The magic of once upon a time
has gone out of the garden of which
man was made to tend and to keep.
The mysteries in our world meant
to lead man to the miraculous
disappeared by the hate filled life
of our heartless way of living.
Our way of life are so full of greed,
that man become so empty,
for we pursue the mundane things
outside the glorious treasures
hidden within our consciousness.
Driven by the unreasonable
frivolous emptiness of a
quick silver lifestyle of the lost ones,
many have wandered away
from the castle of the valued
and treasured precious mysteries of
creation hidden within the heart of man.
Man can always return to the exulted glory,
for the paradise is not completely lost.
As simple as it is,
all that is required is to love one another,
and that magic lost will gradually come back.
The glorious heart of the exulted man,
the intelligence of the mind of man knows,
and understands this truth.
He only needs to step into the place that centers him within to fully enjoy
the joyful tenderness of an exulted being.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Forth into the forest straightway
All alone walked Hiawatha
Proudly, with his bow and arrows,
And the birds sang round him, o’er him,
“Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!”
Sang the robin, the Opechee,
Sang the blue bird, the Owaissa,
“Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!”

Up the oak tree, close beside him,
Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo,
In and out among the branches,
Coughed and chattered from the oak tree,
Laughed, and said between his laughing,
“Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!”

And the rabbit from his pathway
Leaped aside, and at a distance
Sat ***** upon his haunches,
Half in fear and half in frolic,
Saying to the little hunter,
“Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!”

But he heeded not, nor heard them,
For his thoughts were with the red deer;
On their tracks his eyes were fastened,
Leading downward to the river,
To the ford across the river,
And as one in slumber walked he,

Hidden in the alder bushes.
There he waited till the deer came,
Till he saw two antlers lifted,
Saw two eyes look from the thicket,
Saw two nostrils point to windward,
And a deer came down the pathway,
Flecked with leafy light and shadow.
And his heart within him fluttered,
Trembled like the leaves above him,
Like the birch-leaf palpitated,
As the deer came down the pathway.

Then, upon one knee uprising,
Hiawatha aimed an arrow;
Scarce a twig moved with his motion,
Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled,
But the wary roebuck started,
Stamped with all his hoofs together,
Listened with one foot uplifted,
Leaped as if to meet the arrow;
Ah! the singing, fatal arrow,
Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him!

Dead he lay there in the forest,
By the ford across the river;
Beat his timid heart no longer,
But the heart of Hiawatha
Throbbed and shouted and exulted,
As he bore the red deer homeward,
And Iagoo and Nokomis
Hailed his coming with applauses.

From the red deer’s hide Nokomis
Made a cloak for Hiawatha,
From the red deer’s flesh Nokomis
Made a banquet in his honor.
All the village came and feasted,
All the guests praised Hiawatha,
Called him Strong-heart, Soan-ge-taha!
Called him Loon-Heart, Mahn-go-taysee!

Here oh postmodern nihilist
the grave awaits
your death
wish:

Life
      a
         struggle

escape it

death
          so tempting

grasp it

             and take its era with you:

Keep it
            away from our church's

                                                     our schools

                                                        ­                 our civics
                                                          ­                          
                                                                ­                          and further culture.

Lo, the children
black as the hell they die in...

Its inordinately subjective unconsciousness;
confused emotionally with its ineptitude of reason.

Blaming its former God,
for their own doing.

Wanting to save that world upon themselves left behind from such a rejection.

Lest they live in a Christ so unjust.
As to not know all men equally,
but to judge them--in their distinction.

Creation
your natural law
emphasizes that which we do not want to come to terms with.
If only we could make us all inter-dependent biological beings of mechanization.

Chain me to genetic determinism and biochemical reactions foremost -- lest my soul affirms inequality:

                                                    ­                              Liberty exulted
                                                         ­                         by the risen Lord:
Supremacy/Autonomy

© S. Wesley Mcgranor

I know what I know,
and I don't know what I don't know.
Let all who know tell me about
what I don't know.
Check your self and let me know
what you want from me.
The whole world is not really
good or bad place.
It is a mystery that you cannot fathom.
To play your own game and win
must be your priority.
Life is about risking and sharing the
gifts, talents and abilities you were
endowed with and finding your place
in the scheme of things, and
to leave your signature and
fingerprints in the canvas of life.
It is about opening up with love,
kindness and compassion and
be generous in nature.
To lavishly share your life and
contribute in abundance the blessings
you were gifted with.
It is about transforming yourself
into an exulted being you were created to be.
To find the balance that centers you.
It's about daily discovery of
your innate dormant natural
endowments and how to safely
use it to your advantage and the benefits of mankind.
It is about opening up like the rose flower,
sharing your fragrance.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

i knew from a young age nothing could love me.
i knew when everything began,
when elemental dust condensed into planets,
when life fought itself into existence
in the waters of a cooling world,
when the first being exulted in being
and i exulted too
and crushed it for daring to live.
watched it decompose in my palm.
rotted roses by plucking them.
i knew from a young age
that nothing survived my touch,
that nothing lived in my hands -

nothing’s the only thing
i’ve ever held without killing.

