By: Cedric McClester

Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks

For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft

From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well

Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history











Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.

Anne crutched her way
over the grass
from the nursing home
to the white seats on the lawn
and sat down
in one of the chairs
and threw her crutches
to the ground beside her

I sat in a chair
next to her
she had on a blue skirt
and white blouse
her one leg stuck out
from the end
of her skirt

the other kids played
on the swings and slide
or walked around
avoiding being
near Anne

I wonder
if the nuns have periods?
She said suddenly

I don't know
I said

might explain
their crabbiness some days
she said

I nodded my head
unsure of the topic

periods of what?
I asked

she looked at me
sternly for a moment
you don't know?

I shook my head
gazing at her

it's *******
in real terms
she said

none the wiser
I looked at her
hair dark
and almost shiny
where she’d
brushed it so much

do you know that?

no not heard of it
I said

she sighed
and looked at me deeply

do your parents tell
you nothing?

not about
******* anyway
I said
my old man told me
about the Plague of London
in 1665
and rats and stuff

**** the Plague of 1665
she said
this is real stuff
it may come handy
one day to know

I doubted it
but said nothing
I looked back
at the nursing home
for rescue

do you know anything
about the female cycle?
She said

my friend's sister's cycle
didn't have a cross bar
I said
remembering Jim's sister
and the bicycle
I sometimes rode

no no Kid
not that kind of cycle
her body cycle

I noticed as she moved
on the chair
her leg stump
became visible  

when a female
gets to a certain age
her body gets prepared
to put an egg
in a place in her body
ready to be fertilized
ok?

I saw the stump clearly
it looked like the end
of a plump elbow

Kid do you hear
what I am saying?

Yes
I said

good
now if the egg
doesn't get fertilized
by a certain time
her body gets rid of it
in a cycle
and she bleeds
the whole package out
right?

It didn’t sound too good
but I nodded
what kind of egg?
I asked

what do you mean
what kind of egg?
A ****** human egg
what do you think
a ****** hens' egg?
She sighed deeply

and I wondered where
she bought her one shoe

how old are you Kid?

10 nearly 11 years old
I replied
studying her black shoe  
and wondering
what she did
with the other shoe

what's fertilization?
I asked
looking up at her
sitting in the chair
her eyes focused on me

go ask the nuns
they'll know
she said snappily

ok
I said
I will

she reached for her crutches  
and said
right Kid
let's go to the beach
out of the eyes
of the *******
and their reach

and so I walked
beside her
out the back gate
and onto the path
that led
to the sand and sea
blue skies
white clouds
seagulls
and Anne and me.

RNA or DNA polymerase, an enzyme, protein, attracted to
promoter molecules in the polypeptide chain causing a zipper
motion and transcription of the code, a duplication of codons,
introns and exons, and so it goes, sharing and unsharing electrons.

These attractions and repulsions, coming near and going far
in nanounits or light years, fail to explain things permanently
but make possible the technology to live long and well, with
      personality.
It is a form of governance, the governance of elements, elements are
      now

apparently our gods. Learn all you can about their laws, their names,
their needs, read their poems. Only the mentally unusually sound
      would,
given this knowledge, agree to the process of mitosis and fertilization.
      However,
organisms go round then senseless via involuntary respiration.
      Therefore, Pilot Oh Pilot Me.

Not even kidding.
I have been in the throes
of a sort of mid-life crisis,
because I can't have
any more babies.

I ******* LOVE BABIES

My best friend is pregnant
right now. Soooo pregnant.
It's ******* adorable.
And I, I am unable to have

ANY MORE BABIES.

BUT I LOVE BABIES.

No ****, you guys,
I really like to have babies.

I am *******

GOOD AT HAVING AWESOME BABIES.

My ****** was like
baby ******* paradise.
And I just had
a miniature midlife crisis
over the fact that
I had to use the word
"was" right there.

If I still had that ******,
I would be forced
to use multiple layers
of protection
to ward off fertilization, and

MORE BABIES.

I LOVE BABIES.

I can gestate like a *******.
Oh wait, maybe
more like a ****** mother,

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

******* BABIES!

And when I give birth,
I do it kamikaze style,
with only a couple minutes
notice for the attending physician.

BLINKED? OH NO, SORRY
DR. *******,
YOU ******* MISSED IT!

Back when I had a ******,
like last year,
I was fertile
like a thing that is incredibly fertile.
You had to put an army
between me and my ******,
or some **** would go on
and I would be all,
oh! A new kid!
That's inconvenient!
But man,
you know,
you birth a child,
it's insanely difficult
on a level incomprehensible
to anyone who hasn't done it,
you work through it.

And then ******* hell,
you're the mother
of 3 teenagers
and your very productive
****** is all

*******, SERIOUSLY?

And you put it out of  
your misery, and then,
a few months later,
you think

it would be nice to have another baby.

09/09/10 13.26
Just eaten the last of your figs x
End
 
There is just so much to know about the fig.
Andre Gidé, D.H.Lawrence,
Gabriela Mistral
Poets all
Have tried
To decode
Its secret enclosed form.
 
Since nothing escapes
the smell becomes succulence and taste.
A blossom without beauty, yet a fruit of delights...
 
A year ago
When I brought autumn to your table
I tried to explain
The fig’s ****** nature . . .
and failed.
I was too shy
And mumbled something about
Its gynaecological aspect.
 
