torn from the soil with the aroma of grazing, explaining to themselves the presence of sub-areas in the West Bank and insolating redemption of the arrival towards formal merit contrasted by the gesture of being staying next to this at night, and varying many times until bringing them the holy sacrosanct condensed water, deregulating the thermal sensation.The density and buoyancy of the animals' legs made it difficult for them to select the right moment to stop and dismount. The aerial relief that went up and down went up on the walls of a few rooms linked to the nativity stable, pressing on them the adjacent words that were allied from the ground to soon arrive in an ascending spiral converted into light and wind on the seventh horseman; King David, appearing to them right there..., right there before Him his Abigail, the third wife who gave him an advanced reconception by presenting him with an altar that will endow eucharistic missions during his admission to Bethlehem. On the gradient that led to the hill of the stable, an unexpected phenomenon swirls around them, affecting their vision and consequences, rotating them all to the rear of the original access to the stable. Converging winds on the ground and upper external part of the stable and causing an anticipated shine of the space that would prolong them to under-understand that they had already arrived but were still seven hundred meters from the main access and that the city was not Bethlehem, but another that seemed to emerge from the arid soil next to the stable, dividing into inter-strips that rubbed against the original and current ones, in such a way as to generate a great development of the subsoil on the vertical that sounded stentorian and vibrating as if in a long stay on the distributed assistants in this supra abnormal regime. They arrive exempt from grievances but dismounting gentiles..., the sixth piece of crowns of Kafersesuh bringing the fertilizations of the Ibico Ring 6, for the central stage of investiture under the shadows of Hellenika and Theoskepasti, where everything will be endowed with the greater Ibix called Wonthelimar together with Leiak. David speaks: "When I approached Moab, I asked for asylum in the protection of my parents..., so I myself would burst the eardrums of the Philistines for each rugged network of links that join me in sponsoring my counterattack advance towards their domains. In their unknown territories of the enemy appears before me a noble and friendly joy; Abigail, who fills the history of my land with beauty before the very son of a cruel Canaanite; Nabal. She enriches my lands more than the entire multiplied population of animals every time I count the units, I look into her eyes and forget the greater amount that moves her heart towards me because of that I did not spill blood on the house of Nabal. Being Abigail is the one that replaces my union with the Faith that moves my passion. Abigail then kneels and touches the ground where he was making the sign of the cross after assigning a cross kissing his hands, on his forehead and chest. Thus, from somewhere her parents reorganized the garments to ravish Vernarth for the bi-connected purging of him with that of David and the Messiah-Vernarth. As in the Jericho tale, Alikanto, Raeder, and Petrobus galloped around the periphery of the citadel, with the full force of the steed's Golden hooves kicking up liquid and dust from the Bethlehem water tables. Alikantus did not carry an amount on his back..., he carried an Áspis koilé of the Vernarth Hoplite. resume their advances in buttresses to build the walls, that they had to mediate to weaken Asherah's overtures to disagree with the citadel borders. The Apostle, Etrestles, and Vernarth blew the shofars as many times as they gloated the perimeter of the city, and they believed that there would be more rounds..., on the divan was the Shofar that could sound more times and louder, it was intact..., but it ran to blowing it Vernarth not leaving a single drop of air looking at the sky that would appear with three bright stars filling the anxiety and attachment to break the Easter bread for everyone. But it was not that effect it was the astral echo of King David's Betelgeuse that emanated with his breath also helping to raise the walls that would protect him from staunch invasions of the lackeys of Asherah. In such a way that the partitions were raised until reaching the governorships of the words of the watchman angel who coordinated everyone saying: Watchman Angel: "For us the partitions, for you the roofs, on the heights the limits will mediate and on their Shofar they will define to Asherah, without any city where to go and come" Such exordium is fulfilled and Bethlehem is surrounded by golden barreled partitions rising in remarkable walls and heights to placate the roaring winds of the Canaanites as in Jericho but the other way around, where they succumbed to the mandate divine to allow them to settle in the thousand-year-old town hall. Finally, they remove the twelve camelids from the ante circle that did not allow them to settle in the settlement, managing to settle down to revive a bi-natality and double reign of whose splendor only the luminances of the Messiah and King David embracing them will speak. From the extramural continents they remain desolate, they revive the pristine and angelic countenance of Abigail bringing dinner and a fetish Shofar to each one of the components of the Hexagonal Birthright that began to continue the seven weeks in Judah. The legacies of Magraner"Punica granatum" were bushes that appeared to them in the focus of the micro center of the fire, entering with some tenuous and sinuous branched thorns getting muddy coming down from the tassels of the Shofar feeding the curiosity of all those who were encamped surrounding a fire full of sounds with new positions of devout pupil sounds of high Jewish principalities, cordoning off objects of the Apostle Saint John who shared it with Etréstles..., giving sonorous instrumentalizations to rams that came around them... looking for ravens that jumped on their heads. Due to the binding and cracking of the shofars, in the opposite works of luminosity, the bonfires hung over the same faces of the wise counselors who unfolded them with their young shiny branches and sheaths before others underexposed yellowish-greenish with obtuse apexes. Resigning shallow marginalized exceptions, polygons of pre-flowering and shofar-formed on valves that escaped from ashes of shutters that were detached from the last fleeting flame of each minute running to the right. Everyone collected the nectars that the legates poured into chalices, drinking them lying down to swallow them while reclining and being able to look at the stars that emerged from albiceleste flavors, rinsing the arms of each one by touching them with the shofar like petioles stems on the seven ruminants that sought to recover what they had they made heavenly sounds about themselves.  Etrestles says: rinsing the arms of each one by blowing them with the shofar as petioles stem on the seven ruminants that sought to recover what they made a sound about themselves celestial. Etrestles says: "When the shofar speaks, past pastorals speak inside and outside the community, the most outlined has been to understand it as a trumpet of bony projection; that is to say, formed by a bony and pointed matter that is born from the frontal bone sealed by a layer of keratin that forms an aerophone horn cover. The horns of Moses come from a translation of the original biblical text perpetrated by Saint Jerome. When Moses descends from Mount Sinai, where he met with God, "the skin of his face had become radiant" says the Bible (Ex 34, 29-30). In the original Hebrew the verb "to radiate", and "to emit rays" is from the same root as the noun "horns" so Saint Jerome did not think twice and translated: "cornuta esset facies sua", or that is, "his face was cuckolded".Taking into account its timbre and sound quality here with you, it is not difficult to associate it with the sound and with the golden patina simulating Messolonghi's fingers..., which three by three-piston their bone reaches linking in some ways of beauty, goodness, clarity, brightness, and stories that will accompany us in this bonfire between these raised walls to level the vaults of the Messiah's nativity cries. Calibrations and catechesis on the real moment of his symbolic Lineage at dawn awake and alive, with waves of graceful voices with goat hosts reordering the urban matrix of the erected town..., everything will be at the expense of surrounding us and pouring out the voices shuffled with the shofar to protect us from Asherah in his eagerness to move us away from the fundamental site." Vernarth intervenes: "In this passage it is clear the capacity that the shofar..., and the sound produced by him with our similar voices being amalgamated with him, bawling and modifying the environment to a polyvalent physical dimension. Now we are a herald of goodness, beauty, and reconstruction, part of a noticeable dialectic to neighboring Canaanite cultures as a sudden reconversion between what was built and what is about to be founded even if something were to disappear in it. The wall was rebuilt in reality surrounding all of them beyond the golden light of the shofar producing today's creation and not devastation, encapsulating kingdoms in wisdom and lucubration..., this is where we have all come from the return of didactic cultural forms independently to attract us towards his teachings in an anonymous converted world with the purpose of reconverting itself into a solemn alert that precedes us.



Paraps XXVI

Messiah of Judah III part

Miracle IV- Baptistery

Stressed knowing that he was on a hill reserved for the beautiful settlement and elevations to the east of Bethlehem, he understood to facilitate the unusual lighting. stress; Leader of the Koumeterium Messolonghi felt that after thousands of years of his life in this Holy Land a great value of omnipresence. The Miracle of Christian protocol would begin with him paying for votes and tributes in the Church of the Shepherd's Countryside. In this rock of special mysticism, "He begins his rebirth in his tenth life before there were nine in Messolonghi (Koumeterium Messolonghi-Editorial Palibrio USA). A miracle happens that transships him to caverns that would transport him from the oldest of the past nine cycled epics in Kalavrita, Kalidona, Patmos and Messolonghi. Here he will come face to face with past lives, in The Fountain of the Shepherds,   in this analogous with allegorical motifs commemorating the shepherds and their flock by those who crown this fountain, having before our eyes the sculpture of the shepherd and under his feet floral motifs such as palm leaves, heads of cattle, sheep, and ducks in the act of drinking. In this hexagonal source it is equated with the Hexagonal Primogeniture, here is the miracle that would come to arise to reunite with the intangible Creation and Illumination as clothing. They thought they were closer to the village... but in reality, they were three and a half kilometers from the village itself, in a fenced compound with a wide path that runs through the park on the hill between trees and lush flowers that clearly evoke the place where those First-century shepherds brought their sheep to graze. We were all dozing off when certain royal decagonal sounds would transport us through the church..., on its decagonal plan, it appeared surrounded by four chapels and the apse that houses the altar, covered by a large dome of mortar and glass that lets in, illuminating the altar as it did. the guiding star that pointed the way to the shepherds. Here the murals that protected us from the hosts of Asherah had already disappeared. Most likely, they were keeping vigil over us with great chandeliers as they opened up in swamps from the sclerae of our desolder eyes. We were trapped by the quagmire created by Raeder and Petrobus in opaque clouds of sheep manure spilling through the corridors of the unknown worlds of climactic grazing. We went to its structure and over the entrance door, we saw the angel of the annunciation and above it, a singular bell tower incorporating us into the façade through three relaxed arches. Inside the beautiful fertile field from a marble church in two colors, some spaces could be emphasized, to which the columns that support the roof also contribute. The chapels are adorned with precious frescoes that represent scenes of the annunciation to the shepherds and arrival at the birth and altar table that is supported by the sculptures of four angels above all with the appearance of the hexagonal primogeniture between these angular stones. That hexagonal and polygonal effect in both parts were intra-excavated from their own vertices, They crossed a straight line from the north in a double semicircle that was concentric in the precise diameter of the equatorial inscribed in the central circular bleat that a sheep lactated..., here the shepherds arrive and receive them with great hospitality in symmetrical affability, shaking them with their shofar. over their songs and tunics..., each one was blessed by the nascent air of the other more than a steppe grazed by ruminants and palliated mouths. Twelve degrees to the right in the sixth wick of the Menorah, a regular silhouette was lit, becoming this intangible whose thirst makes them drink water from a hexagon well much more equidistant than walking between themselves, moving their hands with all the urgent emotions and dynamizing numb emotions that would vibrate from the third angle by clothing them with vertices of light that shone from the convex morning. There were six complex roots equating each other on the regulated plane of animals, which were parked near the medium stone walls where Raeder would climb to run over the walls, standing out more with each side in which the same forms of expression could be appreciated, embraced and emphasized. those who could decide to generate a rebirth of two kings and that of Etréstles by an internal lighting hex. Close to the church, colorful caves can be seen in the calcareous rock that dated back to the fateful Herodian era, denoting some surprising utensils found, of which we know their mission of the chapel when the diocese was founded.

Etréstles, receives a luminescent self-radiation immediately from caring and guiding as it has always been, but now in a tenth luminescent life in living connected to its own cisterns. An enjoy approaches him showing him his paw..., the curious thing is that this dog had six fingers, there he was convinced that it was his generous shepherd and that he would take him through internal labyrinths of his lighting by the sixth finger to help more unwary and unconscious beings that illuminate and grant subconscious existence in pumps that have lost their law in affront and self-rebellion. His sedition would begin with the substitution of grass so as not to depend, but rather to maximize them in the cavity of their stomachs, so he began to wander through the hills seeing how all his sheep fed on dry land, without any water source.