so see, we’re meant to be,
you and i,
nothing boy –

let me hold you close cause i can’t rot you through,
you with your lack of self
and meaning,
you with your infinite void,
impenetrable ether.
see, we’re meant to be,
nothing boy,
let me swim in your vacancy and you,
you can be my new universe
and nothing will be my everything:
i’ll worship you like an absent father
and love you like an atheist’s god.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy,

i would **** 2000 statues to bring you to me.
i would slaughter a family of worms
to be crushed in your black hole.

i crushed the stars between my thighs,
left the triturated mess
like a promise to the world.
i crushed the stars between my thighs,
but i’ll be so careful with you,
nothing boy.
so gentle you won’t even know i’m there,
like a ghost sighing over your mouth.
so careful you won’t notice me
making my nest in your empty chest,
breathing for you,
pulling air to pool in your lungs.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy:
i complete you
and you empty me.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy,
nothing doesn’t rot -
my gangrene heart can’t touch yours,
pure as it is,
undefiled,
unadulterated,
a vacuum of a heart as empty as an unfilled grave.

they say
there’s a black hole at the center of every galaxy,
in the center of a ring of stars
light drawn to the dark.
they say there’s a black hole at the center
and if they’re right
you’re the last good thing about this galaxy.
stars swarm round you like flies, nothing boy,
you who are made of their
dead brothers,
who collapsed into themselves with the weight of existence,
who imploded with the heat of their desire for you,
who fed their light to your blackness,
nothing boy.
you are made of dead stars and of nothing at all.
you are
celestial corpses
and nihilism distilled.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy.
you’re corpses and i’m rot.
you’re nothing and i’m
the final destination
the last stop for sorry living creatures,
pitiful things that can’t quite
delete themselves,
can’t quite reach you
so i embrace them and soothe their sobs.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy,
i can hold you for more than a few
pitiful sobbing seconds.
i can hold you forever if you let me.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy.

i killed the world but you remain.
i crushed the galaxy between my thighs,
and you, impassive,
pulled the triturated mess into your event horizon.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy,

you have no breaths to steal
but i’ll give you all i’ve plundered.
i’ll give you every last breath, last word, last heartbeat,
and you can empty me like
a bottle of cheap wine.
see we’re meant to be –

nothing boy and gangrene girl,
a love story for fatalists
and nihilists alike.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy,
starcorpse creature, nietzsche’s son.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy -
nothing never rots
nothing never dies
nothing won’t decompose
in my arms.
see we’re meant to be,
nothing boy.
let me hold you close-

you’re the one thing i can’t break.

Blood is the only story I can tell.
For a fragile and damaged brain gives no cure,
and either chooses chaos or new birth.
My soul was the only currency I could sell.

Now I am empty and unleash the monster within.

So, deeply, I fell in love with slashes of red.
I gave no mind to life or death and thus
laid my wrath to carnage, sinning again and again.
And by my mirth, released the hungry wolves.

I was exulted at the sight of them.

After, I traveled to the brink of Hell’s chasm.
Staring into the pit black as obsidian, I jumped.
Torment and misery had been my only companions
and in the face of great heretics, I was welcomed home.

I was born from sin and so stained from the beginning.

You never felt snow tighten your skin with a sting
You never searched for the shore from the crest of a wave
You never grinned at the gait of a penguin
You never saw a whale’s grey fluke sink after rising
You never breathed in coffee’s warm rich aroma
You never heard the clearing of a smoker’s throat
You never saw headlights peer through dawn fog
You never smiled at an American accent
You never waited in a queue at the bank
You never cringed at the words of a driving instructor
You never sat and failed a biology test
You never kicked a football across the road
You never changed batteries in a tv remote
You never emptied the lawn-mower catcher
You never rushed to catch a bus and missed it
Yet exulted He chose you
Praise and glory to Him
Picked you from this world
And for it
The last in the line
The path straight to follow
To Him high above all
Alhamdulillah!