Now I know you better
And your hand has cupped
My testicles
Can you not
Appreciate the similarity?
The size and shape is
. . .  similar
 
It seems male
This secretive fruit
But when you come to know it better,
You’ll agree with Catullus,
It is female.
 
Oh fig, fruit of female mystery where everything happens  invisible flowering and fertilization,and fruiting in the inwardsness of your you that eye will never see till its finished and you’re over-ripe and you burst to give up your ghost.
 
Yesterday
(After we had eaten figs
From the blue bowl
Bathing in the golden light
Of your September garden)
I felt that ripe and secret cleft
Open to my ***** touch
And kiss and kiss
Kiss and kiss
 
*Touch me: it is softness of good satin, and when you open me, what an unexpected rose! Poets have not known the colour of night, nor the figs of Palestine. We are both the most ancient blue, a passionate blue, richly concentrating itself because of its ardor. I spill my pressed flowers into your hand. I create a deaf meadow for your pleasure. I shower you with the meadow's bouquet until covering your feet.

Oh, you seed of mankind.
You who reside in the same Coloured white *****.
You carry the ***-determining chromosome.
Before union with female egg, human colour was same.
After fertilization, emerged different coloured humans.

Oh melanin, you who determine our skin colour.
You went as far as differentiating our hair colour.
What have you done?
Are you to blame for racial discrimination?
Maybe blame theory of evolution.

Oh no I blame you mankind.
God gave men brains of a kind.
The kind, that knows wrong from right.
In the image of God, mankind was created.
Colour was not restricted.

I urge mankind across all racial groups.
A plead to all *** groups.

There’s more to what you see in the mirror.
It was microscopically a seed within white *****.
We might differ racially, men and women.
We came from same coloured seed.

I am a ghost among ghosts
in an inescapable town filled
with judgmental eyes peering
around sharp corners and
through closed doors. My
pumping pink ventricles
are turning white
with every passing second
that I spend waiting for something
with life to cross my trail.
Unfortunately, holding my breath
for things that
never come has become a
***** habit that I can't rid of,
and my lungs are brittle from the
compressed breaths and
toxic cigarette smoke I subject them
to. They say it takes
twenty one days to stop habits,
but an hour doesn't pass without
me thinking of all the reasons
I am unwillingly invisible and
how you made me this way. The
only thing that acknowledges my
form are clocks,
and they only remind me,
with every tick and grind,
that I am one unit of time closer to
being another collection of
dismembered bones
covered in dirt with a
chunk of stone telling others
my label and a saying that tries to
put meaning in something
that was never going to matter.
Many say that I am being
morbidly negative about my
existence, and maybe their right,
but on good days I like to think that
maybe i was meant to be
good fertilization for lovely flowers
that a senseless boy will pick for a
troubled girl someday.

Vernarth leaves and articulates in them to guide and accompany them with this imperishable itinerary, coming from the undivided becoming that was normalized with its evident parapsychology, creating certain polycellular substances in the accentuated multi placebo effect by injecting them with clinical blindness, to then reactivate them in the ejido of Bethany as a path of going and death, back and Life, with whom they revived from the anginal dizziness, that even some faltered when they saw Bethany full of Borricos who led them with the allegory as if the real world had just been made in a variety of towards a speculative problem and its limitations. Vernarth could glimpse with his glances certain affected areas of some who were with the entourage, essentially in the wear of their pancreas, hormones that were launched with radiant flashes of celestial suns, with extracts of muscles varying with irradiation in super stocks, inhibiting radioactive parts of Cinnabar that finally brought them all together when the phase of Cinnabar that was deployed as an aid to the cutting of the heads Speleothemes or Speleotomies, becoming radioactive by generating concentration in large eminences of snatched electrons, in order to begin to open the layers of the bathyal zone at four thousand meters of depth without light, up to the Neritic where large cemeteries with whale mammary arteries flowed back, and together with toxins from sea snakes. The hypnosis that Vernarth exercised towards all those who absorbed aspiring to have enough dynamics, and generate prayers of all kinds for when they reached the Metelmi tunnel of the Profitis Ilias. With the management of the visualizations of her emotions, meditation and prayers were rewound after a neat trajectory of wealth and well-being Venusiana.

The power of their unified minds has been successfully adhered to for hundreds of years since they were fostered. From the first hypnotic third with the mesmerism of the chiroptical, rather of the four species of Vlad, Fruit Chiroptera, Vampire, Indiana, Egyptian, which would mainly be the carriers of fertilization of the lands of Patmos, and their pollination together with the Lepidoptera, also gave them the magnetism in this way:

Says Vlad Strigoi: “Eventually it suggested to me from the hypnotic trance that led us to varieties of suggestion in the dermis, which it branded us as suggestive ectodermal. Under the keys of the nervous system if I have to have a conscience or exquisite wisdom for all the blisters that in frugality it is convenient for my species of chiropterans to shelter them, and not my human comrades. So I got over the death of my older brother, and then I succeeded him, where I went some time to moan him on the Danube. I was exiled in Edirne, and from there in my second reign, I went to Wallachia, many episodes happened and early in the morning I was visited by the rest of the Boyars' bats, fleeing from themselves, there were thousands and thousands I had to take care of from them. Later I went to Valdaine, Chauvet. Welcoming me to Wonthelimar so that one day we would regain the true kingdom of manumission in the darkness of Wallachia with my monastic brother Vlad Calugarul "