Raeder ran along with the cover of the stone walls, Petrobus turned around the perimeter of the inert time of the upper ledge, and the camelids raised their shining legs filling the herbaceous pastes in their timbal snouts, Alikanto sensed that only three kilometers away he was already presenting himself. the stable where they could surrender to the intubating silence and the innocence of a super little one who came and appeared..., knowing everything. All animals eliminated pastoral toxins and pheromones being free from enterotoxemia, distributed from the soil and the gastrointestinal tract of the youngest, not appearing in the holy ovine soil with the bactericidal absence of Hexagonal Primognitura. the pheromones in this chapel it was assimilating between special olfactory glands that would reign. They would fan the wings and its bursting abdomen, rubbing it on the roof of the prominent chapel like a domestic beehive. They would exchange the oral use of the inaugural soil to receive them in the animal creation controlling the cells of the chapel and segregating the maintenance of the backward world. The mandibular pheromones could be seen falling to the slab of the church, becoming sticky as they progressed to and from everyone's entrance. The pheromones of the sheep created recruitments of the others in the integument of each cognitive inflection plotting them to enter the baptistery, something like that would never have been possible, this was a great miracle in the rebirth of Etréstles when they could enter their own womb..., they lay down on Etréstles passing over his abdomen generating honey from his own mouth, giving the pheromone of the sheep when transiting and of the bees that provided him in his abdominal cell. Chemo Neurons and receptors renewed would be in charge of expanding circulating olfactory lines, causing an electro transmission of energy never seen before. Everything happens as a result of the metamorphosis of Etrésltes and his hairy clothing often lives on the backs of neurochemicals filling him through the largest lobe of the winch, which he had and carried in his hands and which he had requisitioned from the nearby mill of the ancient Christians who lived there. The apostle says: "Each verse..., a molecule, each surface a new system..., each membrane..., the rebellion of stimuli..., energy chain, sensitive organism..., neural axon, physiology, six hexagonal angles Pastors and Primogeniture creating together with a new genetics of harmonious existence that does not tire the sight of the Creator, seeing how everyone has fun in the garden of their house" The baptistery has a hexagonal base, which coincides with the primogeniture, since it is based on six anthropoid-zoomorphic elements, missioning after the vestige of memories of the Messiah, whose doctrinal base will predominate the exiled Apostle who miraculously returns to be close in the church of the shepherds with six angles that concentrate their escort, towards a single center of the tabernacle that will be reborn in the figure of Etréstles de Kalavrita. Vertnarth says: "Blessed light of luminescent glories that you have made of today that nothing ends in nothing..., everything begins..., this plan transfigures the purge that takes longer than the light that does not turn on from the darkness surrendered before its vassals. Now king tomorrow vassal, now sun tomorrow darkness. Nothing produces pain only temporary blindness, what hurts the most is exposing your face to death and your mind, In Ein Karem, two ears in spring besieged Etréstles falling asleep on the cross that was in the bell tower, could not wake up the next day among molded bronzes. He had had excruciating nightmares that prevented him from waking up. This is how he describes the dream: "I was heading towards some heights of Ein Karem when I was going near some hills near said city, some Roman Praetorian soldiers appeared to me and arrested me. Suddenly I woke up after having recovered from the severe beating they gave me, they interrogated me again, and they put half of my naked body in the middle of the body of an underground cistern, trapping me towards it by the enormous ice that was distributed in my body. They told me that they only wanted to test my resistance to water in this cistern to test my Hellenic Constitution by resisting darkness and high low temperatures as a Hellenic foreigner in Hebrew lands. Well, I was always very intrigued by everything but there came a moment when a luminescent light settled on my head in Ein Karem..., it was Isabel, the mother of John the Baptist telling me that there was a path where I could escape. At the moment that the guard came towards me, she surprises him with a viper that stings his hand..., quickly escaping the guard. Surprised I ventured to escape but when I was far from the cistern I returned to thank Isabel, I found myself face to face with the viper that was nested in the rags left by Santa Isabel..., Likewise, in the textile fringes, the viper uncoiled biting me in my right hand. So I had to leave quickly and go find Kanti who was waiting for me in a suspicious meadow. Precisely he took me to the edge of a bush where he pulled me close and with his snout he licked all the poison out of me. So he woke me up in the bell tower of the baptistery in the spring with the ears of a steed." Continuous parapsychological regression: I had been left alone in the hexagonal radier, full of brambles dressed in tides that fell from the bell tower on my wound. They had all left because they couldn't find me. Immediately Kanti took me by the hand and put me on his back, to go to Ein Karem; the Land of the threshold of John the Baptist. We headed to an important Christian site which was the birthplace of John the Baptist. Everywhere grace abounds on every fence, wall, and path, we rode through the alleys for hours until my wound healed enjoying my prayers while riding on my beloved Kanti. I felt that the left ear of my sorrel when walking without a shadow, showed me the essence of a prepubescent who had been born in this village, where his mother, Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, became pregnant and gave birth miraculously. Here, before this same lure, the restless right ear of my beloved Kanti told me that there was another child who was in his mother's womb; Mariah who was also pregnant with Jesus, and for this reason the village well is now called Mariah's Well and its waters are considered canonized. Kanti's parable: "By moving my ears forward I see our comrades around here near and behind, and in yourself, I love healing your wound. Now I will continue with my ears ***** and flattened back, making myself invisible to the Praetorians who want to target you with their leprous tongues." So I will continue with my advanced antennas forward and well dilated to hear the good steps of our comrades. Likewise, Alikanto kept his gaze on some pomegranate trees that stood out on the stone wall at the bottom of Ein Karem, while the chestnut advanced, he mobilized the base of his ears. When he felt allergy in his forehead and in the arched anatomy like super Kanti. In the domestication of him and in the use that Etréstles gave him after long days of the war, his steed had a tendency to suffer stretch marks at the supra muscular-osseous level. Showy macule like this, but not in his anatomy of immortal Equus as an external anatomical and physiological steed. Here the membranes of his cardiovascular apparatus are opened, separating him from divided Cretan and quadruple blue blood, turning in his Lazikos dance with hyper-oxygenated airs locked in the Ganymede sprouts when he was kidnapped from Mount Ida. In his exile he took care of sheep..., Zeus looked at him out of the corner of his eye and his own bled..., Zeus fell in love with him on the spot and sent him the eagle, "Which Kanti has interpreted here as the blow of Saint John the Evangelist missioning his telepathic vibrations through the corridor of the monastic cell on Patmos. Knowing that this steed and namesakes are of origin from super ventilated atmospheres and foggy areas of the northern coast of Crete. Calling himself that, about stunned himself..., about the serpents that snake sparkling from religious Hellenic mythology, between Chthonic gods or spirits of the underworld, opposing the celestial deities. The timpani telluric tremors of the hexagonal tectonics would merge with those of the chapel of the shepherds and that of their percentage share in Etréstles, of a sixth portion of the sixfold Hexagonal primogeniture. The steed's morphology resembled that of Ein Karem in super-ordered hoofed limbs like those of a mammalian placental, walking in the cracks of the quivering fingerprints of its odd footsteps. Etréstles says: "His head is the same as mine..., neck and trunk, the sigil on his pyramidal neck in which he could read the Torah. The technical nasal orifices of it are beautiful straps surrounding the headgear, touching his weariness beyond the vigor of finding him in a place of sherbet of the cisterns after having dealt with the leather that pulls his pair of smooth ears, over the blind spots maneuvering in the cove of his beautiful Cretan poetry being like that too when blue smoke smoked from Hestia's orphaned chimney. Fine trapezoid grace where her neck nails the circumlocution of her knee and the gauntlet of her inseminations and straight mane regenerating and blocking the rays of Zeus in the concave cups of Ganymede spraying them on her beard and mouth the liquor of sober trickery. I continue in the balance of so many battles won, with my Xiphos and Áspis Koilé,... beyond fearful purges that allow us to find ourselves around the corner in front of Vernarth, waiting for us to shelter Kanti's ears in Ein Karem. " They left Ein Karem after having had the vision of the Mount of Temptations even being far from the place. Grouped together again and looking at each other, she saw that his face was rejuvenated, putting his Herodian gestures in the company of King Davidian.The Messiah was born, a King without a castle or subject knowing that children under one year old are attacked by plagues or sacrifices. Messiah King of the dying world compresses for what bleeds the divine blood from him. A trifle of Messiah in each one speaking with their eyes after looking at several roofs without their own roofs, all serene,... without blemish in the middle of their faces in the violet iridescence, sounds and choral masteries that emerged from the surface in flocks of white from the Azores islands, they rained multiplying on their wings before arriving at the mass of the annunciation near the stable. Vernarth arrives and sees people gathered with their heads together and holding hands, others holding the bells of animals to hear the sweet voice of the little boy rippling like cotton in the harvest from the braying of a colt that dozed in the shade of its parents before eating. Vernarth puts down his sword Xiphos and genuflects and crosses himself with the hand that allowed him to move his fingers against his right Lynothorax wounded in battle. He makes a metallic cross sign by crossing his swords with water flooding the sidewalks of ultimate dazzled ideologies. One day he wandered away from the alleys of Emmaus where he had visions of Praetorians discovering idolatrous moods and scents of a newly arrived child from the white clouds of an approaching stable. Vernarth puts down his sword Xiphos and genuflects and crosses himself with the hand that allowed him to move his fingers against his right Lynothorax wounded in battle. He makes a metallic cross sign by crossing his swords with water flooding the sidewalks of ultimate dazzled ideologies. One day he wandered away from the alleys of Emmaus where he had visions of Praetorians discovering idolatrous moods and scents of a newly arrived child from the white clouds of an approaching stable. Vernarth puts down his sword Xiphos and genuflects and crosses himself with the hand that allowed him to move his fingers against his right Lynothorax wounded in battle. He makes a metallic cross sign by crossing his swords with water flooding the sidewalks of ultimate dazzled ideologies. One day he wandered away from the alleys of Emmaus where he had visions of Praetorians discovering idolatrous moods and scents of a newly arrived child from the white clouds of an approaching stable.Intrepid and with light-years, he came crawling in his arms with his crown traveling from the smallest space that relieves the world in a Templar, first-time and omega period, with the appearance of being born by all. Perfect and newly born with frequency blue body, blood, and eyes. Covered with gummy gelatinous substances..., anti-Herodian; seeming to save others with their small hands of the divine womb, which manage to enter the heart of God, even having fingers that do not reach the edges of God. It never seems strange to him, only that his ***** seems to never come out of him. But it is spontaneous, he sparkles outside the womb of his holy mother with the immersed placenta in the prayers of the induced shepherd of the womb of the ****** Mariah that great arms shelter the orchards to surround all those present in birth that seemed like that of a donkey's ******, who could raise his son to be King of consecrated animals as well as few making dalliances to the right of the resident Menorah getting up early. Vernarth says: What are we to expect?...the vigil...with his shoulders hunched and his head pointed north of Jerusalem this little king bent on his pre-fetal knees, after nine candles to the right of the troubled Menorah. Even though the midwife who helped the puerperal Mariah was not premature and they distanced her from the halo parenthesis that playfully changed where to put herself, close to her saintly interior, that is, triggering the powers of phosphorescence. Self-creating a thick but light layer of psyche that would make him already independent of José and Mariah...and if they weren't! His fists since childhood had signs of a stigma when he was just unborn and not born, azure flames came out of his hands lighting up the eyes of his dazed parents. Rabbi's golden machine lactated seriously when her mother slept, she didn't allow him to see her conscious of her drawing intra-lactations of the lymph from her entrails, whose gothic light ****** the dominant Magnificat of the Vulgate. He ****** on the object to take her lactation and her left hand to space it out to all who wanted to go into meta-object lullabies. Thus, her thumb and finger are introduced into her mouth, pressing them on her startled palate at the braying of the graceful donkey. All those present took with their hands the others with their own thumbs, returning to their childhood cycles just laying down in the manger. At that moment, far from feeling the imagines walking near the fields of vision, shiny noble metals..., their candelabra eyes dazzled as if they were brothers. Here he moves his arms copiously as if wanting to fly from there, with the vigor of her winged mother, to follow her beyond a tender left-handed Golgotha ​​deception. That he kept the pendulum coming and going from one arm below the other as he turned on top of her, embracing her lush maternal hand. His early nervous system was celebrating on the back of the colt, highlighted with rags in temples that he imagines to be sacral effluvium in waters on the flat beef, the camel and Raeder and the Petrobus Pelican and other animals that were on their knees smiling with their hands glued to each other all sweet to the right of the sweet nectar of the Magnificat. All the excited animals still trembled with emotion on the demure ground of this alpha biblical moment, all imitate the trembling animals but each of the adults who were there hugged the hands of each animal and child present as a sign of giving comfort to the parents together to their children who seemed to be already an adult saying goodbye to their birth. His scaly breathing was full of anagrams of Magnificat, they used to trace analgesic sources of the dream of seeing him between golden and straw fistulas of grasses breathing next to him. The voices were felt from outside of those who could not enter of glory and breath without equal of the rancor of the world distracted in a piece of tin and hardened hearts, now resplendent from seeing so much sleep looking at them and drowsily yawning in a golden child. When they breathed her glory, they followed the patterns of the priestess Deborah, who for some normalized her feminism and strength as a mother breathing the libertarian history and matron of a nation that should have been born in a Judah stable. Mary and Joseph were distracted every second looking at him, they felt that the Messiah grew too much, worrying them about this strange unreality. They breathed more than their own son seeing him without breathing that they had to do it in the garden of the man who allowed him to do it today. As long as it took their parents to distract themselves, Saint John says: "Godson and Man, the priest made Pope..., the minors run after the elders, the bible for more apostles so that they swell and spread it, that the gospels add more pages and favorite editions. Prochorus; you who are...in some seat of Patmos prepare sacred parchments with thick corpulent ink..., which will reach your cell and seat. Studies..., something wrong...? An anointed Christ needs us to write for him because his hands are asthmatic in the words and in the inspiration that you move all the pages of the world reading them scattered and disserted,....in each well and each step was son and man, where king and mother and where each mother has to dry the cloying slime that dries up the mystery of having her white and emaciated. Let him sleep, perhaps when he wakes up he will meet a Messiah who will never stop being in his arms.