I made this path my own
I laid these stories out like bricks upon the ground...
As i walked they rose up behind me to create a wall.
An archaic brick by brick, blow by blow, defense.
At the moment i learnt to write, my name,
and to the fists that grabbed my hair, made my breakfast and told me,
'I find it hard to love you';
there began, the foundations of my wall.
Stories about the loving punches of a lover,
the cheating of a best friend, who took my trust to town,
and the loss of my father's approval.
Lines were dug, and the stones laid, down.
Subconsciously i forgot to feel love.
I forgot what it was like to feel another's voice in my ear,
whispering sweet nothings,
of my beauty and the whole entirety of sweet rapture i exulted.
And my path stacked up behind me.
I forgot what it was like,
the thrill of a hand slipping into mine, a kiss on the neck,
it made me blush.
And my wall rose up proud and fierce.
I got scared, adrenalin coursed through my veins,
as i wondered what this new sensation was
and i questioned the very nature of the action.
And my wall rose to the occasion and flung off the feeling of security.
I forgot the thrill of the chase,
compliments rebounded from my ears,
and i laughed at the words 'i love you'.
And my walls closed in.
I forgot the feeling,
of being safe.
Of lying in someone's arms and feeling it was just o.k,
to be like this.
And my walls became an alleyway.
I walked and walked,
sometimes i ran,
but i never, ever, ever looked back.
I stuffed these compliments, hand holding and back-to-chest memories
in the bricks
and scribbled on them
'love is not real', 'you are unworthy', 'love is just a word'
in black marker pen, bold and thick in line,
so i could one day i could find them,
maybe take them down and find my way out.
But these bricks had become 2ft, 3ft, 4ft deep.
I searched for new lovers, new friends, new beings,
to show me what love was,
but each time i made the same mistake;
I believed in the beauty i thought love was,
because i had forgotten,
but my lesson wasn't learnt.
I scribbled my insecurities on those bricks.
And how i miss those days of those **** infernal butterflies,
those **** feelings,
those feelings, i tried so hard to lose so long ago.
My feelings, set in mortar and concrete.
I understand my path is not set,
my past is behind me,
but i am lost,
i am lost,
I. Am. Lost.
Love is not logical.
Love is not set in stone.
Love is not to be captured, or held over by dominion.
I cannot understand love, or to be loved; it's written somewhere in my past.
Someone once held my face and called me beautiful,
and i lost the will to believe it,
and i made this path my own.
And now i subconsciously walk alone.

My musings always pun me through a wide range of vividly exulted grimaces. I think like an ***, act like an ***, assassan-ing a conjugal of my mind and soul. 'Why', my only friendly foe stares at me, giving out a roar of laughter as if I'm his slave. He seeks pleasures by caging me in his castle where beauty meets an imperfection, heart rejoices with brain, and imagination treats a trick. When I peek through the orifice, the wreckage of my wrong decisions welcome me gleefully. My devilish side gets overwhelmed by such a warm welcome. It asks for more cutting out the pinions of my angelic side.

Ah! Clipped wings-------No wings!

Soon, devilish side overthrows my angelic side usurping a ******* over me. It collapses my self-esteem, laying entwined in the arms of my ego. Ahh! I combat, show the feats of courage but, a mistake became a lifetime regret. I put off my veil of courage for a second to pacify myself. Now, I'm all naked from head to toe. In the mean time, my opponent injure me by an arrow of self-pity. I, I AM destroyeDD. No shelter. No armor. No cloak. I'm NOMore. I try to find a lost-me but lose a remaining part of me. I try more, I lose a part again. The more I try, the more I lose. Now, I'm physically a non-existent but my soul still wanders. My soul still pursues the answers. My soul is in desolation. My soul tries to comfort himself but stops as someone whispers,


'Great things never come from comfort zones'
(An unconcerned-illusionary-truth fooled my soul, Badass soul!)

Now, my soul wants to re-surrect in a way that he get his body again. My soul imagines the days when his gestures were heard by the body terming as ****** gestures. My soul enlivens his morale, wears a smile but, still seems incomplete. Once, my soul finds a body but can't find a place in it. It is preoccupied by another soul. When my soul asks for a companionship, it denies. My soul is not even in a state where it can make sly innuendos. He still feels those oblique marks, disparaging comments, shadowing hîs path. Those feels still make him sweating out bullets. My soul finds a body whose soul is longing to depart. My soul rejoices thinking that this is something what he wants. Soon, my soul houses in a ****** paradigm of a lady. My soul gives a new life to the lady. Her spirits are high, and confidence is a multiple of her spirits. My soul elates, leaving an olive branch. My soul befriends her body. She is a merry-go-lucky lady but her melancholy changed her. Her bewitching beauty is a plus to her nature. My soul remembers my ugly face and but still send positive vibes my way. After sometime, my soul gets busy with the lady and forgets me. I try to send him signals but he doesn't respond. I try more, still nudges from his side. I forget my soul too. When I feel lonely in my grave, I wander here and there. I try to befriend the people resting in other graves, I fail. All graves are scented with the perfumes of love, which their beloved spray on them.They are brimmed with the gags of laughter, murmurs of joys, and clicks of wonders. My heart still throbs for my soul, and I. over and over again.