The blisters of thousands of Vlad's Chiroptera burst when he referred to his brother Calugarul, beginning to fall from the upper angle into cheesy leagues of flying animals, who wanted to control the pain of man, all protected by psychic mental waves emancipated from the presumptuous angle of Vernarth, and of the laziness of his spasms, and migraines that we're frightened of some by the entrails of the physiology of the platform. Upon reaching five hundred years, there were four hundred left to approach the quantum borders that the Souls of Helleniká transferred to them, the entire timeline was covered with a tunic that was moistened by turbulent water that appeared from overseas, producing dramatic conventional meteorologies, where The line of sight of the horizon lay three times where it was, to indicate that the humid plain of the tunic was in concert with the setting Sun. From this regulation plan, the prime time was counterpoint, for a link of half an hour before approaching midnight, before reaching the Profitis Ilias, specifically the Metelmi Tunnel in the Raedus Codex. Many species were unable to tolerate the immunity of such an event as they emerged to the surface and began to collect cells that revived engulfed in themselves, to later become impregnated with Wonthelimar's entourage and then predisposed to enter the geological cavity.

The collectivity of time was dissipated, all the nature that was of a coherent past was beginning to visualize itself towards a state of immunity mechanism, due to the trances that deprived it of hope of living in a new beginning before reaching Patmos. From Agios Andreas, expulsions of malignancies that were expressed with the Apsidas Manes were still felt, being very well alternated by Marie des Vallées who deconcentrated conventions and individualities towards the lacerated that still did not form outgrowths on their bodies removed from Spinalonga, while she continued as always In its most absolute darkness and exile, only portraits were enough to project itself on a populated island, which would be rescued from involuntary excretions and depopulation, being a human settlement. More than a hundred experiments were missing to scale the island to a superiority that was far from a medical shelter site, which excludes it from knowledge of prevalent and invalidated concepts of a miraculous life that was beginning to be written in Agios Andreas. The power of Faith self-healed in the bodies that had yet to be awarded the healing intentions of collective minds that flowed among all, when they were guided by the Saint of Normandy after having clear evidence and for how long they would be on this islet, for also rejoin the investiture of the Himation of Vernarth in the Áullos Kósmos, indemnifying the intervals of the Vas Auric and the Cinnabar. All prayed inclined towards a transformation of the permutations that inspired a quantum healing, that moved the waves of the seas in unison with their prayers, that creating a quantum healing atmosphere in all channels, and for all their atoned intentions. Telepathy apprehended all their emotions, prevailing the vital energy that contemporary in the prayers of the new earth field that greeted them became at their astonished feet.

The hospitality of Agios Andreas had Theus and Vikentios defined to be with her, to have total compassion with the Saint and to recover their ancestors with a focus of energy that were invaded by hyper healings similar to an ultrasound, which emanated from the hands of the Santa, for each of the individuals who remained to be definitively healed and then redistribute them in the new spheres of execrations, which hung from the indigenous Manes on the island, which delimited the improvement of many human beings who lived long periods here, overcoming dimorphisms in the reproductive organs of ancient cavemen, with leprosy in the ***** of their ******, but the testimony of dimorphism motor skills will lead to species totally free of this scourge of the ***** bacillus, to perfectly synchronize a field of healing energy, from the magical thought of the Saint who assisted them permanently, to prepare themselves in the new regions before they had what to make the last decision to integrate in Patmos. The membranes of the nuclei of the sun that healed them and reconvened themselves from the molecules of an energized level of matter celestially congruent, with the sensitivity of the affected organs, until some cells imprisoned in the cells of lost morbidity, hypnosis was reinstituted bilocate de Vernarth who assisted them from his eclectic Portal before superior hypnosis that led them to mutate their bodies into astonishing birds, which were retransformed with the Birds of the Stymphalus.

Though the date may be late… and
Those type things don’t happen anymore…MUCH…dare I say

Those type things don’t happen MUCH anymore… (yes I dared)
It is nevertheless ingrained…

No matter the age or the date
However young or old…
It is in our DNA… and
Our DNA does not forget
Will not allow us
As other cultures will
To easily enjoy
The remote loveliness… and
Maniacally flowering greenery… and
Beauteous quiet of this
Southern forest… this
Confederate lake…  
Without our spirits
Sadly counting
The cumulative number of
Hundreds of years of
Fertilization by
Black Men’s bones…

But like my father and his father before him
We show up anyway…
Albeit somewhat uneasily…
While the native good-ole-boys
Stand stock still and stare
Actin’ like they never seen one’a us before… and
Though we arrived obviously prepared for what we came to do
They still stare… as if
wondering what we could possibly be doing here…
or maybe… how dare we enjoy God’s green earth with our brown selfs…

And my beautiful Black Man
with ease of motion
Audaciously pays the Black Tax
(the quoted price over what the sign says the price is)
As I bait my line in defiance
Albeit somewhat uneasily… and
Cast it out into this confederate lake

And my beautiful Black Man
Also stands… broad shoulders back… and
Pointedly does not acknowledge the presence of the natives
As they stand stock still and stare
But it is there
(We will NOT be afraid… and we will NOT go away)
Unspoken between us... But
Always in the back of the mind…
The recesses of the consciousness…
Preparation for this day… and the worst that it can bring…
Is ingrained…

God waited for Abraham's arm to be actually starting down, the biceps fully tensed.