Kafersuseh. One-Dimensional Beams

More than two thousand years ago there was a mischievous infant who looked and looked curiously at the beams when he was born in Bethlehem..., especially ones that crossed! This happened in the polarity of the magnetic stable of Bethlem in a portal on adjoining hills that received him overflowing. This glorious empowered looked at the beams that wore ingenious crosses, seeing himself there being still an unborn he knew that when he was born he would already leave this unborn universe. Above the trusses that riveted the frame, he approached with his lonely gaze above the roof being able to see some beings of light organizing a Eucharist on the roof of his stable two thousand years ago that could be more than an edict that he would inaugurate the sagacity of caring for and giving newborns what many wanted to see but few knew who he really was, even having no record of him or his lineage lost in the middle of the strips of hay. Says the Messiah: "A few minutes ago, or more than two thousand years ago...? I counted the times that the Res waggled its tail, and I realized that he already had selected visions in Kafersuseh, higher than the ceiling of the beams..., in the sunroom, some outcasts also visit me, reborn and loving. It even has to be detected that someone came from far away but arrived late, I was only able to observe him know how to join him to my pariah criteria. He was tidying up the altar receiving orders from the unsupportable upward hardwood scaffolding telling him so; "That everyone is in alliances lining up for those who didn't fit in the stable." I looked at the roof of the barn seeing beyond...being able to verify that my custodians were there preparing the beams on the plugs that crossed each other to climb to greater viewpoints after rubbing the rough coatings of their flogged texture like whips from the underworld of Elpenor. That gentleman remained, and not when I lost sight of him with mine as a child-man, since only he distinguished me but not so the beings of light. The disillusioned Eucharist was being consecrated. I never rested in looking, resting in a forever, because I saw that my eyes became fringed lights in the lasting oscillation of the chants of the reveille or the tri sonar of the shofar. During this time a rising angel appeared, trying to get in and out then he belatedly decided to join the group of shepherds who were herding their sheep in the fields near Bethlehem, and he told them that he brought good news because the Messiah the savior of the world had been born. The shepherds left everything to go in search of the newborn since the angel told them that they would find me sleeping or in dormancy..., but I was not staying on the manger, since I was up in the space of three sounds of bells, almost farther than close to those who announced my advent. After three sounds of bells, three shepherds of light came down from the roof seeing in me that they recognized your minds, thus being they who blessed my journey on a day in the Middle East, even being on a roof next to the paradise that I officiated in the splendor and perfection of the world as a man-child not far from the magician outcasts, who parodied all the songs always with followers of Zoroaster and my Kafersuseh up to Gethsemane and towards my mother. The Messiah was still abstracted looking at the sky while he was busy putting his body to sleep. There is no doubt that his unfolded being made him move his first steps in original words that alluded to a game of learning to give the first in Judean usage on the stables.His disconcerted hands of his body made dance stories of those who were close to him, making only about fifty grouped there in watermarks that ran like seconds within urgent minutes without time gathered in the Jewish dawn of Eretz-Israel. Saint John the Apostle says: "God is concerned about the material world and about this creature of His that predetermines us. This is the amazing thing about the Father and the Son. Behold... I will walk in the dark, not in the light. So you will see the trait that not a lifetime will take me to know which in its similarity and who inherits the body and soul of it as in the hands of a bumblebee. I feel love over the hate of others, I see the light that could be a self-confidence to those who resound in their tired and inattentive ears, maybe that way they will see when they can see better without listening attentively to the sound of the bumblebee. I see the verses fly and how they fall one by one on my soul in order obeying the flocks early, like a herd ordering those who one after another look at each other later ordering the perfect law of the beginning in a reconciled end "In that instant, fragrances of the dense flowers in water transmitted the anxiety of those who wanted to continue listening ecstatic and fragrant, but as they got rid of their presumptions they fell into the abyss on the banks of the cliff garden of Malaki, where many of them coughed or cleared their throats luminances that attacked their feelings wrapped in judicious phlegm on their limestone tombstones. Vernarth says. "Drink with me..., I have a new concoction from the beginning to the end where the branches enter with their effect from the same branches the true light that savors mistakes and slips comes out towards you. I have scabs from many shadows, but the unfaithful passion that hates me with such intensity is ennobled when seeing me prostrate before the Messiah who does not tire of a new change when seeing how his rounded limits shine on his face, much less of adapting in square limits nor to continue being born and dying, by drawing the curtain that his selfless mother always shows him to sacrifice, immersed in Gnosticism and of all those who tried to relate it " We will not be able to ask ourselves many times who we are being in front of and every time a child is born amidst variations that make all mischief its preciousness because it is born from the locked heart dancing in the greater acceptance of the welcome cycle of being born and being reborn. Even so, never having been among them, the systems of credibility are tired of their limestone material..., they register and suggest all kinds of contemplations in a vague naivety that shines between gold, myrrh, and frankincense. All those who were present transcend to resent their consciences by believing themselves spiritual while tenderness accompanied them, but not religious but the leadership of a creation will be presented to them in this stable that we see just being born that is above yourselves being born in all that concludes in an epistle under the dominance of "As you believe and love not seeing, what we see in us not believing" Indefinite before this stable we pray over the mother on her arrival, and we will pray in his mother when he leaves..., he is physical for those who accept him as a divine man and he is vainglorious for those who do not, those who do not tire their limits do not move the fence of their three-quarters demarcated, entering the undemarcated spirit as mobile emotional , girding a father and his image beyond because it escapes in our reason and faith, if not it is beyond or closer to what is usually a voluntary desire that always remains, if it is the Messiah everything is accepted in your mistakes of returning to reprimand after erasing the test of your random Being reprimanded, what the error feeds in you is digested by your active mind. Here we are extended before the anti Faith and Distended Will, underlying a new tradition that will need to relive it and get to know it if those of us who continue to speak of ethnic faith or about the naturalness of multiple tasks of their intolerances. Little Joshua says: "My fingers disobey me from her because they are far from my mother's, when I want to bring my visions of her closer to her, I throw myself into her gaze to ask her permission. But more than anything that leads us north, it flows faster than my shadow feeding on the light of the epistle. I sing and intone wills that come from so far away but I am distracted by looking and seeing those who organize an altar not so far from it..., up here on the roof. I feel without knowing and without knowing how behind them is my Father, and next to them in line the pavilion of the multitudes that sings me of haughty brave and Lord for those who are not. I never get tired of talking about the beams! they flex with the horses of the universe, and the dimensions intersected with my passion in my tension that falls compressed and falls reluctantly at the moment of tired inertia. The prism makes me hold on to the portions of the arcades of the stable, and this is in the creaking of my doubts in the desert of Jericho. The torsion in its mechanics as a noble beam, unbearable does what my reflexive pains endure so as not to stress the beams of others. From Nazareth to Bethlehem, a great effort to sustain the tension and torsion of the mechanics of the altar in the hands of those who fall weightless without feeling the weight that their load lightens on my back. In this slender mass and geometric beamed wood, the daily calculations that my father makes when he is tired to hold the world and my trova back are deformed, and when he is with impulses beyond them..., he deforms what the torsion does on it and does on the other Merida angles. And because as his son I don't know how to interpret it unidimensionally...? whose axis and radius I never knew how to understand, making myself wisely ignorant, taking hold of their garments strongly and of the mysteries that go beyond a constant creation in a stable" The Aramic Semitic language was presented in this Eucharist, on the Kafersuseh, by Joshua, He took his father in the stable with all those who came to see him, he looked at them beyond thousands of years to come to meet the humanity that lay grazing, always addressing them in Aramaic parables. While below the kings gave him offerings from the east, above beyond the studded beams, King David was consecrating him. Behind the King was the Father Creator supervising the thousands that his son Joshua would parley with Aramaic tongues, when the thousands of futures are consecrated alive in their astral bodies to the right of the Menorah, together beyond the archangels surrounding each one. Joshua watched carefully as his Aramaic lingual farming went further from Bethhlemem, beyond Kafersuseh where the evanescent height responded to a canopy shed of the beam that leaned on the stars, populating his trapezoidal back for a provincial development in his nonverbal escape from losing his unborn language And entering Aramaic through the divine membranes that descend through his olfactory halo language. However, he was already beginning to descend from the terrace to address the base of the peasant Christians who adored him and extolled him horizontally, lavishing him with water to distribute in their hands and faces beyond his visions. Joshua looked at Joseph and felt that his Aramaic was already his, but he would leave in advance walking towards the Garden of Olives..., towards Gethsemane, to meet with a frank theo-dimensional language towards his Abba Creator, surrounding them with Lepidoptera that burst their chrysalises plaguing taxa of Aramaic micro languages ​​to take them to their Abba who would await him in further ceremonial on the flat slopes that flowed with him in a language that might one day be lost as a dead language. However, this Arabic language will go in placebo on these pollinating Lepidoptera and they will go from the sacred lands to Gethsemane from their heavenly visions to Kafersuseh. In their homogeneity as dialects, the impetus of Lepidoptera began to be reborn here, traveling in nocturnal groups, to Gethsemane on the same day that Joshua came into the world in Aramean lights. When Joshua was born his Aramaic language traveled from the highest beam above the roof of his barn, to arrive with his biological Lepidoptera lingual species to pollinate Gethsemane. To migrate from that moment his word that he kept knowing that his body would be lost before those who tire in their eyes by not being able to decipher or read. Thus, transferring pollen from the stamens to the receptive macula of flowers in the angiosperms that will populate golden olive orchards mounted on vectors of the aforementioned pollen will be flown and piloted in more olive trees by the bees that will carry strains from the Kafersuseh in Bethlehem to preserve the moral language of Joshua. Although the new labors in humanity with all this and manner will go astray as a non-preserved language, not even imaginable at the birth of the Messiah until the beginning of a Gethsemane in a united Aramic body and language, but with an invisible Aramic body in those who do not you will be able to see the migratory flight of the Lepidoptera applauding mixed with bumblebees.
Messiah of Judah
T'is silence leaps from one self to another. Betrayal, o betrayal, doth greet it-so violently and startlingly, along th' entirety of its journey! Undelightful as 'tis, but made worse by t'at hostile dubiousness. Another fact aside from its ambivalent hatefulness: recognisable to every questioning eye-is t'is downright scary on its own, with unmolested quietude, and ******, but involuntary, unspokenness. Resolutions made within undesirable ambiences! Sacrifice t'at outwardly suggests th' presence of glam profuse in rich elaboration-but bland enough! And on top of all, t'is brimming immovability, and 'tis pool of doubts is causing me but to commence feeling weary about 'tis raising thorn. How didst I send myself into ferocious wanders-about t'is airless rooms, heated like sunflowers bathing themselves to death on th' giggling surface of raging snow. Battle of nature-and war of its childlike beings! Like a stoical plant in th' midst of 'tis glittering forest; vacant and idyllic-passive and unquestioning towards th' blades of farmers t'at come to exploit 'em: with morbid and futile, savage desires for rebellious treasures-unbecoming in t'eir temporariness, and unavoidability of sincere devotion as t'ey wilt soon leave t'eir offspring bereft of t'eir provisions once more. Yet look, look how red t'eir eyes are in t'eir hunger-eccentric vivacity gloweth in t'eir eyes, but mockery governs 'em-as ruptured t'eir weak souls are, by loathsome uncertainty and severe senses of greed. How t'is consideration made aggravated; agitated my soul is-o, seriously agitated! Yes, indeed! No longer doth vanity boast away about being my pride, but th' sultry pointlessness of my power of self-esteem. How melancholy t'is life is! O, and th' raising thorn itself, th' one aforementioned so discreetly within my fourth phrase up t'ere-growing dominantly and selfishly-aye! every day, is unlikely to be abashed by any remorseful incarceration, or stony suicidal attempts hurled by t'ose disgraceful beings out t'ere; but in t'is case, yon disgracefulness is comprised of grateful swarms of exquisite laughter, divine in its own roots, like th' sacred nook of a moonlit river. And how t'ere, on its most godlike slice of rock-so dearly scented by nature and innocent greenness-a sight be so dear to my longing eyes, shalt thou dwell with thy poems, and heart trembling with thy fullness of passion. For me, yes, for me, selfishly! O, my love! Cannot help I uttering thy name-thy very name, whom I am undeniably besotted with, like a feverish storm mooning over its lifelike sea, and whose eager cruelty so invincibly blanched by 'tis romantic tides-gone as it is, in just a seeming couple of cordial seconds! My love, whose name is so unmistakably dear to my heart, and indisputably belongs to 'tis greedy layers-ambitious, my love, desirous of,  and bland to solely th' dormant rains of thy love! O, t'ose pristine tears of blessings t'at are volatile but decorative to my half life-for thou art unarguably th' other half of me! And splendid in t'is very breath, t'at recognition t'en beats furiously along with t'is frail voyage of my humanness-grounded inevitably by unremarkable velocity are my wheels, and sometimes imprisoned in helplessness amidst th' pursuit of my fierce dreaming. But I admire 'tis core-as it is but thy warm, genial slumber; and 'tis skin is but th' very depths wherein I conceal my very whole love for thee. My love, my darling! If only thou wert here-yes, here, querida, to indulge t'is pr'saic quietude, shalt I shrink into nothing but a piece of thy fallen star; and t'ese feeble hands shalt t'en thou own, just as thy heart I should'th won.
Dr YumnaKay Jan 2019
When appearing dense becomes
the fashion status, and highlighting
on certain aspects just seem
to lose its light,

elaboration becomes just another
phenomenon,  yet another phrase,
another courtesy which I no longer
feel to follow through.

And when words have lost
their desired effect after
what seems like a lifetime
of deceitful lies being unveiled,

a giggle escapes unintentionally
silent, as I ponder over the
comical turn of events.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
too many fictional stories have congregated,
into what was once a three-dimensional
space, new age agism (joke)...

      but... whenever three dimensions exist,
with a frequented present,
a nostalgia for the past,
and an imagination for the future...

whatever...
  doesn't it bother, anyone,
that too many fictional stories have overpowered
the rarity of the reality narrative?
no?
  just me then?

         sole idiot, just the only Robinson Crusoe
idiot around these parts,
of: the rediscovery of the world?
just me? no Friday?!
just me...
good good... good to know...

well then... i've achieved the stature of
paying due concerns to a *******,
rather than repenting before
a crucifix with... what... what...
deaf people gesticulate...
         no... i couldn't go blind...
i'd have to have tender skin...
as any blind man would need...
to read Braille... tender skin...
that sort of arithmetic?
you're kidding me...
you're not expected to have the hands
of an aristocratic courtesan,
compared to the hard, thick
layered buck of a guitar player,
or some hammer yielding "minotaur"?!

then i'm thinking...
perhaps all aristocrats should be blinded...
well....
   we could cater for their bodies
in light of their embodied souls
as twins... dualistic...
           save the hindered body,
with what becomes the unhindered
body of what becomes:
an unhinged soul...

              but i am but a fool...
who could suspend such architecture...
and succeed in asking for success
of the originating of the said construct...
Edward the Confessor?
  he put you up to it?!

            such great mammoths of the worth
of man have died...
and the world...
    the world...
                assured itself neither day
gained not day lost...
assured itself neither blink lost,
or blink gained...

just like god said...
           i can't be bothered with what
has become too intricate...
too personal...
too free-willed...
     no... i can't do it...
even running the marathon,
i cannot introduce myself
into this affair a second time...
i "thought" it a great idea the first time
round...

            second time....
let them assure themselves in icon,
and the subsequent iconoclasm of
the anti-thesis of dyslexia...

   all?                         ah...
good to know...
      all of them?             ah.... elaboration
of the sigh...

                                but i can't...
you know i can't...
we drink up north to keep warm,
or. "fool" ourselves in keeping warm...

so?
  ******* with your coffee and baklava!
take your caffeine addiction
and your diabetics...
out of this place!
                                 *******!

the sign reads: NOT WELCOME!
no... no Martin Luther King Jr.
speech at the University
of Newcastle...

     no! no! nein! nein! nein!
up yours.

the people in question pushed
the wrong buttons,
and the people who pushed the wrong
buttons unconsciously...

i'll be the last of my people
to leave these isles, on a boat
charged with the gravitas of
Charon...

             believe me...
    i'm thankful that i didn't **** your women;
i was accused of ****?!
                              not once;
ha ha...
    they still think they won the cold war...
ha ha!
ah ha ha ha ha ha!
the war where there was no war,
and, rather,
    colonization imploded upon itself?
Set in stone, carved in fire
my mind was forged.
Resilient and strong too,
my thoughts are disgorged
and then set in glue.