My alter ego protects me

when I am down comforts me

when broken it heals me

when exulted crowns me


It's my never give up

it's the never surrender

it's the help all

for I do love all


My alter ego never dies

I die and come back again still alive

I am not one of you

that is my alter ego


Sing me to my sweet death

I do wish you could

for soon I go

with my alter ego



By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Night Effects

The cooing of a turtle dove within that sad refrain the swoosh of angel wings the day was the busy time
You rushed here and there you broke records in what you made happen now the cool draping darkness
Swallows all complications with their hard and fast rules tender thoughts invade the stillness you
Embark upon the cradle that holds and swings the world in melodious rhythm the far edges where
Darkness deepens movement is thickened by the spun layers of night mist and quiet volumes of soulful
Thoughts disturbances only occur in the distant offing at your side the glimmer of those that mix the
Texture of heaven with the courser grains of earth their filled with peace and love that has seeped into
Their great frames from the source of all love this emanating power floods across all the emptiness that
Lies before them starkness is softened as the night was made of butterfly wings you taste it you feel the
Warmth dissolving the formable cool regions you become breathless as one world falls away and
Another merges in softest lanes brush stroked to hold magical impetus you are exulted all perfection
Beckons it enfolds you in a robe of deep softness you step as it were on the floor for the dance of your
Life swirling in grace’s embrace the soundless night enraptures you step in paths that form the highest
Discourse a person is honored to experience you have entered the glow angels leave by their passing
The sweetest caress moves earthen climes to tempers only known by those who have escaped the
Bareness that pervades to many times in this life thank you night angels for the gift of seeing our eternal
Future.

It was the third day of my madness caused by your doom
And my inner poet was lying with glooms
trying to perish
But your force was so strong and refreshing,
I felt his endless will to rise again and live
I was afraid to look his eyes even a moment
I had deprived him of worth, had left him to die
I was afraid hereafter of his conviction
I knew he was stronger because he had you...
But what I had my own, except my paltriness?!
What I did to save you
when you relentlessly put an end to yourself inside me?!
He said that he lived more vividly and worthily
And he deserved to live even more than me...
He asked what I had achieved more than ten years?
I shut up only, like before you had also made me
You had called all that I felt only complaints
But in fact, I had perceived you had also been afraid
To face the damages which you had caused to me...

Yes, my dear friend, I often have heavy damages
I was always traumatized in dimensional clashes
As I betray my eigen* and leave myself alone,
I begin to acknowledge my all emptiness
You can just exist in vain with your mind and logic
But you can truly live only by accepting your feelings valuable...

I got my strength with fire in my heart,
I was watching my growing power,
Which was circulating  along my freezing veins
I hugged my innocent, suffering poet,
I promised to create - my own highest values,
My predecessors, my sufferer poet and me
would live hereafter disregarding yours!
But yet it was not fair, yet it was not worthwhile,
I had to cling to my dimensions much more deeply
I was full of energy and had everything to fight,
There appeared a dream to share my horizons I would gain thereafter...
But I lacked you... Who deserved to see it most than others...
As the one who was able to do the impossible
which no one had been able to do before...
You had to see my intentional life you had presented...

I wandered among the graves in my "graveheart",
Resurrected my all soulmates lying in chaos,
Who we shared our sacred dimensions of solitude
Who were craving to be felt and to be understood
Nietzche, Schopenhauer, Cioran lead them of course...
I brought them to life with the laughter you had taught me,
We marched side by side to the source of vitality,
We saluted Martin Eden
and vowed to avenge his suicidal also!

We movingly reached the end of my heart,
where your awesome grave was lying
I kept your cold remedial hands,
As I smiled, in return you smiled warmer than me,
You know, I can never smile or laugh as deep as you do,
I faithfully said that I wanted to live,
I promised one day I would laugh even more deeply than you do.
I understood you had wanted me just to be strong,
However, you hadn't been able to understand me again once more...
As women represent themselves as a tool to strong ones,
contrary they represent themselves as a present to the weak
That is why I was brawling and trying to withstand,
Could I accept you as another worthless thing rather than a present?!

I embraced you and internalized your
spirit,
All my soulmates exulted in it...
I and my pale poet set my new universe,
In company with the souls of our dimensions,
we raised you...
We raised you above all of the tortures and fears,
We raised you above all of the dimensions.
We raised you above all of the meanings,
We sacrificed the meaning of life for you
and I made you the center of my universe
You began to shine like the sun in my life,
Then all separated values and meanings
began in harmony to whirl around you
Around the sun of my worthwhile universe...