Nothing short would do; in extremity, we learn what's true.

With a good job, a good marriage, a fine son, I had everything one could expect.  
And yet there was a lingering dissatisfaction; a malaise.
It seemed, deep down, that I didn't really feel or believe in anything.

.........                                             ­                                 
On Saturday morning, August 11, 1990, my three-year-old son and I rounded the corner at the south end of the block where we live.  We were out for a walk.  (He had been born through in-vitro fertilization, everything else had failed -- including several previous in-vitro attempts.)  He was riding his tricycle -- it's amazing how fast a three-year-old can go on a tricycle with big wheels. . . .  The house next to the corner had tall bushes growing right out to the sidewalk.  As we passed the house, my son speeded up.  My attention was diverted to men working across the street trimming trees.  Their chainsaws drowned out the sound of a car backing out of the driveway next to the house with the bushes.  The car was moving slowly and I can see in the slowest of slow motion -- I screamed, but I'm not sure just when (there's no sound track to this movie) -- the car backing into the left handlebar of the tricycle, tilting it over to the right, my son breaking his fall with his right hand.   (As low to the ground as he and the tricycle were, they could not be visible in the driver's rearview mirror at this point.)  And, then, the car stopping.  Did the car stop because of my scream?  Or had the old man driving the car seen my son at the last second before he disappeared behind the car?
.......

I learned instantly with the terrible weight of that tire inches from my son's head, that I wanted with a giant, horrible wanting for this boy to grow up healthy and to have children of his own who would, in turn, have children of their own, and that having my wife hate me for losing him would be unbearable.

All the unfairnesses I had suffered in life -- ALL of them --
instantly became meaningless. Everything was clear.
This is what I wanted; this is what I believed.

Four walls are screaming...

Lying here awakened by the deafened sound of silence
Casually existing in a manifestation of neighborly violence
Is a martyr of selfish explanation and station
In the mix for chairman on the way the satan
Gates open for him when he travels from his lair,
But travel comes in spurts of gravitational voids,
Filling up with meals as they enter without choice,
Or any sense of repair for what's there,
Entering crevasses and other openings along surfaces,
That allow one to feel worthlessness,
Never hoisting the trophy given to those whom represent perfectness,
Perfectionist can't resist the temptations to conjure mist,
To make sure and valid that works of art are works of fact which exist,
To be or not to be or create or mislead,
Proceeded by apologies that mislead atrocities,
Across cities so wickedly the deadliness of it all is least thrilling,
As a result of the bland toast experience that leaves most chilling,
Spine tingling, neck wringing, spinal tapping, and wired napping,
Saran wrapping over mouths made by ACME,
Causing destruction much like what's seen on TV,
And bought at your local pharmacy,
Where they farm human beings much like cattle, count the sheep?
Because you're snoring, sleeping through class again and looking bummy,
Roaring is coming from the bottomless pits of your tummy,
You devour the tiniest bits of crumbs and feeling crummy,
Misused sense of self existence is persistent to make you nothing

Because four walls are screaming
The world is yours
The world is foreign
The world is burned
The world is corse
The world is hoarse
The world is worse
The world it turns
The world it yearns
The world is yours
The world is yours
The word is yours
The word is yours

Shadows in the brightness of the dark,
Spread across expansive spaces of empty walls,
Suffocating the echoes formed by creaking halls,
Hand rise and fall while final gasps are drawn,
Choked sounds leaving as they enter withdrawal,
Enter into my senses stating that the beauty lies in dawn,
Drawn faces lie on skulls where lines are made of chalk,
The rest of the skeleton remains but must be bought in bulk,
Off branded and made by foreign nations,
Easily paid for with easy to find replacements,
The mind is not a terrible loss when you've only ever had half,
To lose another half would only be half as bad,
Half as much mind to get up out of the shield of bed sheets,
Half as much mind to walk, any given day, across any given street,
100% percent chance at the fate which awaits me,
Yet the safety net in place fools me to believe,
That a life without risk is worth living,
As ant piles form in any which place along the floor,
And the handles continuously fall from the doors,
Clothes, dishes, and homework, pile up into chores,
A fatal scene of tragedy reminiscent of noir,
Ambiguity remains in what lies just beneath,
The surface as the crust of earth acts as a sheath,
While the remainder of it grows rotten due to the cheats,
The liars and the friars who act as moonlit buyers,
Of incomplete factions and fractions of complete mishaps,
Perhaps an axe to the frontal lobe would loosen up control,
My eyes are scar filled and leaking massive amounts of soul,
The soil is darkening with fertilization,
While the source material is dying from being wasted,
It's the typical atypical response to taunts and trails of peril fraught,
With sounds emanating explaining the cause of a shot,
Straight through the heart piercing through the rock,
Cries to forget everything that's been taught, "it's a crock!"