An orb of knowledge is created
with its own imperfections.
As my own mind, incomplete,
provides its own reflections
about kinetic theory of heat.

It searches for more information
and more cultural cognition.
A permanent quest for exact facts,
an eternal run for completion,
trying not to keep the mind lax.

Then it realizes there is no end
for this life long pursuit.
The orb is broken and shattered,
fragments swallowed smooth.
Once again confused, scattered.

Unconditional elaboration
of the endless mind works.
The possible emancipation
of the free mind that lurks
away from the severed reality.
Breaking down the barriers of exaltation after passion due to the fragmentations of the pointed Sarissas that rose from the dome of the monastery in an unknown vertical direction on the, as advocacy of propositional logic, to surpass the truth values on the crawling positions of the annelids and the alabaster elementals reformulating when detaching themselves from the monastery of Tsambika, as they engender contracted truth from the false truth that had been anticipated. Making from the tautological truth, going back all the memory and physics actions of the Hexagonal Progeny, deriving to atomic spaces, which are known to lock in the absolute truth of combinations of accessibility of exit and entered Patmos, as resulting from Omeganimias or links of spiritual polynomials that were dissipating to complement the departure to Patmos from Mandraki up to Skala, and on the other hand simultaneous Etréstles from Dekas; Kimolos for the remission of the Duoverse communion in the width of the celestial space. The tassels of the Vexillum of Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, Eurydice, flamed, forming the triangle of the shape of Tsambika, with the triangle of the hexagonal that parliamentary of the stays, before heading to the navigation towards Patmos.
The Vexillum, carried by the wind itself Anemoi, was only carried by these golden gusts of earthworks towards the border of Rhodes, which until now was ancient Greece with its landmarks that the loyal spirits of Alexander the Great resisted accepting his death. Dazzling himself with this noble personification of the Anemoi, he re-establishes himself as part of Vernarth's prophetic and company to the island of the Apocalypse, which after the journey of Saint John the Apostle in Judah, the Cyclades, and the Dodecanese, would begin to relive the apocalypse. written under the mandate of the trinity, as a theological Tautology, running through the same originality and devotion of the heavenly mandate, but reencausing with the Hexagonal Progeny, as if it were rewriting it for the second Time, but from the Omega Point the completion of the Omega Temple on Patmos, to the areas of settlement of democracy and establishment of the Cycle of the Duoverse, as a transition to the rank of Hegemon of Patmos, to lead the spiritual military forces that raged, from the last vestiges from Pentecontecia in the Second Medical War in Plataea in 480 a. C., until the beginning of the Peloponnesian War in 433 a. C. towards the Athenian polis as a thread of their leadership of the nation, retracted by the reinforcement of their military supremacy, by the dominion of Spiritual Judaic, coming from the Hellenic existential inspiration, which spread with total expansion with the confederation of Alexander the Great, Vernarth and San Juan Apostle, as exclusivities that would increase the conclusive campaign of Tautological Omeganymy, shadow after shadow of the naval journey that awaited them with the Tracontero Eurydice, emerging from losses of democratic pacification, conventionally finite with the division and absolutist denial of Alexander the Great, reinstating itself in the Hexagonal Progeny, in accordance with the physiognomic materiality of the restructured Map of Cinnabar bound for Patmos.

The classicism of this operation will rise to the re-establishment of its Commander Hetairoi as the bearer of the Vexillum, under the acronym of IAV, meaning the Trinitarian Hellenistic-Vernarthian existentialism, for all Macedonian Christian children, servants of Jesus Christ, like the Mashiach. The reigns will rise to the last step and then they will fall into the crisis of entropic existentialism, with launching new languages beyond all known vocabulary, with speculative and adaptive pearls of wisdom of Hellenism that is reborn on Patmos, in the elaboration of the Temple of Omeganimia and the academicism of San Juan Apostle. Alexander the Great carries with him the upstart lines of the peripatetic school, walking through Phrygana, almost stepping on the low thicket and soft leaves and that, to the rhythm of the invaders' footsteps, reverberate them towards the dreaded ears of Vernarth, imaginary plant community in the Mediterranean forests, forests and shrubs that exist, but are lacking on Patmos, are only part of the creative imaginary, which are successful in limestone soils around the Mediterranean Basin, generally near the coast, where the climate is improved, but where the conditions annual drought in summer, suggestive of the resinous flavors of a scrub becoming a dressing for transplanted trees before they arrive to meet the Katapausis, the emblem of the Parables of Procorus.

Parables of Procorus

Petrobus the Pelican in one of his wanderings was distracted by some colonial migratory birds from Rhodes, while the Cinnabar was energized. He flew exceedingly, reaching the shores of Patmos, saving himself from returning to the ship with the others of the Birthright. Here he himself met Procorus, where after brushing against the Phrygana with his wings, he was inspired in praise of the Skalá sightings. Procorus in the understanding that he was inspired by this magical bird, I narrate to him from his cranial zone, the parables of his company as a servant bird of Raeder, together now with Procorus, to welcome the ship Eurydice that was already sailing to Patmos. This assertion by Petrobus was of the Hellenic existential time, therefore before they occurred it would reach real-time synchronization, after three hundred and sixty-nine oscillations of the Anemoi under its golden wings.

Parable of Phrygana: (says Procorus by vox from Petrobus)

On the banks of, lived some seeds that were admired by the lights of the cell of San Juan, feeling that it can only be a seed if it is not recognized by another that is the same. Knowing that it is not from the Phrygana genome, they will know that they will never be able to choose a larger size. For this reason, if a Kashmar could be a branch Daughter of Zeus and the titanic Metis: Athena (the Olive Tree) (Minerva). Aspiring to greater trees, greater than the skies of comparable to the wings of Petrobus brushing against the allegories of winter when Procorus becomes a seed that flows from the envelope of the thicket, turning from its own shadow into a monumental tree by day, but at night like Phrygana goblin.

Parable of the Alnus:

The consequence of the Alnus took them out of the oratory persistence towards the heights of a tree that begged its minorities. The raceme's inflorescence, with its leaf blades on a leaf blade, invited them to follow reactivation paths due to the axils of its largest branches. When a lost sheep was lost in the Alnus Glutinous, the smallest plants that decrease or expire would approach, ready for the twigs that are carried by the legs of the lost sheep. But not when winter arrived, still very green with the olive tree that is found again in the mountains of other glutinous that co-merge like lights that dazzle the lesser leagues of Alnus, losing itself in its habitat Alder, in mixed forests with green and black sheep, among Phrygana in God's soil with tame sheep and soil with poor nutrients, but full of green shadows.

Before these two parables, Prócoro says: “It must be maintained that each one speaks with its own language, and they never take long to amaze us, first of all, the color change from green to more green, if its shape, color, and corpulence as a species with the same shadow, regardless of the hue of the size of its species”
Tautological Omeganymy on Patmos
Therefore, I opted to
reduce heavy sedation
within unsuspecting reader rabbit
summarization superseded elaboration,
less reason spurring salacious secretion
i.e. a-z expletive epithet, et cetera laced

verbalization crucifixion subsequently,
neither nameless nincompoop (me)
crossing verboten drive,
nor this ditto anonymous
poetic purveyor to burden heavy
onlookers with elegiac colluding bugaboo

even daunting grizzly Adams,
endeavoring exclusively exercising
"E" valuation in futile attempt
to express mild exuberance
entailing English language.

Essentially erudition wrought
elucubration, ecstatic emotion,
enunciation, enumeration, eradication
narrowly avoiding writer's block
concomitent ebullition, emasculation
exacerbation, exasperation,

stepped up escalation elevation
malignant hypertension, encrustation
elementary (my dear Watson)
extemporaneous embarkation
severely affected non exlax induced
emergency enema evacuation,

but not even for the grace of dog
unstoppable elimination, ejection...
exhausting excavation
water closet expedition
elucidation, elation, edification,
vis a vis emancipation,

despite literary emaciation malnutrition
near extinction yours truly,
nonetheless... faint eruption
eureka ******* elongation
emanation awoke new edition
regarding neigh saying kid on the block

elicitation, elocution, energization,
eroticization, estimation, excitation
activated skeletal echolocation
eye opening entrepreneurial effectuation
analogous TVA electrification,
hence enervation equalization

relieved self cannibalization
thankfully discouraging envenomization
invariably in conclusion,
no exaggeration pronouncing
exemption verdict against
my extirpation sore disappointment!
Everybody has their own taste of freedom.
Mine is really simple like a comfy couch in a clean white room.
I move my body as i breathe the air and that is the essence of my life.
To live and feel alive.

There is no such thing as high art politic.
I pick my own fruits of value and mix them together in a glass of elaboration.
Having rotten fruits is the worst conflict.
Originality sums it all up and is the very most important foundation.

Once my fruit cocktail is done i give it a taste very slowly.
Each of the fruits has its own unique taste surely.
Your tongue and heart have got the freedom to judge and to comprehend.
No time for you to pretend.

So raise your own glasses high in the air
As everyday people have one thing in common to share.
And feel the pride of your humanity.
In the name of pure equality.
P Venugopal Jan 2016
Dip
A feather spirals down,
quill first,
making a silent point that needs no elaboration.
A parrot crackles,
in sunlit flight from shade to shade,
making another point that defies all argument.
Palms climb jubilant. Half-moon sinks...

A kingfisher stalls'n rolls into a blue bolt,
shoots into the pond'n shoots up, fleeing
a sprinkle of words
on water, holding
in its beak, flapping,
me!
eve Oct 2017
The place where the atmosphere consists of main outbreaks,
Whether the dishes weren't done or the floors weren't mopped correctly,
Something so small can effect the gross unification of "family".
Feeling like you can't necessarily express yourself,
Leaves you to feel drowned out by the many emotions that flood your mind at the worst of times,
It allows your feelings to grow more and more profoundly erratic; anxious.
Allow me to go into full elaboration as to how I constantly maintain my well-respected position of a so called "good person" or complain about the many people who are just as careless as the majority of people nowadays who simply do not ask how I've been.
I've let days slip by,
Suddenly, I feel no difference in what occurred yesterday or really, no contrast in the feelings I'll most likely encounter tomorrow.
At home, mass mental destructions happens,
It's where I get pulled into a place where I'm just trapped in my own self, similar to the way I feel in school.
I don't know, it could possibly be causing my continuous feelings of nervousness whenever I'm surrounded by people,
Or it could merely be the fact of which, I haven't yet chosen a path or seen quite a way to go through and feel a protective environment around me.
These winter days are gradually approaching,
It's only a matter of time until my mind goes away like the sun at night,
These seconds, minutes, hours can patrol for what feels like perennial timings, but anticipation is what's really foreshadowing my shallow whole of a "home".
Filmore Townsend May 2013
to buy a book at half-ten with
no time wasting. go back, await
instructions ‘cause ****** will
have their trinkets, with novelty
of accented voice. and i once
would talk often of a love – let’s
separate that word from ‘*****’.
often of a love, but am rare to
fall to elaboration. and through
contemplation the soul may
ascend to knowledge of the
Form of the Good, penultimate
object of Knowledge but not
Knowledge. and often writ of
this love, writ of what was to be
then and never now. never to find
affirmation in fleeting memory.
oxymoronic oblate of the mind
– this soul. attempting for attainment
of Kenosis. shambling i wandered,
rambling i wandered, and humbly
wandering on to pluck till times
and times are done. and
the dogs of this life have re-
moved dearest effects. in turn, sho-
wing the vanity in materialism.
end turn, showing futility in ret-
ention and the sun's continuous gro-
wth forcing abatement of winters’
vespers. cradling a gourd filled with
oil from the skin of ages, to reflect
micorocosms of preceived death.
those silver apples of the moon. and
when vespers return in color, when
the ground aches tensing muscles.
this love, if only the conjunctions
had been denied. perhaps by abor-
tion of if, then could have been a
block for now. these times found
oblate of memory by zealous self-
truth of the wronged past, and
humbled by skewed memory of
the hermit on unseen path for
Kenosis. unseen growth of
those golden apples of the sun.
Fred McCarthy Dec 2010
What if life was just an equation.
Would we figure out the right results and come up with divine elaboration?
Living life is just as simple as mathematics.
Just add, subscribe, multiply, and divide, no need to be frantic.

What if love was just a magic trick?
Would we break down and fall sick?
Just swing your wand and you would create your true love out of thin air.
Loving so true is as easy as pulling a rabbit out of your magic hat.

Count your days as if everything would last forever.
Be yourself as if your agony of life you would sever.

Comfort my soul so weary.
I have been left hurt and unsteady.

And come lay me down, my child...
Protect me from the world so wild...
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
the moon is near white after being lowly yellow
for a spell, some random is acting out
a werewolf incantation on a windowsill
air-drumming - honestly, i thought that air-drumming
would always be more entertaining than
that ******* of air-guitar - you get the groove man,
you improvise your own rhythm, you
rip the ******* heart out and tell it to be rhythmic
to your own choosing - but no, you had to get the
elongated imaginary ***** out fiddle it like
a flute you'd never blow into - makes sense,
entertainment comes dirt cheap these these in Las Vegas,
the sombreros are out and the jig misters of
forgotten jazz are playing a speedy version of
Miles Davies' kind of glued blue - oddly enough
i liked the abstract corn-on-the-cob *******' brew,
don't ask me why i think what i think, certain music
just makes me think - but in the case of the doors' L.A. woman?
nope, no clue, i get the spontaneity jitters all over me
like goosebumps at a horror movie screening -
i start singing, i start air-drumming,, July 3, 1971 in Paris
never happened - they still put make-up on the cemetery
bust while the Spanish leave a joint (which some
*** probably picks up, smokes it and giggles)
but the point is, i can hum the bass-line, the guitar solos do not
deviate that much from the rhythm, they're more tweaks
than solos, accents, when guitar and vocals combine,
the vocals give cue to the guitar to do a sly elevation from
the rhythm, jazz rock, man, that's what the doors invented,
jazz rock, never heard that before, it's not prog rock
with too much elaboration on either drums or guitar,
guitars of Mahler or Penderecki can hide in the dungeons,
i mean slick ****, so many years on and i'm reinventing
the ****** thing, it's not even psychedelic rock,
fair enough Manzarek playing the cowboy harpsichord
of the saloon with some odd drinking buddy (like me)
flipping the score pages and pouring liquor into his gob,
but all the instruments get a chance to breathe,
the vocals aren't exactly Meat Loaf and thank **** for that,
it's like clicking your fingers or whistling -
i can hum the bass line, i can air-drum the beat,
the guitar solos compliment the rhythm / rhyme -
jazzy rock, it's a fluid composition...
by the way... please, someone tell me that Val Kilmer
isn't playing the position of defensive midfielder for
Grzegorz Krychowiak... a doppelgänger if i ever saw one;
i must be ******, i'm seeing double; uh.
Kyle Fisher Oct 2015
Tiny whispers,
soft and subtle.
Bed frames,
a warming cuddle.
Soul pieces,
nose kisses,
cold feet,
one love puddle.