What truths
will you
set free
before you
are set free.
Do you
think you
could actually
discern and
figure this out.
That we
have no
forever because
our heart
will meet
next to never.
I have
fought vehemently
to become
the emissary
of truth
all my life.
It’s a
burden and
a curse
that i
wish no man.
It's a
thankless errand
for only
the called.
The road
within that
leads to
a lonely path.
A road
less travelled.
But what
really is the
actual truth.
Truth it
seems eludes man,
for the
mind of
man is
weak and
not made
up and not
so good.
Even though
the consciousness
of the
mind of
man cannot
be deceived
for man
is born
in soul goodness.
Some of
the acts
of man
are a
disappointment
and disheartening.
And man
at the
final stage
will find
out that
he is
an exulted
and an
enlightened being.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Sitting on hallowed pews,
Fighting the insuperable desire
To let my leaden head
Fall into the wake of sleep,
Bobbing in and out of consciousness.

My faith is not something strengthened
By these monotones, memorized traditions.
Wasn't it He who asked us to set ourselves apart,
To not just go through the motions.

Floating in serene waters,
Expression soft,
Mind at peace and exulted up in prayer,
This rememberance of Your omnipotent love.
This feeling of awe and wonder.
This is faith for me.

In this world
of complexities
and confusion,
I cry the tears
of those who
cannot see the
pain in their hearts
for their brokenness
touches my soul.
Their suffering
engraved indelibly
in my bones.
Come with me  
let's stand in the gap
and intercede for them.
Show them love
they can't deny.
Let the world
see heaven
in your eyes.
Make known the way
to glory and beauty
of an exulted being
that you are.
Nothing is left that
can't be made right.
The heart of man
knows how to care
and love deeply.
Make yourself
available for the sake
of the lost ones
who needs your help.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Voice like a strawberry coloured sunrise
Its cry shatters my piece of mind
My fingertips throb with delight

Swim through ideas wet with thought
It swirls and creates
Just a drop brings me to my knees

Never could I pray for a worthier cause
Standing at the cliff you pushed me off
My exulted freedom

We walk to the corner
Smoke a cigarette as the cars flash by
Rain kills the small gray clouds

Beseech to be free to live to move on
I am stripped of my chains
I brush these off my shoulders

Apparently, it was like an apparition
            He eyed me, ***** in his wilderness
        Heaving me to the haven of his handsomeness
            Him, my male, my marvelous malediction

His Eye seeing my I inside the aperture
    Of his “camera’’, when our room was nature
        But plunged in the ocean of his sea, see
              Like two heroes wrestling on the coastline
     We rose naked, his fingertips skimmed my spine
Between skies and waters, with our furious epitome

       We made love to the waves, alike Eteocles
       The current circling our chromatic compositions
             Our tongues watery, our limbs exhausted
  In this hopeless happiness, we stroke our passions
On the rough wood of Pan’s harp, oh Polynices!
     Cursed by a kiss, blessed by a blow and exulted    
By the smooth summits of our souls and bodies    
Seduced by the sweetest sin, singing our silent rhapsodies


      My name is Miguel, I am not Michael the archangel
         But he certainly was. In the warmth of
the wave lays my angel.


November 13, 2014
Inspired by the movie by Javier Fuentes-León, ‘’Undertow’’ or Contracorriente (2009)

They walk around
naked like apes,
selling themselves for
a few pennies,
their lives empty,
with smoke in
their mouths.
The body system
messed up with
drugs and alcohol.
They have become
pimps and bums,
uneducated,
idiots,
unemployable,
losers,
future convicts,
effeminate,
immature,
no home training,
no future,
an embarrassment
to black culture,
and no father figure.
Didn't know that
they are on
Satan's payroll.
Belial driven,
they unwittingly
enroll in ******.
Sagging in vogue,
they pulled down
their pants as a
sign and symbol
of ****** and
making a statement
in recognition
of how degraded
they have become.
They are lost
in the paradise
they were supposed
to live as
prince and princesses.
They can do
better than this,
if only they
can return to
the exulted place
of glory where
destiny awaits.
Stand up again
from where
you have fallen.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Clouds streak the
setting sun’s radiance,
like waves, like feathers
bowing leftward. A soft
rain falls, a breeze blows
gently from the west.
And from me the sound
of pipes, of words and
exultation, lamentation.
It is in me that the sunset
is exulted. It is in me that
the border of the blue and
purple is seen, the amber
of the center. Around me
the gloaming is falling.
I see, and am whole. I live,
and am not fractured.
This is evening.
This is evening.