Because four walls are screaming
The world is yours
The world is foreign
The world is burned
The world is corse
The world is hoarse
The world is worse
The world it turns
The world it yearns
The world is yours
The world is yours
The word is yours
The word is yours

To be happy or give family,
Satisfactions of being right you see,
Interactions of puppets tied to string,
Tears next to taxes they're filing,
Humming songs meant to sing,
Has long been the main thing,
To act yet never do the real thing,
It's a monstrosity of honesty,
Honestly saying you are not a thing,
You have no talents you aren't interesting, it's sickening,
That it's truly what they believe,
And thus extend it to fresh psyches,
Of their children like Socrates,
Faith in their words is philosophy,
Till one broke away from topography,
Stopping streams of tears in their streaks, it's done, it repeats,
But all in all is all that he needs,
To defeat the menacing grins to have them at his feet,
Groveling knowing in time that he'll be king,
The sequences flourish from new daisies to trash heaps,
It's a lion stalking and napping among sheep,
The bygones are gone by yet the goodbyes never cease,
The will of the strong is hoisted up by the weak,
But the weak were those who made up the soul of the strong,
The weak were once knights but turned into pawns,
To check into their mates and remain on call,
To stir up disaster by setting up the alarms,
Their charms through voice never lent psalm,
Through all dampening storms he always remained calm,
Even within the shelter of his apartment home,
Ignorance of the outside world didn't disperse of his wounds,
The shreds of skin, metal tasting flesh torn,
Separate the ligaments of the clothes worn,
Mercurial mental in the midsts of complete war,
Picture frames crowd around on the floor,
Commodities in short supply have dissolved,
A death will occur in a mystery solved...

Because four walls are screaming
The world is yours
The world is foreign
The world is burned
The world is corse
The world is hoarse
The world is worse
The world it turns
The world it yearns
The world is yours
The world is yours
The word is yours
The word is yours

By: Cedric McClester

Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks

For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft

From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well

Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history











Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.

Vernarth says: "ideal of our consciences, we will open the channels in Kímolos, before our subtle bodies, in which they will be opened to us, and how we parabolize, before this pretense of Saint John the Apostle, in the head of mediumship to reach the longitude wave to Hellenika. The interactive vibrational ones will go with the expression of deep reasoning, to pontificate the Mandylion with the Vas Auric, for the effect of the iconification of the idiomatic monologues, for such edges of  Saint Jude Thaddeus and Veronica, and for such an event facing alien forces before the Messiah, that they are like a coherent gadget before the intermittence variants. Channeling to the Cyclades, they will go from east to west wading the waters of the Aegean and Mediterranean, through the channel of the Universe-Duoverse, for inter-consciousness between the Hexagonal Primogeniture in Tsambika, and the triad of Etréstles, Kanti and the Archpriest in Hellenika , with high degrees of awareness of light and the conclaves between both homilies synchronous. Of great drowsiness before the Anemoi winds, they will go through near the voyages of the Trojan chthonic ships, and before the ominous chthonic divinities, for such deities in the Mediterranean substrate, identifying themselves more obviously with Anatolia, which from prehistory has continued to the site of Troy, in a cheesy plan to unite loyalists of Agamemnon, to defeat Hector, between farmland and agricultural revolutions and Akkadian worlds BC, in peripheral outposts, to influence the central regions of Greece and its maritime trade. Hydros influences, for the cycles of the solstice and nature, with those of life and survival after death that is at the center of the concerns that are not translated. In Crete, the supposed cult of great Gods was transformed during the II millennium BC. C. as new actors appear: various animals, plants, etcetera. Given consciousness, the light will be channeled, in the three courtyards of alabaster and between the cinnabar by bending the re-fertilization of the retro channels of the Cyclades, which go from Rhodes and Kímolos, for the discernment. Sometimes it is more gratifying to listen to what you want to hear and not to the real message, the egoic mind that does not come from serials of daunted egos ..., prays with signs of technological shamanism, intervening artificial intelligences, from egomaniacal administered consciences, being strident and iconoclastic for worlds of appearances and illusions. I Vernarth with our own Khaire…, in my mind I go towards the vessels that navigate the andurriales of the elusive identity, trapping it in the totemic animal stratum, in its tracking psychology, but seer of its present ego. Today I will use my Leonatus cap, to separate the anger from the large shadow that clouds my sadness, and from my own victimhood of reduced meekness, which spews violence, blaming it for a ruthless sort of depressive shame and exclusive of everyone's own fear for everything . I will blindfold my eyes against illnesses that will heal in three days, to straighten the ecstasy that grows thicker towards the guillotine, staying on Golgotha without Golgotha, I will create the framework of cinnabar for the pain of the skull, which trembles in my hands, until the Dream becomes vaporous with anger and harmless destruction before your egos, which throb rozagant towards the host entity and the scarified madness. Awakening my nuanced, subtle and anthropomorphic subconscious dreams, with sorrows that hurt my worst self-destructive amorousities before the new memorial, on the veil of Theoskepasti, with his science sheltering itself when yielding over the defeated springs and inaugurating new miraculous courses where I will surrender, full of sorry and more distant from the veil that does not act as a viewer.