Confrontation,
elaboration,
dark secrets,
silent bracing.
Morning breath,
coffee grounds,
cigarrettes,
and carnal chasing.

Television,
Apple tarts,
Soft eyes,
and blunt smoke.
Crazy nights,
and tired days,
that is what I miss the most..
©Kyle Fisher
You aren't part of nature. You breathe underwater when you get tired of flying. You start telling the truth when you get tired of lying, as you tell me I'm what you need. You're immortal, you enter portals to other worlds and you convince  me indirectly that there's no other girl, for me. Ill never understand you. You weren't born in this time. You're Ms. Sublime. I'm still waiting for my Ruuca. I guess I'm tired of that and tired of rap but when I need a candle you're my wax but you're also everything else. When it's hot, you snow, when it's dark, you glow. You're so superior. You're soft on the outside with a rough interior.  You're so out of reach to understand, I'm just a young man and my mind can stretch, but you take my mind and use it to play fetch. You make me think so hard my brain just pops as you pick up the pieces and **** my joy out of it  like a lollipop. You don't know why you're beautiful. Mystery is beautiful and painful and they're both for you.  God must have such bittersweet feelings toward you. I ask: "Ms. Sublime, I know you don't have much time but do you have any tissue?" She points up to the sky because that's where she flys when she has to cry and that's why it rained on valentines. That rain pours so heavily on my skin. She creates the rain then evaporates it. She doesn't sleep and she weeps for weeks then there is no elaboration. She takes Mother Nature and throws her into her own creation. She's blatant, and she almost kissed Satan but she was to hot for him to handle. She takes my heart and uses it as bait when she fishes from the moon as she catches things that she hates. Like normality, and fatality, and happiness, and my enjoyment. She doesn't live for anything she has no employment. And even though she can center all of the planets and turn the universe to dust, her favorite thing to do is take my silver mind and turn my brain cells into rust. She enjoys making me feel like I can't feel and every time she reels I imagine what her face looks like as I scream with more shock than an eel. I let her take me by the throat and I let her squeeze just enough to choke, and right before I take my last breathe, she tells me she loves me. And she hugs me. And she kisses my back and my shoulder, she flicks me so softly but it feels like a boulder. I ask her: "Ms. Sublime, you can do anything in the world. You can take any man by his ancestor treasure and make him feel like they're better than anyone who is alive. Why must you pick me to pick upon?" She replies by telling the cold truth when she gets tired of her heated lies. She replies by breathing under water when she no longer wants to fly.  She replies by not being a part of my nature, and telling me that I'm what she needs.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
beginning with the circle, for there are three,
    in an "abstract" sense of staging the Δ, i.e.:

                                Ω

                        Υ            O              alternatively:

                        o              υ

                                 ω  

thus in deed... (macron as omega, in greek acute
  accent on upsilon to extract omega, or the p(oo)l sound..
                     acute on the omicron?
      gives you upsilon... omega = macron
                          on the omicron)...

   however the Σ (totality) of this observation?
      how many s      esses      are there, orthodoxically speaking?

s, ś, ß (a german grapheme, variant of the roman æ,
                 æsc, sszett - albeit the latter invoking consonants,
         the former? volwels),
          the greek will now provide the aesthetic twins:
              σ, ς (whereby the latter, created the french
                           ç, which is another form of s... e.g.
     in the word waiter: garçon) -
                  the final s form?     akin to ß... but the germans
   would write it as           -sch-,
                                 east germans say it when writing ich...
           in english the compound is -sh-
                           sharp...
                                   in slavic it's: either -sz- a variant of
the english -sh-,           or with a caron, e.g. š...
  like the car-manufacturer: škoda... which, when said
in adverts... omits the diacritical mark.

      how many "satans" can you see? count:
s, ś, ß, σ, ς, ç, (-sh- / -sz- /) š:
   eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben...
    
            you can site that seven headed hydra in the book of
revelation... right about now.

oh sure... let's go crazy, put an extra head on the beast:
the cyrillic ш...      some sort of rigid omega, or worse still...
   an uptight double-"u"....   it's a V, a ******* V, a double V!
    qui? qui? wee? wee? it's a soft-v!
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
when worded in mathematics, thought is point (0, 0, 0) in the axis, ad knowledge is anything we wish the self to become, be or be known as, and that's a randomisation of co-ordinates, examples as a step, into either (0, 1, 0), (1, 0, 0) or (0, 0, 1); it's not thought that's exclusively a worth of doubt, it's thought from non-being that's exclusively doubted: when we have no chance of becoming a casanova, then we equate thought with doubt, which we equate with our sigma of falsely assumed being not being expressed, and rightly, for we have not been given the title, but a mere cameo.*

it's van gaal in the dock, gets asked a rhetoric question,
oddly enough he's not asked a dialectical question,
the reason why would be  because because a rhetorical
question in casual speech inference  will leave the speaker asked
in an oblivion of faking lies... rhetorical questions are with answers
elaborate...convincing.... needy of truth, times when being convinced
of something when the mongols stole the avatar of vishnu as buddha,
and when the european whites hid the avatar of shiva;
there it happened.... to the convinced lark of the silenced song,
there i learned lyricism from shakespeare's
titus andronicus, where the son was caverned
in depth only a body not requiring beauty required...
for a beauty such as a woman's vanity
neither attracted thought or knowledge...
and she gained a beauty, but the beauty she gained
was one of being untouched...
oh roar the piping winds in the fathomed turbines
of music said... oh roar the breath turned into
turbines of rotary theft kept...
oh roar the theft! oh roar the theft!
that it might be a kept music! that music might
grace the chase for the bird's allocation of
safety among the migrant types in the land so
resolved as orientate with seasonal vectors of return...
then the bull burps with larynx in nasal chime
to a glory of breath with soul rather than
what already came with soul, thought,
for that other breath came with excuses to breathe
nothing into something that might make geometry
conscripted from non, anonymously perhaps
for a while if a name might claim the re-,
like of that famous ha shem of beer, or the hammer,
or the moaning gratitude of the lost first breath of a flute.
how end it then? how then continue,
among the services of tears that spoke of no sadness,
but spoke... but spoke of a bethlehem's peace
with its zenith of prophecy matured
at hiroshima thus in acting, thus faked...
oh how i wish, i too was a member of a brotherhood
that took to heraclitus' river of known life;
oh how i wish... it was never about a misguided
friday on a repetition for a command of the serfs.
anyway... you won't get a casual inference
from a dialectical question, you simply won't get one...
of course you'll get a rhetorical question,
where you won't get any dialectics...
you also won't get rhetoric / the intention...
because the paradox is understood as:
rhetoric neither questions nor answers...
it's up to dialectics to mind that...
and even then... the answers are cult in terms of short,
and because of that, the dialectics can continue,
where questions are more elaborate than answers...
in terms of rhetoric the answers are more elaborate
than answers via that are curt / or simply short...
and the questions are not really elaborate,
because their elaboration was intended.
Prelude
Seeing thee again is indeed invigorating-look at how my thoughts are now brimming-with t'eir lost souls! T'ose souls who faded away-as I was severely bereft of my muchness. But now I am glowing with it again, whenever I remembereth our chilly encounter t'is afternoon; thou wandering at lightning pace-in thy fond childishness! But furthermore thou in t'ose fond eyes-and t'eir depth, o! Thinking of thee makes my heart shimmer-and credulous to thy gentle love. And I shall but never go wrong again-as our fates, I assume; are but inevitably, and so dearly, bound to each other, my dear, my dear.

O, and but today wasth I chanced to see my lover;
shining bright and tender like a glade in a bower.
Storming out in gladness out of his chamber;
and as we talked his face grew fonder!

O, lovelier and keener didst he become, through th' more
subservient seconds-as though truly adorned with passion,
Entranced by such courage and fated determination.
I listened carefully to his fond elaboration;
and confined myself to my meek walls of admiration.

My thee, o, my thee!
T'is as if everything hath been our fierce destiny
And shall our paths but cross again-
of which I'm certain, under yon strumming daylight-
when t'at weeping moon waivers.
And all t'at wailing bark shall ever come to an end-as our
luminous, but fair melody lingers.

My moon-and th' following morning, it
shan't any longer be weeping.
To th' despondent grass wilt it start singing-bestowing
th' delayed merit whilst bent is 'tis body-and dancing:
Every other fault shalt come back
from t'eir mistake!
And th' latent dangers shalt be put well
at a steep stake.

And t'ose rings-o, rings of love, as t'ey are, by t'is wan light silver
A light whose abyss shan't ever again last forever.
And protected as we are-chained by our ripe love-
Shall we proceed into serene joy, and resides there-
within th' grand layers of our hearts, and splendid flames
of t'is wondrous eternity.
Harikane Mar 2017
Shining gold of medals
Or papers announcing
The brilliance of a life
A life
So easily disguised
And somethings
That make your everything
Might be hidden forever
Behind the gold plate
In between those strings
Papers, colored papers, different kinds
Is their a person ?
There is no person
Only a story of a person
Birth is just some evidence
Amongst billions, just a fiction
Thank folks for the elaboration
Pump, kick, pump, kick, giggles
Fire chain reactions
Blow smokes,
Wait
There was a person,
Unheard, unseen, tragic
Little than little things
A chicken in jungle
Driven with tongue bites
And intentions behind those eyes
Brown eyes
Might never be known
Folks, what you like
Only those shining medals
Or papers announcing
The brilliance of lives
David Nelson Oct 2013
Freud's Frantic Friends

Psychopathology
therapeutic techniques
free association
and tight **** cheeks
manic depression
afraid of my fate
you say it's okay
if I go ahead and *******
transference redirection
it's my daddy's fault
he was the one who told me
take the money from the vault
I can't stand up
but you say it's okay
I can blame someone else
for making me that way
it was a friend of a friend
that groped my crotch
it was his own dam fault
I stole his fancy watch
extreme hate rage and
parentification
general distrust
needs no elaboration
my mommy made me mean
so I take it out on you
cause you remind me of her
in everything you do
the way that you wiggle
when you go for a walk
I'm glad you stopped by
to have this little talk

Gomer LePoet...
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
.for two days a song was haunting me, seemingly unheard before, hidden in the deep recesses of my mind - unrelated by sound or memory... yet burning itself a presence regardless of my faculties... restless... i had to take a walk through bedfords park, havering country park and hainault forest country park - through sun and rain and two bottles of wine... twice seeing bambi and at times scuttling like a rat / misanthrope from the unusual traffic of these parts... to finally find peace... Borodin's prince igor!

there's just enough of gloating to have to muster...
before some grander detail has to take form:
i've been trying to capture the song
i want to listen to: but it's hardly a genesis
of an #A... or... whistling...
             kik kershaw's the riddle?
                         it's not - now that the hindsight ("spoiler")
is presented... it wasn't a bach aria:
or a batCH... well: who's the good surd?
'ere boy... vat's a good tau: ba'ch...
     the would be baчelor: j. s. baχ...
                            a juggling act of... less than...
what james joyce's finnegans' had to offer:
and more: the diacrcrcr-detail-of-antics...
       pop sort of reference points?
                   would they be... if they weren't...
for the per se reasons?
                  details are in the noumenon -
that... axe-folding: exfoliating lesser demand
for: **** in machina...
                                      the sort of details
that mind: the over-simplified woman...
and... the terrible complicated seance of...
when witches were detailed about...
their broomsticks were to be replaced with...
vacuum cleaners... terrible details of
"unnecessary" complications...
man of science man of technology man
of engineering and man of mathematics...
much later... the man of linguistics and...
the troop of ballet dancers... the choreographers
and the composers...    

i have taken enough days to gloat...
working an addiction in reverse...
a bank-roll filled with: plenty of nicotine...
and chem.,
           just waiting for the completed
day... an exercise in language:
and jack daniels bubblegum:
pale blue... blueberry images... gluttons
of colour: those pearls...
back to music... back to music...

   i wanted: rather than tried...
to fathom a pause in the construnction
of the res cogitans: with the usual
punctuation markers...
it's hardly a semi-colon...
          a full-stop... a comma or a full-stop...
hardly the detail of syllables
with diacritical markers...
    hidden letters...
rare in english that sheer and chisel
should come together...

i was thinking of a punctuation marker
to block of all narrative...
not a mere punctuation marker -
not some apostrophre...
                precursor to the possessive article:
's..              's...
even the russians do not have
what i already have...
         namely... дж...   джик is an approximation...
something is hidden within...
dzik itself (boar)... dzikość - wildening...
        a lost attribute for the civilized man...
   дж is... slightly off from the intended:
   дз - while ж (rz or ż-art - joke) -
              is... well... it appears...
but is a few letters apart...
       for example in: drzeć (tear - ter:
not tier - nor teer - backwards to forwards...
latin diphthong of æ) -
                        to tear paper into pieces...
   a tear ran down my cheek...
   to have read: rather than... to simply: read -
and... the reed - a stalk of a bulrush...
               the eastern lands...
                      synonyms and two best known
aliases: the birch tree and the bulrush wetlands...

this is the only best: approximation
of a song akin to Borodin's prince igor...
that can't be hummed... unless heard proper...
not from an abstract of memory...
conflation of adjectives?
abstract is more an adjective than a noun...
for this presentation...

      hiding letters like a good 'ebrew...
           surds detailed with apostrophes...
mollusk legs... exercised...
  a day later and the extreme cigarette high
is "missing": not found...
   щыт "vs" szczyt / ščyt -
                 no less congested than:
                                       dość! enough!

from the initial fascination of working
english into greek...
                     things had to translate themself
into "mordor" regions: Ruś, Krym, Tartar...
the Caucaus...
                        and the Turkic dwarf plebs
of mythical Constantinople... takeover...