It stays in my view,
so long after
almost a comedy
at this point
but darker
the laughs,
forced
through clenched teeth.
Sightless,
staring at the sky
the dreams ended
of faith
of love
of family
and friends
1 small projectile
aimed true,
tearing out
lungs
and air
and blood,
by me.
I lose no sleep
not now
not then
not ever.
I exulted
at the time
joyful in his miss
and my success
and my life
and my future.
Looking back,
my regrets lie only in
the wasted time and effort
the lack of positive use
of my gift
and my life
for all of these years.
Of that, yes,
I'll apologise.
Not for my aim
or his miss
or his blood
on my hands.
you'd have to be there
to understand
the joy
and the rush
and the addiction
to cheating
death itself.
Again
I offer no apologies
nor regrets
at a soul
added to the chain.

Sad lady
so blue

Who
are
you?

Figment of
my imagination
I painted
on some past occasion?

No, you EXIST somewhere
anywhere everywhere
here or there

with your
heart so sad

though
the artist
who painted you
exulted in his creation
and felt very glad

Life's not fair
perhaps he didn't care

Didn't care
to wipe the
sadness away

Seems he
put it there
to stay...

But tomorrow
will always come
and that tree in
the orchard might
drop its ripe plum
just for you,
my lady so sad so blue

And your knight
in shining armor
will be there too

opening his arms
only for you

The souls had a burning eagerness
They were lost and mislaid
They were worn out and drained
Frazzled, they searched for aid
A momentary Band-Aid
Unbeknownst to them, their aid was at strife
Exhausted from a strenuous plight
When approached by the souls
The aid clasped its knife
And scathingly ripped the vines of harmony and yearning right out of their haven
Leaving the souls crumbling with a loss of direction and a non-existent elation
Drowning in hopelessness
The end, was at sight
Finally arriving, barely alive, there was a clamorous knock
Fervent and ready to pay the price
It beat the souls down
Only to bring them paradise
A mystifying euphoria
It felt like they were in an ecstatic coma
The souls exulted in the thrilling aurora,
Discovering their freedom, the gleam of propriety
The burning souls had arrived to their new normality

The bay of Patmos brightened in the scaphoid Trinitarians of the Colosso de Apsila, the combustion of the alma matter constituted Solomonic vademecum until the rebirth of those who preserve their sclera that accompanies their cruel torments in muscles of passion, for those who prostrate and recline on the pain that the soul itself asks to alleviate morbidities in the hay that grows when nothing rises before the tragedy of the pious fragments that divide the heart of a Sufi. Everything pretends that it is religious epilepsy bubbling vapor of faith through the mouths of the gods when illegible gestures of stars shine through from others that are greater in light and form when chaos was first, and the darkness became entangled in chaotic truthfulness of what converts the sacramental guarded by the angel Iblis. Judas Iscariot was a hybrid to dissent from Asmodeus, taking him from those fates of the firmament that had six apices, thus enrapturing him of the Siblis who had gone into exile in the caravans of Morocco, then falling from the despotic saying that shook the heads of the Achaemenids indicating anticipated conversions of unbelievers, when seeing that the six vertices of the first star of subjugation were declared, coming behind the second-star splint that was made up of other hexagons taking out ruinous cults that lay in the infertility of skepticism, not tolerating interpositions in any other way. Everything indicated that the light of the Shamesh of the Ruach Hakodesh in the roadstead of Patmos could already be asserted so that all the fires of the fertility of the Holy Spirit waving a loud voice that raises the worlds in the ablutions of the effluvium, with the emissions of Delphi, and with the lightning bolts of Zeus that would be encased in the scapulae of the Colosso de Apsila, silencing the delirium that only spoke out loud in those who did not know more than to hear in another sense, that avoids subsistence and where it grants more sap.