Duo time, Duo space, in one I get excited, in the other I retro project, in unreal worlds of epistemic and channeled images ignoring them, in free astrolabe when decrypting my Duoverse, between the Tsambika templets, with the decoded and mutated annelids in trisomy , in ancient trees of plain doors of the Bern Olive Trees. We look at what gratifies and weaves together what weaves the positioning of the approaching stars of the universe, like leaves in psalms, worthy of all-powerful serials, in redoubled humors on the encompassing intraterrestrial chthonic tridents, in tricks of intuition, before skewing my sword Xifos, as an original replica of a night's dream in Tel Gomel, full of alerts that make me laugh chew it in the middle of my mouth on the jerky and the strains of the bear, towards the counterweight of the message of light and lag of the high astral as a bear less. Bustard and angelic breath in withdrawal and in dissolution ... unfinished planet ..., now if I see you channeled and incarnate! Diva emotion, here I analyze my audacity and courage towards being fed up with my omniscient prosopon, such an omniscient telepathic. My soul lies, and my emotion also, because in this way I will treasure the courage of panic, by surrounding myself with the fears of carrying the universe that is resting on the underside of my back at a cost "
Harassment of psychological channeling, against the horns and sights of a peaceful energy confrontation, will make them in Rhodes and Kimolos channel with the stark human finitude of life and finite and non-eternal existence, ad portal with their Aspis Koilé. Unconscious they will continue halfway with their bouquets of flowers for Walekiria, without ever really taking the time to tell her, what time of eternity will make them more crowded for her and her reliquary poem, from deflagration in flame, to insidious break of commitment of fear by telling him that if they revive, they will be others, but if Hetairoi extra Hellenic towards the light of the incarnate vermilion ..., and in a state of loop as "Being of Light". Oh phantom phenomenon that does not scare me ..., rather it disenchants, clinging to my skins that die in the unexpected female muses in Gaia, with my burning and hypertensive ballast, still frequent in me ... As conjecture and presence of Greca life ..., having to promote the matter and atmosphere involved where the valuations, should be tempered in the pressure regulators and the contribution of biodiversity, of the species for the insular life and its chemical balance in the Aegean. The theorem will state in the image of Vas Auric, as sounds of homeostasis, in classrooms, properties of the intervened annelids are consistent, capable of keeping them in a certain internal and stable condition, compensating for the changes in the noise of the intervened patios, towards an environment through the regulated exchange of matter and energy with the outside towards your (metabolism), trying a form of dynamic balance with the sparkling properties of Cinnabar. As a self-regulating biosphere in the conditions of the planet to make its environment of physicality (especially temperature and atmospheric chemistry) more noble with the species that make up life in the compass of two islands unmanned by beings from Gaia, rather as an entropy in magnitude physics for a thermodynamic system in equilibrium, inhabited by intra-dynamic beings that nobly associate, for adaptations of worlds that are not born. It segregates them towards a departure, measuring them in numbers with Gold in their population, from high numbers in states of zero, compatible with the laws of external physicality, for the purposes of watchful guardians, if Gaia's engine is turned on, before this psychic and spiritual combustion?

The laws of this system of closed circuits and channeling will tend to maximize entropy, expiring inhibitory reactions, for the traces of oxygen and nitrogen from the worms, making an express signal of the levitant carbon dioxide, to carry it from Tsambika, in a sigh of two converged energies of Leviathan and Saint John the Apostle, for the clouds in mole of carbonate dioxide, battling over the surviving necromancers and their conditions of activity and reproduction, maintaining these habitable conditions for many and many, in classes that did not enjoy of the life-death-life cycle. Greece, as it will now look like a turbo generator and appropriate laws underlining the extensive fibers concerned, a mole of molecules, in said of equality, of said hypothesis of Vernarth as sub-mythology, rather resting on the growing ivy  to its setbacks, and strangling the signs of satiety of life with properties of open skylights, and properties in tune, with the severe penalties that hurt, even the tolling of the bells and their pain as the millennia pass! Fear, insecurity and frustration will not fit because in the cavity with them, they will cut the abenuz Diospyros, with its stamens usually in sixteen plus its hypogines or inserts at the base of the corolla; like those of female flowers, being greenish or being converted into staminodia. Diospyros with ovaries generally tetralocular, or with eight locules due to false divisions, will make us channel inseminating demigods, under the staff of sub-mythology with Zephian of Horcondising, before the vibrational migrations begin in Hellenika. Just as in this pact with silence and meditation and burning toxic flames, under vulnerable high frequency insolation ..., waking up in Gaia like a sleeping fairy, and invested with extra light shaman, with degrees of synergy and with the simple science of blizzard ... , with low puffs of air of bread and cinnabar burning in the first hosts of hummus, as the homily began.

Gretchen Rossi knew that she wanted to marry Slade Smiley since the beginning of their relationship. They got together shortly after Rossi lost her fiance to cancer, and Slade has been her rock throughout the years. Gretchen was concerned about getting married too quickly, mostly because of his child support issues. But it sounds like he is more than ready to marry her.

Gretchen Rossi has already cancelled their wedding once. The two had planned the wedding and set the date, but they had to cancel because the date conflicted with previously created events. Rossi could not get married on her chosen date, as many of her friends and family members could not make it out. The two have been engaged for two years.

According to a new Radar Online report, Gretchen Rossi is now canceling her wedding again — and some people believe that these two will never get married. As it turns out, the wedding cancellation has nothing to do with their feelings for one another. Apparently, it is just tough for them to find a date that truly works for everyone.

“They are definitely still getting married and are very much in love,” a source says, adding, “Why else would they do Marriage Bootcamp together? The reason that the wedding has been postponed so many times is not because they have doubts that they are meant to be together, but because they are both working on a lot of projects right now.”