- with thinking i wanted to capture:
res vanus: the empty thing...
       a synchronised: symphony of...
with what's being emptied...
while at the same time... with what's being
filled...
the years passed when pacing
with a heart of a turtle...
compared to... the heart of a mouse...
i call it: no known noun...
              to think is to have the heart
of a mouse... easily agitated...
no room for lost narratives...
      hell: better still... without haikus
and all those condoms of denial and...
delayed view-count murmurs...

          a case of: res cogitans:
a thing most animate...
a case for: res vanus:
   aa thing most inanimate...
         it's... a slingshot... a strain on purpose...
it's an incremental addition of purpose...
it's a punctuation mark akin
to: lost the linear...
up toward the copernican east we go...
and then back toward the flat-earth
project of... being able to read a map:
topography... without: the need for 3D:
3D the copernican: it's all very imaginary...
vector alpha:
points beta and gamma...
to find punctuation: a silence...
a bit like... finding gravity...
which isn't a sound... but if it was...
it would be... the sound of falling rain
on leaves or lead plating of a roof...
or... the sound of recycling...
of water... in a waterfall...

by now all the ******* readers have
disappeared... there's no more...
instagram haikus in the system...
there's the drone drill sequence...
a very distant humming sound...
perhaps an impromptu crescendo of
variations of a cat's meow...

absolute: total: шит... more like шитышит:
    шыт if i was... to be honest...
   sheets of paper... floating about...
                    well... i too once thought:
those russians... with they cyrillic...
but no diacritical markers...
      well K in a mirror: ж...
                      no one told me about brining
mirrors into the project...
     sh-ch-
sz-cz-                щыт - height: well... zenith...
bl-ы'h bl-ы'h: blah... blah...
       it's a letter: the russians call a "sound"...
like the english should start calling
the letter "g" or the "h" a >sound<:
surd...    an apostrophe: gnome: 'nome...
gnosticism: 'nosticism...
                                 'alf the 'arvest...
prop'er: cockers and pouch of punches...
   very ******* irish sober to me...
brings all the harlequins and loon'doon'ish
to the backyard for:
                   milch-schütteln-und-schäkel...

and then i return the cork back onto the corkscrew...
as i pa'k - my... packaging... CCCP... comrade...
the folded soviet shop...
don't worry terrible ivan... there's a new shop
in town... the iron has morphed into silicon...
see-through curtains and...
this virus... did more damage...
than any... brave lion of the jihad would ever...
circumstance of the affairs of westminster bridge...
they would "epstein" one through
one in a while...
                 to **** chicken the populace
into a cucklicking KKK strut dance of:
burning hoods and bras and crucifixes...
and ******...
                              conventional... formal...
language usage? please reserve that for...
the golf course and business talk...
                write? write what? a kandinsky?!

yes... a big hello ******* from
tiktok and twitter...
1 minute videos and... 180 characters...
         i feel constrained... claustrophobic...
if... i can't write an imitation Dickens chapter...
1000 words is ******* lemonade...
2000 words is... regurgitating a day's worth
of a newspaper... saturday edition...
which includes the editorial and the magazines...
3000 words? a truly rare thing...
      given that... conjunctions and their details
are not counted: ' - is both an apostrophe and a surd
letter... t'at all depends: on the "v.a.t."...

the whole point was...
finding excuses to write about quitting smoking
are other... they were all fine: crack ******* smoked
when the levels of nicotine were dropping...
the upper body was exercised...
but the legs weren't... mollusks and oysters for *****...
or... toes...
to count... oysters for toes...
but when the legs have been exercised...
and a balance has been reached...
there's little to gloat about... about...
quitting smoking...
there's a need to say: the glory of the tongue
and its palette when walking...
the budding beauty of things surrounding me...
all blushing envy of the green...
  self-respecting green and its almost
teasing green phosopherscent insomnia
in the rubric of the sun: next to wake...
next to hide... a bud of bishop hues...

insomnia green of the forest...
                     poor bambi (x2)...
                    zinfandel rosé!
count! syllables! nurse! scalpel!
zin!-f'ah-del... rou-s'eh...
                              oh remind me of the night...
and the forest... the blinking moon
by count of clouds obstructing its glee...
turned into a melting moon...
spray-painted over the leaves with
its last will of agitated: clingy mercury tinge...

the debate: "debate" wasn't about...
i took 3 days to gloat about quitting smoking...
there are more important affairs to mind...
notably! notably?

example!

la traviata is an opera in three acts by (giuseppe) verdi
set to an italian libretto by francesco (maria) piave
                                                 (verbatim: i.e. borrowed)...

there... they cite... the composer...
    who doesn't need a first name, since: verdi is...
synonymous with verdi and opera composition...
but...
         yeah... you need to mention the first name
and the surname of... the libretto: francesco piave...
the opera...
      music... and... the words...
well so much for the music...
but... last time i heard... a violinist holds...
a violin and a bow...
                         what's the opera singer
to hold? the melody? no! he needs to hold...
words...

   today i passed a family in the forest...
a mother, a father... two children...
                   and a grandfather...
maternal / paternal... i don't know...
i was already on my second bottle of wine...
the woman asked me:
   'will we get back to the car park if we turn
around on this route?'
        i was already eyeing them with
a curiosity prior...
i uttered the words... 'you should...'
          not... 'i hope so... since i'll be
testing that question'...
or 'you will...'
                           several minutes later
in my own solipsistic interlude...
            you should... i swear to god...
sometimes i say something and can't
see letters behind the sound...
      like: i shouldn't really see: meow...
behind the sound a cat makes...
since... a cat doesn't just make an: ego sum: meow
universal statement...
there are variations...
    'you should'... i repeated...
slightly drunk and... whatever... i didn't see
any letters in the sound i made...
           for once... not the last time, though...

to abide in such joys from a past -
chevalier, mult estes guariz -
                 to cite charmlemagne and prince rolo:
the scandinavian convert -
who's (whoz: not who is) descendents
were the morphed vikings: the normans...
who conquered england...
        since the predecessors couldn't...
walther von der vogelweide:
                    palästanalied...
all through the german autobahn...
                   the word... AUSFAHRT!
the lands owned by the lithuanian who
married: and by marriage became converted...
from the last pagan prince of europe:
enclosure rhapsody of caged
elephants: prior: mammoths...
  the estonian bulwark...
von meer zu meer (von baltisch zu schwarzes meer)
these jagiełło platitudes of envy... chełm...
      sch'war'zes...

begotten not made: blistered...
the scarf of colour to capture the frenzy of
autumn... a shawl best worn to...
loot the colour and suffocate the subject
with: no past a dream and a dream
without rucurrence...
to borrow from the past as much
if not more from fiction!
to say: once they pickled Barbarossa...
come the third crusade... disgruntled oath-breakers...
sought the prussians...
and the lithuanians... and all that land
to the east...
had they only known... what the prussians
would make of the absence of the saxons
of the pomeranians and the bavarians...
i wasn't there... no...
but a romance is a romance is:
here's to... no ode to a ******* sailor:
capn' ahab... or the rodin instruction
knee deep in the mud at ypres...
or the mass-graves of german youth
or: how kaisser wilhelm and that in-breeding
crew of familial ties tore europe
on the altar of the bull...
before this bourgeoisie whittle adoolph HIT!
came about and charged the former
bitzmarck ***** and the elites with...
eh... the story is so told and so old...
"they" couldn't fathom the middle-project
of the khaki and ******* not coming
from their... high-brow... aristocracy...
better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven...
choir boy whittle adoolph said:
i'll borrow the schnurrbart from chaplin...
after all... with a surname like mine...
a ****** or a chaplin is no... WIN-D'SOR!
yes... apostrophe 'ere if not to hide a surd...
it's to elevate punctuation...
for the sake of syllables... the hyphen is not
enough... vowel catcher tetragrammaton
invocation! the first arm of the god:
the second arm is for: ha ha ha! laughter!
cynic and satyr!
            eh... let's leave the stoics to their
love of labouring over the fate of oysters!
protestants and pre-destination-alists...
clarvoyant calvinists!

                         from the decadence of a "lost"
empire... what "pseudo" history is to be
resurrected... romanced...
the angevin empire?! that there is a past...
the "lesser" dream...

a patrick and andrew a george...
and ef bwy newid troi (he who...
altered path) -

troedfilwr - petty velsh:
quasi-silesian / kashubian / little warsaw
of the "bigger picture" masovia...
CAPital neu...
          
- ever write something...
at a snail's pace: crow pecking...
because a moth has just flown into your room...
and... unlike... holding a seashell to your
ear... to find the ivory shore...
and the details of false echo of... galloping
waves...
you clench your hand...
and hear... fluttering... like the sound of...
desperately falling rain..

madame butterfly is an opera
by (giacomo) puccini, with a libretto
by luigi illica and giuseppe giacosa

the magic flute, k. 620, is an opera in
mozart to a german libretto by
emanuel schikaneder:

           der verk is in the form of a singspiel:
singing and spoken dialogue...
my demise: the awe... interludes of...
theatre... in an opera!

               rushing rushing and... kandinsky
the colt serenade kind...
  with... canvas... and an auction house
of reserve that... fridge magnet enterprise
of a single mother of... 6...
              
you couldn't get an opera...
working from the carmina burana...
the... libretto... thankfuly...
constricted the music...
you'd only get what you already have...
a medley... opertics instead of an opera...
sketches of an opera...
    the whole custard mess...
the rhubarb the rasberry "finicky"...
         the Goliards and the... gonnards...

               were diu werlt alle min
               von dem mere unze an den Rin,
               des wolt ih mih darben
               daz diu chunegin von Engellant
                lege an minen armen


the quid pro quos and the... anon. circus
spectacular sheen!
  
  what is the composer without the libretto?
the violin player has his violin and bow
attached: like some... frankenstein's take
on an elaboration of an autumnal fallen:
leaf of: a "false" limb...
dire desires for a lingering crescendo...
of a piece... without an overture...
bothercome children and the good life...
nothing worth clarifying the nouns:
to a supper... a goodnight...

                       bedtime with nabokov?
my take... well... it becomes apparent...
when... the local... easily accessed by the many...
avenues of love... are exercised...
what remains? taboo...
and once the taboo is... investigated...
invested in... well then...
there's that all overpowering tease of
thought not materialised into a will...
a 14 year old girl... below the mark...
she's 16 and i'm 18...
and i'm not her... cousin and this is not
israel...
                  after a while... the only *** available
is... the forbidden type...
and there's... so much freedom in
what's forbidden... when it's only thought...
the complex: θ(ought) complex
that becomes φ(inking)...

              the moment "she" starts to
perceive the mirror...
       and you're looking into the concept
of time and of glass...
  
but then... there's... the libretto... and the composer...
the rare event of: richard wagner...
where there's a schizoid... bilingual...
"in theory": der kommissar working 7/11
on the advent of: neu-muzik zu kommen!

  queen of the night aria contra...
my sleeping karma - satya - ahimsa...
that one: "last" cigarette...
me... a wife and a child...
        tidy... if i only aimed at...
the fraction to no effect...
the wife and the sole child...
i'd be doing all the proper details...
a wife and... the hungarian model...
of at least: towing 2...
      hardly an embitious venture if only
towing the holy trinity of:
fake hey-gay-zeus fake myriam fake josephus...

not looking for queen of the night aria...
   nor satie's gnossienne no.1 sampled...
ezio bosso - under the trees...
           vittorio monti
jean-paul egide martini {/^.5.p 6^)_(0$drd...
toast!
it was... bothering me... started last night...
took 6 rough miles to get the tune
out from my head...
into a coffin... of sorts...
it was... borodin's prince igor! all along!

p.s. re-flex: the politics of dancing...
       duran-duran: the reflex; ******-pointer-ler;
h'american pie contra dad:
   the gay bar: electric sexes und siebens:
hefyd...                         deutsche bankschisch...
zeit (time) and the ruschischen:
              цeit... always conflated as...
indistinguishable by a ****** / lithuanian...
           цeit - bißcuit... crumble: чarcoal...

hey presto: a *******... voilà contra eureka!
Joel Becerra Aug 2015
i
I am just a man
I got different motives
You just won't understand
What a perfect way to hold on to my sanity
By writing these
I need elaboration
Some sort of consultation
For these feelings
That are buried oh so deep
Keep me from my sleep
I'll hold my wheeps from my peeps and ride this thing
Vernarth's term overage was not exhaustive, as Vernarth would return to Alikantus after his journey to Kanthillana for the Winter Solstice and Patmos in spring. He was collecting each time in the decantation of each corollary of texts, images, narrations, and epigraphs that were being deliberately written on the flames of the Apokálypsis. All the experiences of the tragic characters in Vernarth were embedded in the papyrological Datum once it was detached from the Dragon's snout. This result and action verse became the reconstruction of the cessation of a physical body, whose final living objective was to legitimize everything in which it was uniting in the nomenclature of written prosopography, advanced in all the roles of the ruler of their own history. parapsychological incorporated in its own self-analysis until reaching Everism that reconciles its mythology as something secondary to the Tragedy for all societies that evolve in a focused technocratic aspect and the rhetorical unsaying of attacking the world that was destroyed under a redoubled dose of anesthesia of the disgruntled ideological of being judged by the entire world as a being spawned in the papyrology of Pergamon in ruins. The visibility of him as an actor drags her with the vision of him asleep under hypnosis that allows him to combine the periods of antiquity more than six thousand years ago. C. allowing him to build a person from low to high visibility in a consequence where totalitarianism was exclusive to a millenary East, in pursuit of a nascent South America suffering from the birth of itself from the geological split 120 or 150 million years ago that did not they would be enough to bring about the consequences of Spílaiaus when he allows, hears and tells me to give him the world that only he had been chosen to live in.