The Siblis says: “with my hands, I take what remains of life, and what will remain I will put under my comforts where everything will speak with withered corners of the lullaby, and of what the asylum of what it despises. Thus, everything that comes before the fourths happens to the fifths, and I subtract them from my hell, Iblis. The deities are withdrawn and the almighty is constrained further from the clouds that shelter the consciousness of the burning, and from the rays that exceed a thousand volts and more lights with large megawatts over the wings of the body that will experience growth, when it is a dream may he remain alive on the one who is at odds and is knocked down by his gesture of triumph that never annihilates, he only hangs on the body that is defeated "
The high tide was decomposing in degraded red blood cells, strangling bodies that were banned from their automaton skeletons, and from what was sacrosanct of Allah, which was also of the Mashiach, making a refuge that would make bones rest for more than thousands of years that did not rest. In the forging of a bronze frame, leaving every paradigm to the patronage of the amulet for anyone who suffers merciful debasement of the talus, beginning to flare up in the fords of capsular phototropism, leaving on them springs that cause and fill hearts that do not pulse, but if after an acquiescent nucleus of the rarest corporal alive or not! Praising what he writes by himself when for thousands of years everything has separated us instead of joining the immense room called Megaron Áullos Kósmos, eminent, free of all symptoms where impudent politai paraded through the flattened flowers that mix monstrosity of their cheers and the strings that surround him elliptical from the perihelion far and reviled and dangerous preventive. What exceeds the stature symbolizes the wrought iron that in a series of thousands becomes siege weapons instead of farming, and what the high sword invests leaves its merit when it discovers the weapon of punishment, cut off in deaths that are crossed when revived. from the same edge of the converted spirit of the one who wields it. The pairs of symbolisms protect almost depopulated those who have dwellings in paradise, with bent consciences that ****** Xiphos of conversion into staves of a mortuary color, which mutilates the mezzanines that are typical of a black cane exiting the human figure. The ruins produce architectural syncope that concerns the ineptitude of the castrated humanity of the Berith Milah, as a baptism of ancestry and circumcision slicing courses of arteries that fragment hemispheres of reason to found adherence to who really lives in you ..., if Hanael or another who has always been livid in you without becoming fatigued at the disposition of calling you a degraded son, materializing spiritually and becoming symptomatic of prevalent shocks by having them exulted by ancestral kindnesses.

The resentment caused planetary rumblings and extreme unfolding that sprouted from the exact diameter of its joints, leaving the grasses connected to neurosciences that slaughtered at dawn, and collected the expiation of what it is not capable of resisting in its faded sacrosanct body when all they were going through the drain of Judas Iscariot. Reflecting majolica and boches encrypted in themselves, withdrawing from the incense, from Hellenics who have never stopped beheading spheres that doze in the oasis where the water seeps through meadows that fill creek beds, apriorism of infusions that are injected where the meadow do not flee! Patmia was the silence of the tabernacle superior to the sizes that annul all composure in the cusp and in the spaciousness, and if it were to be seen like this, syllables would be limited that they uttered their only cheers that agonized at the side of their enemy, gracing them with the pain celebrated in courtship linguistics in its parallel.

Judas thinks: “In the next dawn everything seemed as if the world had just begun to be reborn, the whole world appears as the greatest satisfaction in the world. Some wondered what had happened or what it was that transformed everything when they observed from afar when an image came that pretended to be further away from the whole world, encompassing the realms of abstraction. They are the hearts that beat far away and they think that the strong reason is supported by the stratum by orpheons of angels, where the Master does not bother to teach us that great dreams are always accompanied by great beats "

The bodies clash looking for deeper meanings
the urge to sink the deep void in the chest
swiftly drowning all the dim feelings
the bodies cry now in protest
ravenously fulfilling the extreme hunger for affection
finally soothing the eager for the flesh
During the singularity perception
After the shared exulted mesh

With an unspoken blast
a single hiatus of light has escaped
life’s little magic was cast
and a new life was shaped

despite the immense recurrence of the process
and all data hoarded
we are forced to confess
that nowhere is it recorded
or was someone able to find  
a solution that in the essence
explain the Magic behind
the simple fact of coming to existence

  
I remember seeing you for the first time
the early picture on the screen
your heart beat an echo in the machine
an embryo so minute and sublime
a small seed that sprouted inside


I could sense you emerging
you become an entity
These overwhelming feeling
This moment will be my eternity
Bringing happy tears to my eyes
and out of no place you arise


I want to communicate
Because of this complicity
Hear me without restraint
Now there survive no privacy
Now I’m incapable of lying
there is no secrecy


You will arrive in all your fury
Bringing hope, dreams in to my life
You bring sequence to my story
Carve your future with your knife
Write the tale in all its glory

I will be honest and say
You will grow to become your own conscience
Mature to take your own decisions
Responsible for every consequence
Trying to achieve you visions


Allow yourself to choose your own path
None of the seers can prove to know the truth
no one remembers the aftermath
enjoy the time of your youth

Only you may discover a Purpose
that’s for you to find
and that the problem at is substance
contemplate it with your own mind

Heed me when I  say
Always pay attention to life details
There will come a grim day
When the wind will leave your sails
And you my loved one will move away

Face your demise without regret
Own your destiny
May authentic be your epithet
Don’t forget your identity

I helped creating live in you
Immortality will flow now from you to me
And one day when you’re grown
There is a chance you may
Create a little magic of your own