It is no secret that Gretchen Rossi is working ******* her business, Gretchen Christine, and she often posts pictures on Instagram of her work. She has never been in a rush to get married and have a child, and it sounds like she is being reasonable in her planning.

“Gretchen just launched a purse line and she and Slade are pitching several different ideas to various networks for projects that have them both on camera and behind-the-scenes,” a source has revealed, adding, “Lately they have been getting a lot of pressure from their close friends to do it already. Gretchen cannot wait to be Slade’s wife and, when the time is right, they will have their huge lavish wedding. This is what they both want.”

Last year, Rossi opened up about her struggles to have a child. Gretchen shared her journey on The Doctors last year, but she revealed that they had not been successful.

“I always knew that I wanted to be a mother,” Gretchen has previously said, adding, “Slade knew that it was something that was very important to me, but he also told me he had a vasectomy. We just decided that in-vitro fertilization was a much quicker way to make things happen for us.”

What do you think of Gretchen Rossi delaying her wedding yet again?

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drip fed,
being fed on drips and dregs and how many campylobacter in six dairy fresh eggs?
raw meat, diced, sliced or crushed and
pushed through,
acts by the government *******, nothing's your own,
go it alone but the eye in the sky, on the wall, up your **** always follows you,
what's the world coming to and how many bacilli in the ideas that you see in your minds eye?

fed up to the back teeth? rip them out with the pliers and you get no relief, not from the welfare and you share and share and only when no one is there do you get your sweeties and treats from the N.H.S.

We live in the cesspit and they smell of roses which in turn look like dog **** and we're still being drip led by the rich and the well fed and it's doing my head in.

Skeletal?
I want to go back to pre-foetal
before fertilization was an i or the dot on some distant horizon,
untapped as potential and potentially dangerous.

Tuesday's picked it out, the three year old envelope
I had dried out for a scrapbook
quite close to rose petals in pattern and fabric.

Symphony number four sings,
he thought I was a little girl when we met but I have
felt like a *****
since birth; the difference is that my privates
came upon a sunset at age eleven
now it is unacceptable to wiggle my *** at every man I see.

God, to have my body change
with the sky. I was supposed to run to my earth-mother
tell her of how I altered the cycle of the moon
but I've waited until now,
month thirty-six of burying his fertilization in myself.

Compared to him, I am so young that
I am dead.

Any year after 1990 has been negated
letters have been written, rewrittten, unwritten in black
marsh pen and the tide of it
is filling high in his eyes. For some time now,
my hands have been on every universe
redrafting what is already supposed in my bright, red ink.  

I have been a woman for seven years
and a ***** for seventeen, but
my daybook just reaches December 2010; I took a man's
thorn so all this blood would begin to matter.

The blood of Christ
Constantly dripping over my life
Listen hear I am blood bought
My King took the punishment  for sin...rugged and uncut
Blood sport
No mark of the beast
I'm talking the mark of the free
Blood of the lamb yes his blood marks his sheep..
Death pass by my front door
**** the Egyptian first born
Jesus beat from limb to limb..the sight of flesh scorned
Oh my Lord your beard it was tore
Off ..
Bless it savior you fulfill the laws
Kings blood only type that could pay the cost
And save the lost
I bang blood with no gang affiliations
Striped naked sin causes  humiliation
One death saved humanity every civilization
You see sin stales life sterilization
Kings blood brings life  fertilization
Not talking zombies, when the dead start raising
I meant rising.
Followers of King Jesus we behind him
Like the man from Verizon
The world denied him and still denies him
Died once and rose into forever ..the key to our eternal survival
People open the Bible
Satan's no rival
Hells hot  souls drenched in sweat no Cabo
I stand as a man ...A witness
Anointed in Kings blood
White and Red blood cells..healing, health, love

I want to be the forest and You to be the fire. I want every part of me to be completely consumed, no matter how large or how small it appears to be. I want to be a medium, through which You can be manifest. I want the combination of my substance and your catalysis to create a beautiful, powerful expression. I want our interaction to be unavoidably apparent to anything that can see, smell, taste, hear, or feel. I want all of my inhibitions to become meaningless in the face of your awesomeness. I want to be unable to become distracted from, or bored of You; because we are one inseparable entity.

Even when everything about me that I used to think made me who I was has been reduced to ash, I know that it will only enrich the parts of me which remain. The decomposition of the unnecessary will lead to the fertilization of the valuable. For a time, where a seemingly great forest once stood, there will be nothing but a flat field; but the result will be an amazing collection of new life to take its place. Where the forest seemed to be stagnant and immovable, instead there will be a growing, changing, expanding and thriving ecosystem. I will be what I was meant to be, but the glory of the creation will be yours for you were the inspiration and the force behind the result.

This is the kind of love I want to experience. The kind of love I want to be able to show others. Undoubting, fearless, passionate, enduring, complete.

Who am I? Why am I here?
What is the truth about life, my dear?
I am not the body, I am not the mind
Who am I? The truth, I must find!

Most of us, just live and die
We believe the lie that God lives in the sky
We don't ask questions, 'How and why?'
All we do, is live and die!

What is the truth? We must put it to test
To realize this, go on a quest
Most believe, we are the Mind and Ego, ME
From this ignorance, when will we be free?