Vernarth welcomes and obeys his command to divide N times as a normal body could run and fall into this current maelstrom that would take him throughout Greece, Judea, Central, and Eastern Europe, from a place of origin called Kanthillana which resists the intermodal phenomenon of quantum that would overwhelm him to the point where his entire genealogy would follow him wherever he went if need be. All this was mending and composing itself in those alternating impurities of some paradigm, reinstating the constitution of the random present of Greek mythology already alive in the blood that unites the same rivers that are born of a narrator, always disposed of in the eminence of inspiration either in Olympos, Profitis, Ophel, Kantillana or any tomb that constitutes the format of electric actual mobility where it distills rapidly at the speed of emotions that will always be directed by gods who feel it before they are received by a distant reader. The elaboration design of the works is spaced from the hand of the argument that sometimes tries to hold on to the runaway reins since they are commanded by real emotions provided by unknown forces, generating a great collision and incomprehensible data header for an eye or ear human that needs the neat pause to attend to the discretions that are intertwined and accelerate with solidified sources of extemporaneous mythology diverging from prosopography components of Literature Heritages Sites.

The chattering of the monuments will be of great superiority as an addition to the compiled history never told or narrated where it intertwines with two dissimilar, dissonant geographical zones, distant in such a way that they themselves react to a thunder of life, which makes up those zones that are individualized and inanimate as sources of multidimensional fervor, causing high-sounding narrative imbalances that at times were made as a great source of the power of what makes sense or what could mean at times that could continue progressing in the potential wealth of beings that were never geographically rooted in a system of use or group accent that could be immersed in the biography of that which has never been told, since there is no record. The information that is unknown could not be collected as well as a concept that survives the networks of a shipwreck of the passing of the centuries that run between even and odd centuries of today in the antiquity of the Middle Ages, however, all this traceability leaves us in micro spaces that are not perceptible, nor in the incorporation of chronicles that can be driven by the linear ordering method. Vernarth is in itself a precipitous advance, a quantum of dissimilar interests of civilizations that survive and will survive from where they were forged, perhaps integrating the second face of a life that manages to detach itself from the vital circle, to experiment with its canceled free will and redirect its life. revived canons of a new nuance that concelebrates within the face of an unknown character of prosopography; to the same one who imposes the laws of everything he should for each own individual having the opportune world of him that receives him lavishly.

After the seventh century, the phenomena of the Mediterranean between what simply promotes a turn of the page leaves the hemisphere of each empire more distant from the social phenomena that distinguish us once the stumble of generations cannot count what is not could mend in the subsequent generation. This is why Vernarth's hybrid containing allows you to travel between immemorial times, allowing you to store them and tolerate periods that do not fit the scale of all their wills deployed towards an administration that manages to revitalize their monuments and ally them with other geographical areas that could not strictly speak of the same contemporary, having taken more advantage of them. Such efforts would make a great providence and closeness of all the garments that represented suitable characters who are still looking in their wasteland for the true chronological process that should fit their conditions. Vernarth is a great enlargement of prosopography that he has or ambitions excessively, and that may heavenly tempt him to build vaults that can fit the figure of himself equivalent, of the libertine whims that could stipulate the crosses of the early and late periods, eager and differentiated for everything that could fit in a bunch of flowers like a bunch of verses that would be destined for the available that waits to be presented from the incorrupt mound of Olympus with the chain of being repeatedly presented in the Kanthillana before the god Spilaiaus.

The tool will allow the reconstruction of each elapsed period of time, which is exactly what the submithology intends, to return to live with the villagers who tend to trace their lines of traditions, customs, and much-needed etymology to revive the peripheral description where some manage to to be protagonists, leaving aside those who should be participants in silent actors that intends to expand the euphemism that is only revived in the courts of the emperor that is not even established in an ironclad draconian family monograph, as could be seen with the vast majority of the descendants of the Merovingians. The portrait tends to allocate budgets from the treasury of who should be the budget of the vast majority of true Labrador Hoplites as true ascendants of the great hidden treasure that will provide the eloquent looks of Medousa. This is how much of the vindication of cinnabar must have been established as a burial of many individuals from the Middle Ages in the vast majority of Europe to daub the bodies in sulfur or Cinnabar to try to keep them in the underworld with their entire body in linen shrouds or substitutes, and how to preserve or how to return to an organic chemical environment from which was the union of two beings when they engendered a being by the chemical explosion of a body in the autonomous cycle of procreation. Linguistic guidelines will undoubtedly make the entire Middle Ages the creation of a symbol of faith entrenched in unionized social spheres, made up of guilds of families that were never registered in a regime or corporation to supplement the lack of the Datum that in this work is It aims to decorate, uniting all classes, latitudes, and sectors that could well deserve complete the spaces that should have been executed by intercontinental clans, offering them a history that is part of their emblematic ancestor.

I would dare to name the Hoplithography, as the archaeological social fabric forging the question that establishes the Hoplites as sowing cultures of the significance of their prosopon of military body, contemplating further than all the nations of a way of life that probably would have been perhaps univocal to a pious being of the science that surrounds him, with the loneliness of a being that does not admit that he is overcome by science that submits to autonomous man such as Diogenes of Sinope or Archimedes who join an axial connection in the evidence of the senses, but in the Solstice of Sinope 412 a. C. specifically in the efforts of Vernarth to make them participate that the free man belonged to a Don who was more removed from his gaps of mistakes or successes since the free man was going to be imprisoned in the urn that joins him to his body and not to the illusion of your senses. The gates of truth or otherwise are just a few steps away from this Vernarth Tragedy that asks for a little hint of space-time movement. All the paradoxes that linear time will persevere in great calculation errors that could be an Aporia as speculative logic, followed by the fiction that exceeds reality where the paradoxes will be unresolved inconsistencies, essentially with what untimely arises from an indication of life in a common being that is related to quantum mutes as exhibited by the explosive Parapsychology or "Paraps" that are subdivided from the different scenarios of Aporías or enclaves of logic that are conjugated with the non-existent reality, given to the mechanics of Submythology of heroes, gods, and others coming back to life in a passage of time that is not explained in some expired history book that had more to tell than what its own ruins hid from the truth that could be told. This is a wealth of objectives that this Thesis proposes, to discover in the immensity of the unknown what was and could never be told, and that the past genetically survives in varieties of classes of organic species that continue to be assembled by worlds that tend to clear and rethink what any storyteller, philosopher, historian or archaeologist can interpret.

Physics is made of a servile space or instrument of the paradox, in such a way that the events point to reopen doors that are of the unknown History that could be part of a god that did not exist until the shelves documented him as part of a living culture associating it with its patterns of daily life, politics and the chores of common human life. It would be like the Arrow of Flight with Achilles, perhaps leaving a great inheritance to Alexander the Great in the dichotomy of how it would be Zefian by instituting the balance of the world with the geodesy of the world of Vernarth, not alluding in between the time that dictates it for its governance, but rather the cosmic heart that allows guessing where the thoughts will be directed more than the elliptical of ascent, and descent how far the arrow will arrive because even so whoever finds it will be of the mental times that elapse in different fractions as it is Parapsychology not moving, but more than the time that only moves where it is not or rests to give primary indications of intelligence in which thought must establish the concrete fact that everything takes place in its elliptical, but not in dissociated thought. Perhaps the singularity of this polished rule could show that this Paradox of Zeno that everything that exists could outline that the line that divides Achilles from Alexander the Great is the elliptical of thought because in the rhetoric of parapsychology there are no contradictions if it is that in the Dimension of Hellenic History find in it a distant today that communicates with this faction of the dimensional medium. The infinitesimal calculations of the Duoverse aim to link or reconcile what is being advanced in parallel in the mechanics of neuroscience, without the need to have practical scientific vestiges to determine what inhabits the intersection of a circle of quantum with respect to another that it occupies, a classic example of Vernarth when carrying out the flashing Kenósis of his Kli or Vessel that reunites his independent non-parallel lifelines, but that of belonging to a Hellenic trunk with the mathematics that exceeds infinitesimal numbers moving all the lamps of the Universe when both demi-gods walked through the relevant infinity.

Vernarth is a paradox that begins with the analysis of his initial "V" of Lacedaemon with the intention of traveling in supposed time, more remotely than a word can be subordinated to what could reconstruct an infinite regress, which is what will happen with the Apokálypsis in question where he is the threshold section of analysis of the genesis of this work in the Kanthillana, then with the reissue of the Medico in Piacenza by recognizing the constitution of the area that is more than what any specialist can understand; that is, much further from any speculative stealth before Vernarth or after that other prototypes could arise that are indirectly related to the concretion or invisibility of Non-Visible characters, but with the arrival of the submithology genre, its structure will generate conciliatory physical fields of what that he could never refer to or know if a beginning began when the end of the prototype of an invisible being was just being gestated. Perhaps the genesis of the world is a great paradox that was looking for the beginning of the end that manages to meet with a definitive beginning allied to that of an indivisible that indefinitely and infinitely creates micro spaces where time has no place, only physics links that overlap quantumly and represent the truth of purpose.
The argument goes beyond the linear narration that tends to describe who was or was, supplanting it in that of who will be and will be whenever the bonds of a timeless continuous reality remain in all assumptions. Here it is clear the axiom of the infinity of divisibility that is predisposed by an objective to achieve an unforeseen event that is forceful as much as it is likely to plan, from the Duoverse and its composition of everything including all the magnitudes and tendencies to his feet what will add up and will be charged with what has not been built or discovered making this hypothesis of the conceptual that displaces the historical because the conceptual occurred and occurred in outdated times not altering its objective since parapsychology in its infinity of regression will annex him in every Greek, Hebrew and Western dimension and latitude in an ancient world that will always be composed of addends that incorporate it into the Vernarthian World that in turn dares to challenge that the importance of the world of emotions are not part of the study of this Thesis of Literary Heritages Sites, as an infinite potential to achieve when the Apokalypsis is definitely triggered, prior to the ascension of the Vernarth when it leaves the Megaron and its living vibrating magnetic body. The regimes are not egalitarian with the fall of the determined slave democracy of 404 a. C. It could perfectly have been ruled, making the political destinies of an entire nation that is subjugated to attract and implement political and economic experience unclear, that those who would never be sustained by a regime determined by the inclusion of quantum paradoxes would be migrated more than any political-administrative order, which never led to the development of a new dawn of science of the infinite regressions of Parapsychology that unites everything multidimensionally.

The best choice is the equivalent of Prosopography, which results from an anomaly to the rule where Vernarth's Mythology regulates the organization of prosopography, claiming to demonstrate that there are gods who intercommunicate like Spilaiaus with Zeus, claiming to establish that what is going to happen is what that he wanted for his regency the prolongation of one mythology towards another, but without it being written but "Live" this is a postulate that Submythology proposes, substituting all the method rather experimenting for the superimposition of everything to the lesson of everything that is interconnected, although maintaining the univocal root that represents all the structural, cultural, historical and sociological components that intervene at times as an entity belonging to a reality of legends that border on the reality that must be preserved vividly. The compilation lists of Greek mythology is the product of enormous processes of years that have been developed in their territorial regions, a cultural union since Christianity displaced paganism from the year 391 AD. C. tormenting virgins and nascent creeds from a multi-paganism step that was based on the diversity of their daily lives to a universal expression that surpassed all excessive freedom or nullified free will that contended with the delicate slave democracy or dissuasive militarism based on the Oracles, who never had a real interpretation of what originated from a real god or nature that governed itself, rather than a god that questioned others that only individualized their own dramas to represent them to a god that pro-tradition that he freed them or condemned them to live at the expense of a Dramatis Personae. Here is the prosopography that with the well-formulated passage and sense of defining that the Ardors of the Drama make sense of being systematized from the gods of Olympus, but also in social stratifications in part to the worldview of their own ancestors to be the most faithful interpretive of the wealth that makes up the source that structures those of us who are not destined to be deities, but if we could exist before them with a recognized pattern in average reports that could be placed when Vernarth leaves the confused division of a body that will remain in the Iridescent Hydor of the Mashiaj or when the prophetic appearance of his Mother Luccica is sustained by such a portion of a physical world, rather totally petrified before the hecatomb or end of the world, generating in her a stony and inanimate being, but if sufficiently existing to define her new role in the universe "Ab Initio" of a general objective of uniting eternity of the competo of existing of unifying the geomorphological latitudes of mythological existence with other unknown vertical cultures (Submitology) and hypothetically pool the experience of the elements of the universe as a whole to empower roles among themselves. Then unify everything that can be narrated as an imminent truth to lavish it on those who could not exist at the same time, but rather describe it with the quantum channel, as it is here that Vernarth remains conjugated to his literature, history, theory, and quality of his speech. focused on a fully portrayed and defined system of Patio V of Hellenika as the Fifth Dimension as comparisons that are rationalized with space-time, geographic-chronology submerged in a theme of Political History as the axis of states that exert social change for numerous characters who recently there they come to life, as is the case of the new stage of Zacchaeus and the Sycomoro or Saint John the Evangelist in the Hegira to Judah provided by Vernarth to rediscover its roots, and reduce what could have been but the journey of Judah if there had not been ended in a conclusive in Jaffa where the metaphor that returned to Limassol would exceed the metaphor of Rhodes as an intermediate point that perhaps nu It could never have ended.
The interrelation of conceptions is due to a Primogen of the sixth dimension that was established as it was in Izzana with the Unicorns or Uilef that carried them to Genoa, or of the Giant Camels that were transfigured in Jaffa when the Ghosts of Shiraz had an impartial interference in the successful sea off the eastern sea. The relationships of the primogeniture allow a timeless mobilization led by Eurydice as a living figurehead that structures her Orphic proselytism, further than a conventual desire to compensate for all the unfocused in the elite and the outcome in the Profitis Ilias as the maximum height of reception. Trinitarian back with the ecstasy of Saint John the Apostle as the mobile center of the Hexagonal Primogeniture, the similar inspiration of living images of Ein Karem and its shepherds.