Would you please run
your fingers through
the heart to feel the soul,
then gently pour your love
into the crack you found,
to seal it with your love,
so the brokenness will heal,
that would have been enough.
Massage and nurture the hurts
with the oil of love.
With your breathe exhale with
so much love into it to give
strength and hope to live.
Awaken the heart not to faint,
for you are the one to seek in
this bizarre world.
There is so much mess in the world,
our unstable ways makes the
heart to flutter in confusion.
Look beyond this frail body,
to see the soul hidden within this
cocoon trying to transmogrify
into an exulted being.
Your love will cream and sooth this wrinkled face back to youthfulness,
to be young at heart is beautiful.
This life is already done,
for the beyond calls out to you.
Let this love take you home so
you can find peace.
You are the oil of love that heals
and loosen the hardness of
this heart in pain.
Everything will be alright with you around.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Just in
Just out
Just wait
Just like
Just mine
Just make
Just saying
Just show
Just me
Just be
Just like
Just let
Just cry
Just crazy
Just look
Just love
Just yesterday
Just yet
Just safe
Just fly
Just visiting
Just vote
Just laugh
Just smile for the sake of
this glorious moment.
The treasure is found
amongst the dirt.
Woven around the diamond,
hidden within the mud.
The firmament and the clouds,
the sun and the moon,
the galaxy and the stars,
they witnessed the moment
as it unfolds to reveal the secrets
of the twilight.
Redeemed and justified,
glorified and ready,
accepted and beautified,
gracefully graceful,
cleansed and set to shine.
Exulted and transformed.
Prepared to rule and reign.
That is what and who you are.
You are still saying just that
same old same old thing.
It is what it is.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

We are of heaven,
but resident of
the earth.
Exclusively unique,
never seen or
ever created before,
with heaven and earth
within.  
Called the children
of heaven and earth.  
Infused with the
breathe of life,
with so much love
in our hearts.
Possessors of heaven
and the earth.
Physically molded with
earthly dusty sand
full of atoms,
electrons and molecules,
vitalized by
hydrogen and oxygen.
Combination of the
supernatural and
tremendous enormous
power and energy,
all working in
synergy to give
and sustain life.
Animated by the
spirit.
Compacted and
encased in a body,
to be physical
and yet spiritual.
An entity of
the heavens,
living on earth.
Habitant of the
earth by day,
and of the
heaven by night.
Simultaneously
of the heaven
and the universe.
Mortality transformed
Into immortality
and forever alive.
Being transmogrified
to be an
exulted being
on earth per
excellence of heaven.
Man the microcosm
of the microcosmic.
As it is above,
so it is below.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Man the extraterrestrial
who is temporary here on
a mission but completely
misdirected and lost within
in fulfilling his purpose.
He is lost in his paradise,
distracted by the mundane
and the pesky troubles
he created by himself,
power hungry and
destructive in nature.
He is so occupied to subdue
and dominate others,
struggling all the time that
he forgot to really live and
never remembered the
reason why he was here.
Forgetting he will never go
back home with anything he
accomplished and accumulates
but only the profound
experience garthered.
All his labors are in vain
for destruction still awaits him
for all the empires he built
must come down as past
experience has revealed
it's rise and fall.
Love is all he is required to learn,
to be compassionate,
full of bowel of mercies,
tolerant of the weak,
helpful in all his ways,
understanding in all his
decisions and dealings,
mindful in circumventing
circumstances,
corrupt free and upright,
polished and raised as
an exulted being
for he is not earthly.
Though partially living on
earth but just for awhile,
he is a resident alien of
the universe for he is
an extraterrestrial being
and must return to where
he came from.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

The cut is deep
and hurts so bad.

Numbed to my bones,
the marrows freezed
like the water
in the ice box.

But my heart
and my soul
affected is
is now healed.

By the hands
of him whose
touch is like
the balm of Gilead

I found succor
and deliverance
that's soothing,
calming and comforting.

Full of love
and compassion,
he offered warmth
and solace to
my fragile heart.

His presence
strengthened my frail
tired body.

And now my soul
vitalized by the
divine effulgence
which gave it strength.

I'm a renewed being,
recreated and different.

My nature changed
to that of
an exulted being.

I am more
than you could
ever imagined.

A creature of heaven
in an earthly body.

Purified and sanctified
for this very purpose.

And in pursuit
of this purpose,
I found myself.
©2020,Nnaemeka Mokeme.

sad little boy
looked at the ashes
and poured water
so they could grow green

thoughtful little boy
exulted the flames
and placed the thumb
of an open hand on his chin

love for that brightness
forever remained
memory of its warmth
can never fade