We are not this body, this is a fact
This body came later, after the fertilization act
First, came the Soul, the Spark Of Unique Life
When Divine blessings fell upon a husband and wife

The first cell of life is called a zygote
It may be in a man, a sheep or a goat
Every life starts with the arrival of the Soul
To realize this, is our ultimate goal

Neither are we the body, nor are we the mind
Where is the mind, we cannot find
The mind is nothing but a bundle of thought
And in this thought, we are caught

We believe the illusion, we are the Mind and Ego, ME
In this Ignorance we grow, the Truth we cannot see
Until we go on a Quest, we will never be free
We will never discover, who we are meant to be

We are not the body, the ego or the mind
We are the Soul, this truth we must find
If we want to achieve life's ultimate goal
First, we must realize that we are the Soul!

The Soul is a Spark Of Unique Life
It is immortal, it experiences no strife
The Soul has no birth, it has no death
It is a Power that gives us breath

We think we HAVE a Soul, what is the truth?
We ARE the Soul, it is our root
Without the Soul, we would never be
We are nothing but Soul energy

Without the Soul, we would be gone
Without the Soul, we wouldn't be born
Without the Soul, we would never grow
It is the Soul that makes us come and go

Of course, for sure, this body will die
But who leaves the body and flies into the sky?
Because we think that it is the Mind and Ego, ME,
From our Karma, we are never free

The Body dies but ME takes Rebirth
The Mind and Ego, ME, returns to earth
But how does the ME in a new Body arrive?
It is the Soul that makes it alive

So first, we must realize, I am a Soul
Then only, will our life, start becoming whole
Then, the purpose of life, we will achieve
The ultimate truth we will get to perceive

This truth can't be known, it must be realized
For this, we must delete what is memorized
Whatever we were taught, we must let go
Then only, to the Divine, we will flow

I am a Soul, the Soul is SIP
This Truth must come to our lip
God is not God, God is SIP
We must start this voyage, start this trip

Who, where, what is God? We must ask
It is not blasphemy, we must do this task
If we truly love God, if God, we yearn
Then, this Ultimate Truth, we must learn

God is not made of bone and skin
God is the Power that lives within
God has no birth, God has no death
God is present, in our every breath

Let us stop saying from today, 'God’
Let us realize the truth of our Lord
God is not God, God is SIP
May this Divine truth, from us, never slip

SIP is present in every Soul
SIP is in every creature that can run or roll
SIP fills this universe whole
Be it a mighty animal or just a mole

SIP does not have a name or form
SIP never dies, SIP is not born
SIP has no beginning, SIP has no end
At death, the Power of SIP does transcend

Therefore, SIP is everywhere on earth
SIP is the cause of every birth
SIP gives life, to come and go
Without SIP, there would be no show

I am a Soul, the Soul is SIP
This is the truth that must be on our lip
This will start a voyage on a special ship
And to SIP, we will start our trip

Therefore, in essence, 'Who am I?'
I am that God who is thought to be in the sky
When I realize, I am nothing
I become SIP, I become everything

I am not the body, ego and mind
I am the Soul, when this truth I find
Then, I realize, I am none other than SIP I don't speak,
SIP speaks through my lip

I do nothing, SIP does it all
It is SIP that makes me grow tall
Although in ignorance, I may again fall
But I have realized that there is SIP in all

I am SIP, you are SIP, we all are SIP
The Truth is that SIP is in every lip
We realize the truth, when we go in search
We realize that God is not in a temple or church

SIP is the essence of every being on earth
SIP is in that little rabbit that takes birth
SIP is in that bird that flies in the sky
But we in ignorance, ask, 'How and why?'

When we realize, 'I am the Soul'
And then Realize, 'Soul is SIP’
We then, Realize the Truth, 'We are all SIP’
Every creature alive, is on a Divine Trip

SIP is the Soul in you and me
SIP is the supreme immortal energy
The Soul that is SIP is in every living being
Animals, birds, plants and every living thing

When we realize that the Soul is SIP
We realize God is a Power, then we flip
From the myth, we flip over to the truth
We realize, 'SIP is in every root'

Every tree, every flower and every fruit
All that is alive comes from the root
But what is the Truth about the root?
It is SIP, SIP is in the flower, fruit and the root

This world is nothing but full of SIP
Every molecule of matter is the Power of SIP
The five elements of nature on earth
Are nothing but SIP, this we must unearth

This book will make us unlearn the lie
Let's realize the truth, before we die
‘I not ‘I’, I am SIP
The Supreme Immortal Power is in every chip

You
you are a contradiction of all things
an immense tropical storm majestically consuming all islands in your path
yet with all your strength, you sputter upon the main land
A destructive flame, preaching your ways to the forest
leaving behind naught but fertilization.
A maneuver that may breath life into you, saving your soul
and destroy your body
The object that defies gravity, spurning numbers and probability
in the most graceful fashion
Everything that was once oblivion, is now a beholder of all things
You are a contradiction, a collection of nothings and theories
A physic with the will to be or not
science to believe or a magic to perceive
Take pride in its discomfort,
it is the minds final reprieve.

I hear the whimpering
As the factions call us home
You too keep true to math
As you fall into your number
Begging to be apart of the equation
Fertilization
You exist
It’s everything you ever wanted
Please stop crying