The Birthright is a family that composes them in their faith that guides them by themselves, whose goals are primarily directed by their sacramentals from the first to the seventh Giga Camel. In the imaginary and cultural reference that is delimited by its monotheistic ideology, acquired from a Hebraic-Hellenic scientific connection, whose postulates will survive the unusual phenomenon from generation to generation, but rather infinite inter regressions that could sometimes revolutionize the entire creation from scratch interpolated by an alpha, being the same for its intended end. Behold, the crossover element of this theme alludes to objects, events, or phenomena such as the reopening of the Kassotides as a central element from which the hypothetical support of all faith could be shipwrecked, if it is put at risk of re-raising culture to save the fate of the world at risk from climate change. If two sages met in limits without knowing Schopenhauer or Nietzsche with the relevance of ideologies that would offer more factors, expanding both systems or theories as alternative areas to think free from humanism or intellectualism that somehow reveals itself at the end of the times reconciling all time of action subsequent to his potential periods, more than his written legacies because his potential lies in his social prototype more than his work, given that his virtuosity is deeply rooted as an atheist believer, more separated from any intellectual root of wisdom What if it denotes the non-existence of a Pagan or Divine Enlightened God, what would provoke the indirect means that persists of calling a society whether or not it was a believer? In the specific case of Vernarth, his entire biography revolves around a Supreme Being who appears before him as a god of mythology, and who then takes him to the portal of Saint John the Evangelist as a being of compassion who alternates with him to embrace him and your arms. Everything there is that allows to treasure, store, or interrelate in different social strata uses the divine work that a character that sheds light that can even give more brightness than any star that can be demonstrated in a written work as an essential starting base reliability of an author who is inspired, and is not inspired.

Submithology also replaces prosopography, to say the least, that unites in general circles that cease to be physical until the ethereal limen that converts them into micro translation spaces such as quantum, in the same reciprocity of a point A-B and B-A and vice versa as it stipulates the connectivity of what exalts thought, and its inheritance when rising to the point that would be the “Intellectual Heaven”. Vernarth in the present time of any researcher could attribute that it will depart from the Iridescent Hydor photo-duct by seven channelings of the spectrum of the refracting luminaire but of the concomitance of the observable Vernarth, or rather of what little remains to be able to observe of man after leaving It is sighted by the masks that caustically protect or envelop it as a waste of what is not attributable to a Politai, having conditions of dense interests of a destiny that will never be recognized or belong to it. It is because of this reluctance that the proposal of free will offers greater perspectives in a series of misunderstandings such as Empowering two famous atheists like Nietzsche or Schopenhauer at the service of believers who would never object to the full range of possibilities that they could implement from scratch, to convert a Christian who is like himself to a convert who will purge and reverse all his permissible externally in the farthest destinies that allow him to ascend in freedom of annulled will, not only on the earth with one more differentiated, but as a tender being who saves the world so that the world does not forget him. This thesis offers the man who has been bastardized or discriminated from a social marginal depriving him of alternating with nobles or well-to-do who circulate under the same roof of half humanity that allows the common man to dispense with all humanist beliefs, opposition, syncretic, etc. .) To detach from all vanity that is limited in the abandonment of any of it progressing with all creation that if it is when every living organism ceases to be on Patmos.

The Patmos reef may contain inventories, archives, demographic indexes, religious spheres, congregations as repertoires of those that will form when an external being arrives to build a society that imposes its character of contribution to society, and tends to adapt to particular aspects that the that they will be until today on the island itself, in itself demanding the leadership of an elite of the Passional of Iahvé through Saint John the Apostle in conception of qualifying him with the great stratified of the species that compromises in the optics of converting his followers, as an essay of an illusion made real ad honorum of a residual fragmentary that does little to unify the eras in which the rich and poor will be relatives not because of their genealogy, but because what the poor lead of the other to save him from an end that has another handle of his heraldry and portraits of his game that is deactivated in the collective imagination of all his progeny highlighted as a representative of mutations of numer dark ales, where nothing will be recorded only in this untrammeled probability of granting a life that resides in everything that cannot be seen or named, that transgresses all sources of prosopography as something deductive in this case Deus Ex Machina; as will be embodied in the final tableau of Vernarth's Trilogy III "Like the god who will descend from the machine or in this case from Hydor to Vernarth to take him to Alikantus with his mended golden hooves"
To conclude where it remains to argue that it can attract us from the Intuition of being more than a human who can actually live more than what can be budgeted, without prejudice to common sense that is quiet and distant from the epilogue of this work when whoever looks at it and hold on to a legacy of Heritage Site Literature, and manage to embrace it so that its pulse can be felt in each character it is in, and in each episode of a post-classical story. The derivations of a critical analysis of psychological Vernarth is greatly affected by an independent reaction of a real regime to which his fellow Hoplite Soldier leads him to the event of Arbela in the great battle of Gaugamela, integrating himself into the analysis of a reality that did not belong to him due to because he came from another remote erudition, and was only recognized for defending common acts that reflect the awakening of a new seed of value and temperament of a whole baggage of anthroponymy that could fit in all the spontaneous civilizations that manage to transgress the barriers of time and normal space, here is Vernarth who manages to fit in the names that substantiate in others that revalues them, and could appear as a perfect leadership name to access a Helot, Hoplite or Politai housing space in the same way as It could be transmitted from a leader who, together with Wonthelimar, was able to cross the Pyrenees or the heights of Ida or Kanthillana. as a high descendant of the Arakynthos Mountains of Messolonghi destined for the Koumeterium of the same name where the genealogical table of Vernarth is carved together with his brother Etrestles, under the invisible courtesies of a man when he is condemned being born from here from the numb invincible spirit of the Heroes of the Independence of Greece 1830. Finally, in this penultimate episode that Vernarth qualifies the sense of not being affected by an oppressive cause as being influenced by supremacies of ideas, creeds, philosophies, or governmental order, rather by a divine general scientific exordium that is from where he manages to interpret when the Mashiach or Messiah, will take his hands to carry him to meet the Hydor and dwell in that place with Him. The archivist will have the possibility to investigate and study in situ the paranormal events referred to as mega parapsychology, This way he will allow his vast merciful heart to be a strategist to carry in his inventory everything s the petitions of the living who remain in the land of Greece to take them to those who remain in the land via Patmos. Vernarth from the 6th century AD. in search of his genealogy he can create a meritorious dignity of giving funeral rites to his ancestors, the long-standing family coat of arms became returnable to the Reign of Horcondising: Spílaiaus and Aiónius with the major gods who waited for him to reside in the entire fringe of the invisible beings that in eternity will take chronological charge of a revolving time that will recirculate from all that is not dimensioned like a spiral dragging all the empires that request the renovation of their ruins, and of their beings that cry out for the misuse of this world and new coverage of a new world of replacement; as Vernarth's Strategoi legacy through all the reigns between Justin I and Justinian I of the sixth century, since previously a large part of Vernarth's family was exiled to the South of Spain by the then Roman Empire from the north of Venice to the Mediterranean, from here he transfers all the families of his lineage with his Coat of Arms of Lacedaemon to protect them over the course of more than 700 years. In this way, a large part of those who had to protect the family raft that was protected by Vernarth in the revolt of Constantinople after signing peace with Persia. The Apoinandros preserved all his lineage along the paths of an enthronement ritual that protected the distinctions but also the families of the world in the Mediterranean regions, curiously where a large part of this Trilogy navigates the Triacontero Eurídice together with Vernarth as Strategoi of expeditionary forces in glorious parapsychologies of the Middle Ages moving periodically from south to north of all of Hispania, even alternating with Nordic and German elites, such as Greek-Hebrew nominating Vernarth as a dignitary that will be preserved in the coat of arms Strategikon that managed to be collaborated with the Emperors the century VI, attributing that some of the most robust could be part of the elites of the Roman legions as exclusive Praetorians. In this way, all the family trunk and his insignia were migrated from the north of Venice, then to Lombardy to be redirected to Spain later in the coming centuries to South America. The Strategikon has presented as relevant to the present elaboration thanks to its representativeness regarding the egregious existence, compilation, and hoarding of relevant technical information for the performance of the distinguished tasks of ex-military, being able to be verified with absolute certainty within its family traits with its existence, and continued use as a source of the great Taktika of Alexander the Great and Saint John the Apostle as Magister Militum.
Epilogues Trilogy III ( Excerpt)
James Woods Apr 2014
Confusion, Elaboration, Separation, Devastation.
Broken, Repression, Deprivation, Inebreation.
Realization, Humiliation, Depression, Correlation.
Disillusion, Edification, Exoneration, Dissipation.
ottaross Jun 2015
"I'm changing my name" she said
"I've just met my father for the first time"
She said
Payment rings through
In transaction for a *** of tea
The gathered paraphernalia handed over in exchange.
I had little to offer in return
To my smiling young barista
A friendly tendril for a familiar face in the shop
An eagerness to share some part of her life
Even though time and place
Offer little option for elaboration
For sating her need to say it to herself again
The enthusiasm around a momentous life event
A few kind words the final part of the transaction
Then the scoop of tea leaves
And some hot water
And a fragile white porcelain cup.
A brief chat with a barista - seemed too good to not capture in a poem
Mandalyne Nov 2014
I want to write. I want to ramble on and on about the symphonies of my breathing and the adrenaline of adventure soaring through my desires. I want to elaborate on elaboration. I want my heart to spill out with the roll of my tongue. I want to invite you in. I want to walk the ground of every culture and discover the hidden secrets in the nooks and crannies of the world. But I've lost my muse.
Harsh Sep 2017
First, a declaration: I love you. I truly love you with all of my heart and I need you to know that; I mean that in the truest sense of the word.

Second, a disclaimer: I’m writing this in a generic, public manner and I know that makes this seem cold and impersonal. And there’s truth to that- anyone can find their way to this letter and maybe people will. But I’ve sent this to you in particular, and I hope that conveys at least some authenticity.

Third, an apology. I want you to know that I understand the weight of what I’ve shared with you. I know that just because you’re a kind and compassionate person, you understand the exigence of my situation and maybe you’re worried, maybe you’re scared, or just plain confused. And after telling you, I can’t ever un-say it. I can’t take those words back, I’ve pushed this irretrievable, heavy truth upon you and I’m truly sorry. It burns at my own chest sometimes and acts as a void in others.

Fourth, an elaboration: I didn’t tell you with the intention of having you fix me or attend to my problems. I don’t want you to do that, I would never ask that of you. Although I understand where that sentiment comes from, I don’t want you to feel obligated to try and think of solutions. Don’t do that to yourself.

And finally, a request: just due to the nature of what this is, I continually feel like a burden. I feel like I’m a weight on everyone else’s chest that’s holding them back, or a sore subject that people hesitate to acknowledge. Sometimes I go days where my voice feels heavy because I haven’t spoken to anyone. There are days where I long comfort and company and others where I seek out solitude. I won’t always reach out and I often won't ask you to do so because I don’t want it to be a chore- I don’t want to be a calendar reminder in your phone. I just ask that you be patient with me.

Without wax,
Someone Who Told You His Darkest,
Most Worrisome Secret.

P.S. I know how bad things can be and where I am in relation to them; I know what to do in case it becomes too much. I truly don't mean to worry you.
I'm not sure why I wrote this but I felt like I had to.
abs Apr 2016
.
I used to think about you a lot
Because you were once my apple pie
The thing that kept me going for days.
I cared and loved you
Even if you didn't feel the same way.

Lately, I'm thinking
Which part of it was lost
Because when you came back
Everything left in awe.

I thought all I ever wanted
Was to get you by my side
And now, that you're here
I just want you to get lost.

What happened before left a wound
I guess time really heals everything.
After three long years of silence
All the words was said, and the feelings had left.

It was but a great story
And 'you and I' was just a theory
Somethig haunted me for so long
I could not even remember when.

I wish I could utter good bye
But was there even a 'hello' to start with?
All that's between us are trashed
It needs no futher elaboration.

Even now, I want to end this
Because you don't even deserve a space.
Maybe in our next life
There'll be a better tale told for us.
Filmore Townsend Sep 2015
taking place at bar after rare occurrence of
an early night. ordered a single whisky and tall beer.
the drunkard opposite found agreement in the random
statements i interjected between him and blonde bartender.
cheaesing his Miller to my whiskey because of false-statement
passed through these winter-warped lips. cheersing, to words
that are false belief. if only to retain him to placated  stupor.
opened book of Style, left-to-right this hand underlining sentences
and rectifying the self-criticism ever present. talking louder,
   'i just don't hear as well as i once could.'
he orders another but sends it to vacant chair adjacent mine.
stumbling, moving from his ritual spot. sitting, he claims
his upbringing as Southern Baptist. after i announced the
denomination to my rearing in childhood.
   'you're a christian, good.'    but
i don't have the heart to elaborate upon the crazed and
pantheistic beliefs i hold in truth.
   'you were baptized and saved?'    i lied,
for truth is my soul will burn in hell according to this man's
-- self-proclaimed sinner -- drunkenly spewed theological underst-
atments. his words slur as he falls into elaboration of Bible conspiracies.
adding a few
   '*****'
                      here and there,
and always in concern of his opinion of Muslims -- awkward.
my boss in background chimes; we had a similar conversation
moments before. now my words betray everything stated during
prior moment. i order another beer then excuse myself to ****.
orig: 020914
In this place I've retreated to,
Away from the noise and light that
Illuminates all of my wrong, all
My guilty feelings are written
Down my back as
Everyone I know looks down, in
On me -
I go into the cave,
I shiver against rough cold walls and
Listen
To my own breath echo.
To be alone here is new to me, like
A fresh house cat beneath the bed -
I don't want to trust.
I don't want to listen.
They're looking for me, I see their
Flashlights and glow sticks and
Emergency packs,
They all want to help me, that's all.
I am
Surrounded by piles
Of scrapped letters and explanations,
Crumpled allegories,
Unfinished symposiums, my
Sweat is all about me and my
Stick of graphite leaves more on my hands than
On any sentence of elaboration as to
How I feel,
What I want.
I've nearly
Used all resources here, I've
Crushed the sharp point of my utensil, I have
Very little ability to amount these thoughts
Into dialogues of truth... I don't mean to lie,
I'm just
Out of time like a mouse in a corner
Feigning death, stalling for
Some better manipulation I can
Replace with my relationships so that
My ambiguity will remain charming and unquestioned.
My candle runs dripped over and small,
But I'll learn to write without light
If I have to, learn to
See without sight if I have to,
Learn to
Demonstrate my highest capacity to
Stubborn my way out of this hole -
When I do,
I wont stop running
Until the water hits me,
Cleans my hands and
Drifts me out
Into the neutral, knowing sea.

— The End —